WILLIAM SOTHEBY, the eldest son of Colonel Sotheby, of the Guards, was born in London, on the 9th of November, 1757. He was edu. cated at Harrow; and at the age of seventeen purchased a commission in the 10th Dragoons:-his taste for literature was cultivated with great assiduity while in "country quarters" with his regiment. In 1780, he quitted the army, and purchased Beirs Mount, near Southampton,-a place which had been celebrated as the residence of the Earl of Peterborough, and by the frequent visits of Pope, to whom allusion is made by Mr. Sotheby in one of the most graceful of his Sonnets :

"Underneath the gloom

Of yon old oak a skilled magician sung:
Oft at his call these sunny glades among,

Thy guardian sylphs, Belinda, sportive play'd;
And Eloisa sighed in yon sequestered shade."

Here Mr. Sotheby lived for several years, devoting his time to the more diligent study of the Classics, to the translation of many of the minor Greek and Latin Poets, and to the production of original compositions. His desire for literary society and distinction, however, induced him, in 1791, to fix his permanent residence in the Metropolis. He was soon elected a fellow of the Royal and Antiquarian Societies; and in 1798, published a translation of the Oberon of Wieland. This was one of the earliest attempts to introduce the English reader to the poetry of Germany: its reception encouraged Mr. Sotheby to proceed in the path he had chosen : he subsequently translated the Georgics, and, at a very advanced period of life, the Iliad and the Odyssey. His poetical works are numerous they afford proofs of an elegant taste and a matured udgment; and if they failed in obtaining extensive popularity, happily for the writer he was placed under circumstances which rendered the approbation of a circle of accomplished friends a sufficient recompense for his labours. In 1816, he visited Italy; and wrote a series of Poems, which, a few years afterwards, he published under the general title "Italy." Mr. Sotheby died in London, on the 30th of December, 1833. Few men have been more warmly esteemed in private life; and, although we should unduly estimate the character of his mind if we described it as of a very

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high order, his writings afford abundant proofs of an elegant and refined taste, and a true relish for all that is sound and excellent in literature. He presents a remarkable instance of industry and energy in old age. He had passed his seventieth year before he commenced his translation of Homer, which he lived to complete. To this extraordinary undertaking, it is not our province to refer ; but we feel assured that all who are acquainted with the poem, "Italy," will consider us justified in classing him among the better and more enduring of the Poets of Great Britain. Of a long list of poetical productions, this, however, is the only one to which especial reference may be made. He was seldom happy in his choice of subjects; and wrote, as we have intimated, only because composition afforded an agreeable employment. He appears to have been but little anxious for extended fame; and of course had no desire to render his labour profitable. While in London, he was usually surrounded by those whose tastes were similar to his own; and, it is said, that the less prosperous professors of literature and science found in him a generous and sympathizing friend. He was, we believe—and unhappily the character is as rare as it is admirable-a patron to whom we can trace but few acts of patronage; one of those who

"Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame."

The plan of his poem necessarily led him among all the grander and more beautiful objects of Nature, in the classic land through which he travelled. He describes them in a manner at once graceful and graphic; and it would be difficult to find any writer who more clearly and distinctly brings them before the reader. It is, however, in allusions to the ancient histories of the Italian cities that he most excels. At times, he rises into absolute sublimity : there are passages in his poem that would not lose by comparison with the most vigorous and energetic compositions in the language. He was a scholar, and "a ripe and good one;" occasionally, the hue academic is over his page, but he never renders it repulsive. It will not be easy now-a-days, to obtain readers for his volume; but we venture to assert, that those who may be induced to peruse it, will marvel that his popularity should have been so limited.

SOTHEBY.

SALVATOR.

WHERE stood Salvator, when with all his storms
Around him winter rav'd,

When being, none save man, the tempest brav'd?
When on her mountain crest

The eagle sank to rest,

Nor dar'd spread out her pennons to the blast:
Nor, till the whirlwind passed,

The famish'd wolf around the sheep-cote prowl'd?
Where stood Salvator, when the forest howl'd,
And the rock-rooted pine in all its length
Crash'd, prostrating its strength?

Where stood Salvator, when the summer cloud At noon-day, to Ausonia direr far

Than winter, and its elemental war,

Gather'd the tempest, from whose ebon shroud,
That cross'd like night a sky of crimson flame,
Stream'd ceaselessly the fire-bolts' forked aim:
While hurricanes, whose wings were frore with hail,
Cut sheer the vines, and o'er the harvest vale
Spread barrenness? Where was Salvator found,
When all the air a bursting sea became,

Deluging earth ?-On Terni's cliff he stood,
The tempest sweeping round.

I see him where the spirit of the storm

His daring votary led :

Firm stands his foot on the rock's topmost head,

SOTHEBY.

That reels above the rushing and the roar
Of deep Vellino.-In the glen below,

Again I view him on the reeling shore,

Where the prone river, after length of course,
Collecting all its force,

An avalanche cataract, whirl'd in thunder o'er
The promontory's height,

Bursts on the rock: while round the mountain brow,

Half, half the flood rebounding in its might,

Spreads wide a sea of foam evanishing in light.

ROME.

I SAW the ages backward roll'd,
The scenes long past restore:

Scenes that Evander bade his guest behold,
When first the Trojan stept on Tyber's shore-
The shepherds in the forum pen their fold;
And the wild herdsman, on his untamed steed,
Goads with prone spear the heifer's foaming speed,
Where Rome, in second infancy, once more
Sleeps in her cradle. But-in that drear waste,
In that rude desert, when the wild goat sprung
From cliff to cliff, and the Tarpeian rock

Lour'd o'er the untended flock,

And eagles on its crest their aërie hung:

And when fierce gales bow'd the high pines, when blaz'd

The lightning, and the savage in the storm

Some unknown godhead heard, and, awe-struck, gaz'd

And in that desert, when swoln Tyber's wave

Went forth the twins to save,

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Their reedy cradle floating on his flood:

While yet the infants on the she-wolf clung,

While yet they fearless play'd her brow beneath,

And mingled with their food

The spirit of her blood,

As o'er them seen to breathe

With fond reverted neck she hung,

And lick'd in turn each babe, and formed with fostering

tongue :

And when the founder of imperial Rome

Fix'd on the robber hill, from earth aloof,

His predatory home,

And hung in triumph round his straw-thatched roof
The wolf skin, and huge boar tusks, and the pride

Of branching antlers wide:

And tower'd in giant strength, and sent afar

His voice, that on the mountain echoes roll'd,

Stern preluding the war:

And when the shepherds left their peaceful fold,

And from the wild wood lair, and rocky den,

Round their bold chieftain rush'd strange forms of barbarous

men:

Then might be seen by the presageful eye

The vision of a rising realm unfold,

And temples roof'd with gold.

And in the gloom of that remorseless time,

When Rome the Sabine seiz'd, might be foreseen

In the first triumph of successful crime,

The shadowy arm of one of giant birth

Forging a chain for earth:

And tho' slow ages roll'd their course between,

The form as of a Cæsar, when he led

His war-worn legions on,

Troubling the pastoral stream of peaceful Rubicon.