I FOLLOWING POEMS HAVE NEVER BEEN NCORPORATED WITH THE PRECEDING ONES OF GOLDSMITH.

Citizen of the World, ii. 87). It is the business of the e poet to watch the appearance of every new player at own house, and so come out next day with a flaunting of newspaper verses. In these nature and the actor may et to run races, the player always coming off victorious : ature may mistake him for herself; or old Shakespeare put on his winding sheet, and pay him a visit, or the ful Nine may strike up their harps in his praise; or ■ld it happen to be an actress, Venus, the beauteous Queen Love, and the naked graces, are ever in waiting. The must be herself a goddess bred and born; she mustyou shall have a specimen of one of these poems, which - convey a more precise idea.

·R you, bright fair, the Nine address their lays, ad tune my feeble voice to sing thy praise. e heartfelt power of every charm divine, ho can withstand their all commanding shine; e how she moves along with every grace, hile soul-brought tears steal down each shining face.

OF GOLDSM

She speaks! 'tis rapture all, and nameless bliss,
Ye gods! what transport e'er compar'd to this.
As when in Paphian groves the Queen of Love
With fond complaint address'd the listening Jove:
'Twas joy and endless blisses all around,
And rocks forgot their hardness at the sound.
Then first, at last even Jove was taken in,
And felt her charms, without disguise, within.

(V. Citizen of the World. ii. p. 164). I am amazed that none have yet found out the secret of flattering the worthless, and yet of preserving a safe conscience. I have often wished for some method by which a man might do himself, and his deceased patron justice, without being under the hateful reproach of self-conviction. After long lucubration, I have hit upon such an expedient, and send you the specimen of a poem upon the decease of a great man, in which the flattery is perfectly fine, and yet the poet perfectly innocent.

ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON.

YE muses, pour the pitying tear

For Pollio snatch'd away;
Oh! had he liv'd another year!
He had not died to-day.

Oh! were he born to bless mankind

In virtuous times of yore,
Heroes themselves had fallen behind
Whene'er he went before.

How sad the groves and plains appear,

And sympathetic sheep;

Even pitying hills would drop a tear

If hills could learn to weep.

His bounty in exalted strain

Each bard might well display; Since none implored relief in vain That went reliev'd away.

And hark! I hear the tuneful throng

His obsequies forbid,

He still shall live, shall live as long
As ever dead man did.

These verses seem to have been the first rough sketch, afvards altered and improved into the Elegy on Mrs. Mary ize.

. Citizen of the World. ii. 193). The weapon chiefly used the present contest is epigram, and certainly never was a ener made use of. They have discovered surprising sharpess on both sides. The first that came out upon this occaon was a kind of new composition in this way, and might ore properly be called an epigrammatic thesis, than an

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