• spread out and fupport the • flowers.

These are very large, and of a beautiful red. They are not like thofe of the • houseleek, compofed of ⚫ twelve petals; but formed of one only, and that divided but into ten fegments. "The feeds are contained in capfules, feveral of which

fucceed every flower.

It is a common plant on the Alps, and in many parts of Switzerland; where it roots among the most naked rocks, and when in flower makes a beautiful appear

ance.

'C. Bauhine calls it Sedum montanum tementofum.'

L

Verfes to the People of England. 1758. By William Whitehead, Efq; Poet Laureat. 4to. 6d. Dodfley.

Th

HIS little poem contains fome very seasonable advice to the people of England; but we could have wifhed it had been conveyed in Heroic numbers; the fhortnefs of the stanza fometimes obfcuring the Author's fenfe, and never carrying with it due weight or dignity. It muft, however, be allowed, that the verfification is flowing and eafy, the language correct and poetical and if this piece fhould not have the fanie effect upon our countrymen, as the verfes of Tyrtæus had upon the twice defeated Lacedemonians, it ought to be confidered that we are a less martial people than the Spartans.

It must, however, be allowed, that an English Laureat cannot better employ his Mufe, than in endeavouring

By magic Numbers, and perfuafive Senfe,

to excite in us a patriotic zeal for the glory and fafety of our country. It is, indeed, a mortifying circumftance, to reflect how little Public Spirit at prefent prevails, among all ranks of people. Well, therefore, may our Poet thus give vent to his refentments on this occafion.

Curft be he, the willing Slave,

Who doubts, who lingers to be brave.
Curft be the Coward tongues that dare
Breathe one accent of delpair,

Cold as Winter's icy hand

To chill the Genius of the land.

Chiefly you, who ride the deep,
And bid our thunders wake or fleep,
As Pity pleads, or Glory calls-
• Monarchs of our wooden Walls!

Midft your mingling feas and fkies
Rife ye BLAKES, ye RALEIGHS rife!
Let the fordid luft of gain

Be banish'd from the liberal Main.
He who ftrikes the generous blow,
Aims it at the public foe.
Let Glory be the guiding ftar,

Wealth and Honours follow her.

After this fpecimen, the Reader will not be displeased to fee the Laureat's addrefs to the British Mufe; for tho', we confefs ourselves no great Believers in the martial prowefs of the tuneful Tribe, yet

Ære ciere Viros, martemque accendere cantu

would be, on the prefent occafion, could the Mufe effect it, of the last importance to the public.

Thou genuine BRITISH MUSE,

Nurs'd amidit the Druids old,
Where Deva's wizard waters roll'd,
THOU, that bear'ft the golden key
To unlock Eternity,

Summon thy poetic guard

Britain ftill has many a Bard,

Whom, when Time and Death fhall join

T expand the ore, and ftamp the coin,
Late Pofterity fhall own

Lineal to the Mufe's throne-

Bid them leave th' inglorious theme
Of fabled shade, or haunted ftream.
In the daily painted mead

'Tis to PEACE we tune the reed :
But when WAR's tremendous roar
Shakes the ifle from fhore to fhore,
Every Bard of purer fire

Tyrtæus like fhould grafp the lyre;
Wake with verfe the hardy deed,

Or in the generous ftrife like *SYDNEY bleed.

Sir Philip Sydney. mortally wounded in an action near Zutphen, in Gelderland.

Gr-r

An Ode to the Country Gentlemen of England. By Dr. Akenside.

THE

4to. 6d. DodЛley.

HE poetical productions of this two-fold difciple of Apollo, as he is, with no impropriety, filed by the English Ariftippus *, have this peculiar excellence-they uniformly glow

See Review for February laft, page 158.

with the facred fire of liberty; infomuch that our public-fpirited Doctor well deferves to be ftiled, The Poet of the Community.

In this light we have read his Ode to the Country Gentlemen of England, with peculiar fatisfaction. It is fpirited, manly, and fufficiently poetical for those to whom it is addreffed ;-and, as in former times, the halls of our rural ancestors were adorned with paffages from our old chronicles, fo we heartily with, that moft of the ftanzas of this patriot performance were to fupply the place, in our modern manfions, of race-horfes, Newmarket-jockies, and the trophies of the chace: for it is a melancholy reflection, that this ifland will, probably, one day, either fall a prey to foreign invaders, or her own foldiery, unless the body of the people are instructed in the use of arms. Did our farmers but know, that they are poffeffed of more wealth and freedom than the peafantry of any other nation; and above all, were our country gentlemen (for with them the chief remora lies) but fufficiently apprized of the fuperior advantages they enjoy, compared with what thofe of the fame rank poffefs on the continent, we cannot think fo meanly of either, as to imagine they would not gladly embrace the opportunity our laws have put into their hands, of becoming mafters of the only art by which these invaluable bleffings can be preferved to themselves, and tranfmitted to posterity.

Our Poet, after expofing the extreme folly, as well as danger, of trufting entirely to either our fleets or standing armies, for the defence of Britain, which, (in proportion to its wealth, will only prove the more tempting to invaders) thus proceeds:

VII.

But if thy fons be worthy of their name,

If lib'ral laws with lib'ral hearts they prize,
Let them from conqueft and from fervile fhame
In war's glad school their own protectors rise.
Ye chiefly, heirs of Albion's cultur'd plains,
Ye leaders of her bold and faithful fwains,
Now not unequal to your birth be found:
The public voice bids arm your rural state,
Paternal hamlets for your enfigns wait,

And grange and fold prepare to pour their youth around,

VIII.

Why are ye tardy? what inglorious care
Detains you from their head, your native post?
Who most their country's fame and fortune fhare,
'Tis theirs to share her toils, her perils most.

Each man his task in focial life fultains.
With partial labours, with domeftic gains

Let

Let others dwell: to you indulgent heav'n
By counfel and by arms the public caufe

To ferve for public love, and love's applause,
The first employment far, the nobleft hire, hath giv'n.

IX.

Have ye not heard of Lacedæmon's fame.?

Of Attic chiefs in freedom's war divine ?

Of Rome's dread gen'rals? the Valerian name?
The Fabian fons? the Scipio's, matchless line?
Your lot was theirs, the farmer and the fwain
Met his lov'd patron's fummons from the plaia;
The legions gather'd; the bright eagles flew :
Barbarian monarchs in the triumph mourn'd;
The conqu'rors to their houfhold gods return'd,
And fed Calabrian flocks, and steer'd the Sabine plough.

X.

Shall then this glory of the antique age,
This pride of men, be loft among mankind?
Shall war's heroic arts no more engage
The unbought hand, the unfubjected mind?
Doth valour to the foul no more belong?
No more with fcorn of violence and wrong
Doth forming nature now her fons infpire,
That, like fome mystery to few reveal'd,
The fkill of arms implicitly they yield,

And from their own defence abash'd and aw'd retire ?
XI.

O fhame to human life, to human laws !
The loofe advent'rer, hireling of a day,
Who his fell fword without affection draws,
Whose God, whofe country is a tyrant's pay,
This man the leffons of the field can learn ;
Can every palm, which decks a warrior, earn,
And every pledge of conqueft: while in vain,
To guard your altars, rights, paternal lands,
Are focial arms held out to your free hands:
Too arduous is the lore; too irksome were the pain:
XII.

Meantime by pleafure's fophiftry allur'd,

From the bright fun and living breeze ye ftray;
And deep in London's gloomy haunts immur'd,
Brood o'er your fortune's, freedom's, health's decay.
O blind of choice, and to yourselves untrue!

The young grove fhoots, their bloom the fields renew,
The manfion afks its lord, the swains their friend;
While he doth riot's orgies haply share,

E. g. Two late marshals of France.
Z

REV. April, 1758.

Or tempt the gamefter's dark, deftroying foare,
Or at fome courtly fhrine with flavifh incenfe bend.-
XVI.

Say then; if England's youth, in earlier days,
On glory's field with well-train'd armies vy'd,
Why fhall they now renounce that generous praise ?
Why dread the foreign mercenary's pride?
Tho' Valois brav'd young Edward's gentle hand,
And D'Albret rufh'd on Henry's way-worn band,
With Europe's chofen fons in arms renown'd,
Yet not on Vere's bold archers long they look'd,
Nor Audley's 'fquires nor Mowbray's yeomen brook'd:
They faw their ftandard fall, and left their monarch bound.
XVII.

Such were the laurels which your fathers won;
Such glory's dictates in their dauntless breast:
Is there no voice that speaks to every fon?
No nobler, holier call to You addrefs'd?
O! by majestic freedom, righteous laws,
By heav'nly truth's, by manly reafon's caufe,
Awake; attend; be indolent no more:
By friendship, focial peace, domeftic love,
Rife; arm; your country's living fafety prove;

And train her valiant youth, and watch around her fhore,

G

Lettre Familiari e Critiche di Vincenzio Martinelli. 8vo. 6s.

TH

Nourfe.

HIS collection of familiar letters is the work of a gentleman already known to the literary world, by his entertaining hiftory of Civil Life. Mr. Martinelli, we are told, has refided ten years in this country; and we hope he will have no reafon to complain of English hofpitality, or to object to us, that any partiality of country, or opinion, blinds our judgments, or contracts our affections, when real merit folicits our regard. He has lived, it feems, fince his arrival, in a continued friendfhip with the Great, the Elegant, and the Learned. The refpect with which he has been treated, and the favours he has received, he has taken occafion to acknowlege in these letters, the greater part of which are infcribed to one or other of his honourable acquaintance.

Mr. Martinelli tells us, that obferving in this nation a great curiofity in regard to Italian literature, and finding the shops ill fup

plied

See Review, Vol. VII. p. 143