crees pronounced against him by certain Critics; who in monthly, weekly, and daily publications inftruct the reading world as to the merits of every new work that comes from the prefs; from a bloated motley history of freds and patches, that with much dignity and importance torpidly crawls out upon all fo..., to a dry chip of an cde, a fad elegy, or a most lamentable monody; he finds himself at laft in the humour to protest against the fevere reprehenfions with which thofe faid critics have, from time to time, for many years grievously mortified and forely afflicted him. It is true they have never, as far as he knows, attacked him except with general abufe; which is just as much Criticifm as calling names is Satire.But one needs only glance over a few fpecimens of their dry, barren, heavy labours, to difcover that thofe ridiculous Dictators have neither taste, nor learning, nor candour. They are defpifed by all people of fenfe and taste.-And when they come to be dragged out of that cowardly obscurity under whose shelter, in the true blackguard fpirit of the mob, they infult and throw dirt at their fuperiors; they will be hooted, hifs'd, and hallooed by the very multitude they have long mifled, in recommending the worst, and abufing the beft productions. This dim and dark conftellation of Geniufes appears to be chiefly compofed of raw young people of low education; who praife or condemn by the lump, as they are directed by their Mafters in the trade, or their own malice and ftupidity. And some say, that it is no uncommon thing with thofe candid critics to pafs fentence against a new performance, without the ceremony of giving it a few minutes poring perufal of a lack-luftre eye-Such are the Critics who modeftly pretend to dictate to the public upon fubjects of which themselves have not the leaft knowledge or tafte.--Such are the Judges who have ufurped the vacant Tribunal of Criticism. -But fuch Judges have in effect only constituted themselves THE LORDS COMMISSIONERS OF KING MIDASES BENCH.'

We are utterly unacquainted with the caufes of this furious and impotent attack; and are in all charity led to confider it as a kind of paroxyfm of infanity.-Are you often in this way, good Doctor? Your cafe is truly dangerous, if not defperate.-Do, call a confultation? For this fretful acrimony, fo fuperabundant in your conftitution, will most certainly deftroy the texture of your cerebrum, and inevitably prove fatal if not speedily corrected.

One of Dr. Armfrong's favourite theories.

D.

REV. Aug. 1773,

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ART.

ART. X. The Monument in Arcadia; a Dramatic Poem in Two Acts. By George Keate, Efq. 4to. 2s. Dodsley. 1773.

HERE is a fimplicity of intereft, scenery, and character

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in this little Poem, which render it truly Arcadian; and the claffical air affumed by the Paftoral Mufe gives her a very graceful appearance. The ftory is fimple and tender. In the wars between the Lacedæmonians and Achaians, Doraftus, a rich fhepherd of Arcadia, has the misfortune to be plundered of his daughter, at that time an infant and an only child. The inconfolable father eres a monument in fome melancholy fhade, to indulge the memory of his misfortune, and facrifice to his forrows. On the monument was this inscription, ET IN ARCADIA EGO. I too was of Arcadia. The loft daughter, however, returns with a Spartan lover, comes to celebrate her nuptials in these very fhades, and is recognized by announcing the name and circumstances of her Arcadian nurse with whom The had been carried off by the Spartans. At first hearing of the hermitical life of Doraftus, fhe goes with her lover and a train of Arcadians, whereof Mufidorus was the chief, to vifit him. The Scene opening difcovers a Wood. In the Middle of the Stage is a MONUMENT, with a Statue of a Nymph lying on it. Upon its Bafe appears this Inscription, in large Characters,

I TOO WAS AN ARCADIAN.

DORASTUS is feen ftanding near the Tomb, with a Basket of Flowers
in bis Hand, finging the following
AIR.

My woes, O Mem'ry! ceafe to trace;
Ah! curfe no more the SPARTAN race!
Come meek-ey'd Patience, calm my mind,

And make it to its fate refign'd.--
This fancy'd form, this empty tomb
Relieves the rigour of my doom.

Enter MUSIDORUS, LYSANDER, EUPHEMIA,
DELIA, DAPHNE, and LAUR A.

MUSID.

LYSAN.

Behold the good old man!-On the still air
How sweetly floats his plaintive voice!-Befide
This wood he dwells, and here at fetting fun
Sings his accuftom'd dirge, as Mem'ry drops
A figh o'er happier fcenes that time hath clos'd.
Say, what yon pile which he beftrews with flow'rs?
It seems a tomb, and that fair fculptor'd form
Declares it fuch; as does the epitaph,

"I too was an Arcadian.”

MUSID. He bewails

A daughter torn away, on whom he built

The comfort of his age; it is for her

This mournful pile is rear'd, thefe rites perform'd.

But

But foft! A moment ends them; let us not

Invade his privacy.

[They keep retired on one fide of the frage.

DORASTUS continues the Air, firewing the Flowers round the Tomb.

Gentle fpirit, peace be thine!
This fad office still be mine;

These fond marks of love receive,

All a drooping fire can give.

During the Song, LYSANDER difcourfes with MUSIDORUS ;-EUPHE with DAPHNE and LAURA. She often fixes her Eyes on the Monument, with Marks of Emotion.

MIA

The Song ended they advance.

MUSID. Good ev❜n, DORASTUS,

And heard be all thy orifons!Behold

I bring with me à pair, who even now

At yonder confecrated altar feal'd

The bond of wedded faith.-Far is their home,
Beyond the fouthern mountains; but defire
To vifit these our plains hath urg'd their steps
Hither, to fojourn with us.-Lo! they fue
Your grace and welcome; and will prove, I judge,
Worthy your courtefy. Their bridal bed
My daughters have prepar'd; and I myself
Shall be their this night's hoft; a fecret impulse
Hath won me to their fervice.

LYSAN. Strangers here,
Each mark of hofpitality muft charm;

And footh to fay, this our kind patron's care
Hath far outstrip'd my hope.Might we obtain
Thy pray'rs, refpected Hermit, nothing then
Remains to crown our fortune.

DORAS. If the bleffing
Of an old man by many a forrow worn,
And bow'd by many a year, can aught avail,
O take it, freely take it. -May the act
Of this fair day be profper'd! may a length
Of happiness be yours! a virtuous race
To both endear the world! and all your paths,
Your ev'ning paths of life, be fpread with flow'rs
That never grew in mine!

LYSAN. Ah! much I grieve
wishes
That your's have prov'd uneven!-For your
Count me your debtor.-My EUPHEMIA too,
My bride fhall thank you; for her heart is gentle,
And grateful as the flow'r that pays with sweets
The genial fummer's bounty!-

As be turns to EUPHEMIA, he finds her looking towards the Tomb with

a melancholy Attention.

Ha! my love,

Whence this amaze! why doft thou bend thy fight

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OR

On yonder tomb? and wherefore on thy brow
Sits a defcriptive forrow, that hath drank
The luftre of thine eyes, and damp'd the joy
Which sparkled there but now ?-Say, why is this?
What the ftrange cause?

EUPHEM. The caufe is in myfelf;

O my LYSANDER! I have fool'd my fenfe
With vifionary hope, and now awake

To meet my error.

LYSAN. Nay! explain, EUPHEMA.

EUPHEM. This good man's figh has op'd my eyes; this fcene
Of death has undeceiv'd me.--Blind to think
That there was any ground where mortals tread
On which affliction walks not!-- Ev'ry clime
Engenders human woe; and fam'd ARCADIA
Is pregnant with the fame difaftrous fortune
That other regions know.

DORAS. Our life, fair lady,

Muft needs be chequer'd thus.

LYSAN. Alas! my love,

Let us enjoy the good, nor with vain fearch

Anticipate misfortune; come it will,

Though Wisdom stard as guard; and e'en these shades
Muft fometimes own its pow'r.

EUPHEM. Miflaken maid!

Is this the land where pleasure only reign'd?
Was it for this I pac'd fo long a way?
Abandon'd SPARTA and fo far allur'd.
Thy wand'ring fteps LYSANDER, here to meet
The face of forrow --Where is that content
ARANTHE boafted? Where that peace, fhe faid
Should greet our coming --Ah! could he délude
That hope fhe fo long nourish'd?

DORAS. Heard I aright?
Or did falfe founds abufe me?--Spake you not
Of SPARTA, and ARANTHE, courteous lady?

Pray you fay on; for to my ear you utter'd

A name well known.ARANTHE! knew you her?
And lives the yet?

LYSAN. Ah no! fhe is no more!

With pious hand thefe maidens clos'd her eyes,
Bathing her corfe with tears.

EUPHEM. In her I loft

EUPHEM. Good Hermit, you miftake;

I am no child of her's, though many a year
Such I was deem'd, till her laft breath unveil'd
The error, and declar'd I was a pledge:
Intrafted to her care in infant years,

By whom was unexplain'd, for death's cold grafp
Broke off th' unfinith'd tale,--and I had walk'd
The world a friendfefs orphan, and alone,
But for this virtuous youth, to whom I've giv'n
That love his merit claim'd.But why on me
Is caft that look of eagerness? Why heaves
Thy lab ring bofom thus? or whence thofe tears
That tremble in thine eye Ta

DORAS. O Nature-Nature!
Who with thy pow'rful,, and invisible hand
Shak't my whole frame with tumult,-can I think
This confia, thefe forebodings of a father

Are rais'd or felt in vain ?The ftroke's too great!
Pray you your arm a moment.-Yes-it muit
Thofe features wear the radiant hue of truth!--
There cannot be deceit.It is-it is

My long-loft child relor'd.

EUPHEM.' All-ruling gods!
Have ye upheld me through the maze of life.
Unknowing, and unknown, in this far land;
To guide me to a parent?, 2,

LYSAN, All's explain'd;.
This was ARANT's meaning, this the caufe
She urged fo ftrong your coming, hoping till
Some chance might bring about this bleft event
Th' indulgent gods have profper'd.————

There is a picture of Poulin's reprefenting fome Arcadian hepherds and thepherdeffes, who contemplate a monument, on which they read this infcription, ET IN ARCADIA Eco; and this elegant little drama is profeffediy founded upon it.

L.

ART. XI. Practical Effays upon intermitting Fevers, Dropfies, Difeafes of the Liver, the Epilepty, the Colic, dyjenteric Fluxes, and the Ope ration of Calomel. By Daniel Lyfons, M. D. Phylician at Bath, and late Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford. 8vo. 3 s. fewed. Bath printed, and fold by Wilkie in London. 1772.

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page.

E fhall give our Readers a fhort account of this Author's practice in the feveral difeafes enumerated in his title

In intermitting fevers, Dr. Lyfons has found the fnake-root combined with the bark, fingularly fuccefsful. When the intermiffions between the fits are clear, and no particular fymptom contraindicates the ufe of this medicine, it is really furprizing to obferve what it will do, without any previous preparation,

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