Retrospect of Domestic Literature— Poetry. 
ef 1806. From this latter portion we 
transcribe the character of Mr. Fox. 
¢¢ If matchless talents, boundless stretch of 
thought, 
If science at the sacred fountain sought ; 
A spirit, kindling with that fervid glew, 
Whence only great and daring actions flow ; 
if friendship ardent, springing from the soul, 
That ne’er knew guile, nor interest’s base 
controul 5 
Philanthropy that burn’d tow’rds all man- 
kind, 
By wide-spread seas, or continents disjoin’d, 
Wherever Phebus’ glowing axle rolls, 
Flames at the line, or glimmers at the poles 5 
But chief, on fire, beyond th’ Atlantic wave, 
To rend the fetters of the groaning slave— 
If these,—if heav’n-bern genius give the 
claim 
To deathless laurels, and immortal Fame, 
That Mreép is thine—eternally combin’d 
In every gen’rous Briten’s patriot mind.” 
The verses which follow the character, 
are if possible sul more happy. They 
allude to the interment of the Statesman 
at Westminster, 
«© No more your thunders strike th’ admir- 
ing ear, 
But close by Ais is laid thy laurell’d bier : 
Extinguished high ambition’s glorious thirst, 
Together mingled your distinguish’d dust—= 
In peace repose where yon imperial dome 
O’er shrouded grandeur throws its awfulgloom, 
Where kings and heroes strew the hallow’d 
floor, 
And York and Laneaster are foes no more.” 
These extracts are sufficient to afford a 
notion of what the reader will be likely 
to find in Richmond Hill; the neigh- 
bouring scenes of which are celebrated in 
a strain of poetry equally fervid and cor- 
rect, occasionally varied with episodes, 
and containing many appropriate eulogies - 
on the learned and the great. It is ac- 
companied by two beautiful engravings of 
the antient palace. 
“ The Sweets of Solitude,” by Mr.. 
Borner, and “ Contemplation,” by Mr. 
PENWARNE, are poems of a similar de- 
scription; but probably better calculated 
for private than general circulation. 
ln “ The Moorland Bard,” we have 
the poetical Recollections of a Weaver, 
in two volumes ; whose verses, though oc- 
casionally marked by feeling, are not enti- 
tled to extraordinary praise. The man 
Who talks of the Casteallion spring, will 
not be suspected of having ae too 
deeply of its waters. 
Not less deserving of attention than 
Mr. BroomFiE.p’s former Poems, are his 
.“ Wild Flowers,” in which rural manners 
and rural scenery are se ably represented, 
629 
The genius and sunplicity which marked 
the features of his first productions are, 
equally observable in the poetry of the 
present volume. The Tale of the Broken 
Crutch, and the poem To my old Gak Ta- 
ble, are among the best of the local pve- 
try mentioned in the title. 
Mr. Cruse, the vicar of Brandeston 
in Suifolk, has trans!ated Mr. Bloomfield’s 
“ Farmer’s Boy,” into Latin verse, with 
a considerable share of elegance and 
neatness, under the title of Agricole Puer. 
It is dedicated to the Master and Fellows 
of Caius College, Cambridge. 
Another, though a more trifling work 
of merit, will be found in “ The Peacock 
at Home,” a Sequel to the Butterfiy’s 
Ball: written by a Lady.—TVhe spleen 
which had been excited not only among 
the quadrupeds, but the birds, by the But- 
terfly’s Ball and the Grasshopper’s Feast, 
is supposed to have made the Peacock 
issue Cards for Saint Valentine’s Day. 
“« This determin’d, six fleet Carrier-Pigeons 
went out, 
To invite all the Birds to Sir Argus’s Route. 
The nest-loving Turrie-Dove sent an ex- 
Cuse, 
Dame ParRTLET lay in, ag did good Mrs. 
Goose; ‘ 
The Turkey, poor soul ! was confined to the 
rip : 
For all her young breod had just fail’d with 
ah the. pip. 
And the Par Trivce was ask’d; buta neighe 
bour hard by, 
Had engag’d a snug party to meet in a pyej 
The WHEAT-EAR declin’d, recollecting her 
cousins, 
Last year to a feast were invited by dozens ; 
But alas! they return’d not 3 and she had no 
taste 
To appear ina costume of vine-leaves or paste. 
The Woon-cocx preferr’d his lone haunt oa 
the moor; 
And the traveller SwaL tow, was stili on his 
tour. . 
The Cuckoo, who should have been one of 
the guests, 
Was rambling on visits to other bird’s nests. 
But the rest, all accepted the kind invitation, 
And much bustle it caus’d in the plumed crea 
tion : 
Such ruffling of feathers, such pruning of 
coats, 
Such chirping, such whistling, such clearing 
of throats ; 
Such polishing bills, and such oiling of pinions 
Had never been known in the biped domi- 
nions,” \ 
From this, which is a specimen atran- 
dom, our readers may form an idea of the 
story, the spirit and point of which are 
preserved to the very last line, 
NOVELS 
