Imatges de pàgina
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it gives rise to many beautiful transitions from the sprightly to the serious, and from the witty to the moral, which form the foul and beauty of an epistolary intercourse. We cannot deny our readers the pleasure of perusing the following specimens of the writers poetry.

( Dear HARRY,

· The weather still continues fair, but the air is crisp, and the sea as cold as melting snow. I bathed to-day, and rejoice that 'tis the last of my penance. Resolution, to be sure, is a very good thing but certainly 'tis a much better to have no farther occasion for it. This I hope, is my case, at present, for I think my rheumatism is quite cured.

• I wrote the inclosed lines, this morning, with a pencil, on the wooden wall of my booth, just before I equipt myself for my voyage. I cannot, I ain forry for it, write as well as Prior, but I can do more than he could, I can swear to the trutb of my fong.

• Great Venus, offspring of the waves,
Oh! hear thy suppliant, while she laves.
With humble modesty I fue,
And ask a boon that's something new.
To me thy choicest gifts impart,
Not to enslave, but keep one heart,
Thy grace. imparting zone, ah ! lend,
To please my husband, lover, friend;
Let me to his fond eyes appear,
For ever lovely, ever dear,
No other swain I wish to charm,
No love but his, my breast can warm;
For his dear fake I thus explore
The chilling wave, and Health implore
To deck me with her rosy hue,
And still my pasling youth renew.
Here then, and grant thy votary's prayer,
With Hymen join'd, for once appear,
And though ten years of life have rollid,
Since first we lov'd, let it be told
Ages to come, that still thy power
Remains the same as in that hour,
When first our mutual vows were made,

When first thy precepts were obey'd.
Long may our loves this moral truth proclaim.
That Hymen chears, not damps the virtuous flame.

FRANCES.'

Dear HARRY,

* I shall go to town, to-morrow, to ineet you, according to the advice of your last letter. As to the two particulars you: fondly defire to be resolved about, I am, thank God, in perfeet health, and our Arthur just as I described him in

my

last. ' I was shewn a poem this morning, which the person said he did not know had ever appeared in print, and as it is upon the present subject, and that I love arresting pretty fugitive pieces, and laying them by, I shall copy out and send you, for your amusement on the road.

• An HYMN to HEALTH.

WRITTEN in SICKNESS.

Sweet as the fragrant breath of genial May,

O! come, thou fair Hygeia, heavenly born, More lovely than the sun's returning ray,

To northern regions or the half-year's moľn. Where shall I seek thee? In the wholesome grot,

Where temperance her scanty meal enjoys, Or peace, contented with her humble lot,

Beneath her thatch th' inclement blait defies. Swept froin each flower that fips the morning dew,

Thy wing besprinkles all the scenes around, Where-e'er thou fliest, the blossoms blush anew,

And purple violets paint the hallow'd ground. Thy presence renovated nature shews,

Each fhrub with variegated hue is dy'd, Each tulip with redoubled luftre glows,

And all creation siniles with flowery pride. But, in thy absence, joy is seen no more,

The landscape wither'd ev'n in fpring appears, The morn lowrs ominous o'er the dusky shore,

And evening suns set half'extinct in tears. Ruthless disease ascends when thou art gone,

Froin the dark regions of the abyss below, With peftilence, the guardian of her throne,

Breathing contagion from the realms of woe,
In vain her citron groves Italia boasts,

Or Po the balsam of her weeping trees,
In vain Arabia's aromatic coasts,
Tincture the pinions of the passing breeze.

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Ma abjeet me, with pale disease oppressid,

Heal with the balm of thy prolific breath; Rekindle life within my clay-cold breast,

And shield my youth from canker worms of death. Then on the verdant turf, thy fav'rite flirine,

Restor'd to theé a votary I'll come, Grateful to offer as a rite divine,

Each herb that grows rõund Æsculapius' tomb.' Though we think this collection in fome measure atones for the many affected unnatural compositions of the fame kind, yet we do not pretend to assert, that all these letters are equally interesting and entertaining. Every reader knows that

Ev'n nonsenfe may be eloquence in love : This quotation, however, we would not be understood to apply to this performance; all we mean to infinuate is, that there are certain overflowings of affection between lovers which they only can feel, understand, and be pleafed with.

VI. The Iliad of Homer, Transated from the Greek into Blank

Verse. With Notes pointing out the peculiar Beauties of the Original, and the Imitations of it by succeeding Paets. With Remarks en Mr. Pope's admired Version.' Book 1. Being a Specimen of the whole, which is to follow. By the Rev. Samuel Langley, D. D. Restor of Checkley, Staffordshire. 480. Price 35. Dodfley.

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writer has undertaken the task with uncommon resolution. He is indeed in all points a perfect knight-errant. When he sets out on this enterprize, he imagines himself actuated by

an irresistible impulse.' The Homeric muse is his Dulcinea. His predeceffors, in his opinions have been only traitors and ruffians, who have attempted to violate this paragon of beauty ; but he himself is an indefatigable champion in her defence; and engages to redress the injuries she has sustained. He accordingly proves himself the flower of Parnaffus, and the mirrour of knighthood, by an air of intrepidity, a loftiness of expresfion, and a singularity of mien and manner.

· Like another Phaëton, says he, I am provoked to prove my presumed lineage from Phæbus, amidst this long dearth of genuine Parnallians (to exert at large, exhibiting to the public eye, those poetical faculties that have now fluinbered fo long in my own bosom, and are at last fully waked to undergo this tiery trial), ambitious to mount this imperial high-flying cha

riot of Homer (the fabulous car of Phæbus, the God of verse, or rather his true chariot), and to try my skill in guiding the reins in this already-harnessed thundering-vehicle; the fashion whereof is so beautiful, for the body thereof is the purest gold, and the running wheels are of everlasting adamant; where (to pursue the figure) I am to bring this pompous car as near earth, as its fixed course already determined admonishes me ; and if I fall in this airy tour, through a groveling low-born (gravitating) principle, through want of ability and skill to rattle it swimmingly along the firmament; or, if I fy too high (impossible in strictness, but in fancied excursions of my own), leaving the middle path, and fuffer the coursers of Phæbus to gallop ine out of breath, and overtum me, for want of commanding the reine, like the ambitious Phaëton I represent; by either extreme, I precipitate my own ruin, as a translator ; at the same time it must be acknowledged, it is some praise to have dared nobly, and that the fall from such an height therefore was glorious.'

Yet, notwithstanding the dangers attending the adventure, I was determined, says this valorous knight, to proceed with all my might; I was weary of burying my talent in the earth. I was prompted by an irresistible impulse ; while I was musing the fire kindled; my zeal burned within me, like a fire that had been sinothered for many years, and provoked me, at laft, to launch out into the turbulent ocean of the press. I now expect that the tide will run high against me, and the billows of the Popian party dash in huge mountains against my naked version, like a weather-beaten bark floating in a wide and tempestuous sea. I have put forth, launched, as I may say, in a storm ; and a million to one, if I reach, without infinite perils, the desired haven. I care not yet, if I can but [cape shipwreck. I must ingenuoully confess my vessel is not insured; I stand all on my own bottom, to sink or swim, as my destiny chances. At the worst, I can throw all the blame on my stars, in the old fuperstitious phrase, and lainent no better happened to govern at my birth.

What particularly instigated our hero to this adventurous attempt, and, as he expreffes himself, roused his choler in foulfelt zeal for the honour of the Grecian bard, was the temerity of his predecessor. He has committed, he says, the fouleit treason againft the majesty of the high-throned Homer. He has, in wantonness, made large rents in his royal purple, and attempted to repair

, them by rags of scarlet frize; he has tricked him up with peacock feathers; he has robbed him of his an. tique, his effential characteristic. As if Homer had been a writer of yesterday, he has given him, in his taudry version, a downright modern air, and fonothered the native majesty of

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the original by oftentatious daub colouring. By alıroft always omitting those awful compound epithets, which the poet applies to the gods and heroes, he has given all readers of learning and taste, an irdelible difguft. Nay, he has even prefumed to clip and deface the royal Itamp, and impose on the public his own splendid counters for Hoiner's gold ; and evaporated the spirit of the original in the beggarly glare of gilded words foreign to the sterling text!

In the fame rambling stile this writer proceeds to inform us, that an absurd principle of vain conceit, engendered of pride, was what mified his wandering, benighted predeceffor. · He thut his eyes against the light of Homer's text, choosing rather to follow the ignis fatuus kindled from the fogs of his brain. Bit Homer's mure soars too, fublimely, and flies too rapidly along the aerial road for a chicken of his wing to contend with or outstrip. As Icarus would needs outfly his more fieady-minded father Dædalus, and, by melting his wax, dropped into the deep, so by quitting Homer's text, the beaten road, as he launched out at first wantonly, so he perished at last, as a translator, in a sea of errors.'

Such, we are told, was the end of Mr. Pope. But as it is a disputable point among the learned, whether Aristotle died by sea or land, so froin this writer's representation it is equally unceriain, whether his predecessor was drowned or broke his neck. For in another page he tells us, “It so turned out, that my predeceffor, affecting to scale the very pinnacle of Parnafius (where he might have stood mercury-like in a statue still in triumph, had not his brain turned giddy with attempting the airy height) fell down from his own proper altitude, when he published his riotous version of Homer.'

But whether he broke his neck by the fall, or was drowned, as above, is of no consequence. It was in either case a fortunate event; for, according to the opinion of his succeffor, • he only. milled the bulk of gentleman and lady readers to a wrong idea of the exceilence of Homer, by the jingle of his rhymes; and the Turkish executions exhibited in the bloody Dunciad, strangling every thing in its birth, were attended with a bad effect, the deterring for ever the easily brow-beat modeft candidate from attempting to enter the borders of Parnassus (free to all duly called) when such a barking foul-mouthed Cerberus kept the gates.'

From the following extract the learned reader will be able to forin a judgment of this author's abilities as a translator.

Achilles' wrath so deadly, Peleus' son, Resound, O Goddess! source to wretched Greece Of endless woes, that to an early grave

Plung'd

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