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son. It is imposible to read the report of the late traverse jury for the county of Middlesex without a strong suspicion that much misconduct, and many instances of cruelty, have been exhibited there : and a benevolent lamentation over the miseries of those who are ftated to have endured an illegal aggravation of confinement would have discovered a better heart than the present misapplied caricature. The attention of ministers themselves, however, is now turned to this important fubject; and we trust that no political considerations or secret influence will induce them to withhold the retribution which, on a cool and impartial investigation of facts, shall appear due.

The Mince Pye; an Heroic Epifle : humbly addressed to the Sovereign Dainty of a British Feaft, By Carolina Petry Pally. 410. 56. Jewed. Kearsley. 1800. We have experienced considerable perplexity in endeavouring to divine the drift of this poem. Mrs. Petty Pasty's topics are so disa cordant, and her transitions so abrupt, that we must confess we have been often baffled in our attempts to wind through the labyrinth of her ideas. We find many well wrought couplets, which prove the has a good ear; but for that con á stency of plan, in which every part conspires with every part in the promotion of some settled end, we look in vain.

Towards the close of her poem Mrs. Petty Pasty thus personifies the rapacity of France in the character of Soup-meagre, while by an originality, but we cannot say a happy originality of conception, Plumb-pudding and Mince.pye are made the types of British courage and conduct.

• As from the purlieus of St. James's-square
Bright Fashion fies, to charm the modifh fair,
And from the flapping of her painted wings
The cap, the robe, pellice, and bonnet flings;
Around with pleasure and applauses loud
The Bond-street swarms in gay disorder crowd,
While volumes of ber perfum'd breath disclose
The odours of the jesfamine and rose :
The fair creation owns her rougeing reign,
And simple Naturé fighs and pleads in vain.
So from the confines of her darling France
The pallid fiend, Soup-meagre, dares advance,
Hors’d on a stock-6fh; wide her pinions spread,
And shake down frogs, and herbs, and barley bread:
Beneath those pinions' fhade a fickly crowd
Creeps languid, and enjoys delusion's cloud;
Eager to make us quit Roaft-beef, and feed
On spioach, celry, and each maukith weed.
Where'er her mess is pour'd, the famish'd train
Longs for convent and joy, but longs in vain; ..

O'er the pale cheek cold blooded tremors dart,
Consuming Envy gnaws upon the heart;
They prowl and long for Britain's solid food,
Yer dare not own her Beef and Pudding good :
The hospitable feast in ruin lies,
And social comfort languishes and dies.
Lo! where in token of her baneful gripe,
Signal of famine, fares a rag of Tripe;
Siew'd to transparency, it flouts the sky,
And taunts Roast beef with idle mockery,
Uprearing it aloft, the hungry brood
Invade the board where late a fırlom food,
And, mud wiib luft of innovation, wille
For conquest o'er each long-establini'd dilli,
When dear the meagre hoft Pluin-pudding rose,
Whose smoking tweets delicious scents disclore ;
Full o'er the board the bad her flavours pour,
And from her empire drive them back to thore,
There with malicious hate Soup.meagre spread,
And fcantily surrounding nations fed,
Deplor'd good-living loft, and fafting moanid,
Till, half convuls'd with cholic, Europe groan'd:
And more had suffer'd yet; but, great in fame,
Mince-pye appear'á: at his avenging claim

The foup-devouring bands, aghaft, displacid,

Fell back, aftounded at his conq'ring taste.' P. 28,' Episile ix Rliy me', 10 M. G. Lewis, Ejq. M. P. Author of the Monk,

Ec. with other Verles, including Stanzas, addressed to Mrs. Fora dan. By — Soame, Esq. 8vo. Iso Lunn. 1800.

In neat and nervous verse Mr. Soame sets forth the praifes of M. G. Lewis, Efq. whose productions have of late attracted a conge derable share of the attention of the fashionable world. With all the zeal of unqualified admiration he defends this parliamentary no. velist against the various attacks which have been made upon him, both with respect to impurity of taste and tendency in his writings. Contrasting Mr. Lewis's celebrated drama with those of feveral of his contemporaries, the author of this little volume is led to enter his protest against the prevailing rage for naturalising foreign plays and foreign phraseology.

To the epistle are subjoined fome fhorter poems, each of which bears most fatisfactory testimony of Mr. Soame's metrical powers. We doubt not that our readers will be gratified by a perufal of the following translation of the well-known Italian canzonet, which commences with • Amiam, o bella Iola.'

• To Love, my Laura, let us give
The little span we have to live;
Our moments, swift as arrows, fly,
And wing d, like them, with deftiny,

< 'Tis not, 'tis not everlasting,
But to swift destruction hafting,
The pride of youth's elusive hour,
Thy peerlefs beauty's blooming flow's,

Yon orb, that now descends to lave
His axle in the western wave,
The same, or more refulgent still,
Shall rise at morn o'er yonder hill.

• Tho' winter from the woodlands tear
Their verdant spoils, and leave them bare;
Yet these another spring shall view
With fairer foliage cloath'd anew.

• Our “ May of life,” alone, no more
Revolving seasons shall restore ;
And death, o'er man's expiring light,
Lets fall interminable night,

• Once in the “ narrow house of clay,"
" To dumb forgetfulness a prey,"
No dreams of joy, no tale of love, s
The deep perennial gloom remove.

• Then come, and e'er the stern beheft
Of fate forbid us to be blest;
While beauty blooms, and passion glows,
Hafte, let us snatch the short-liv'd rose !

• Let doting grey-beards ring in vain
Dull changes on the moral strain;
Their frozen maxims nought avail;
Our hearts repeat a warmer tale.

! To love then, Laura, let us give
The little span we have to live;
Our moments swift as arrows fly,

And wing'd, like them, with destiny.' P.15. We have been highly amused with the humorous irregular ode on Kemble's threatened secession from the stage ; and not less so with the second epigram, which appears to us to possess uncominon merit.

DRAM A. The Jew and the Doctor : a Farce, in fuo Aets. As performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent-Garden. By Thomas Dibdin. Svo. 15. Longman and Rees. 1800.

We applaud the discernment of Mr. Bicknell of Norfolk-street, who, as Mr. Dibdin informs us in his advertisement, from being a

Iso Longh, she discernments in his a

casual spectator of the performance of this farce at the Maidstone

Theatre, without any solicitation on the part of its author, recoinmended it to Mr. Harris.

The character of the Jew is well deligned, and affords an hu. morous exhibition of a mind generous, where large sums are concerned, yet parfimonioudy scrupulous in the minuter details of gain. The character of the doctor is original: the remainder of the dra. matis personæ are not particularly striking, but each promotes the business of the play, and in their intercourse they are thrown into Situations sufficiently ludicrous and fanciful. The character of Abednego, the Jew, is developed in the following scene ,

"SCENE II.--A Chamber at Abednego's.

Enter Emily and Abednego. Abed. I tell you, ma dear, it's all true, every word of it. Pless ma heart, I'm so happy! I was always happy; and now I don't know whether I stand upon ma head or ma heels.

Emily. But, my dear Sir, pray be explicit-inform me more particularly by what means

Abed. Sit down, my dear, sit down. You know I vas always mighty fond to take care of de main chance. Emily. But, Sir, the suspense I am in

Abed. Don't mention the expence, my dear; but hear the ftory. You know, miss Emily, dat I always did every kindness vat I cou'd for you. Emily. Indeed, Sir, you have always been a father to me.

Abeid. No, ma dear, not alvays; for I never saw your moiber in all ma life. So, ma dear, I vent to day to make some pargains, mit ma friend Shadrach vat lives o'top of Duke's Place, and dere I pought this peaudiful ring. Vat you tink it cost me, ma tear? Emily. A great sum, without doubt. But the story, Sir.

Abed. Vell, ma tear-I'll tell you-It is a fine tiscovery I have made it cost me twenty-five guineas, as I am an honest man, every varthing of the money (looking at the ring). Emily. No doubt, Sir; but this is cruel.

Abed. I told him so, ma tear; but he wou'dn't take a farthing less. So I vas determined to puy it; because it matches exactly mit this jewel, vat I found upon you when you vas left at iny door.

Emily. Ah, Sir, how fortunate! Do you not think that by means of this you may probably trace who were my parents ?

Abedi. Yes, ma dear; I tink myself dat-pless ma heart, it's a creat piiy they hadn't always been together they'd bave sold, my dear, for tu'enty per cent. more, as I'm an honest man.

Emily. But, Sir, didn't your friend inform you of whom he bought the jewel-can't it be traced? But you have taken already so much trouble on my account, that

Abeit. I couldn't take lefs apon ma vord. I'll tell you now, niss Ernily, all vat I know about it, Ven I was in Amsterfam, I

took ma lodgings in a creat house vat had just been left by a rich / merchant-How much you tink I paid a week for ma lodging? Emily. Dear Sir.

Abed. O, more dear as people wou'd tink. Vel, ma tear, I vas vaken one morning out of my sleep wit de cry of a fhild in de passage of ma lodging; and ven I saw it, it look'd for all de vorld so it was an angel

Emily. Ah, Sir!

"Abed. So I took it up, and ax'd all over de place whose little thild it vas-All de people he laugh at me, and "faid vat it vas my own, and I vanted to heat 'em, and dat I vas a Jew, and wou'd take in te devil; but I told dem I vould take in noting but de fhild. So I took pity upon you, ma tear, for I remembered ven I vas a poor little poy myself, and sold rollers a top o'the street.

"Emily. Was there any thing besides the jewel with me?

Abed. There vas some paper mit your name upon it, which said, this fhild is christened Emily-And as for de clothes vat vas mit you, I suppose they wou'd fetch about five guineas, and the basket I sold myself for a rattle out of the toyman's shop for youfor I always minded the main chance-So I-prought you to Eng. land, and put you to a Christian school; for, as your father and mother made you a Christian, for vat I shou'd make you a Jew, my tear?

Emily. How, Sir, mall I ever repay your goodness? Alas! the debt of gratitude commenced with my birth.

"Abed. (with reverence) Ma dear, I always minds de main chance. The panker, on whom I draw for payment, is Provitence; he placed you in ma hands as a pledge of his favour, and the security is unexceptionable. This jewel, ma tear, is for yourself-it pelongs to the other, the value of which I laid out in nierchandises for you, which have prospered. I kept the jewel in ma own hands, to lead to a discovery of your parents; and I expect ma friend Shadrach every moment mit intelligence-den Charles, you know, ma tear, vat loves you so, I expect bim too he tinks vat you hav'n't got a penny in all de vorld—but I've taken care of de main chance.' P. 8. Ramah Droog : a Comic Opera, in three Ads, as performed with universal Applause at the Theatre-Royal, Covent-Garden. By

James Cobb, Efq. 8vo. 25. Longman and Rees. 1800.

Ramah Droog is a busy bustling drama, containing a mixture of tragedy, comedy, and farce. The scene is laid in India. This circumstance gives occasion to the introduction of grand machinery, rich dresses, processions, and dancing girls. With the aslistance of good music, therefore, we can readily conceive that these attractive adjuncts would ensure it the universal applause with which the titlepage informs us it was received at Covent Garden theatre. . .

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