Yet, while thy studious eyes explore,
And range these various volumes o'er,
Trust blindly to no fav'rite pen,
Remembering authors are but men.
Has fair Philosophy thy love?
Away! she lives in yonder grove.
If the sweet Muse thy pleasure gives,
With her, in yonder grove, she lives:
And if Religion claims thy care,
Religion, fled from books, is there.
For first from nature's works we drew
Our knowledge, and our virtue too.

TO A RED-BREAST,

LITTLE bird, with bosom red,
Welcome to my humble shed!
Courtly domes of high degree
Have no room for thee and me;
Pride and pleasure's fickle throng
Nothing mind an idle song.

Daily near my table steal,
While I pick my scanty meal.
Doubt not, little though there be,
But I'll cast a crumb to thee;
Well rewarded, if I spy

Pleasure in thy glancing eye:
See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill,
Plume thy breast, and wipe thy bill.
Come, my feather'd friend, again,
Well thou know'st the broken pane.
Ask of me thy daily store:
Go not near Avaro's door;
Once within his iron hall,
Woful end shall thee befall.
Savage!-He would soon divest
Of its rosy plumes thy breast;
Then, with solitary joy,

Eat thee, bones and all, my boy!

WILLIAM HAYLEY was born at Chichester, Sussex, in 1745. He was educated at Eton. In 1763, he entered at Trinity Hall, Cambridge; and, three years afterwards, placed his name on the books of the Middle Temple, but without any serious intention of studying the law. Soon after his birth he lost his father; but his excellent mother devoted the whole of her energies to forward his interests in life. Under her judicious management his small paternal estate at Eartham, near his birth-place, became sufficient to secure an "elegant competence;" she took especial care that the soundest education should be placed within his reach; and she fostered that love of poetry and desire for literary distinction which secured to him a prominent station among the writers of his country.

His first publication of any importance was "A Poetical Epistle to an eminent Painter"-Romney: this appeared in 1778. Two years afterwards he published his "Essay on History." In 1781 he issued his "Triumphs of Temper;" and, in 1782, his "Essay on Epic Poetry." The Essay on Painting, the Triumphs of Music, and the Essay on Sculpture, with a few meagre Miscellanies, and his "Plays," make up the list of his poetical productions. He died at Felpham, Sussex, in 1820.

Hayley began his career with the loftiest notions of the fame he was destined to achieve. As the Drama appeared the readiest mode of obtaining popularity, he resolved on commencing as a dramatic writer-contenting himself with the prospect of producing "two plays every year," and with receiving an annual "thousand pounds," in addition to the celebrity they would procure for him. He wrote therefore several dramatic pieccs; but altogether failed in realizing either of the two objects by which he was stimulated to exertion. His poetical "Essays" "on Painting," "on History," and "on Epic Poetry," however, were more successful— they were praised in terms glowing enough to have turned a steadier brain. It was said of him that he had "the fire and the invention of Dryden, the wit and ease of Prior, and that if his versification was a degree less polished than Pope, it was more various." We look in vain through these " Essays" for something that may seem to justify compliments so exaggerated as to appear satire in disguise; and with the exception of a few passages, we find them dull, tedious, and prosaic. The publication of "the most fanciful and the most fortunate of his works," at once established Hayley as the most popular of living poets. On the death of Warton the Laureateship was "graciously offered" to him, and "as graciously declined." His society was eagerly sought by all the leading men of his time; he received compliments from historians and philosophers, as well as poets; and, for a long period, was hailed as "chiefest" of the age. The mind of Hayley was not of a high order; and it is therefore scarcely to be wondered at that he became a spoiled and pampered man-spoiled by the world, which so vastly overrated his powers. The fame that is not built on a firm foundation, falls rapidly to decay; a few years after he had soared to the meridian, saw him on the decline. He who had been estimated far too highly, was shortly to be depreciated much lower than his real value. When describing the fame of Hume as "a waxen fabric," he characterised his own. "The Triumphs of Temper" is now the only one of his productions of which even the title is remembered; and although scarcely meriting the sweeping condemnation of Byron, as

"For ever feeble, and for ever tame,"

the reader of it will be surprised rather at the popularity it obtained than at the neglect it has experienced. His motive in composing this work, he has himself explained. "His observation," he said, "of the various effects of SPLEEN on the female character, induced him to believe that he might render essential service to social life, if his poetry could induce his young and fair readers to cultivate the gentle qualities of the heart, and maintain a constant flow of good humour." And he adds, that the production owed its existence to an incident which actually occurred. The hint of the poem was avowedly taken from the Rape of the Lock; it is made up of similar machinery, and similar spirits are chosen, as guardians, to watch over and guide the destiny of the "lovely, engaging, and accomplished" Serena, the heroine, who is conducted through various perils, into the happy home of a youth, chosen by herself, her sire, and the deities who ruled her fate.

ART with no common gifts her Gainsborough grac'd, Two different pencils in his hand she plac'd; This shall command, she said, with certain aim, A perfect semblance of the human frame; This, lightly sporting on the village green, Paint the wild beauties of the rural scene.

Oh! let the Sisters, who, with friendly aid,
The Grecian lyre, and Grecian pencil sway'd,
Who join'd their rival powers with fond delight,
To grace each other with reflected light,
Let them in Britain thus united reign,
And double lustre from that union gain!

*