Nor do they their original regard,
Whilst shut up in the body's darksome ward:
Nor, though they disembodied be, are they
Freed from those stains, which, whilst inhous'd in clay,
They did collect; having so long convers'd

They with much filth from thence must be aspers'd
Hence to their crimes their pains proportion'd are:
Some are expos'd to the all-searching air,
Some are in waters plung'd, in fire some tried:
Our purgatory thus we all abide :

Then through the vast Elysium we are sent;
But few those joyful champains do frequent:
Until the fate-prefixed time have ta'en
And purg'd away whate'er contracted stain :
Leaving of spots* that heavenly being, clear
Of fire a compound, and unmixed air.
A thousand years, the destined period

Fulfilled, the God+ calls them to Lethe's flood:
That all things past forgot, they may review
The upper world, and bodies re-endue.

The following is his rendering of the famous passage relating to Marcellus.

And here Æneas,-for before him there
A goodly youth did in bright arms appear;
But sad his look, dejected was his face,-
What is he, father, who with equal pace
The other doth accompany,-his son?

Or some of our descendants?-how they run

*The soul.

+ Mercury, who was said with his Caducius, or rod, both to drive souls to hell, and to bring them from thence.

F

And round him flock?-how graceful is his mien?
But gloomy night doth with a cloudy screen
His head involve. Tears flowing from his eyes,
The good Anchises thus to him replies.

The griefs of thine, desire not son to know,
Him to the world the fates shall only shew;
The Roman name, O Gods, too powerful had
Appear'd, had you such blessings lasting made:
With what laments shall great Rome's burial place
Resound?—what funeral pomps as thou dost pass
By his new grave, sad Tiber, shalt thou see!
None ever of the Trojan stem shall be

Of equal hopes with him: Rome's joyful coast
Of a more worthy birth shall never boast:
His piety and antique singleness,

Or who his matchless valour shall express?
Whether on foot or his brave courser arm'd,
None ever had encountered him unharm'd:
Deplored youth!—if this sad doom by thee
Can be eschewed,-thou shalt Marcellus be!
Bring lillies; I will purple flowers strew,
At least let me return this tribute, due
To the deceased,—an empty monument
Let me erect-thus they together went.

The annotations commence at page 34, and extend to page 215. They display an ample share of classical learning. Then commence the "certain pieces relating to the public, penned by the author,” which are four in number, but of little value or importance. The

first is a declaration of certain Inhabitants of Kent, offered to the Mayor of Canterbury, January 24, 1659, containing a statement of their grievances, and expressing a desire on the part of the subscribers for a free Parliament: there are however no subscribers names annexed. The declaration seems to have met with the opposition that might have been expected in that unsettled time, and some of the parties attending to present it, were apprehended and detained in prison, under a charge of insurrection. Our poet absconded, and issued the 2nd of the "pieces relating to the public," which contains a vindication of himself and his associates. The third, is a letter of thanks to Monk, for his public services, "penned by the author," and presented by him and Sir John Boys, in the names of those who intended to subscribe the declaration, and is, when the character of this apostate is considered, sufficiently disgusting, The fourth is a speech," penned by the author," and intended to have been spoken by him in addressing Charles II. upon his landing at Dover, May 25th, 1660; but the King did not make any stay in the town, and disappointed the orator, who unwilling to lose entirely this effusion of his loyalty, took this method of preserving his intended speech.Then follows a Latin Epigram to the same King, by Johannes De Bosco, viz.

Si dives, Rex magne, esset mihi vena Maronis,
Si felix vatum principis ingenium,

Ipse fores meus Eneas, tituli sque superbis
Te ornarem, Heroi quos dedit ille suos!

Vain wish!-We arrive now at a better, indeed the very best specimen we have seen of our author's talent.

To his worthily esteemed Friend and learned Antiquary, Mr. William Somner, upon his treasury of the Saxon tongue, entituled Dictionarium Saxonico-Latino— Anglicum.

A SATIRE.

What mean'st thou man? think'st thou thy learned page, And worthy pains, will relish with this

age ? Think'st that thy treasury of Saxon words Will be deem'd such amidst unletter'd swords? Boots it to know how our fore-fathers spoke 'E're Danish, Norman, or this present yoke Did gall our patient necks?— -or matters it

What Hengist utter'd, or how Horsa writ?

Last, think'st that we, who have destroyed whate'er
Our grandsires did, will with their language bear?
That we, who have all famous monuments
Razed, and defeated thus all good intents

Of former piety, will honour give

To antique characters?-shall paper live,

And ink, when brass and marble can't withstand
This iron age's violating hand?

Or that this title, Dictionarium
Saxonico-Latino-Anglicum,

Will sell thy book?-think'st that the reader's itch
Of knowing much the author will enrich?
Thy barbarous Saxon, with the heathen Greek,
And profane Latin, buyers may go seek :
Together with the Hebrew, and the rest
Which are the language of that Romish beast:
Our mother-tongue well nos'd with a wry face,
And eyes inverted, now hath chiefest grace.
'Tis strange, but true; our modern rhetorick
Best heals a brother, and makes other sick.

So that thy trade is out of fashion, friend.
Lo! 'gainst antiquities we now contend:

Our quarrel is against the former age;
'Gainst our dead fathers we dire wars do wage.
Had'st thou some Bible-Dictionary made,

A Concordance, or dealt in such a trade;
Had'st thou some Gospel-Truths, some common place
Presented to this fighting-preaching race;

Or to our sword-divines assistance lent

By paraphrase, expounding, or comment,
The brethren would have been thy readers; now
The saints will not thy learned pains allow.

Yet be not thou discourag'd, worthy friend,
Thy oil and pains in vain thou dost not spend:
All are not fighters, not all preachers are;
All are not saints, nor for the cause declare;
All are not godly, nor reformers all;
Nor build up Christ by letting churches fall:
There yet are left some pious, sober, wise,
Learned, discreet, who will thy labours prize:
Some masters yet of truth, some who adore
The ages past, and present do deplore;
Some who dare honest be, who learning love;
Fear not; such will thine industry approve.
O happy thou! who dost thyself enjoy,
Sequester'd from the world, free from th' annoy
Of blust'ting times; thou dost securely sit,
Enriching both thy own and other's wit:

Th' ambition of the g eat ones, or their fears
Disturb the honest quiet; nothing scares

Thee 'midst thy learned guard of books, where thou
Happier than princes may'st thyself avow;