The 4th Canto describes a conclave at the Vatican. The pontiff addresses his assembled dignitaries, in a long and violent speech, describing the ancient glory of the papacy, its absolute dominion over the opinions and actions of mankind,-and the late defections in the Protestant states of Europe, particularly England. This speech is answered by the chief of the Jesuits, who proposes a plan for the destruction of the English heretics, in a summary manner.

That blessed Isle, so often cursed in vain,
Triumphing in our loss and idle spight,

Of force shall shortly stoop to Rome and Spain;
I'll take a way ne'er known to man or spright.
To kill a king is stale, and I disdain:

That fits a secular, not a jesuite...

Kings, nobles, clergy, commons, high and low,
The flower of England in one hour I'll mow,

And head all th' isle with one unseen, unfenced blow!

In short, he projects the famous plot for blowing up the Parliament House and all its assembled inmates, with gunpowder; which is hailed with acclamation, and the assembly disperses.

The 5th Canto brings forward the subordinate agents in the plot, busy in their operations in the "celerage, disposing their mine, and laying their trains. Guy Faux is thus described :

Among them all, none so impatient

{ཝཱ ཝཱ

Of stay, as fiery Faux, whose grisly feature Adorn'd with colours of hell's regiment,

Soot black, and fiery red, betrays his nature. His frighted mother, when her time she went, Oft dream'd she bore a strange and monstrous creature, A brand of hell sweltering in fire and smoke,

Who all, and's mother's self would burn and choke ; So dream'd she in her sleep, so found she when she

'woke.

Rome was his nurse, and Spain his tutor; she
With wolfish milk fleshed him in deadly lies,
In hate of truth and stubborn error: he

Fats him with human blood, inures his eyes,

Dashed brains, torn limbs, and trembling hearts to see,
And tunes his ear with groans and shrieking cries.
Thus nurs'd, bred, grown a cannibal, now prest
To be the leader of this troop, he blest

His bloody maw with thought of such a royal feast.

Meanwhile the "eye" of providence surveys the diabolical preparations, and summoning

That mounting eagle, which beneath his throne,
His sapphire throne, fixed in chrystal base,
Broadly dispreads his heaven-wide pinion,

On whom, when sinful earth he strikes with 'maze, He wide displays his black pavilion,

And thundering, fires high towers with flashing blaze: Dark waters draw their sable curtains o'er him, With flaming wings the burning angels shore him, The clouds and guilty heavens for fear fly fast before

him.

The winged messenger is sent to warn the " great peace-maker" and his "council" of the impending danger, and the king receives a special intimation of the plot.

that learned royal mind, Lighted from heaven, soon the knot and plot untwined.

The action of the poem terminates with the discovery of the mine, and the apprehension of the traitor

Faux. The poem itself concludes with an address of praise and thanksgiving to the protecting deity, and three monitorý stanzas addressed to King Charles the First. Of this part, we can only afford room for a short specimen.

Oh! thou great shepherd, earth's, heaven's sovereign,
Whom we, thy pasture-sheep admire, adore;
See all thy flock prostrate on Britain's plain,

Plucked from the slaughter; fill their mouth with store Of incens'd praise; oh! see, see, every swain

'Maz'd with thy works; much 'maz'd, but ravish'd

more,:

Pour out their hearts thy glorious name to raise;
Fire thou our zealous lips with thankful lays,
Make this sav'd isle to burn in love, to smoke in praise!

Thou bid'st the sun piece out the ling'ring day,
Glittering in golden fleece: the lovely spring
Comes dancing on, the primrose strews her way,
And sattin violet: lambs wantoning

Bound o'er the hillocks in their sportful play;

The wood-musicians chaunt and cheerly sing, The world seems new, yet old by youth's acruing. Ah! wretched man! so wretched world pursuing, Which still grows worse with age, and older by renewing!

This last stanza may be considered as a fair specimen of P. Fletcher's best manner, which has seldom been excelled by any English poet.

GILES FLETCHER.

BORN ABOUT 1588.-DIED 1623.

But thou, my sister muse, mays't well go higher !

But thou, most near, most dear,—in this of thîne
Hast proved the muses not to Venus bound :
Such as thy matter, such thy muse, divine :

Or thou such grace with mercy's self hast found,
That she herself deigns in thy leaves to shine:
While all the muses to thy song decree,
Victorious triumph, triumphant victory.

(PHINEAS FLETCHER.)

All that is known of the personal history of Giles Fletcher, may be included in one short sentence. He was the younger brother of Phineas,—of Trinity College Cambridge, where he took the degree of B. D. patronised early in life by Dean Neville,in holy orders and beneficed at Alderton in Suffolk, where he died prematurely in the thirty-fifth year of his age.

He published one poem only; this was printed at Cambridge In 1610, in 4to. with the title of "Christ's Victory and Triumph, in Heaven and Earth, over and after Death." Another edition appeared in 1632, and again in 1640 with engravings. It was reprinted, together with the "Purple Island" of Phineas, with many alterations in the text, according to the absurd recommendation of Hervey in 1783, London 8vo Finally it was inserted in a collection of English poetry by Dr. Anderson who made use of the last genuine edition, that of 1640.

United as these tuneful brothers assuredly were in blood, in affection, in talent, and in station,favourites of the same muse, occupied with the same pursuits, and employing their talents upon similar subjects,-it would have been perhaps consistent if we had spoken of them as Kentish poets in conjunction also, and classed them together in one article. As it is, the few general remarks we have already ventured to make upon their poetry, together with what follows, apply with equal justice to both.

Superior in all the higher attributes of poetry, the Fletchers may with confidence assert their claim to precedence, in the order of merit, over all the native bards of Kent. To originality and invention, they have however but slender pretensions. Spenser was their master, who himself copied his style, his subjects, and even his incidents from the modern bards of Italy.→→ The subjects of their poems, the form and structure of their verse, its harmony and modulation, the sweet and tender sentiment in which they delighted to indulge, the glowing pictures of nature scattered throughout their works, and finished with the utmost perfection of their art,-the apt and beautiful metaphors, taken for the most part from nature also, introduced at due intervals, and with the happiest effect,--their fondness for personification ca ried even beyond the bounds of propriety, their prolixity, quaintness, and disposition to seek for antithesis, for the purpose of effect,are so many proofs of the diligence with which they had studied the manner of this admirable poet.

In the harmonious flow and modulatiou of their stanzas, and in the mechanical part of their structure, the Fletchers are equal to their great master: in the beauty