Imatges de pàgina
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thoroughly conversant with the sea, and who described its storms, &c., from long personal observation and experience, and not from a cursory visit to shores, or picking up a few hearsay narratives of shipwrecks. Bryant's criticisms show how well Bryant himself must have observed the phenomena of the Great Deep. And I shall quote some of them, in the hope that they may cause some readers, not only to appreciate Bryant, but to appreciate, more fully than previously may have been the case, the marvellousness, truthfulness, and beauty of Homer's descriptions.

Bryant says, speaking of his imaginary author of the Iliad and Odyssey:-" He was well acquainted with the sea, and all the dangers of that element, to which he must have often been witness, as we may judge from his repeated and fearful descriptions. Such are the following, which cannot be read without a secret horror :

Οἱ δ ̓ ἴσαν ἀργαλέων ἀνέμων ἀτάλαντοι ἀέλλῃ,
“Η ῥά θ ̓ ὑπὸ βροντῆς πατρὸς Διὸς εἰσὶ πέδονδε,
Θεσπεσίῳ δ ̓ ὁμάδῳ ἁλὶ μίσγεται, ἐν δέ τε πολλὰ
Κύματα παφλάζοντα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης,
Κυρτὰ, φαληρεύωντα . .

The Trojans join, and all terrific move,

Like some fell whirlwind sent by angry Jove.

Il. N. v. 795.

O'er the vex'd land it sweeps, and seaward flies;

Then tumult, noise, and anarchy arise.

Dire is the conflict, as the waves engage

High towering, white with foam, and swoll'n with rage.

"A similar instance, equally fearful, is given in another place, the same which was so admired by Plato :

Ως δ' ότ' ἐπὶ προχοῇσι διιπετέος ποταμοῖο

Βέβροχθεν μέγα κῦμα ποτὶ ῥόον, ἀμφὶ δέ τ' ἄκραι
Ἠϊόνες βόωσιν ἐρευγομένης ἁλὸς ἔξω.

As when the sea, in rough and angry mood,

Meets some vast river's wide descending flood,

Loud gusts and squalls are heard with wild uproar,

While the swoll'n surge comes tumbling on the shore.

"The picture given of Ulysses struggling in the ocean, and borne at the will of the winds and waves, must inspire us with similar terror :

Ως ἄρα μὲν εἶποντ ̓ ἔλασεν μέγα κύμα κατ ̓ ἄκρης
Δεινὸν ἐπεσσύμενον, περὶ δὲ σχεδίην ἐλέλιξεν.
Τῆλε δ' ἀπὸ σχεδίης αὐτὸς πέσε, πηδάλιον δὲ
Ἐκ χειρῶν προέηκε, μέσον δὲ οἱ ἱστὸν ἔαξε
Δεινὴ μισγομένων ἀνέμων ἐλθοῦσα θύελλα.

Τὸν δ ̓ ἄρ ̓ ὑπόβρυχα θῆκε πολὺν χρόνον, οὐδὲ δυνάσθη
. Αίψα μάλ' ἀνσχεθέειν μεγάλου ὑπὸ κύματος ὁρμῆς.
Εἴματα γάρ δ ̓ ἐβάρυνε, τά οἱ πόρε διὰ Καλυψώ.
Οψὲ δὲ δή ῥ ̓ ἀνέδυ, στόματος δ ̓ ἐξέπτυσεν ἅλμην
Πικρὴν, ἡ οἱ πολλὴ ἀπὸ κράτος κελάρυζεν.

Just as he spake a mighty wave wide-spread
Rose high behind, and burst upon his head.
He felt his raft whirl'd round, of winds the play,
And from the helm he grasp'd was borne away.
Rent was the mast, and in the middle fail'd:
A whirlwind wild o'er all the sea prevail'd;
A fierce impetuous hurricane, combined
Of every stormy gust, and lawless wind.

The robe long held him plunged beneath the wave,
The cumbrous robe, which erst Calypso gave.
Nor could he yet resist nor upward move,
The huge unwieldy surge still press'd above.
At last he boldly strove, and at the close
All drench'd and dripping to the surface rose.
Forth from his mouth a bitter torrent sped,
And the sea-brine ran oozing down his head.

"At last, as he is borne up by a huge wave, he descries land, and exults with hopes of gaining the shore: but these hopes are ruined almost as soon as conceived:

̓Αλλ ̓ ὅτε δὴ τρίτον ἦμαρ εὐπλόκαμος τέλεσ ̓ ἠὼς,
Καὶ τότ ̓ ἔπειτ ̓ ἄνεμος μὲν ἐπαύσατο, ἠδὲ γαλήνη
Επλετο νηνεμίη, ὁ δ ̓ ἄρα σχεδὸν εἴσιδε γαῖαν
Οξὺ μάλα προιδών, μεγάλου ὑπὸ κύματος ἀρθείς.
Ὡς δ ̓ ὅταν ἀσπάσιος βίοτος παίδεσσι φανείη
Πατρὸς, ὃς ἐν νούσῳ κεῖται κρατέρ' ἄλγεα πάσχων,
Δηρὸν τηκόμενος, στυγερὸς δέ οἱ ἔχραε δαίμων,
Ασπάσιον δ ̓ ἄρα τοῦ γε θεοὶ κακότητος ἔλυσαν,
Ως Οδυσσῆ ἄσπαστον ἐείσατο γαῖα καὶ ὕλη,
Νῆχε δ' ἐπειγόμενος ποσὶν ἠπείρου ἐπιβῆναι,
̓Αλλ ̓ ὅτε τόσσον ἀπῆν, ὅσσον τε γέγωνε βοήσας,
Καὶ δὴ δοῦπον ἄκουσε ποτὶ σπιλάδεσσι θαλάσσης.
Ῥοχθεῖ γὰρ μέγα κῦμα ποτὶ ξερὸν ἠπείροιο,
Δεινὸν ἐρευγόμενον, εἴλυτο δὲ πάνθ ̓ ἁλὸς ἄχνῃ.
Οὐ γὰρ ἔσαν λιμένες νηῶν ὄχοι, οὐδ ̓ ἐπιωγαὶ,
̓Αλλ ̓ ἀκταὶ προβλήτες ἔσαν, σπιλάδες τε, πάγοι τε.

Od. 3, ν. 390.

On the third day, as soon as night was fled,
A lovely morn its gentle influence shed.
The winds were hush'd, with all the tempest rude;
And a still, breathless, pleasing calm ensued.

Eager the chief look'd out, and near at hand
From an high swelling billow saw the land.
As when some happy filial tribe, who late
Viewed a fond parent on the verge of fate,

See him at once with life and vigour blest;
So glowed the transport in Ulysses' breast,
Joyous he thought his labours now no more,
And plied each nerve to gain the wish'd-for shore,
But when as near as human voice can reach,
He heard the surge loud thundering on the beach.
Instead of bay and friendly port, he found
Vast pointed rocks, and breakers all around.
Deep ran the surf, and dangerous every way,

The cliffs were cover'd high with foam and spray.

“There is something particular in this description: for the Poet mentions vηveμía, or the dying away of the wind; and afterwards says 'Pox¤î yàp μéya kîμa, the sea still rages, and breaks. Nobody but a person who had been conversant with the sea, would have been apprised of this heavy swell which continues upon a sudden calm. The description is true, and founded upon experience.

"I must repeat, what I said above, that whoever wrote these lines, had often experienced the terrors of the deep, and knew well the fatal consequences of a lee-shore. In another part of his poems, he gives a fine description of a night scene, in which a ship is carried away by a storm; and the mariners in their distress see a fire upon a hill inland, lighted up by some shepherds, and look up with longing eyes to be in such a place of security:

Ὡς δ ̓ ὅταν ἐκ πόντοιο σέλας ναύτῃσι φανείῃ
Καιομένοιο πυρὸς, τὸ δὲ καίεται ὕψοθ ̓ ὄρεσφι
Σταθμῷ ἐν οἰοπόλῳ· τοὺς δ ̓ οὐκ ἐθέλοντας ἄελλαι
Πόντον ἐπ ̓ ἰχθυόεντα φίλων ἀπάνευθε φέρουσιν.

As when by night a fire is seen afar,

Il. T. v. 375.

By shepherds lighted near their fleecy care,
Driv'n at the will of winds across the main,

The mariners look up, but look in vain.

Loud, and more loud, the tempest howls, while they
Far from their best loved friends are borne away.

"I am led to think, when I read this affecting description, that Homer was one of those, who looked up in that disastrous season, and partook of those dangers which he so pathetically describes. All those feelings, which he so intimately imparts, he had experienced. He had often heard the deafening surge break upon the shore, and passed with extreme hazard, those rocks, and shoals, with which the sea-coast abounds. He mentions the Aápos and Alovia, together with other birds of the ocean; and describes their

flight, and manner of fishing, and the very motion of their wings. This may be seen in the description given of Mercury, when he flew downwards from the mountain Pieria :

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"When he alludes to a person who had been lost in the seas, he does not barely mention the circumstance of his being drowned, but brings the sad event before our eyes; and points to the bones, which lie whitening upon the strand

̓Ανέρος, οὗ δή που λεύκ ̓ ὀστέα πύθεται ὄμβρῳ,
Κείμεν ̓ ἐπ ̓ ἠπείρου.

These ideas could not be borrowed: they are too strong, and vivid, and too particular, to be copies; they proceeded from his own recollection; and were the result of sad experience."

HORACE WALPOLE.

HORACE WALPOLE may perhaps be esteemed fortunate in having met with two such biographers as Sir Walter Scott and Lord Dover. But it would have been peculiarly hard, if an author, who has done so much to throw light on the memoirs of so many of his contemporaries, had himself failed in receiving the attention of the ablest writers of the following generation.

Sir Walter Scott, in his "Lives of the Novelists," deals with Horace Walpole principally as the author of the "Castle of Otranto." Lord Dover's elegant and accurate memoir traces his career throughout his long life, and brings before the reader's notice all the varied productions of Horace Walpole's keen and │graceful pen.

Lord Dover's diligence, candour, and good taste, as the biographer and editor of Horace Walpole, have been generally and justly eulogised; and instead of endeavouring to compete with what I heartily admire, and thoroughly agree with, I shall, in the follow

ing sketch, largely adopt his Lordship's performance, availing myself, at every opportunity, of Sir Walter Scott's collateral narrative; and also of an able though severe review of Horace Walpole's life and character, by a writer in one of our principal periodicals.

Horace Walpole was the third and youngest son of "that eminent minister, Sir Robert Walpole; the glory of the Whigs, the preserver of the throne of these realms to the present royal family, and under whose fostering rule and guidance, the country flourished in peace for more than twenty years." (These are Lord Dover's words.)

Horace Walpole was born October 5th, 1717, and educated on the foundation at Eton. In 1734 he went to King's College, Cambridge, as a Fellow-Commoner. Walpole formed at Eton a warm friendship with Gray, West, and Ashton (afterwards Fellow of Eton), which they called the Quadruple Alliance. Walpole, like his friends, was not only a good classical scholar, but a sincere lover of the study. In one of his first letters, after leaving Eton for Cambridge, he proposes to his friend West, who had gone to the sister university, "to hold a classical correspondence.” He says, "I can never forget the many agreeable hours we have passed in reading Horace and Virgil; and I think they are topics which will never grow stale. Let us extend the Roman empire, and cultivate two barbarous towns,' o'errun with rusticity and mathematics. The creatures are so used to a circle, that they plod on in the same eternal round, with their whole view confined to a punctum, cujus nulla est pars;

Their time a moment, and a point their space.'

'Orabunt causas melius, colique meatus
Describent radio, et surgentia sidera dicent :
Te coluisse novem Musas, Romane, memento;
Hæ tibi erunt artes.'

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"We have not the least poetry here; for I can't call verses on the 5th of November and 30th of January by that name,-more than four lines on a chapter in the New Testament is an epigram. Tydeus rose and set at Eton: he is only known here to be a scholar at King's. Oromasdes and Almanzors are just the same; that is, I am almost the only person they are acquainted with, and

8 Quarterly Review, vol. xix. p. 9.

9 i. e. Oxford and Cambridge.

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