The heroine of the piece, mifs Belladen, is left, by her father's unjuft partiality to her elder brother, with no more than five hundred pounds to her fortune. She is taken home to the

houfe of Mr. Elrington, a gouty infirm gentleman. Sir Ed · ward Balchen falls in love with her, and privately settles two hundred pounds a year upon her, one hundred of which is to be paid her by Mr. Elrington, who, as fhe is made to believe, is the donor; the other hundred is to be laid out for her use. Mifs Belladen becomes paffionately in love, at the same time, with Sir Edward: and now what fhould hinder this couple, 'both of them of age, and at their own disposal, from being joined together in the holy bands of matrimony?-Delicacy, gentle reader, delicacy, the ambergrife of modern novels, the rarefier of invention, and, beyond hunger itself, the largitor ingenii to authors.

A lady Charlotte is introduced as the counterpart of mifs Belladen, who is a more amiable woman, though not fo finished a beauty: the one is the Pamela, the other the Philoclea of the piece.In the wild-goofe-chace of their several amours, all the parties (for there are many more than those we have mentioned) fall into a kind of mist, and play at blind-man's-buff. Sir Edward is fometimes in love with Pamela, fometimes with Philoclea. His hankering after the latter is, however, always predominant; but his conduct is fo ænigmatical, that miss Belladen is prevailed upon to promise her hand in marriage to Mr. Weftbury, who is deeply in love with her. This promife lengthens the line of delicacy, which was almost at an end. The wild-goofe-chace is renewed; the 'old combat between love and honour takes place in mifs Belladen's breaft, and renders her conduct so mysterious, that the author, who seems not extremely fruitful in the talents of unravelling difficulties, fairly cuts the Gordian knot. Weftbury finding the heart of his mistress otherwife engaged, wifely mar*ries another mistress, by which the two lovers, Sir Edward and mifs Belladen, being difentangled from their perplexities, are joined together; while Pamela, who is reprefented as a perfect coquette, is otherwife difpofed of in matrimony, to her fatisfaction.

Reader, thou haft from the above sketch, as much information of this novel as we have been able to glean from a painful perufal of all the three volumes; and if any young novel-writer is ambitious to follow the trade, we think he cannot do better than bind himself apprentice to the author of the Perplexed Lovers.

VII. A

VII. A Collection of the most esteemed Pieces of Poetry, that have appeared for feveral Years. With Variety of Originals: By the late Mofes Mendez, Efq; and other Contributors to Dodfley's Collection; to which this is intended as a Supplement. 8vo. Pr. 35. Richardfon and Urquhart.

T

10 this Collection, great part of which has been published before, and many of the pieces characterised in our Review, is prefixed the following advertisement :

But

The editor's chief intention in making the following Collection, was to bring into one point of view the best pieces which have appeared fince the conclufion of Dodfley's collec'tion; and he will venture to affirm, that whatever be the merit of that ent.rtaining mifcellany, this does not fall fhort any ways of it, as fome of the volumes in that are made up from the publications of a few years; whereas this contains whatever has been moft applauded in a course of twenty. he has not confined himself to that period only, but inferted many pieces, in his opinion, of great merit, which the inattention of the public, or the obfcurity of the publication, had long suffered to remain unnoticed. To these are added many originals by writers of acknowledged merit; among which, thofe of Mr. Mendez, author of the Chaplet, and feveral admired poems in Dodfley's Mifcellany, make no mean figure. Mr. Mendez was reckoned among the moft agreeable poets of his time, and, perhaps, he was the only one that was ever worth one hundred thousand pounds.'

As to Mr. Mendez, we remember a fprightly little bard about town of that name, author of the Chaplet; but we cannot agree with the editor, that he was reckoned among the moft agreeable poets of his time;' neither do we believe he was the only poet that ever was worth a hundred thousand pounds.' With respect to Mr. Mendez being poffeffed of that fum, we fhall not dispute the fact; but we will venture to say, that had he been to acquire his fortune by poetry, he would not have been poffeffed of as many fhillings. Among his other performances in this collection, is a tranflation of that Gothic attempt of Maphæus Vegius to close the account of Æneas, by adding a thirteenth book to Virgil's Eneis. This tranflation fills us with no high idea of our wealthy poet's claffical abilities, fince the beft commendation which can be bestowed on it is, that it is no difgrace to the original; as the reader may perceive from these introductory lines.

• Deform'd in duft now Turnus prefs'd the ground, The foul indignant rushing from the wound,

A a 3

While

While eminent amid the gazing bands,
Like Mars himself, the Trojan victor ftands:
Groans thick in confort from the Latians rife,
And ev'ry heart in ev'ry bofom dies.

As the tall wood bewails in hollow found,
By ftorms impell'd, her honours on the ground:
Now, fix'd in earth their fpears, the humble foe
Reft on their fwords, and targets from them throw:
Condemn the thirst of battle, and abhor

The dreaded fury of deftructive war:
Submit to all the conqu'ror fhall impose,
And pardon crave and end of all their woes.

As when two bulls inflam'd with martial rage,
Impetuous in the bloody fight engage,

To each his herd inclines, who anxious wait
The dubious conflict, and their champion's fate;
But, one victorious, t'other's dames in awe

From their foil'd chief their former faith withdraw:
They grieve indeed, but join with one accord

To share the fortunes of an happier lord.'

The following lines prove Mr. Mendez to have been more happy at imitation than tranflation. They are part of an epiftle to Mr. S. Tucker.

Health to my friend, and to his partner, peace,
A good long life, and moderate increase;
May Dulwich garden double treasures share,
And be both Flora and Pomona's care.
Ye Walton naiads, guard the fav'rite child,
Drive off each marfh-born fog; ye zephyrs mild,
Fan the dear innocent; ye fairies, keep
Your wonted diftance, nor difturb his fleep;
Nor in the cradle, while your tricks you play,
The changeling drop, and bear our boy away.
However chance may chalk his future fate,
Or doom his manhood to be rich or great,
Is not our care; oh, let the guiding pow'r
Decide that point, who rules the natal hour;
Nor fhall we feek, for knowledge to enrich,
The Delphic tripod, or your Norwood witch.

But Tucker doubts, and "if not rich," he cries,
"How can the boy reward the good and wife?
Give him but gold, and merit ne'er fhall freeze,
But re from want to affluence and ease ;

The

The Guido's touch fhall warm his throbbing heart,
The patriot's buft fhall speak the fculptor's art;
But if from Danae's precious fhow'r debarr'd,
The muse he may admire, but ne'er reward.”

'All this I grant; but does it follow then,
That parts have drawn regard from wealthy men?
Did Gay receive the tribute of the great?
No, let his tomb be witness of his fate:
For Milton's days are too long past to strike;
The rich of all times ever were alike,

See him, whofe lines "in a fine frenzy roll,"
He comes to tear, to harrow up the foul;
Bear me, ye pow'rs, from his bewitching fprite,
My eye-balls darken at excefs of light;
How my heart dances to his magic strain,

Beats my quick pulfe, and throbs each bursting vein,
From Avon's bank with ev'ry garland crown'd,
'Tis his to roufe, to calm, to cure, to wound;
To mould the yielding bofom to his will,
And Shakespeare is inimitable still:
Opprefs'd by fortune, all her ills he bore,
Hear this, ye Mufes, and be vain no more.

Nor fhall my Spenfer want his share of praise.
The heav'n-sprung fifters wove the laureat's bays;
Yet what avail'd his sweet defcriptive pow'r,
The fairy warrior, or inchanted bow'r ?
Tho' matchlefs Sidney doated on the strain,
Lov'd by the learned * fhepherd of the main.
Obferve what meed his lateft labours crown'd,
Belphæbe + fmil'd not, and stern Burleigh frown'd,
If ftill you doubt, confult fome well known friend,
Let Ellis fpeak, to him you oft attend,

Whom truth approves, whom candor calls her own,
Known by the God, by all the Mufes known.

Where tow'r his hills, where ftretch his lengths of vale,
Say, where his heifers load the smoaky pail ?

Oh may this grateful verse my debt repay,

If aught I know, he fhow'd the arduous way;

Within my bofom fan'd the rifing flame,

Plum'd my young wing, and bade me try for fame.

Since then I fcribbl'd, and muft fcribble ftill,

His word was once a fanction to my will ;

* Şir Walter Raleigh.

+ Queen Eilzabeth.

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And

And I'll perfift 'till he resume the pen,
Then fhrink contented, and ne'er rhyme again.

• Yet,' ere I take my leave, I have to fay,
That while in fleep my fenfes wafted lay,
The waking foul, which sports in fancy's beam,
Work'd on my droufy lids, and form'd a dream :
Then to my lines a due attention keep,

For oft when poets dream, their readers fleep.

'On a wide champian, where the furges beat
Th' extended beach, then fullenly retreat,
A difmal cottage rear'd its turfy head,
O'er which a yew her baleful branches spread;
The owl profane his dreadful dirges fung,
The paffing bell the foul night-raven rung;
No village cur here bay'd the cloudless moon,
No golden funshine chear'd the hazy noon,
But ghoits of men by love of gold betray'd,
In filence glided thro' the dreary fhade.
There fat pale Grief in melancholy state,
And brooding Care was trusted with the gate,
Within, extended on the chearless ground,
An old man lay in golden fillet bound;
Rough was his beard, and matted was his hair,
His eyes were fiery red, his shoulders bare;

Down furrow'd cheeks hot tears had worn their way,
And his broad fcalp was thinly ftrew'd with grey;

A weighty ingot in his hand he prest,

Nor feem'd to feel the viper at his breast.

Around the caitiff, glorious to behold,
Lay minted coinage, and hiftoric gold; *
High fculptur'd urns in bright confusion stood,
And ftreams of filver form'd a precious flood.

On nails, fufpended rows of pearls were seen,
Not fuch the pendants of th' Ægyptian queen,
Who (joy luxurious fwelling all her foul)
Quaff'd the vast price of empires in her bowl.

As feas voracious fwallow up the land,
As raging flames eternal food demand,
So this vile wretch, unblefs'd with all his store,
Repin'd in plenty, and grew fick for more;
Nor fhall we wonder when his name I tell,

'Twas Avarice, the eldest born of hell.