bishop Blackbourne, and as in some measure connected with the profession of the hero of the foregoing poem, I cannot resist the temptation of extracting it. « « << There is something mysterious in the history and cha«racter of Dr. Blackbourne. The former is but imperfectly known; and report has even asserted he was a buccaneer: and that one of his brethren in that profession having asked, on his arrival in England, what had become of his old chum, Blackbourne, was answered, he is archbishop « of York. We are informed, that Blackbourne was installed sub-dean of Exeter, in 1694, which office he re " « " « α « « « signed in 1702; but after his successor, Lewis Barnet's death, in 1704, he regained it. In the following year he became dean; and, in 1714, held with it the archdeanery « of Cornwall. He was consecrated bishop of Exeter, february 24, 1716; and translated to York, november 28, 1724, as a reward, according to court scandal, for uniting George I. to the Dutchess of Munster. This, however, appears to have been an unfounded calumny. As archbishop he behaved with great prudence, and was equally respectable as the guardian of the revenues of the << see. Rumour whispered he retained the vices of his youth, and that a passion for the fair sex formed an item in the list of his weaknesses; but so far from being convicted by seventy witnesses, he does not appear to have been directly criminated by one. In short, I look aspersions as the effects of mere malice. How is it possible a buccaneer should have been so good a scholar as Blackbourne certainly was? he who had so perfect a knowledge of the classics (particularly of the Greek tragedians), as to be able to read them with the same ease as « he could Shakspeare, must have taken great pains to acquire the learned languages; and have had both leisure and good masters. But he was undoubtedly educated at Christ-church College, Oxford. He is allowed to have been a pleasant man : this, however, was turned against « " K him, by its being said, 'he gained more hearts than souls.'»> « « The only voice that could soothe the passions of the << savage (Alphonso 3d) was that of an amiable and virtuous wife, the sole object of his love: the voice of Donna Isabella, the daughter of the Duke of Savoy, and the grand<< daughter of Philip 2d, King of Spain.-Her dying words « sunk deep into his memory; his fierce spirit melted into « tears; and after the last embrace, Alphonso retired into ◄ his chamber to bewail his irreparable loss, and to medi<< tate on the vanity of human life. »—Miscellaneous Worksof Gibbon, New Edition, 8vo. vol. 3, page 473. ROSALIND. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller : Look, you lisp and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your Nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think that have swam in a GONDOLA. you AS YOU LIKE IT, Act. IV, Sc. I. Annotation of the Commentators. That is, been at Venice, which was much visited by the young English gentlemen of those times, and was then what Paris is now the seat of all dissoluteness. S. A. I. 'Tis known, at least it should be, that throughout However high their rank, or low their station, With fiddling, feasting, dancing, drinking, masking, And other things which may be had for asking. II. The moment night with dusky mantle covers Giggling with all the gallants who beset her; III. And there are dresses splendid, but fantastical, Masks of all times and nations, Turks and Jews, And harlequins and clowns, with feats gymnastical, Greeks, Romans, Yankee-doodles, and Hindoos; All kinds of dress, except the ecclesiastical, All people, as their fancies hit, may choose, But no one in these parts may quiz the clergy, Therefore take heed, ye Freethinkers! I charge ye. |