Around me; beauties in their cloud-like robes Shine forth,--a scenic paradise, it glares Intoxication through the reeling sense Of flush’d enjoyment. In the motley host Three prime gradations may be rank’d: the first, To mount upon the wings of Shakspeare’s mind, And win a flash of his Promethean thought,-- To smile and weep, to shudder, and achieve A round of passionate omnipotence, Attend: the second, are a sensual tribe, Convened to hear romantic harlots sing, On forms to banquet a lascivious gaze, While the bright perfidy of wanton eyes Through brain and spirit darts delicious fire: The last, a throng most pitiful! who seem, With their corroded figures, rayless glance, And death-like struggle of decaying age, Like painted skeletons in charnel pomp Set forth to satirize the human kind!-- How fine a prospect for demoniac view! ‘Creatures whose souls outbalance worlds awake!’ Methinks I hear a pitying angel cry." {213}Here we conclude. If our remarks give pain to Mr. Robert Montgomery, we are sorry for it. But, at whatever cost of pain to individuals, literature must be purified from this taint, And, to show that we are not actuated by any feelings of personal enmity towards him, we hereby give notice that, as soon as any book shall, by means of puffing, reach a second edition, our intention is to do unto the writer of it as we have done unto Mr. Robert Montgomery. SADLER’S LAW OF POPULATION. (1) (_Edinburgh Review_, July 1830.)