the Settlement of Virginia; and if Mr. Southey should meditate another
irruption into the territories of the Muse, we would recommend this
subject to his attention.

It must be remarked that this is a very handsome and elegantly printed
book, with engraved title-pages, vignettes, &c. and had the poet
equalled the printer, his work might have stood on the same shelf with
those of our most admired writers.--_The Monthly Review_.

[Footnote I: Milton.]

CHARLES LAMB

_Blank Verse_, by CHARLES LLOYD, and CHARLES LAMB. 12mo. 2s. 6d. Boards.
Arch. 1798.

Dr. Johnson, speaking of blank verse, seemed to have adopted the opinion
of some great man,--we forget whom,--that it is only "_poetry to the
eye_." On perusing the works of several modern bards of our own country,
we have sometimes rather inclined to the same idea, but the recollection
of Milton and Thomson presently banished it.

We have more than once delivered our sentiments respecting the poetry of
Mr. Charles Lloyd. To what we have formerly remarked, in general on this
head, we have little to add on the present occasion; except that we
begin to grow weary of his continued melancholy strains. Why is this
ingenious writer so uncomfortably constant to the _mournful_ Muse? If he
has any taste for variety, he has little to fear from _jealousy_ in the
sacred sisterhood.--Then why not sometimes make his bow to THALIA?

Mr. Lamb, the joint author of this little volume, seems to be very
properly associated with his plaintive companion.--_The Monthly
Review_.

_Album Verses, with a few others_. By CHARLES LAMB. 12mo. pp. 150.
London, 1830. Moxon.

If any thing could prevent our laughing at the present collection of
absurdities, it would be a lamentable conviction of the blinding and
engrossing nature of vanity. We could forgive the folly of the original
composition, but cannot but marvel at the egotism which has preserved,
and the conceit which has published. What exaggerated notion must that
man entertain of his talents, who believes their slightest efforts
worthy of remembrance; one who keeps a copy of the verses he writes in
young ladies' albums, the proverbial receptacles for trash! Here and
there a sweet and natural thought intervenes; but the chief part is best
characterized by that expressive though ungracious word "rubbish." And
what could induce our author to trench on the masculine and vigorous
Crabbe? did he think his powerful and dark outlines mig