We shall beg leave to make a short extract from two or three of them, for the observation of the reader.
_From an Hymn to the Evening_[070].
"Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light, And draws the sable curtains of the night, Let placid slumbers sooth each weary mind, At morn to wake more heav'nly and refin'd; So shall the labours of the day begin, More pure and guarded from the snares of sin.
-- --&c.

&c." * * * * * _From an Hymn to the Morning_.
"Aurora hail! and all the thousand dies, That deck thy progress through the vaulted skies! The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays, On ev'ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays.
Harmonious lays the feather'd race resume, Dart the bright eye, and shake the painted plume.
-- --&c.

&c." * * * * * _From Thoughts on Imagination_.
"Now here, now there, the roving _fancy_ flies, Till some lov'd object strikes her wand'ring eyes, Whose silken fetters all the senses bind, And soft captivity involves the mind.
"_Imagination!_ who can sing thy force, Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?
Soaring through air to find the bright abode, Th' empyreal palace of the thund'ring God, We on thy pinions can surpass the wind, And leave the rolling universe behind: From star to star the mental opticks rove, Measure the skies, and range the realms above.
There in one view we grasp the mighty whole, Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul.
-- --&c.

&c." * * * * * Such is the poetry which we produce as a proof of our assertions.

How far it has succeeded, the reader may by this time have determined in his own mind.