if they are Sterne's, they must have been written by him with no common care. Though they are addreffed to various people, there is an uniformity in the ftyle, which is feldom difcovered in compofitions of different periods; there is an undeviating accuracy, though not the accuracy of finished works, which was not to be found in the Letters decidedly genuine. On the whole, if they are not written by Sterne, they are fuperior to his real Letters. We have read them with much pleasure, and we would recommend them as pleasing and elegant compofitions. They difplay that philanthropy and benevolence which was the characteristic of Sterne's writings, and which, from an abufe which could neither have been foreseen or prevented, by becoming fashionable, has, we fear, been perverted to the worst of purposes.

There is no particular fubject to detail: the common tranfactions of the world; the adventures which he may be fuppofed to have met with, his own infirmities, and his little family-business, fill this volume. We fhall felect a few specimens. The first shall be a description of his vifit to his nuns; or rather to the spot where they were wont to dwell, the ruins of a neighbouring monaftery.

It is an awful fpot-a rivulet flows by it, and a lofty bank, covered with wood, that rifes abruptly on the oppofite fide, gives a gloom to the whole, and forbids the thoughts, if they were ever fo difpofed, from wandering away from the place, Solitary fanctity never found a nook more appropriated to her nature?It is a place for an antiquary to fojourn in for a month-and examine with all the fpirit of rufty refearch. But I am no antiquary, as you well know-and, therefore, I come here upon a different and better errand-that is to examine myself.

So I lean, lackadayfically, over a gate, and look at the paffing ftream-and forgive the fpleen, the gout, and the envy of a malicious world. And, after having taken a stroll beneath mouldering arches, I fummon the fifterhood together, and take the fairest among them, and fit down with her n a ftone beneath a bunch of alders-and do what? you'll fay-why I examine her gentle heart, and fee how it is attuned; I then guefs at her wishes, and play with the crofs that hangs at her bofom-in fhort-1 make love to her.'

We think an impoftor would not have ventured at delineat→ ing a character fo minutely, as that of H. is drawn in the following extract. We preferve it alfo, on account of the

poetry:

• Columns and labour'd urns but vainly show,
An idle scene of fabricated woe:-

The

The fweet companion and the friend fincere
Need no mechanic arts to force the tear.
In heartfelt numbers, never meant to shine,
"Twill flow eternal o'er an hear fe like thine.

'Twill flow while gentle goodness has one friend,
Or kindred tempers have a tear to lend.

'Hall liked it, I remember-and Hall always knows what ought to be liked, and, in certain humours, will be candid upon these fentimental fubjects, and acknowlege that he feels them. He is an excellent fcholar and a good critic: but his judgment has more feverity than it ought to have, and his tafte lefs delicacy than it should poffefs. He has, alfo, great humanity, but, fomehow or other, there is fo often fuch a mixture of farcasm in it, that there are many who will not believe he has a fingle fcruple of it in his compofition.-Nay, I am acquainted with feveral, who cannot be perfuaded but that he is a very infenfible, hard-hearted man, which I, who have known him long, and known him well, affure you he is not.He may not always poffefs the grace of charity, but he feels the reality of it, and continually performs benevolent actions, though not always, I must confefs, in a benevolent manner. And here is the grief of the bufinefs. He will do a kindness with a fneer, or a joke, or a fmile; when, perhaps, a tear, or a grave countenance, at leaft, would better become him. But this is his way; it is the language of his character; and, though one might with it to be otherwife, yet I cannot tell what right any of us have to pafs a fevere fentence upon it, for no other reafon in the world, but because our own failings are of a different complexion.'

The following paffage is truly in the manner of Sterne; and, to take the edge from one of our former remarks, refpecting too great uniformity, it occurred in fubstance, in a former page.

'You, my friend, poffefs fomething of the reality of it (love): and I, while I enjoy your happiness, apply to fancy for the purpose of creating a copy of it. So I fit myfelf down upon the turf, and place a lovely fair one by my fide,-as lovely, if poffible, as Mrs. V, and having plucked a fprig of bloffoms from the May-buh, I place it in her bofum, and then address fome tender tale to her heart,-and if fhe weeps at my ftory, I take the white handkerchief fhe holds in her hand and wipe the tears from off her cheek and then I dry my own with it-and thus the delightful vifion gives wing to a lazy hour, calms my fpirits, and compofes me for my pillow.

To wish that care may never plant a thorn upon yours, would be an idle employment of votive regard ;-but that you may preferve the virtue which will blunt their points, and continue to poffefs the feelings which will, fometimes, pluck them away, is a wifh not unworthy of that friendship, with which I am, &c.'

Vol. LXV, June, 1778.

There

There are various paffages which we had marked for que tation, but none that are more characteristic of the man and the author. We will leave, therefore, the reader to judge for himself, as we have always done, from the extracts which we have tranfcribed; and, if he decides in favour of the authenticity of these Letters, it will not be eafy to impeach either his taste or his difcernment. The balloons, in one of the latter letters, cannot mean air balloons, as thefe never afcended from Ranelagh, the place which is mentioned as the fcene. They are a kind of fire-work; and we mention them, fince fome critics have confidered the term as an anachronism, and have argued, from its ufe, that thefe could not be the Letters of Sterne.

Lewefdon Hill. A Poems.

THIS

HIS poetical effay is, we understand, avowed to be the work of the rev. Mr. Crowe, of New College, Oxford, and public orator of that university. Notwithstanding some defects, it ranks in the first clafs of defcriptive poems. Its philofophical and moral caft, its fpontaneous flow, and varied cadence of style, which we in vain feek for in most of our modern measurers of blank verse, have rendered a species of poetry extremely pleafing, that, in general, for want of fome story to intereft the imagination, is exceedingly dull and tirefome. It must be acknowleged, that fome compound epithets, and antiquated phrafeology, which occafionally occur, create a harshness that grates upon a modern ear; but it ought to be remembered, if it be a firft principle that, at any rate, we muft facrifice to found, no great effect can ever be produced. Real genius will fpurn fuch laws; and, in juft criticism, the queftion must be, whether the grandeur of the image does not call for a correfpondent dignity and weight in the language. If we ever hope to intereft greatly, we must create or borrow a language which is not made too familiar by vulgar or common use.

:

It is not without an appropriate language that our religious fervice commands that veneration and awe which it uniformly impreffes and it will be impoffible to keep up the attention and refpect neceffary to fuccefs in every great attempt, except by phrafeology fomething removed even from that ftyle, however refined, in which the common intercourfe of life is conducted. Such was very decidedly the opinion of Mr. Gray; where, fpeaking of tragedy, he obferves: As to matter of ftyle I have this to fay; the language of the age is never the language of poetry, except among the French, whofe yerfe, where the thought or image does not fupport it, differs

2.

in nothing from profe. Our poetry, on the contrary, has a language peculiar to itfelf; to which almost every one that has written has added fomething, by enriching it with foreign idioms and derivatives; nay, fometimes words of their own compofition or invention. Shakspeare and Milton have been. great creators this way; and no one more licentious than Popë or Dryden, who perpetually borrow expreffions from the former.' And this doctrine must be admitted to apply to a poem, the objects of which, like thofe of the tragic mufe, are highly interefting and important.

Having thus given our general opinion of the style beft adapted to the higher fubjects of poetry, into which we were led by the confideration of the work before us, we shall briefly notice a few paffages in it. The author describes himself as walking to the top of Lewefdon Hill, in a May morning. The poem opens with an enumeration of the objects in view from the fide of the hill: the flow of the numbers is eafy and elegant, and no lefs diverfified than thofe objects which they enumerate. The numbers in the following apoftrophe are no lefs ftately and folemn.

Ye dew-fed vapours, nightly balm, exhaled

From earth, young herbs and flowers, that in the morn
Afcend as incenfe to the Lord of day,

I come to breathe your odours; while they float
Yet near this furface, let me walk embathed

In your invisible perfumes, to health

So friendly, nor lefs grateful to the mind,
Adminiftring sweet peace and cheerfulness.

The poet then gives a fhort sketch of the feveral seasons in which the hill affumes many various and picturesque forms, and mixes with it fuch reflections as naturally arife from his fubject. Being arrived at the fummit, he proceeds to defcribe the objects which lie before him; fuch, indeed, as in fimilar pieces have been usually felected for poetical ornament. In this poem they appear to be rather hints and opportunities, which the author has chosen to rife from them to loftier ftrains. The woods, the valley, the ftream, the fea, the Roman camp, the rained tower, are the materials of his landscape: but he does not reft in the bare delineation of thefe; each object is made a theme, on which he moralizes, or elfe ferves as the introduction to other splendid and more interefting scenes. The following lines may ferve as a fpecimen of his manner. A fmall ftream which iffues from the hill, and foon afterward falls into the fea, is the fubject. The valley beneath him, he fays, is

water'd well

By many a rill; but chief with thy clear ftream,
Thou nameless rivulet, who from the fide
Of Lewefdon foftly welling forth, doft trip
Adown the valley, wandering fportively.
Alas, how foon thy little courfe will end!
How foon thy infant ftream fhall lofe itself
In the falt mafs of waters, ere it grow
To name or greatnefs? Yet it flows along
Untainted with the commerce of the world,
Nor paffing by the noify haunts of men;
But through fequefter'd meads, a little space,
Winds fecretly, and in its wanton path
May cheer fome drooping flower, or minifles
Of its cool water to the thirsty lamb:
Then falls into the ravenous fea,, as pure
As when it iffued from its native hill.

So to thine early grave didft thou run on,
Spotless Francefca, fo, after short courfe,
Thine innocent and playful infancy

Was fwallowed up in death, and thy pure Spirit
In that illimitable gulph which bounds

Our mortal continent.

Here he fuddenly takes a different turn; and, in a ftyle more animated and philofophical, argues against the doctrine of neceffity, and the mortality of the foul. He expreffes himfelf with peculiar energy, but the paffage is too long for infertion. The catastrophe of the Hafwell Indiaman, an account of which is foon after introduced, is defcribed with great frength and conciseness, much after the manner of Milton.

Alas they perish'd all—all in one hour !'

When the fcene had been wrought as high as propriety could warrant, this pathetic exclamation is introduced with a very fine effect, to draw the veil over a catastrophe which could not be detailed, and woes that were not to be defcribed. The conduct of the poem, unlike that of Windsor Forest, or any other of our defcriptive poems, has this peculiarity in it, that, throughout, you trace the character and turn of mind, and are almost in the company and converfation of the author. The work is the excurfion of a reflecting and melancholy mufe, the walk of an II Penferofo, felecting from the scene around him fuch images as are congenial to his feelings, and making ufe of the landscape of the objeas themselves, merely as the vehicle or introduction of thofe ferious conceptions upon which his fancy feeds.

• Above the noife and ftir of yonder fields Uplifted, on this height I feel the mind