A ball. Enter a fervant leading in Serjeant Flower, and Coun^. fellors Traverfe and Trueman-all booted.

Servant. This way, if you pleafe, gentlemen! my master is at breakfast with the family at prefent-but I'll let him know, and he will wait on you immediately.

Flower. Mighty well, young man, mighty well.

Servant. Please to favour me with your names, gentlemen. Flower. Let Mr. Sterling know, that Mr. Serjeant Flower, and two other gentlemen of the bar, are come to wait on him according to his appointment.

Servant. I will, Sir.

[going.

Flower. And harkee, young man! [fervant returns.] Defire my fervant-Mr. Serjeant Flower's fervant-to bring in my green and gold faddle-cloth and pistols, and lay them down here in the hall with my portmanteau.

Servant. I will, Sir.

Manent Lawyers.

[Exit.

Flower. Well, gentlemen! the fettling thefe marriage-articles falls conveniently enough, almoft juft on the eve of the circuits. Let me fee-the Home, the Midland, and Western, —ay, we can all cross the country well enough to our several deftinations.-Traverse, when do you begin at Hertford ?

Traverse. The day after to-morrow.

Flower. That is commiffion-day with us at Warwick too.But my clerk has retainers for every cause in the paper, so it will be time enough if I am there the next morning-Befides, I have about half a dozen cafes that have lain by me ever fince the spring affizes, and I must tack opinions to them before I fee my country clients again-fo I will take the evening before me —and then currente calamo, as I fay-eh, Traverse !

Traverse. True, Mr. Serjeant-and the eafieft thing in the world too-for those country-attornies are fuch ignorant dogs, that in cafe of the devife of an estate to A. and his heirs for ever, they'll make a query, whether he takes in fee or in tail. Flower. Do you expect to have much to do on the Home circuit thefe affizes?

Traverse. Not much nifi prius bufinefs, but a good deal on the crown fide, I beli.ve. The gaols are brimfull, and some of the felons in good circumftances, and likely to be tolerable clients. Let me fee! I am engag'd for three highway robberies, two murders, one forgery, and half a dozen larcenies, at Kingston.

Flower. A pretty decent gaol-delivery!-Do you expect to bring off Darkin, for the robbery on Putney-Common? can you make out your alibi?

Traverse.

Traverfe. Oh, no! the crown witnesses are fure to prove our identity. We fhall certainly be hanged: but that don't fignify. -But, Mr. Serjeant, have you much to do? any remarkable cause on the Midland this circuit?

Flower. Nothing very remarkable,-except two rapes, and Rider and Western at Nottingham, for crim. con.-but, on the whole, I believe, a good deal of business. -Our affociate tells me, there are above thirty venires for Warwick.

Traverse. Pray, Mr. Serjeant, are you concern'd in Jones and Thomas at Lincoln ?

Flower. I am for the plaintiff.

Traverse. And what do you think on't?

Flower. A nonfuit.

Traverse. I thought fo.

Flower. Oh, no manner of doubt on't-luce clarius-we have no right in us-we have but one chance.

Traverse. What's that?

Flower. Why, my lord chief does not go the circuit this time, and my brother Puzzle being in the commiffion, the cause will come on before him.

Trueman. Ay, that may do, indeed, if you can but throw duft in the eyes of the defendant's council.

Flower. True.-Mr. Trueman, I think you are concern'd for lord Ogleby in this affair?

[to Trueman.

Trueman. I am, Sir-I have the honour to be related to his lordship, and hold fome courts for him in Somersetshire-go the Western circuit-and attend the feffions at Exeter, merely because his lordship's intereft and property lie in that part of the kingdom.

Flower. Ha!-and pray, Mr. Trueman, how long have you been called to the bar?

Trueman. About nine years and three quarters.

Flower. Ha!-I don't know that I ever had the pleasure of feeing you before.-I wish you fuccefs, young gentleman!'

We wish the authors had not fallen into an error which is common with our painters, in not fufficiently finishing their extremities. Very little attention might have made the catastrophe more perfect and more pleafing; for we cannot help thinking that the denouement of the drama and the epopeia should have very different properties. However, we will venture to affert, that this comedy, as it now ftands, has great merit, and, with a very few improvements, would excel any which has been exhibited on the English ftage for many years past.

Vol. XXI. March, 1766..

XVI.

XIV. Poems, chiefly Paftoral, by J. Cunningham. 8vo. Pr. 55. Dodfley.

EVERAL of thefe Poems have occafionally appeared in print. The greatest part of our readers must have seen the ballad intitled, A man to my mind, which, we find, is one of the productions of this writer. The prefent collection confifts of pastorals, odes, prologues, epilogues, and other short.compofitions. The author has not extended any of his poetical effays to a confiderable length; nor has he attempted to write on many elevated or serious subjects; we therefore do not apprehend that we shall depreciate his merit if we look upon his works as agreeable trifles. His numbers are generally easy and flowing, and his defcriptions picturefque. In this respect the following thought, on the rifing moon, is admirable:

The moon, preceded by the breeze

That bade the clouds retire,
Appears, among the tufted trees,
A phoenix neft on fire.'

Nature prefents an infinite variety of beautiful images to the view of all mankind. It is the bufinefs of the poet to select the most agreeable and romantic, and place them in a clear and ftriking light. In this he chiefly displays his abilities, and diftinguishes himself from the mechanical compofer of rhimes. Let the reader bear this obfervation in his mind, and he will perceive, by the following compofition, that Mr. Cunningham is no contemptible poet.

In the barn the tenant cock,
Close to partlet perch'd on high,
Brifkly crows, (the fhepherd's clock !)
Jocund that the morning's nigh.
Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire:
And the peeping fun-beam, now,
Paints with gold the village spire.
Philomel forfakes the thorn,

Plaintive where she prates at night;
And the lark, to meet the morn,
Soars beyond the fhepherd's fight.
From the low-roof'd cottage ridge,

See the chatt'ring fwallow fpring;
Darting through the one-arch'd bridge,
Quick fhe dips her dappled wing.

Now

Now the pine-tree's waving top,
Gently greets the morning gale:
Kidlings, now, begin to crop
Daisies, on the dewy dale.
From the balmy fweets, uncloy'd,
(Restless till her task be done)
Now the busy bee's employ'd
Sipping dew before the fun.
Trickling through the crevic'd rock,
Where the limpid stream diftils,
Sweet refreshment waits the flock
When 'tis fun-drove from the hills.
Colin's for the promis'd corn

(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe)
Anxious; whilst the huntsman's horn,
Boldly founding, drowns his pipe.
Sweet, O fweet, the warbling throng,
On the white embloffom'd fpray!
Nature's univerfal fong

Echos to the rifing day.

NOON.

Fervid on the glitt'ring flood,
Now the noontide radiance glows:
Drooping o'er its infant bud,
Not a dew-drop's left the rofe.
By the brook the fhepherd dines,
From the fierce meridian heat,
Shelter'd, by the branching pines,
Pendant o'er his grafly feat.

Now the flock forfakes the glade,

Where uncheck'd the fun-beams fall;

Sure to find a pleafing fhade

By the ivy'd abbey wall.

Echo in her airy round,

O'er the river, rock and hill,

Cannot catch a fingle found,

Save the clack of yonder mill.

Cattle court the zephirs bland,
Where the ftreamlet wanders cool;

Qr with languid filence ftand
Midway in the marshy pool.

But from mountain, dell, or ftream,
Not a flutt'ring zephir fprings:
Fearful left the noontide beam
Scorch its foft, its filken wings.
Q2-

Not

Not a leaf has leave to ftir,
Nature's lull'd-ferene-and still!
Quiet e'en the shepherd's cur,
Sleeping on the heath-clad hill.
Languid is the landscape round,
Till the fresh defcending shower,
Grateful to the thirsty ground,
Raifes ev'ry fainting flower.
Now the hill-the hedge-is green,
Now the warblers' throats in tune;
Blithfome is the verdant fcene,
Brighten'd by the beams of Noon!
EVENING.

O'er the heath the heifer ftrays
Free;-(the furrow'd tafk is done)
Now the village windows blaze,
Burnish'd by the setting fun.
Now he fets behind the hill,
Sinking from a golden fky:
Can the pencil's mimic skill,
Copy the refulgent dye?
Trudging as the plowmen go,
(To the fmoaking hamlet bound)
Giant-like their fhadows grow,
Lengthen'd o'er the level ground.
Where the rifing forest spreads,
Shelter, for the lordly dome!
To their high-built airy beds,
See the rooks returning home!
As the lark with vary'd tune,
Carrols to the evening loud;
Mark the mild refplendent moon,
Breaking through a parted cloud!
Now the hermit howlet peeps

From the barn, or twisted brake;
And the blue mift flowly creeps,
Curling on the filver lake.

As the trout in fpeckled pride,
Playful from its bofom fprings;

To the banks, a ruffled tide
Verges in fucceffive rings.
Tripping through the filken grafs,
O'er the path-divided dale,
Mark the rofe-complexion'd lass
With her well-pois'd milking pail.