Downfall of the French Empire, by a Set of British Democrates, on the 14th of July. By Peter Pindar, Gent. FOR once Peter and we are on the fame fide. In this union with Pindar we glory; and, were it not for the brevity of his odes, and the charge of pla giarifm, though not entered in Stationers'-hall, we could transcribe the whole. Take, however, the concluding fong: dolphus the Great, by J. Hallenberg, hiftoriographer royal: the two first volumes, from his birth to 1613, containing only the first fourteen months of his teign. Profeffor Möller, of Gripfwald, promifes a German translation. INDEX INDICATORIUS. A CONSTANT CORRESPONDENT defires to know by what authority, or for what reason, the prefent worthy Bishop of London, "Come, good fellows all-Confufion's the inftead of addreffing the prayer for each per toast, And fuccefs to our excellent caufe:As we 've nothing to lafe, lo, nought can be loft, So, perdition to Monarchs and Laws! "France fhews us the way-an example how great! Then, like France, let us ftir up a riot: May our names be preferv'd by fome damna ble feat! For who but a wretch would lie quiet? *As we all are poor rogues, 'tis most certainly right At the doors of the rich ones to thunder; Like the thieves who fet fire to a dwelling by night, And come in for a share of the plunder. "Whoever for mischief invents the best plan, Beft murders, fets fire, and knocks down, The votes of our Club fhall be giv'n to that man, And bemlock shall form him a crown. "Our empire has tower'd with a lustre too long; Then blot out this wonderful fun; Let us arm then at once, and, in confidence ftrong, Complete what dark G- -n begun. "But grant a defeat—we're hang'd, and that's all; A punishment light as a feather: fon as he lays his hands on him or her feverally, as the rubric of Confirmation enjoins, groupes together as many perfons as the rail of the communion-table will hold, and fays it once over that number collectively. It is conceived there would be just the fame authority for giving the bread or cup to a number of communicants, and pronouncing the words to ten or twelve at once, instead of to each person separately; which innova-" tion, it seems, was adopted by the late Bishop Hallifax, when he was minifter of St. Edward's church at Cambridge. The records of the Principality of Wales, which used to be kept in Ludlow caftle, are faid to have been removed to London foon after the Principality court was diffolved by King William. R. C. will be much obliged to any of Mr. Urban's intelligent correfpondents who can inform him whether thefe records, about which he has made fome fruitlefs inquiries, are now extant, and where they are to be found. C. C. fays, "P. 467, instead of the villes of Kil and Kel,' pleafe to read the villes ' of Kelmackena and Kelmukellock;' which were granted by Philip de Wigornia (i. e. Philip de Braofe) in the reign of King John; and instead of Andphinac read AR dphinaR. Query, are the modern Kilkenny and Kilmal lock the two places there defigned ? G. R. afks, Will the Critical Reviewers undertake to prove their affertion, in their Yet we triumph in death, as we Catilines fall, review of "Sotheby's Poems" last month, And go to the Devil together." FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. We are happy to announce the arrival of the IVth volume of Schweighaufer's Polybius (fee vol. LX. p. 1032.) It contains the fragments of the remaining books, from the fixteenth to the fortieth, inclufive; with a chronological index; and is to be followed by two more volumes of notes and differtations. The Oxford Polybius keeps pace with the Leiphic; and of the Oxford Strabo are printed 125 sheets. At Stockholm have just been published, by Baron Rofenhane, a well-executed Supplement to Berch's Medallic Hiftory of the Kings of Sweden, and a Hiftory of Sweden ander Guftavus A that Balbeck and Palmyra are the fame ? Q. Q. wishes to purchase the "Life of Bp. Taylor, by Mr. Wheeldon, 1789," mentioned in p. 515; having repeatedly enquired for it in vain. AN OLD MAGAZINE CORRESPONDENT has our beft thanks. The "Continuation” he asks after thall be refumed. Of the Seven Tokens we have Five; and beg to be favoured with the Originals of thote of "N. Smith" and "J. Colfon." The PAINTED GLASS from HEALY HALL in our next; with the View of PLACE HOUSE at HORTON; Mr. Own on the WELSH IN DIANS; L. L. on Lord CLARENDON; M. S. on "JENNY H.;" SYLVANUS URBANUS JOHANNI MILTONO; the "Plan for growing Locust Trees;" Mr. ELDERTON on the VINE; PHILUDROS; Mr. Locke's Epi TAPH, &c. &c. &c. SONNE, at Heav'n! Suffice it, LYRANT, that, at thy Command, Each focial Compact, each religious Band, Diffolves; while Myriads, from their dear Home driv'n, Iguish riv'n!) (Their widow'd Breafts by hopeless An-' With Wonder, Scorn, and Hate, fill every foreign Land! [by JOVE? Deem'st thou thefe Giant-Crimes mork'd Jove-ever jealous for the Rights of Kings Who love their People with a PARENT'S Love? Lahove, BEHOLD then-where, tremendous from His own IMPERIAL BIRD to Vengeance fprings[his wings! Lightning within his Beak-and Thunder on WH HAT gaudy FLUTTERER thus, in [and dies! Not CAIN: the BUTTERFLY is grafpd A BALLA D. N Severn's bank, say, haft thou feen A care-worn Youth, of penfive mien ? Say. Stranger, haft thou mark d his check, Winch doth his fecret forrows speak? Ah needlefs were his words to prove His torrows fpring from hopelets love: This dims with tears erit che: rtup eyes, This fwells a conftant breast with fighs. * in whofe Letter to Nuolienfis, p 30; col 1 Denial," Line 6, after the Word " 1h uld have been mierted, "of the Accufation." P. 182. (almost at the bottom,) for "impuder," read** impracient."" > Since when, that heart that totally was mine Hath in your bofomes Paradife heene fixt. What wonder then my friendship's force doth laft [fast. Firme to your goodnesse › you have pegg’d it Mr. URBAN, July 4. SEND "A Sketch of the late Capt. you Grofe," (fee p. 493.) written in 1773, by an intimate acquaintance, who had the account of his age from himself: he was confequently. at the time of his decease, several years older than your Obituary makes him. -A few copies of it only were printed for particular friends. I It is his elder fon, Francis, who is Major Commandant of the New South Wales corps, and Deputy Governor of the fettlement there. He has alfo left another fon, Onflow, who is an officer in the Eaft Indies. -Daniel Grofe, Eiq. formerly of the Artillery, but now of the Invalids, is not his fon, as you defcribe him, but his only furviving brother. If you think the inclofed fugitive piece worthy to be preferved in your valuable Repofitory, you will oblige your occafional correfpondent, S. D. A SKETCH OF FRANCIS GROSE, Efq. F. A. S. BY A FRIEN D. SINCE (thanks to Heav'n's high bounty!) free, And bleft with independency, 1 taste, from buty icenes remote, GROVE to my pen a theme fupplies, Oh, Oh, how can I furvey with pleasure When to my house he deigns to pass, But, tho' fo fat, he beats the leaner Humble and modeft to excess, On comic themes, in grave difputes, And, more, he 's with good-nature blest, His age if you are nice to know, With Horace if in height compard, He's judg'd, as artift, to inherit Or baftard fworn to fimple Loon; Deep in Antiquity he 's read; As much of things appears to know, Oh late may, by the Fates' decree, How do they tell, with awe-expreffive tongue, "The life of man is as the fading flow'r!" A time he struts in mimic pride and state, A time his opening bloffoms are difplay'd; But Death's cold hand foon feals his certain fate And foon, alas! he in the ground is laid. But fee! the clouds are vanish'd with the breeze, The heav'ns are fair, and Luna's paler light" Tips with a filver hue the drooping trees, And brings each letter'd tomb-stone to my fight. Here lies, commixed with her kindred mould, A Maid, who once with love each breaft infpir'd, stold, Whofe numerous virtues many a verfe has Whom all regarded, and whom all admir'd. Ah me! her blooming period foon was o'er; Scarce twenty years were number'd as her, own: The gazing crowd the captivates no more; But ev'ry beauty, ev'ry grace is flown! * See the Preface to English Antiquities, p.11. + Our Antiquary was a little partial to the doctrine of tranfmigration. Mark Mark this, ye thoughtless virgins of our ifle; Nor boaft your charms, your riches, or your birth: 1 The flowery path is trod but for a while, And lo we flumber in the chilly earth! Here moulders one, whofe avaricious foul, Intent on nought but ufury and gain, Ne'er dropt his mite into the "beggar's bowl;" At whofe barr'd gate Distress might weep in vain. O fordid wretch! how ufelefs now thy wealth, Perpetual fource of anxious care and ftrife! Not all could buy that precious jewel health, Nor add one moment to thy ill-fpent life. Here lies a Bard, who once his manly page Withglowing precepts fill'd in Virtue's aid; But, left to penish by a thanklefs age, His woe-worn breast the debt of Nature paid. Blush, blush, ye rich, array'd in pomp and state, [o'er; To think how foon his circling years were Hafte to fave others from the like hard fate, And cherish Genius' fons, and Wifdom's lore. Befide this stone a tender Infant fleeps, Who in its cradle's bed refign'd its breath; Whofe early lofs a feeling mother weeps, And blames, unthinking blames, the work of Death. Ah, happy innocent, how sweet thy rest! Nohorrid crimes are heap'd upon thy head; No hurtful paffions rag'd within thy breast, Nor were thy fhorten'd days in mis'ry led. But fay, what means this laurel-crowned bust? This lofty monument? this trophied tomb Lies here the famous Chieftain, turn'd to duft? And shares the warrior-prince the common doom? What! could not he, fo valiant in the field, So pow'rful, great, and terrible in fight, Against the lance of Fate oppofe the shield, And reft fecurely on his strength and might? No; all the wreaths are wrefted from his brow, And all his boafted prowess overthrown; And here he lies, as filent and as low As the weak coward, or the meanest clown. How futile now the decorated urn! The coftly ornaments of pride how vain! Since, when once paft th' irremeable bourn, Th' entombed body is but duft again. So thought the venerable Man, who long Ador'd his Maker in this Houfe of Prayer; Who taught his flock to raise the holy fong, And worship Heaven with reverend love and fear. For fee, this ftone, fo humble and fo low, Obfcur'd beneath the weeping willow's shade, Alone remains to let the ranger know, That here Chrift's faith ul Minifter is 1. id. Yet yon proud bust that rears its head so high, And ftands a Statesman's honours to declare, In no one breast excites a penfive figh, Altho' bis grave be moist with many a tear. For, ah! he liv'd the poor man's conftant friend, [round; And fed with foft'ring care the parish His pious doctrines footh'd the finner's end, And woe in him a kind reliever found. Nor fcorn, my Mufe, this turf-concealed clod, Where rests a Peafant from his daily toil, Whose honeft heart with ruftic mirth o'er flow d, Whose part it was to turn the yielding foil. Oft have I feen him prefs the ufeful plough, And reap the harvest of his fmall domain; Oft lay with founding axe the forest low, And beat with echoing ftroke the ripen'd grain. No hateful anger in his bofom rose, No griping av'rice dwelt beneath his roof; No confcious guilt difturb'd his calm repofe, Nor wifh'd he more than Nature deem'd To praife Thee, our Almighty Lord! Thou, Thou, our Everlasting Sire, By all creation art ador'd! To Thee all Angels fervent cry; Heav'n, and the Pow'rs that Heav'n con, Cherubs and Seraphim on high, [tains: Thee chaunt in never-dying strains. Thee holy, holy, holy, call! Lord God of Sabaoth! Effence fole! Thy Majefty poffeiles all! Thy glory fhines from pole to pole! The Apoftolic Band, O King! The noble Hoft of Martyrs fing! The Choir of Seers, Thee, Thee adore I The Univerfal Church implore! Th' Immortal Offspring of the Sire ! And from a Virgin birth acquire: When Thou didst Death and Hell defeat, Thou madelt life and Heav'n our own: At God's right-hand, lo! thine the feat, On thy great Father's glorious throne!" Thy advent we expect, our Judge! Then fave thy fervants, Lord, we pray; Since Thou thy blood would'st not begrudge, To wash our deep-dyed stains away. Us with thy Saints O deign to place, And let us endless joy poffefs: Nor heav'nly charity refuse. ON |