might have here satisfied the luxuriance of his imagination, without restraining his enthusiasm.

"It is certain that our most inspired children of Fancy did not dwell, in patient apathy, on the niceties of composition. What can be more fervid and engaging than the irregular graces of Collins? who was a professed admirer of our old bards; who made them his chief study, and even forfeited the estimation of all but the congenial few through a desire of indulging in these rapturous excursions. There are some (and those by far the most delicious) of his odes, which to a common plodding reader would appear verging closely on the confines of absolute insanity; but I am much deceived if they appear so to the man whose eye,

in a fine frenzy rolling,

Glances from heav'n to earth, from earth to heav'n.' I may likewise assert, that one of the most exquisite little poems we can boast,

entitled a Hymn to May, was written by a man (William Thompson) whose fancy was fed with the pure honey of Browne, and who revised the only modern edition of his works. This hymn, so much deserving the notice of every elegant reader for the voluptuous tenderness of its language, though composed after the ancient model, is to be found in the Poetical Calendar published periodically some time ago by Fawkes and Woty; in which some other pieces of considerable value are included.

"I know of no two productions more worthy of revival by some man of influence and fortune, than this which I have attempted to draw into a fainter degree of notice from its long unmerited oblivious recess, and the piscatory eclogues of Phineas Fletcher; whose Purple Island, though inferior, has been favourably regarded by some late commentators of literary emi

nence.

"I am conscious that this slight effusion of the applause secretly nourished since my earliest days, is both desultory and incorrect; yet I wished to make known a mine to which I have been indebted for much intellectual treasure. I now quit my task, far from being finished, with particular regret; transferring it to the care and abilities of some abler hand: and shall conclude with another quotation.

'Looke, as a lover, with a ling'ring kisse,
About to part with the best half that's his,
Faine would he stay but that he feares to do it,
And curseth time for so fast hastening to it;
Now takes his leave, and yet begins anew
To make lesse vowes than are esteemed true;
Then sayes he must be gone, and then doth finde
Something he should have spoke that's out of minde;
And whilst he stands to look for't in her eyes,
Their sad-sweet glance so tye his faculties
To thinke from what he parts, that he is now
As fane from leaving her, or knowing how,
As when he came : begins his former straine,
To kisse, to vow, and take his leave againe ;
x 2

Then turnes, comes back, sighes, parts, and yet doth

goe,

Apt to retire, and loathe to leave her so *.'

*Dermody's opinion of this excellent poet is fully justified by. that of Ben Jonson in the following copy of verses, printed in the year 1616, and not to be met with in his works.

"To my truly beloved friend, William Browne, on his Pastorals. "Some men, of books or friends not speaking right, May hurt them more with praise than foes with spight. But I have seen thy works, and I know thee; And, if thou list thyself, what thou canst be : For though but early in these paths thou tread,

I find thee write most worthy to be read.

It must be thine own judgment yet that sends

This thy work forth; that judgment mine commends.

And where [whereas] the most read books on authors' fames,

Or (like our money-brokers) take up names,

On credit, and are cozen'd; see that thou,

By offering not more sureties than inow,

Hold thine own worth unbroke; which is so good

Upon the exchange of letters, as I wou'd

More of our writers wou'd like thee not swell

With the how much they set forth, but the how well.

"BEN JONSON."

Dermody was, however, at this time in a more deplorable condition than he had been in for many months. He found his applications, wherever they were made, disregarded; and his health so much impaired, that a change of air was absolutely necessary for his recovery. Having lost the esteem of many who had liberally and frequently relieved his wants, and being in daily dread of further persecution from those persons whom he had so often pampered, he formed the resolution of freeing himself entirely from a connection which now, at too late a period, he felt to be both degrading and destructive. To effect so desirable a change, money was wanted; and unfortunately he had wearied the generosity of even his warmest friends. The earl of Moira was in Scotland, and therefore immediate relief could not be expected from his lordship. He had slighted Mr. Bragge, and highly offended sir James Bland Burges. The members of the Literary Fund had so