a body of criticism is this commentary now become, that perhaps there is no work, or series of works, that could so far contribute to form and establish a taste for ancient English literature, as the notes that are at present subjoined to his plays.

No general description of Shakspeare's dramatic powers has yet appeared, more striking or illustrative, than that by Dr. Johnson, in his celebrated preface: "His characters are so truly in nature, and his scenes such perfect pictures of real life, that from them an hermit might estimate the manners of the world, or a confessor predict the progress of the passions."

His other remark, that " Perhaps not one of Shakspeare's plays, could it now be produced as a new work, and of a contemporary writer, would be heard to the conclusion," may be answered by Longinus: αι ὑπερμεγέθεις φύσεις ήκιςα καθαραι· εν δε τοίς μέγε θεσιν, ὥσπερ εν τοις αγαν πλυτοις, είναι τι χρη και παρολιγω βόμενον. De Sublim. Sect. 33.

THEATRIC COSTUME.

Venice Preserved, represented at Drury Lane.

THE action of this play is (at least it is so understood by me) supposed to be in the beginning of the seventeenth century. To the scenes in general, being those used on every occasion, I shall say nothing but the dresses, having been presented to us as new for the occasion, some opinion of their appropriate introduction may be thought necessary.

:

From the infinite examples that have been under my eye, of ancient dresses, statues, paintings, engravings, &c. of all nations, I have drawn this conclusion. All European countries have ever borne a general resemblance to each other in their mode of raiment ; the variations mostly consist in some local peculiarities. Is not this the case, for instance, at the present day? Jaffier's habit was a something of what was the fashion in Charles I.'s reign, as were those of many of the other characters; yet was not his jerkin tawdry enough without a sash? (worn only by military men, in the æra I have mentioned, over their armour). Pierre's dress was confessedly the modern trim of an officer, with red coat, pantaloons, cocked hat, and dressed hair. From this equipment of Jaffier, we might have expected the soldiers, &c. to have made their appearance after a similar manner : instead whereof, they marched in fancy habits, leaning more to the Russian uniform, as now worn, than to any thing else. The dresses of the females, owning no other authority than uncontrolled whim, are below our remark. A. A.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

Address to the River in a Rural Landscape beautifully drawn by the Rev. William Bree, of Coleshill, in Warwickshire, and in the Possession of the Rev. Henry White, Cathedral-Close, Lichfield.

[Accompanied by an Engraving.]

AFTER a lonely course through yon deep woods,
And the green quietness of distant vales,

Now, gentle river, to the haunts of men

The rude stone arches stretching o'er thy flood
Note thine approach; and as with silent lapse
Thou stealest under them, the staid old cow
And lumpish horse above, are driven afield
By time-worn herdsman. Then, in swifter course,
Thy lately tranquil streams, jocund, and loud,

Rush down the Wier. Again, soon calm'd, they flow,
And the young day shines on their glassy train.

So dost thou wander by the pleasant base

Of a clean village, climbing up the steep

And shrubby knoll; while bosom'd in thick trees,
The church the hill-top crowns. The day is young i
Clos'd yonder cottage door; the din and talk
Of clamorous infants and laborious man
Unheard as yet, tho' from the chimney tops

The grey smoke, rising to the church-yard trees,
Curls its light vapour round their boughs, and gives
Promise of morning's meal. Behold the cart,
That late, well loaded, on thy pebbled bank
Had creak'd and crept, at the yet silent mill
Stopt; those full stores resigning, which shall soon
Employ thy silent waters, and awake
The clattering hubbub of the busy scene.
Adown those rocky stairs, which to thy brink
Lead from the hamlet cotts, erewhile shall step,
With cleanly pail light rocking on her head,
The rustic maid, new-risen; for she has seen,
Through lattice curtain'd by the briar rose,
Her cow slow pacing up thy left-hand bank,
Intelligent of hour, the burden rich
Duteous to yield; and, yet more welcome, sees,
Not far behind, the youth belov'd, from cops'd

bosom'd in thick trees,

The Church the hill top crowns.

Pub. April 1,1802, by Vernor & Hood, Poultry

vide Mifs Sewards, Poem

And hay-stack'd tenement down in the vale.
Yes! and thou soon shalt hear the tender vows

Of true love breath'd, and breath'd in sweeter sound
Than song
of linnet, or the quiet tune
Of thine own streams when hush'd are all the woods.
Mark that clos'd door, for it shall open soon.
It is the good dame's school, and in shall throng
Like bees in spring-time to their dusky hive,
The little troop, and in resembling hum
Mutter the morning task; but when yon tower
Shall tell, far-heard, the welcome tale of noon,
Some striding and some tumbling o'er the sill,
The infant tribe releas'd, with prattle loud
Shall totter down, and on thy shelving bank
Shout, laugh, and squabble, strenuous while they hurl
The frequent stone, dividing thy smooth waves.
But, on the morrow, Sabbath bells shall ring,
And 'twixt the mattin and the vesper hour,
And at the rosy setting of the sun,

That little lawless multitude, which late,
Noisy and wild, had clamour'd on thy bank,

In Sunday vestments, and with sober gait

Walk by their parents' side; while from each hand,
The varied posy, dappled pinks, and rose,
Woodbine, and fragrant southernwood, and thyme,
Scent the wide air. Leisure and quietness,
Apparel clean, and vacant looks, all speak
The sacred day of rest; and thou shalt bear,
From that wood-mantled tower, the holy chimes,
Silver'd and mellow'd on thy liquid course,

To neighb'ring farm, and cot. There we may trust
Right welcome is the sound, more welcome still
The pastor's voice persuasive, when he speaks
Of hopes eternal. Charitable deeds

Shedding a daily beauty on his life

That makes his doctrine saintly; while, combin'd,
They form a picture, delicate of trait,

As the soft scene now mirror'd on thy breast;

While the soft scene, and thou its mirror fair,
Are all the sweet creation of his hand,

Whose touch is Genius, and whose life is Love, Monday, Jan. 11, 1802, ANNA SEWARD,