more. And there
were other blockheads, substantial dunces, of respectable station in
East Kent, among this ignorant and ambitious madman's supporters; men
who had been at school to little purpose. Such an insurrection of
satyrs, and such a Pan, in the middle of the nineteenth century, within
earshot of the bells of Christchurch! But this by the bye.

The next poem is styled English Metamorphosis, by T. Rowley. It consists
of eleven stanzas of ten lines each, all fluent and spirited, and some
of very superior merit. It is the fable of Sabrina, Milton's "daughter
of Locrine," transliquefied to the river Severn, while her mother,
Elstrida, was changed to the ridge of stones that rises on either side
of it, Vincent's rocks at Clifton, and their enemy, the giant, was
transformed to the mountain Snowdon. This giant was a very Enceladus.

"He tore a ragged mountain from the ground;
Hurried up nodding forests to the sky:
Then with a fury that might earth astound,
To middle air he let the mountain fly,
_The flying wolves sent forth a yelling cry_."

In illustration of Elstrida's beauty,--

"The morning tinge, the rose, the lily flower,
In ever-running race on her did paint their power."

The most vulgar and outworn simile is refreshed with a grace by the
touch of Chatterton.

Of the next poem--An excellent ballad of Charity, by the good priest,
Thomas Rowley, 1454--it is clear that the young author thought highly,
by a note that he transmitted with it to the printer of the "Town and
Country Magazine," July 4, 1770, the month preceding that of his death.
Unlike too many bearers of sounding appellations, it has certainly
something more than its title to recommend it.

The octosyllabic lines--twenty only--on Redcliff Church, by T.R., show
what nice feeling Chatterton had for the delicacies of that florid
architecture:--

"The cunning handiwork so fine,
Had wellnigh dazzled mine eyne.
Quoth I, some artful fairy hand
Uprear'd this chapel in this land.
Full well I know so fine a sight,
Was never raised by mortal wight."

Of its majesty he speaks in another measure:--

"Stay, curious traveller, and pass not by
Until this festive pile astound thine eye.
Whole rocks on rocks, with iron join'd, survey;
And oaks with oaks that interfitted lie;
This mighty pile that keeps the winds at bay,
And doth the lightning and the storm defy,
That shoo