32i CfiARACTER OF G. BUCHANAN. Nov. pj 



ftrange dialogue between a painter and a baker, dif- 

 puting which of them could make deities fooneft. Tlie 

 painter founds his pretenfions on his profeflion of 

 drawing the piftures of the faints, while the baker 

 boafts that he can make ten thoufand holy wafers in an 

 hour. The mifcellany begins with a poem at the ex- 

 pence of a rich abbot, whofe life and conduct Buchanan 

 contrails with that of the divine founder of Chriflia- 

 nity. We have alfo a furious invedtive againfl; the 

 kingdom of Portugal, including a warm panegyric oit 

 the climate and people of France. But the mod rs- 

 Jnarkable piece in this colle£lion is an ode of eleven 

 itanzas, upon the condu£l of the Portuguefe in Brazil. 

 He invokes the Angel who deltroyed Sodom and Go- 

 morrah to hurl his thunderbolts againft the execrable 

 invaders ; and concludes with an ardent wifli that the 

 earth may open to fwallow them, or the fire of heaven 

 blafl them. In a word, it is the fined invedlive againft 

 the tyranny of Europeans in America that the world 

 has probably ever feen. From the peculiar boldnefs 

 and rapidity of its ftilc, a critic of learning would per- 

 haps venture to fay that this ode comes neareft of all' 

 poetry to the martial enthufiafm of Tyrtaeus. Every 

 line feems to flafh from the heart of the writer. — There 

 is, tliere can be nothing more awfully fablime. 

 fTo be continued. ) 



To the Editor of the Bee. 

 Sir, 



In performance of my promife to continue my tr infla- 

 tions of the epiltles in my feledl volume, formerly 

 mentioned, pleafe accept of the following from 



L. Annaus Seneca to Luc. litis. 

 I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 



A.B. 



