Mr. Pooke's compliments are so late, that we could wish he had with-held them a little longer, until he had brought his poetry into rhime, reason, and grammar. We cannot say that we ever observed the figure called personification, so boldly used by any former bard. Our panegyrist on their majesties makes the city of Stade start out of its doleful gloom on the approach of the virgin Charlotte; Gravesend and Greenwich are described praying, and Harwich bustling with rare delight. But the first six lines are a sufficent specimen.
Each day that comes a greater pleasure brings,
"Because" our monarch is the best of kings;
Because your goodness has already been
Our saving health, by God Almighty's "mean."
In gratitude for such your royal mind,
No stone unturn'd your subjects leave behind.