Robinson Poetical Works 1806 Reviews

— The Corvey Poets Project at the University of Nebraska —

British Poetry of the later Eighteenth and Earlier Nineteenth Centuries

Bibliographical and Contextual Apparatus

Robinson, Mary

The Poetical Works of the late Mrs. Mary Robinson. London: Philips, 1806.

Contemporary Reviews

British Critic 30 (July 1807): 78-79.

ART. 9. The Poetical Works of the late Mrs. Mary Robinson, including many Pieces never before published; in three Volumes. 8 vo. 1l. 9s. Philips. 1806.

We remember the early appearance of this beautiful but unfortunate lady, with much approbation of her talents, and with sincere regret for her misfortunes. Her poetical works are here collected. Many of them have received great encouragement from the public, and no undeservedly. Some are here added with have not before appeared, among which we believe is the following elegant

        MADRIGAL.

        "LOVE was a little blooming boy,
        Fond, innocent, and true,
His every smile was fraught with joy,
        And every job was new;
Till stealing from his mother's side,
        The urchin lost his way;
And wand'ring far o'er deserts wide,
        Thus, weeping, poured his lay:—

        "O TIME, I'll dress thy locks of snow
        With wreaths of fragrant flowers,
And all that rapture can bestow
        Shall desk thy fleeting hours; [79]
That I may homeward bend my way,
        For all my wreaths are there.

        "TIME, cheated by his tears and sighs,
        The wily god confessed,
When soaring to his native skies,
        He sought his mother's breast.
Short was his bliss! The treacherous boy
        Was hurled from clime to clime,
And found amidst his proudest joy
        He's still the wings of TIME."

These volumes are printed with great care and elegance, and will be an acceptable addition to all collections of the best modern English poetry.

New Analytical Review 27 (1806): 371.

Mrs. Robinson's "Poetical Works," are now for the first time collected; and, by the addition of several pieces never before published, extend to three volumes octavo. In the new matter we meet with nothing that is peculiarly prominent, and the old is too well known to render it necessary that we should enlarge upon it.