He scorns, in apathy, to float or dream,
On listless satisfaction's torpid stream;

But dares alone in vent'rous bark to ride
Down turbulent Delight's tempestuous tide.
With thoughts encount'ring thoughts in conflict strong,
The deep Pierian thunder of the song,

Rolls o'er his raptur'd sense: the realms on high
For him disclose their varied majesty;

He feels the call: then bold, beyond controul,
Stamps on the immortal page, the visions of his soul."

Such, my dear Baron, is this Poet, Patriot, and Philanthropist! -A man who can thus feel, and thus express his feelings, illustrating his theory by his practice, a teacher of the most sublime art, and amongst the very best illustrations of what is to be taught; one who has proved himself able, alike to point the keen yet polished shaft of satire, and to sweep the lyre, is privileged, even on Mr. Pope's

*

axiom, to censure or to praise.

lic efforts have slightly, or not

My own pub

at all, come

"Let those judge others who themselves excel."

under his notice, either in the way of eulogy or blame; I, therefore, feel myself the more free to pour forth my sentiments of his high capacities, without suspicion of a motive less disinterested, than the pure enthusiasm which true genius should inspire and I dare to hope, though heaven knows we are all feeble beings -had such a Writer been my foeit being scarcely possible he should be an ungenerous one I should thus have yielded to the general delight which conviction of general excellence, would have excited in my heart.

Not that I conceive he has always been right in his judgments: and for that reason I lay some stress on the repetitions of the word general. No doubt, he has sometimes, like other men, followed prejudices, and partialities. Methinks it might be shewn that he has. In some cases, perhaps, his affections, and in others his informations, may have misled him; but, "take him for all in all," in the varied combinations that unite the accurate Critick, the man of sound sense, the rational Politician, and legitimate Poet, it is a long time

since we have seen the like of the Author of the "Pursuits of Literature," in OUR World of Letters although we have at all times been, as we are now, infested by a mongrel tribe, usurping, by turns, all those august characters, -in the way that a monkey may be said to resemble a man.

Yes, in sad truth, my illumined friend, a race we have, as noxious as numerous; a sorry sort of vermin which not only eject the venom they engender in their own heads and hearts; but, by a baneful kind of process, extract fresh supplies from the sweetest flowers of poesy, and from every precious intellectual substance they literally feed upon and disgorge,

These are amongst the vermin that one of the most brilliant writers England ever had to boast, observes, " find poison every where, take a delight in collecting it, and then diffusing it abroad." Thousands of them are spawned

*A passage from one of Mr. Sheridan's speeches in parliament. If you will allow me to apply the description of an ima

annually even in that palladium, the 'BRITISH PRESS, whence have issued so many fair crea

ginary to a real person, I shall desire you to consider the following sentence, as equally characteristic of the fancied hero* for whom it was written, and Mr. SHERIDAN. "He has the happy art of rendering every thing interesting; whatsoever he touches, though dull and drossy in itself, acquires, by the alchymy of his genius, a shining, and even sterling quality sometimes difcovering ideas, light, easy, and full of fire, and sometimes anticipating sentiments more weighty and profound."

My estimate of his poetical and dramatic. genius you already know. + Of his senatorial talents, those who differ from him in political opinion, will be unanimous in their admiration of his wit, the glow of his eloquence, the play of his fancy, and the richness of his mind.

With perfect adherence to truth, and, considering the avowed opposition of their public tenets, with the most perfect reverence of Genius, the author of its "Pursuits" has conveyed, in one of his text-illuminating notes, as graceful a compliment to Mr. Sheridan as he has, perhaps, ever received. "I am sorry to say, that in the realms of wit and humour Mr. S. is now silent. Why is he so? politics are transitory, wit is eternal." Yet the ingenious writer whom I quote must remember that wit is also universal, and enters into all subjects: and he will certainly admit that it forms a prominent feature in the political portrait of Mr. S.

*LIENRY FITZORTON, in "Family Secrets."

+ Sketch of the Modern Theatre, in the Introduction to Gleanings in Wales, &c.

tions: but the Rose, you know, nourishes the canker. These pests are more thick than the

A pause, however, in his attendance as a statesman, has, happily, for the public amusement, been recently, and very successfully filled by adapting to our Theatre, The Death of Rolla, from your own KOTZEBUE. The German literature, now, and in many, but not in all, respects, is deservedly a fashionable intellectual importation; of which, when opportunity, allows, I will communicate with you more particularly. Meantime, which is not often the case, if you or KOTZEBUE himself should be in England while the anglecised PIZARRO is in its run, as we call it, you would both confess that the laurel of the original should be shared with him who has given it in everal parts a brighter hue by transplantation. Indeed, from the report which I have heard of the German bard's modesty, ever a mark of true genius, I am persuaded he would himself be the first to divide the wreath with the British one. Nor is Mr. SHERIDAN alone entitled to a liberal feeling from the affecting KOTZEBUE. An English woman has just claim on him: and the fame he has acquired at home, is not a little expanded abroad, and especially in England, by the medium of MISS PLUMTREE'S elegant and interesting translations.

But of the living writers of my country, of both sexes, and of whom it has rea on to be proud. ➡an assertion, which, I trust, I shall support by accumulated proofs a day may come, when, unwarped by false criticism, either of censure or applause, I may be able to give you a just estimate of the present intellectual character of the land, as it is formed by its late or existing authors. What has hitherto been said on this great national subject, - certainly one of the