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but the props and preffure equally fuftaining me all around. The two latter I frequently diflodged, by fhifting my hold on the bars, and driving my knuckles into their ribs; but my friend above ftack fast, and as he held by two bars, was immoveable.

too; but it was with the utmoft labour we forced our way from the window, (several in the inner ranks appearing to me dead ftanding *). He laid himself down to die; and his death, I believe, was very fudden; for he was a short, full, fanguine man. His strength was great, and I imagine, had he not retired with me, I fhould never have been able to have forced my way.

When I had bore this conflict above an hour, with a train of wretched reflections, and feeing no glimpse of hope on which to found a profpect of relief, my fprits, refolution, and every fentiment of religion gave way. I found I was unable much longer to fupport this trial, and could not bear the dreadful thoughts of retiring into the inner part of the prifon, where I had before fuffered fo much. Some infernal fpirit, taking the advantage of this period, brought to my remembrance my having a fmall clafp-penknife in my pocket, with which I determined inftantly to open my arteries, and finish a fyftem no longer to be born. I had got it out, when Heaven interpofed, and restored me to fresh fpirits and refolution, with an abhorrence of the act of cowardice I was just going to commit. I exerted anew my strength and fortitude. But the repeated trials and efforts I made to diflodge the infufferable incumbrances upon me, at last quite exhaufted me; and towards two o'clock, finding I must quit the window, or fink where I was, I refolved on the former, having bore, truly for the fake of others, infinitely more for life than the best of it is worth.

In the rank close behind me was an officer of one of the fhips, whofe name was Carey, and who had behaved with much bravery during the fiege; (his wife, a fine woman, though countryborn, would not quit him, but accompanied him into the prifon, and was one who furvived). This poor wretch had been long raving for water and air; I told him I was determined to give up life, and recommended his gaining my ftation. On my quitting, he made a fruitless attempt to get my place; but the Dutch ferjeant who fat on my fhoul. der fupplanted him.

Poor Carey expreffed his thankfulBefs, and faid, he would give up life VOL. XX.

I was at this time fenfible of no pain, and little uneafinefs; I can give you no better idea of my fituation than by repeating my fimile of the bowl of fpi rit of hartfhorn. I found a ftupor coming on apace, and laid myself down by that gallant old man, the Rev. Mr Jervas Bellamy, who lay dead, with his fon the lieutenant, hand in hand, near the fouthermoft wall of the prifon.

When I had lain there fome little time, I still had reflection enough to fuf-` fer fome uneafinefs in the thought, that I fhould be trampled upon, when dead, as I myself had done to others. With fome difficulty I raifed myfelf, and gained the platform a fecond time, where I prefently loft all fenfation: the last trace of fenfibility that I have been able to recollect after my lying down, was my fash being uneafy about my waist, which I untied, and threw from me.

Of what paffed in this interval to the time of my refurrection from this hole of horrors, I can give you no account; and indeed the particulars mentioned by fome of the gentlemen who furvived, (folely by the number of thofe dead, by which they gained a freer acceflion of air, and approach to the windows), were fo exceffively abfurd and contradictory, as to convince me, very few of them retained their fenfes; or at least, loft them foon after they came into the open air, by the fever they carried out with them.

In my own efcape from abfolute deach, the hand of Heaven was manifeftly exerted: the manner take as follows. When the day broke, and the gentlemen found that no intreaties could prevail to get the door opened, it occurred to one of them (I think to Mr Secretary Cook) to make * Unable to fall by the throng and equal preffure round.



a fearch for me, in hopes I might have influence enough to gain a release from this fcene of mifery. Accordingly Meff. Lufhington and Walcot undertook the fearch, and by my fhirt difcovered me und r the dead upon the platform. They took me from thence; and imagining I had fome figns of life, brought me towards the window I had firft poffeffion of.

But as life was equally dear to every man, and the stench arifing from the dead bodies was grown intolerable, no one would give up his ftation in or near the window: fo they were obliged to carry me back again. But foon after Capt. Mills (now captain of the company's yacht), who was in poffeffion of a feat in the window, had the humanity to offer to refign it. I was again brought by the fame gentlemen, and placed in the window.

fize, even big enough for mafts for the largeft fhips, and that in the short space of forty years. These masts are better, and more durable than fir; because they can never fpring, as fir too often does : and they will endure wet and dry far better, and continue found longer under fuck circumftances than any other kind of timber that I have yet experienced. The method of planting is this. Take fets about the bignefs of a man's thumb; plant these in rich marfhy land, at the distance of two feet every way, and when they have flood feven years, thin them, leaving about five feet fquare to each tree. In this space they will grow tall and ftraight, and pay the planter better, than any other method of improvement whatever. An acre of proper foil, thus planted, will, at the end of forty years, be worth, at a moderate computation, 2000l. which is more than the fame quantity will produce in the same time, by any other method of culture now in practice. Lond. Chron.

At this juncture the Suba, who had received an account of the havock death had made amongst us, fent one of his jemmautdaars to inquire if the chief furvived. They fhewed me to him; told him I had appearance of life remaining, and believed I might recover if the door was opened very foon. This answer being returned to the Suba, an order came immediately for our releafe, it being then near fix in the morning.

The fresh air at the window foon brought me to life; and a few minutes after the departure of the jemmautdaar, I was restored to my fight and fenfes. But Oh! Sir, what words fhall I adopt to tell you the whole that my foul fuffer ed at reviewing the dreadful destruction round me! I will not attempt it; and indeed, tears (a tribute I believe I fhall ever pay to the remembrance of this fcene, and to the memory of those brave and valuable men) flop my pen.

The little ftrength remaining amongst the most robust who furvived, made it a difficult task to remove the dead piled up against the door; fo that I believe it was more than twenty minutes before we obtained a paffage out for one at a time. I had foon, &c. [To be continued.] SIR, Standgate, Lambeth, Feb. 17. Have discovered a fpecies of the willow that will grow to a prodigious



A defeription of this fpecies of avilloavs having been afked, in a letter, figned PhiloNautarius, the following note, dated Feb. 26. appeared in a fubjequent paper.

Pilo-Nautarius, or any other, may fee feveral willows fit for mafts, now ftanding at the bottom of the garden. lately belonging to Angel, Efq; in the Wafh way, near Stockwell lane. by Briftow caufey, in Surry, not three miles from Weltminster bridge. Thefe trees are feveral yards taller than any maft of a fhip, and perfectly ftraight, and their circumference much greater than that of


maft. I dare fay, that great numbers of fuch trees may be found in England; and might not trial be made of them in the fir fhips now fitting out in the feveral dock yards? I am, &c.

Lond. Chron.

W. M.



You wonder that I ftil Jeny,
Though oft you beg my works to fee:
The reafon's not, that I am thy;
I fear you'd find your own to me.


Tranflation of VERSES writ in French by the King of PRUSSIA, and by him presented 1 Mr Profeffor GOTTSCHED, at Leipfic, 67.18. 1757. Gent, Mag.

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frugal Its mental gifts judicious Heav'n Deals near alike to ev'ry land, Tho' diff'rent kinds to each are giv❜n. The French of airy genius prove, Britannia's fons profound are known ion Charm'd by the magic of felt love,


Each prizes, cach prefers his own.
le Sparta, once for arms renown'd,
Mars train'd his noblest sons of fame;
Politeft arts and manners crown'd,

With Attic fweets, th’Athenian name. From Lacedæmon's hardy race ' =

Our Germans, fir'd with martial rage, Dauntless to fame, through danger prefs, Ennobl'd in th' hiftoric page.

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Bat foon their flow'ry garlands fade, -
And wither from the public view;
No tuneful bard's reforming aid,

Their harsh neglected language knew.
This talk, Saxonian fwan? be thine;
Thy native tongue, with powerful art,man,
In niggard nature's spite, refine,


And sweetly-melting founds impart. In Heliconian ftrains affume,

And fwell our German heroes' praife: Immortal fhall their laurels bloom, Entwin'd with thy Parnaffian bays.

The Profeffer's anfwer.


Was lavish, matchless prince! to your
It grae'd you with the mingi'd charms
Of wisdom, poetry, and arms,
And bade you, thus adorn'd, engage
The wonder of each future age:
It form'd you in that happy mean
Those blameable extremes between,
Of British genius, too profound,
And French, for levity renown'd.
Hence, nicely pois'd, and well refin'd,
True grandeur dignifies your mind;
Nor clouds of paffion ever roll,
T'obfcure the brightness of your foul.

Mars now, where-e'er your fandards fly,
Submits to your corrective eye,
And forms, as in his nobleft fchools,
His heroes by your better rules;
And hence your Germans rife in farme,
Superior to the Roman name.
Long ex'd from their native home
Th' Athenian Mules, forc'd to roam
In fearch of fome belov'd retreat,
Amidst your cohorts fix their feat,
Transported, your behefts obey,
And follow where you lead the way.
Fame's greeneft laureate wreaths you feize,
And plack, fercne in learned cafe,

Leaving th'hiftorians of your age
T'infcribe you on th'immortal page.
Thefe godlike talents use and loon
May fmiling Peace (celeftial boon !)
Her blooming olives all divine
Around your facred temples twine.
This bleffing, mighty pince! beftow,"
And ev'ry obftacle o'erthrow;
While, with poetic rapares warm'd,
I fing the wonders you've perform'd.
Rotterdam, Jan. 24. 1758.


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B. S No PROLOGUE and EPILOGUE to AGIS. PROLOGUE. Written by a FRIEND, Spoken by Mr GARRICK, at London'; and by Mr DIGGES, at Edinburgh.

F, in thefe days of luxury and cafe,

A tale from Sparta's rigid state can please;
If patriot plans a British breast can warm;'>
If kings allerting Liberty can charm;
If virtue til a grateful afpect wear; 941
Check not at Agis' fall the gen'rous tear.

He view'd his fubjects with a parent's love;
With zeal to fave a linking people ftrove;
Strove their chang'd hearts with glory to inflame,
To mend their morals, and restore their name;
Till Faction roke, with Murder at her fide;
Then mourn'd his country, perfever'd, and dy'd.

That country once for virtue was rever'd,
Admir'd by Greece, by haughty Afia fear'd.
Then citizens and foldiers were the fame;
And foldiers heroes; for their wealth was fame.
Then for the brave the fair referi'd her charms,
And scorn'd to clafp a coward in her arms.
The trumpet call'd; the fiz'd the word and

Array'd in hafte her hofband for the field;
And fighing whisper'd in a fond embrace,
"Remember! death is better than difgrace."
The widow'd mother fhew'd her patting fon
The race of glory which his fire bad run:
"My fan, thy fight alone I fall deplore,
Return victorious! or retorn no more!"

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While beauty thus with parriot zeal combin'd, And round the laurai'd head her myrtle twin'd; Whitt all confefs'd the virtuous were the great; Fame, valour, conquell, grac'd the Spartan ftate: Fier pow'r congenial with her virtue grew, And Freedom's banner o'er her phalanx flew. But foon as Virtue dropt her lick'ning head, Fame, valour conquett, pow's, and freedom fled.

May this fad fccne improve each Briton's heart! Roufe bias with warmth to act a Briton's part! Prompt him with sparta's nobleft fons to vie; To live in glory, and in freedom die!


Spoken by Mrs PRITCHARD, at Loudon; ond by Nir BROWN, at Edinburgh.


King in bloom of youth, for freedom die!— Our bard, tho' bold, durft not have foar'd To highThis is no credulous admiring age; But facred, fure, the faith of Plutarch's page.


In fimple ftyle that ancient fage relates
The tale of Sparta, chief of Grecian states:
Eight hundred years it flourish'd, great in arms,
On dangers rofe, and grew amidft alarms.
Of Sparta's triumph you have heard the cause,
More ftrong, more noble, than Lycurgus' laws:
How Spartan dames, by Glory's charms infpir'd,
The fon, the lover, and the husband fir'd.
Ye fair of Britain's ifle, which juftly claims
The Grecian title, land of lovely dames,
In Britain's caufe exert your matchlefs charms,
And roufe your lovers to the love of arms.
Hid, not extinct, the spark of valour lies;
Your breath fhall raise it flaming to the skies.
Now Mars his bloody banner hangs in air,
And bids Britannia's fons for war prepare:
Let each lov'd maid, each mother bring the fhield,
And arm their country's champions for the field:
Arm'd and inflam'd each British breaft thall burn,
No youth unlaurel'd fhall to you return.
Then fhall we ceafe t'exult at trophies won,
In Glory's field, by heroes-not our own;
France yet shall tremble at the British sword,
And dread the vengeance of her ancient lord.

Invents, corrects, confults, examines, weighs,
Determines, alters, and, again, ellays!
This fcheme prefers, then changes, plans anew,
While naught cludes his penetrating view;
Naught that a finifh'd genius can fuggeft,
Or nobly animate the patriot breaft!
And all to ferve his country-not one aim
To heap up riches, or to purchase fame.
For this-he liv'd-for this-he dar'd to die-
By this affur'd of immortality!

** INT

Britain, awake; a finish'd picture fee,
Drawn by the Mufe's happiest art, for thee?
Not to amuse and entertain thy eye,..
As children, gilded chariots paffing by;
But to inspire thy fons, to fight, or fall,
When freedom and when patriotism call!
Inflame their bofoms with a virtuous rage
At the loofe crimes and vices of the age;
Which now emafculate their warlike race,
Certain preludes to ruin and difgrace!
Too ftrong resemblance of the Spartan fate,
When few had the ambition to be great ;.
When luxury, intemperance, and cafe,
Blafted the laurels won in former days;
Sullying its ancient glory and renown,
And tumbling all its boasted trophies down!
May fuch plays only grace a British stage,

To the author of DOUGLAS and AGIS.

Hail, tragic bard! fill while esteem remains As tend to better and improve the age!

To fire the genius, and to warm the heart,
By ev'ry manly, noble, gen'rous art
The hero or the patriot can admire,
Virtue approve, or Liberty infpite!

nature, painted in the pureft strains;
While elegant fimplicity can please,
And virtue, facred virtue, merit praife;
The nobleft thoughts and fentiments expreft
In fofteft numbers, charm the raptur'd breast;
Numbers which boast the Mufe's brightest flame!
DOUGLAS fhall live, crown'd with immortal fame:
Shall live the darling fubject of applause,
While poefy and talle maintain their caufe.

How AGIS fhines, drawn by thy matchlefs pen,
The greatest, wifeft, and the best of men!
Delineated in thy patriot ftrains,
What heights of godlike excellence he gains!
How does he foar (deferted and alone)
Superior to the grandeur of a throne;
To all th'alluring blandithments of vice,
The coward's boaft, the flave's ignoble choice;
When facred Freedom fir'd his glowing breast,
And ev'ry less exalted aim fuppreft,
As the dim taper's faintly-glimm'ring rays
Die in the fplendor of meridian blaze;
The rights of human kind, the gen'ral good!
Tho' gen'ral-yet how feldom understood!

Not Cæfar, feated in triumphal car,
'Mid the proud trophies and the spoils of war,
Tho' flatt'ring erouds his deeds emblazon forth,
Can boaft fuch merit, fuch diftinguifh'd worth.
He, fir'd by wild Ambition's headstrong fway,
Daringly ftrove to make a world obey;
The public good, the common-weal defpis'd,
-And ev'ry scheme to ruin both devis'd.
But Sparta's glorious hero, young in years,
But old in wisdom, gen'roully appears
In injur'd Liberty's expiring cause,
Bravely aflerting Virtue's broken laws!
Behold, with fervent heart, and eager eyes,
How he each poffible expedient tries!

The finest entertainment of the mind,
Where all that's great with all that's foft we find;
The noblest structure, on the noblest plan;
Is tragedy-the higheft work of man.
There Fancy gets full liberty to play,
To range her flights, and all her arts difplay;
Yet still by ftrict propriety restrain'd,
By realon guided, and by judgment rein'd.
Each thing majeflic, and folemnly grave,
The virtues of the gen'rous and the brave;
Morality and Friendibip, facred names!
Are ftill her darling and peculiar themes;
While lively Wit and (prightly Humour join
To heighten, to embellish, and refine, (books,
That manly knowledge gain'd from men and
Tho' learn'd by Art, which yet like Nature looks.
Now CALEDONIA lifts her ancient bead,
Too long ignobly bury'd with the dead;
And from the flumber of a thousand years,
Upon the top of Helicon appears.
She comes, to greet you as her favʼrite fon,
To hail your race of glory now begun;
Such glory as Parnaffian laurels claim,
The blooming honours of a deathlefs name.

Long have her fons been famous in the field,
For fortitude and ftrength, that could not yield.
Immortal trophies have adorn'd her land,
Won and atchiev'd by Valour's braveft hand.
Heroes as great as ever Rome could boast,
In zenith glory, grac'd her warlike coaft:
The trump of Fame fpread wide her tow'ring


And Scotia and Renown were still the fame.


Searce did her infants leave the dandling knee, When thirst of glory, and of victory; To train the courfer for th'imbattl'd field, The fword to brandish, or the spear to wield, To draw the bow, and aim the arrow right, burn'd in each bofom, ardent for the fight: Adent to lead the fquadrons on the foe, Coqueft or death attending ev'ry blow. to mufic could delight them but alarms; To exercife was popular but arms; The wretch that liv'd in indolence and ease, Sun'd in no station, and acquir'd no praife; all were defpis'd, mark'd with no glorious fear, Caus'd to labour, and unfkill'd in war. Eat tho' on Fame's fublimeft pinion rais'd, Where-e'er the fun with radiant fplendors blaz'd; by dauntless Valour's keenest ardours warm'd, for martial deeds, and high exploits perform❜d; The Mufes feldom deign'd to grace her land, Laurels and bays of myrtle in their hand: Lalefs when fage BUCHANAN tun'd the lyre, Warm with the noblest raptures they inspire; That fam'd restorer of th'Auguftan age, When Cicero adorn'd his labour'd page With all the charms that language could bestow, Or from a perfect manly genius flow. Nor will I pass thee, JOHNSTON, without praife; Nor, THOMSON, thee, immortal by thy lays! Nor thee, O BLACKLOCK; ah! depriv'd of fight, And throuded in the difmal gloom of night; But to whofe foul, Light pours her brightest rays, And Virtue all her native charms difplays.

But now her reputation fhall aspire, While nature, tafte, and genius men admire. Wide as before her fame for conqueft flew, Her name shall spread, rais'd by the Muse and you.

On the King of PRUSSIA.

ON his own native plains, with laurels crown'd, La grateful cafe, illuftrious FREDRICK fat; While peace and plenty breath'd their sweets around,

He faid: The hero felt a warmth divine,
With honeft rage, and fair ambition fir'd;
Now feem'd he equal to the great defign,

And all the God his mighty foul infpir❜d.
Devote to justice, and to fair renown,

Forth flew his fword, impatient to engage; He fpread the horrid pomp of war around,

And nobly-daring bade the battle rage. To numbers does he yield? So have I seen

The mid-day fun withdraw his flaming ray, A while obfcur'd by wat'ry clouds, and then Surprise the world with more refulgent day. Amid th' admiring numbers of the foe,

I fee him glorious on the fanguine field! The God of battles guides his every blow, And fhades the hero with his facred field. Before his lifted arm the mighty Aly;

Confpiring nations urge the war in vain; Thousands on thoufands cold and lifeless lie, And with their blood deep-tinge the fatal plain. He with Victoria's faireft laurels crown'd,

In the bright course of glory on fhall go, Till war fhall ceafe; and on the world around,

The peace and virtue which he loves, beflow. Ah me! how justly is my verfe reprov'd!

How much unworthy of th' exalted theme! O great in arms! O Virtue's best belov'd!

What ftrains fhall equal thy illuftrious name? Of ages yet unborn, the great and good

Shall fpeak thy praife, and lift his fame on Who in defence of Freedom nobly flood, (high, Who ne'er in Virtue's caufe refus'd to die. Why fleeps BRITANNIA? the that wont t'appear Does Honour's call no more delight her ear? The foremost in the glorious lifts of fame!

Is the unmov'd by danger, or by shame?
Lo, where the fits with looks demure and fad!

By her own fons betray'd, can fhe be glad?
See with repeated fighs her bosom heave!

While Gallia triumphs, can fhe cease to grieve? Is there no balm to heal BRITANNI A's wound?

No charm to footh the lovely mourner's wo? No friendly hand to lift her from the ground,

And wipe the tears that without cealing flow? Of all her fons, once honest, wife, and brave,

Is there not one, that feels the patriot's flame? That nobly dares his bleeding mother fave, And fnatch from fate a never-dying name? Fort-George, Jan. 1758. R. S.

The people happy, and the monarch great. He trac'd, affiduous, Wisdom's facred page; Explor'd whate'er was worthy to be known; Reviv'd the manners of each former age,

And made their fairest virtues all his own. The Mufes warm'd his foul with all their fire; Harmonious was his fpeech, his judgment strong; And well he knew to touch the tuneful lyre,

And tafte the fweetness of immortal fong. Ljuffice now her ftandard broad difplay'd;

This mark'd the fov'reign ruler of the skies: Arike, my fon, my fav'rite fon! he faid;

Lo! Virtue calls, and Glory pleads; arife! See where, confiding in their lawless power,

In impious league the haughty nations join! To blaft their hopes, and justice to restore,

Go forth: this talk, this glorious task be thine! Before thy feet shall proud Oppreffion bow;


Down-looking Avarice shall lick the dust, And Violence fink beneath th'avenging blow: Mine is the caufe; in me put all thy trust. VOL. XX.

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