Retrospect of Domestic Literature.—Poetry. 
A dance of pleasures, hurrying by, 
Enduring griefs, a glimpse of joy, 
With blessings of a brittle kind, 
Inconstant, shifting as the wind, 
Are all your suppliant has known, 
Since first his lingering race begun. 
Tn pity, then, pronounce my fate, 
And here conclude my shortemd date ; 
*Tis all I ask you, to bestow 
A safe retreat from future woe! 
From the second volume of these 
Specimens we quote the ‘* Life of a Fool,” 
by Mr. James Millar, who died in 1744. 
A fool enjoys the sweets of life, 
Unwounded by its cares ; 
His passions never are at strife 5 
He hopes not, he, nor fears, 
If Fortune smile, as smile she will, 
Upon her booby brood, 
The fool anticipates no ill, 
But reaps the present good. 
Or should, thro’ love of change, her wheels 
Her favourite bantling crass, 
The happy fool no anguish feels, 
He weighs nor gains nor loss. 
When knaves o’er-reach, and friends betray, 
Whilst men of sense run mad, 
Fools, careless, whistle on, and say, 
’Tis silly to be mad. 
Since free from sorrow, fear, and shame, 
A fool thus fate defies, 
The greatest folly Ican name, 
Is to be over-wise. 
And from the third volume we select 
a longer Specimen in “ The Bramble,” . 
from thePoetry of the Rev. Samuel Bishop. 
While wits thro’ fiction’s regions ramble, 
While bards for fame or profit scramble : 
While Pegasus can trot, or amble ; 
Come,what may come,—I1l sing the Bramble; 
* How now! methinks I hear you say, 
Why ? what is rhyme run mad to-day ?” 
No, Sirs, mine’s but a sudden gambol ; 
My muse hung hamper’d in a bramble. 
But soft !.no more of this wild stuff! 
Once for a frolick is enough ; 
So help us rhyme, at future need, 
As we in soberer style proceed. 
All subjects of nice disquisition 
Admit two modes of definition 5 
For every thing two sides has got, 
What is it? and what is it not ? 
Both methods, for exactness sake, 
We with our bramble mean to take 
And by your leave, will first discuss, 
Its negative good parts,—as thus. 
A bramble will not, like a rose, ~ 
To prick your fingers, tempt your nose, 
When’er it wounds, the fault’s your own, 
Let that, and that let’s you, alone. 
You shut your myrtles for a time up, 
Your jasmine wants a wall to climb up; 
641 
But bramble, in its humbler station, 
Nor weather heeds, nor situation ; 
No season is too wet, or dry for’t, 
No ditch too low, no hedge too hizh for*t. 
Some praise, and that with reason too, 
The honey-suckle’s scent and hue 5 
But sudden storms, or sure decay, 
Sweep, with its bloom, its charms away; 
The sturdy bramble’s coarser flow’r , 
Maintains it’s post, come blast, come show’r 5 
And when time crops it, time subdues 
No charms ;—for it has none to lose. 
Spite of your skill, and care and cost, 
Your nobler shrubs are often lost ; 
But brambles, where they once get footing, 
ac . yi 6 
ii'rom age to age continue shooting ; 
Ask no attention, nor forecasting ; 
Not ever-green ; but everlasting. 
Some shrubs intestine hatred cherish, 
And plac’d too near each other, perish ; 
Bramble indulges no such whim, 
All neighbours are alile to him ; 
No stump so scrubby, but he?ll grace it, 
No crab so sour but he’ll embrace it. 
Such, and so various negative merits, 
‘The bramble from it’s birth inherits ; 
Take we its positive virtues next ! 
For so at first we split our text. — 
The more Resentment tugs and kicks, 
The closer still the bramble sticks ; 
Yet gently handled, quits its hold, 
Like heroes of true British mould; 
Nothing so touchy, when they’re teazed, 
No touchiness so soon appeased. 
Fullin your view, and next your hand, 
The bramble’s homely berries stard: 
Fat as you list,—none calls you glutton 3 
Forbear,—it matters not a button. 
And is not, pray, this very quality 
The essence of true hospitality ? 
When trank simplicity and sense 
_ Make no parade, take no offence 5 
Such as it is, set forth their best, 
And let the welcome—add the rest. 
The brambles shoot, though fortune lay 
Point-blank obstructions in its way 
For no obstructions will give out, 
Climbs up, creeps under, winds about ; 
Like valour, that can suffer, die, 
Do any thing, but yield or fly. 
While brambles hints like these can start, 
Am I to blame to take their part? 
No, let who will affect to scorn ’em, 
My Muse shall glory to adorn ’em ; 
For as Rhyme did in my preamble, 
So Reason now cries, ‘Bravo! bramble!” 
Another, though a less varied collec- 
tion of compositions will be found in the 
“ Oxford Prize Poems :” a small volume, 
the contents of which appear. to have 
merit proportionate to the degrees of 
competition excited by the subjects of 
the different prizes. The Poems are on 
the following subjects: The Conquest of 
Quebec, 
