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me, adjoining to what is called the palace or the king ; I had vice: tuals and drink brought me whenever I chose, and was waited on by a slave. I took my own time, worked very leisurely; but what I did was therefore of the more importance. On the third day I presented the king with the first repaired fowling-piece, on which I was loaded with encomiums, and dismissed with assurances of the royal favour. After a short time I was again fent for by the king, who commissioned me to rectify the damaged arms of all the soldiers, and likewise to furnith some of the soldiers with directions to enable them in future to repair their own arms. In regard to the former I could not give him a satisfactory answer; representing to him that, as I was not able to make new locks and triggers, it would be impossible for me to repair all the arms; but such as were within my ability should be done. He was satisfied with my remonftrances, saying, that he did not require of me more than to do what I could, as the arms without locks and triggers might still be of fervice. I, some time afterwards, informed myself how this could be, and was told, that the soldiers who went with such arms to war, fired them by applying burning wood or glowing embers to the pan.-I had now a very good time of it, working at my own option, and at leisure hours atrolling about the town, in order to make acquaintances, and to study the manners, cuftoms, and ceremonies of the country. I not unfrequently attended the king to the chace, and found it a very agreeable paftime. The king, repeatedly urged me to take a wife; nay, he even seemed disposed to cede to me one of his four hundred concubines; but I diverted him from his purpose by telling him that I had already a wife and three children in my own country, whom, if he would permit me, I would go and fetch hither. At the beginning of March 1788 the king informed me, that the time was drawing nigh when he should leave, Bahahara, on account of the bad water at that season, and repair to Kahoratho, where a canal was conducted from the river Gambia, yielding fresh and good water. It was easy for me to imagine that he would command me to 'attend him; and I therefore came to the resolution, either with liis consent, or privily, to pursue my journey from that place. Two days previous to ihe king's departure, I actually received orders to get my. telf in readiness to let out with him. Thanking the king for his gracious commands, and for the confidence he reposed in me, I at the -fame time requested him to give ne leave to set forward on my way home, that I might be back again with him before the rainy season came on.-" How many days journey haft thou to thy home?" intersogated the king.-I answered, “ More than thirty."_" I will give thee two trusty persons to accompany thee thither and back again.”“ That favour I cannot accept; firit, because I could not maintain these pecple on the road, and again, because ile arrival of them in my country would attract so much observation, as would induce my king to put me in prison, to prevent me fro.n returning; fince it is my business there, as I have done here, to kecp the guns of my king in good order ; consequently I could not leave him by day, but must contrive to come clandestinely away by night, in order to return to thee.”-By these arguments the king was moved to grant me permife fion shortly to take my departure.-On the 13th we set out from Ba
hahara, hahara, in full couri-fate, namely, with twenty priests, four hundred men on foot, two hundred horsemen, and about a hundred wives of the king.–Bahahara is upwards of a league in length, and about three quarters of a league in breadth, has few houses, though a great many huts constructed of rushes and palm-leaves, and having the lower parks plaistered with mortar. The town is surrounded by a double palifade, contains about a hundred cemples very badly built, scarcely better than the huts, and has four streets formed by the disposition of the huts into five rows. The palace, like the few houses, consists only of one story, but is extremely spacious, comprising the fixth part of the whole town. It is inclosed by a wall built of flints and pieces of rock, five feet high, three feet thick, and very irregular. In the court of the palace stand nine detached buildings, inhabited by the priests, the concubines and officers. On the north fide of it is a quadrangle furrounded with stones, in which the horses belonging to the horsemen on guard, stand at night. The king's manfion is on the south-fide, and confifts of four apartments, which among us would be called ftables. One of them I plaistered with mortar, painting it a green colour from young palm-leaves and the juice of tamarinds, at which the king was extremely pleasiid.-In the town are two market-places: one not far from the palace, for fruits and corn; the other on the west side of the town, where fish, fowl, and other animals are sold and bartered.
The merchants, of whom here are ten or twelve, make Mondays and Wednesdays, according to our division of the week, their principal days of business, when they publicly hang out on bare poles, such commodities as they have for sale. Every year likewise cwo great fairs are held, to which foreign merchants are faid to come from the diftance even of twenty day's journey. As neither of them happened during the time of my stay, I can say nothing farther about them." P. 142.
The reader will perceive, that Tombuctou is here called Taibuka. A little further on, this traveller comes to Silla ;. with respect to the situation of which place, he differs totally from Mungo Park. This gentleman, whose veracity has been never calied in question, places Silla upon the Niger, and to the fouth-west of Tombučtoo; whereas, Mr. Damberger rcpresents it far from the Niger, and to the north-east of Tombuctoo. - We could easily add a considerable number of other blunders and absurditics, but we think what we have produced will be sufficient to satisfy the reader of the justice of our de!ermination, They incline us at least to be of the same opinion with a facetious reader, who intimated that there must surely be a mistake in the name of the author, and that, for Damberger, we should read Humberger.
Art. VI. Lyrical Ballads, with other Poems : in Two Vols.
By W. Wordsworth. Second Edition. Fine-paper 12mo.
ios. Longman and Rees. 1800. TN our Review for October, 1799, we noticed, with confi
derable satisfaction, the first edirion of this work, then comprised in one anonymous volume. It is now extended, by the addition of another volume ; and the author has given his name to it, with the exception of the Ancient Mariner, the Folier Mother's Tale, the Nightingale, the Dungeon, and the poem entiiled Love ; all of which, as he inforids us, are furnished by a friend, whose opinions on the subject of Poetry agree almost entirely with his own. From this funilarity of mind, and from some expreffions in the Advertisernent prefixed to the first edition, we were then led to attribute the whole to , Mr. Coleridge, the supposed author of the Ancient Marineres we now, therefore, add to the lift of our Poets another name, no less likely to do it honour. Mr. Wordsworth has, indeed, appeared before the public some years ago, as author of Descriptive Skeiches in Verse, and of an Evenin: Walk; compositions, in which were discoverable the fire and fancy of a true poet, though obscured by diction, often and intentionally inflated. His style is now wholly changed, and he has adopted a purity of expression, which, to the fastidious car; may sometimes perhaps sound poor and low, but which is infinitely more correspondent with true feeling than what, by the courtesy of the day, is usually called poetical language."
Whatever may be thought of these Poems, it is evident that they are not to be confounded with the flood of poetry, which is poured forth in such profusion by the modern Bards of Science, or their brethren, the Bards of Infipidirr: The author has thought for himself; he has deeply studied human nature, in the book of human action ; and he has adopied his language from the same sources as his feelings. Aware that "his Poems are so materially different from those upon which general approbation is at present bestowed," he has now defended them in a Preface of some length; not with the foulith hope of reasoning his readers into the approbation of these particular Poems, but as a necessary justification of the fpecies of poetry to which they belong. This Preface, though written in some parts with a degree of metaphysical obscurity, conveys much penetrating and judicious observation, important at all times, but especially when, as it is well observed, " the invaluable works of our elder writers are driven into
neglect by frantic novels, fickly and stupid German tragedies, and deluges of idle and extravagant stories in verse.” Perhaps ir would be expecting too much from any one but Shakspeare, were we lo demand that he thould be rie Poet of human nafure. I would be no mean, it would indeed be a very lofty praise, to affert of a writer, ihai he is able to pour into other boroms powerful feelings of a particular class, or belonging to a particular order of inen. To this praise, Mr. Wordsworth lays a well-supporied claim. He declares himself the Poet chiefly of low and ruftic life (some specimens of ability he has given in other lines, but this is evidently his excellence) and he pour says it, not under its disgusting forms, but in situations affording, as he thiuks, the belt foil for the ellential passions of the heart, incorporated with an elementary and durable state of manners, and with the beautiful and permanent forms of nature*.
Each separate Poem has, as its distinct purpose, the development of a feeling, which gives importance to the action and situation, and not the action or situation to the feeling. Whether the particular purpose is, in every case, worthy of a Poet, will perhaps admit of some doubt. We have no hesitasion in saying, that it is generally interesting, often invaluable ; but on these points the author ihail fpeak for himself. .
« This object I have endeavoured in these short Essays to attain, by various means; by tracing the maternal passion through many of its more fubtle windings, as in the Poems of the Ideot Boy and the Mad Morber; by accompanying the last struggles of a hunan being at the approach of death, cleaving in folitude to life and society, as in the Poem of the Forsaken Indian ; by shewing, as in the flanzas entitled We are seven, the perplexity and obscurity which in childhood attend our noiion of death, or rather our utter inability to admit that notion ; by displaying ihe strength of fraternal, or, to speak more philosophi. cally, of inoral attachment, when early associated with the great and beautiful objects of Nature, as in the Brothers; or as in the incident of Simon Lee, by placing my reader in the way of receiving, from ordinary moral sensations, another and more falutary impression than we are accustomed to receive from them. It has also been part of my
* Mr. Wordsworth seems to be peculiarly well fituated for the fub. jects of such a study. The vicinity of the Lakes in Cumberland and Westmoreland (the scene of moft of his Poems) is chiefly inhabited by an order of men nearly extinct in other parts of England. These are small farmers, called in that part of the country 'Sia:efmen, who, cului. yating their own little property, are raised above the immediate pressure of want, with very few opportunities of acquiring wealth. They are á mild, hospitable people, with some turn for reading; and their pertonal appearance is, for the most part, interesting.
general general purpose, to attempt to sketch characters under the influence of less impaffioned feelings, as in the Old Man travelling, the Two Thieves, &c. characters of which the elements are simple, belonging rather to Nature than to Manners ; such as exist now, and will probably always exist, and which, from their constitution, may be diftinctly and profitably contemplated.", P. xv.
Of the judicious degree of fimplicity in language which the author a:tained in his first volume, we formerly exprelled our approbation. The fecond is written with equal felicity, being alike grounded upon an accurate and attentive observation of those modes of speech, which are prompted by the natural flow of passion. Where the subjects are supplied by rustic life, the languaye of rustics, purified only from accidental altociations of disgust, is also adopted, and for this simple and weighty reason ; because, i“ such a language, arising out of repeated experience and regular feelings, is a more permanent, and a far more philosophical, language, than that which is frequently substituted for it by poets, who think that they are conferring honour upon themselves and their art, in pro-, portion as they feparate themselves from the sympathies of men, and indulge in arbitrary and capricious habits of expression, in order to furnis food for fickle tastes, and fickle appetites, of their own crea. tion,"
The author has argued with great ingenuity, and at some length, on the absurdity of the distinction frequently made be-, tween the appropriate language of prose, and that of metrical, composition. He has shown, that the two species of wsuing may be wholly similar in every thing but metre; and that nei.. ther of them can be dignified by any other means than energy, and loftinels of thought. A great part of this argument would appear useless, had we nct unhappily witnessed, in some striking instances, how much the public taste may be mifled by affected pomp and false glitter of language. We cannot too often repeat, that the frippery, and lustian of the Darwinian phraseology, is no more compatible with ai just clasical taste, than the heterogeneous mixture of science and fancy is allowable in a poetical subject. The faults of this kind, in the second volume, are so very few, as to deserve no potice, in com. parison with the general purity of the style. As to the subjects, it must be owned that their worth does not always appear at. first sight; but, judging from our own feelings, we muk affert, that it generally grows upon the reader by subsequent. perufal. The following remarks may, perhaps, illustrate the cause of this improving interest.
1. It is not requisite that the poetic feeling should be strictly referable to any of those known and powerful claffes, called