tion. The next day, being very much fatigued with their journey, they slept quiet at home till noon; and being still faint, they refreshed themselves with a most delicious entertainment, which they relished so well, that it overcame their curiosity. This day they only saw through the window that delightful spot adorned with the most beautiful flowers, to which the beams of the sun gave an uncommon lustre, and heard the singing of most melodious birds till evening came on. Next day they rose very early, in order to begin their observations; but some very beautiful young ladies of that country coming to make them a visit, advised them first to recruit their strength, before they exposed themselves to the laborious task they were about to undertake. The delicate meats, the rich wines, the beauty of these damsels, prevailed over the resolution of these strangers. A fine concert of music is introduced, the young ones begin to dance, and all is jollity, so that this whole day is spent in gallantry; till some of their neighbours, growing envious at their mirth, rushed in with swords. The elder part of the company tried to appease the younger, promising the very next day they would bring the rioters to justice. This they performed, and the third day the cause was heard; and what with accusations, pleadings, exceptions, and the judgment itself, the whole day was taken up on which the term set by Jupiter expired. On their return to Greece, all the country flocked in upon them to hear the wonders of the moon described; but all they could tell was (for that was all they knew), that the ground was covered with green intermixed with flowers, and that the birds sung among the branches of the trees; but what kind of flowers they saw, or what kind of birds they heard, they were totally ignorant; upon which they were treated every where with contempt. If we apply this fable to men of the present age, we shall perceive a very just similitude. By these three days, the fable denotes the three ages of man. First, Youth, in which we are too feeble in every respect to look into the works of the Creator: all that season is

given up to idleness, luxury, and pastime. Secondly, Manhood, in which men are employed in settling, marrying, educating children, providing fortunes for them, and raising a family. Thirdly, Old Age, in which, after having made their fortunes, they are overwhelmed with lawsuits and proceedings relating to their estates. Thus it frequently happens that men never consider to what end they are destined, and why they were brought into the world.

A CRITIQUE

ON THE SONG OF " BILLY TAYLOR."

"Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri:
Telephus ac Peleus, quum pauper et exul uterque
Projicit ampullas ac sesquipedalia verba

Si curat cor spectantis, tetigisse querelâ."

HOR. Ars Poet.

I HOPE that I shall not appear to degrade the office of criticism, by making a ballad the subject of it, especially since that now before me is of so excellent a nature. If it is objected to, I must shelter myself under the authority of Addison, who has written a critique on Chevy Chace, to which, I venture to affirm, this ballad is infinitely superior. That I may not appear too presumptuous in my assertion, let us proceed to the examination of this justly celebrated poem. I call it a poem-I had almost called it an epic, seeing it has a beginning, middle, and end: the action is one, namely the death of the hero Taylor: it is replete with character, and full of sentiment; not delivered with the laboured declamation of Lucan, but suggested by incidents the most interesting and touching. Let us first examine it verse by verse. The author has no tedious prelude, not even an invocation; but, like Homer, immediately enters into the middle of his subject, and in a few words gives us the name, character, and amour of his hero. Observe the gaiety of the opening :

--

"Billy Taylor was a brisk young feller,
Full on mirth and full on glee."

How admirably, how judiciously is this jocund beginning contrasted with the melancholy sequel! how affecting to the reader's feelings when he reflects how soon Billy's joy will be damped! Unhappy Taylor!-Let us proceed to the next lines :

"And his mind he did diskiver

To a lady fair and free."

Taylor was a bold youth; he feared not to tell his mind. to the lady; he did not stand shilly-shally, like a whimpering lover. But we are here presented with a new character, a lady fair and free. Some commentators have thought that she was a lady of easy virtue, from the epithet free; and indeed the violence of her love and jealousy seems to favour the suspicion: but let us not be too severe; free may signify no more than that she was of a cheerful disposition, and thus of the same temper with her lover: concordes animæ! Thus far all is pleasant and delightful; but the scene is now changed, and sorrow succeeds to joy.

"Four and twenty brisk young fellers,

Drest they vas in rich array,

They kim and they seized Billy Taylor,
Press'd he vas, and sent to sea.

Taylor, the brisk, the mirthful Taylor, is pressed and
sent to sea. I cannot help observing here the art of
the poet in letting us into the condition of Taylor. We
may guess from his being pressed, that he was not free
of the city, and was, most likely, a journeyman cobbler,
cobblers being famous for their glee. I will not posi-
tively say he was a cobbler: Scaliger thinks he was a
lamp-lighter; "adhuc sub judice lis est."
But to pro-
ceed-Taylor is on board ship: but what does his true-
love?

"His true-love she followed arter,

Under the name of Richard Car;
And her hands were all bedaubed
With the nasty pitch and tar."

1.

Many ladies would have comforted themselves with
other lovers; not so Billy's mistress; she follows him;
she enters the ship under the name of Richard Car.
She condescends to daub her lily-white hands with
the pitch and tar. What excessive love, and how ill
rewarded! I have two things to remark here.
Her disregard of herself in daubing her hands. When
I consider a lady in Juvenal who did the same, I am
led to think she was Billy's mistress. But then Billy
disregards her; this makes me think again she was his
wife. Yet perhaps not; Billy had now got another mi-
stress. 2. The second observation is upon the name she
assumes, Richard Car. Commentators are much divided
upon this head; why she chose that name in pre-
ference to any other. I must confess they talk rather
sillily on this topic; I conjecture the name was given
here because it was a good rhyme to tar: this is no
mean or inconsiderable reason, as the poets will all
testify. But let the reader decide this at his leisure;
let us now proceed :-

"An engagement came on the very next morning;
Bold she fit among the rest:

The wind aside did blow her jacket,

And diskivered her lily-white breast."

Here was a trial for the lady! but she sustained it; she fought boldly, fought like a man. But mark the sequel:-the wind blows aside her jacket; her lilywhite breast is exposed to the lawless gaze of the sailors! Here was a sight! No doubt it inspired them with double valour, and gained them a victory; for they certainly were victorious, though the poet judiciously passes over this inferior topic, and hastens to his main subject.

The captain gains intelligence of her heroism, or, in the musical simplicity of the original, "kims for to know it with honest bluntness he exclaims, " Vat vind has blown you to me?" The character of the sea captain is well supported: he does not say, "how came you here?" but in the characteristic language of his

The

profession, "vat vind has blown you to me?" classical reader will be pleased also with the similarity this expression bears to a passage in the Æneid; it is in the speech of Andromache to Æneas, on a like occasion of surprise :

"Sed tibi qui cursum venti, quæ fata dedere?

Aut quisquam ignarum nostris Deus appulit oris ?"

It must be confessed that the Latin is more pompous, perhaps more elegant; but what it gains in refinement, it loses in simplicity. The chief thing however to be remarked is, that the same language always suggests itself upon the same occasions. But let us attend to the lady's answer;

"Kind sir; I be kim for to seek my true-love,

Vhom you press'd and sent to sea.'

The pathos of this speech is inimitable. Observe with what art, or rather with what nature, it is worked up, so as to interest the feelings of the captain. First let us take a view of the speaker; a woman, and her breast diskivered: she begins with, "Kind sir," which shows the gentleness of her disposition, and that she forgave the captain, though he had pressed her true-love: she proceeds, "I be kim for to seek my true-love:" who could resist this affecting narration? A lady braving the dangers of the sea and an engagement, to seek her true-love! The last line has suggested to the commentators that the captain had headed the press-gang himself. This is a matter of too much consequence for me to decide. But what effect has the speech on the rugged nerves of the captain? All that could be expected and desired. He breaks out-observe the art of the poet!-no frigid preface of " he said," "he exclaimed," but, like Homer, he gives us the speech at

once

"If you be kim for to seek your true-love,

He from the ship is gone avay;

And you'll find him in London streets, ma'am,
Valking vith his lady gay."