September 18, 1810.

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As the pieces, Sir, in your Class of Amatory Songs are those included in the two classes of “ Passionate and Descriptive” and “6 Witty and Ingenious” in your former work republished by Mr. Evans, I shall now consider those Songs omitted by you, but retained by him. The first of these which occurs is at page 134, “Fly, thoughtless youth, th' enchantress fly”, a song much too warm and voluptuous and containing some false sentiment. The same may be said of " On a bank, beside a willow," (p. 138.)

Arno's Vale, by the Earl of Dorset, “ When here Lucinda first we came,” (p. 141.) is a song of sweeter versification, and less exceptionable in its matter, than most of those which are retained of this class.

“Bid me, when forty winters more”, (p. 152.) is profligate in a high degree; and the sentiment that, after those years have elapsed, and “ furrowed deep my pallid brow" &c. “ Then bid me court sobriety”, is in direct opposition both to reason and religion. St. Paul's advice to Titus (ch. ii.) is not less applicable to a writer

of songs :

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“ Speak thou the things which become sound doctrine; that the aged men be sober, grave, tenperate, sound in faith, in charity, in patience: The aged women likewise, that they be in behaviour as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; that they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed.” Nor does the Apostle omit sobriety in young men:Young Men, likewise, exhort to be sober minded. In all things shewing thyself a pattern of good works; in doctrine shewing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity, sound speech that cannot be condemned". V.1-8.

When pernicious doctrines in morality are inculcated or encouraged, whether by Songs or graver publications, surely this is not that sound speech, in doctrine, which may not justly be condemned.

« Tell me not I my time mispend,” (p. 153.) is at best very silly, as the last verse will shew :

Nor blame him, whoe'er blames my wit,

That seeks no higher prize,
Than in unenvied shades to sit

And sing of Chloris' eyes.
" Love and Folly were at play,” (p. 206.)

and “ An Amorous swain to Juno pray'd,”(Do.) are not either of them calculated to give just ideas of love.

“ Tell me no more I am deceiv'd,” by Con. greve, (p. 209.) and introduced by Hoadley into The Suspicious Husband, by making Ranger read it, and say “ Honest Congreve was a man after my own heart”, (A. i. S. 1.) is very profligate in its sentiment. Hoadley has made it worse by altering the line, “ I always knew (at least believ’d)” to “ By Heaven I all along believ'd".

“ Mistaken fair, lay Sherlock by," by Lord Chesterfield, (p. 210.) is peculiarly profligate and profane, which indeed can create no surprise, when we recollect who is its author.

The following Parody, or Answer, may be offered as an antidote to it:

Mistaken Yooth, lay Stanhope by :

His Wit is all deceiving :
'Twill neither teach you how to die
Nor Happiness in living.

Happy to die! no one can know

Till Virtue is his Master;
Therefore our study should be now
To hold this Gem the faster.

Would You, my Charles, be truly blest,

Make this your Inclination,
Let Wisdom rule your candid Breast

And curb each guilty passion.

To each pure joy free licence givo;

Each baser wish deny:
Thus, free and happy, shall you live,

Thus happy shall you die.

“Come, little infant, love me now,” (p. 225.) is both voluptuous and coarse.

" As Ariana young and fair” (p. 235.) is extravagant and profane; and “ When first I saw Lucinda's face,” (p. 236.) is still more so.

“ At Cynthia's feet I sigh’d, I pray’d,' (p. 238.) is most indecently voluptuous and profligate.

To these succeed (p. 245, &c.) four original pieces, “ One parting kiss, my Ethelinde!" " Bow the head, thou lily fair,"_Come, gentle god of soft repose," and " Aspasia rolls her sparkling eyes,” but as there is little in them of an objectionable nature which is not already censured by some of my former remarks, I shall only observe upon the third of them,


Come, gentle god of soft repose,

Come sooth this tortur'd breast;
Shed kind oblivion o'er my woes,

And lull my cares to rest,

Come, gentle God, without thy aid

I sink in dark despair, &c. &c.

Let me forget myself, my grief,

And every care—but love.

Such addresses, I conceive, divert the mind from the only true refuge in all cases of distress and grief, “ the God of patience and consolation", (Romans xv. 5.) and it appears that love, in its limited sense, is the only wish of the writer.

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