Could the act of madness innate for guilt be accounted. The act of suicide is very far from being so certain an indication of insanity as it is usually considered by our inquests. But in the case of Chatterton, it was the manifestation of an hereditary disease. There was a madness in his family. His only sister, during one part of her life, was under confinement. The law respecting suicide is a most barbarous one; and of late years has never been carried into effect without exciting horror and disgust. It might be a salutary enactment, that all suicides should be given up for dissection. This would certainly preveut many women from committing self-murder, and possibly might in time be useful to physiology. Note 12, page 597, col. 2. The gentle Amelia. In one of his few intervals of sanity, after the death of this beloved daughter, the late King gave orders, that a monument should be erected to the memory of one of her attendants, in St George's Chapel, with the following inscription: King GEORGE III caused to be interred near this place the body of Mary Gascoigne, Servant to the Princess AMELIA; and this stone to be inscribed in testimony of his grateful sense of the faithful services and attachment whom she survived only three months. This may probably be considered as the last act of his life; a very affecting one it is, and worthy of re membrance. Such a monument is more honourable to the King, by whom it was set up, than if he had erected a pyramid. SPECIMENS, ETC. Where proofs justly do teach, thus matcht, such worth to be nought worth; Let rot a Puppet abuse thy sprite, Kings' Crowns do not help them Sidney's pentameters appear even more uncouth than his hexameters, as more unlike their model; for, in our pronunciation, the Latin pentameter reads as if it ended with two trochees. Fortune, Nature, Love, long have contended about me, Fortune ibus gan say, misery and misfortune is all one, Where thou poor Nature left'st all thy due glory, to Fortune Sidney has also given examples in his Arcadia of Anacreontic, Phaleucian, Sapphic, and Asclepiad verse, all written upon the same erroneous principle. Those persons who consider it ridiculous to write English verses upon any scheme of Latin versification, may perhaps be surprised to learn that they have read, as blank verse, many lines which are perfect Sapphics or Phaleucians. Rowe's tragedies are full of such lines. The Censura Literaria supplies me with two choice samples of Stanihurst's Virgil. Neere joynctlye brayeth with rufflerye 1 rumboled Ætna. Ding'd with this squising and massive burthen of Æina, THE annexed Specimens of Sir Philip Sidney's hexa-Men say that Enceladus, with bolt haulf blasted, here barbrought, meters will sufficiently evince that the failure of the attempt to naturalize this fine measure in his days, was Owing to the manner in which the attempt was made, not to the measure itself. First shall fertile grounds not yield increase of a good seed. First the rivers shall cease to repay their floods to the ocean: First may a trusty greyhound transform himself to a tiger. First shall vertue be vice, and beauty be counted a blemish; Ere that I leave with song of praise her praise to solemnize, Her praise, whence to the world all praise hath his only beginning: But yet well I do find each man most wise in his own case. None can speak of a wound with skill, if he have not a wound felt: Great to thee my state seems, thy state is blest by my judgment: And yet neither of us great or blest deemeth his own self, For yet (weigh this, alas!) great is not great to the greater. What judge you doth a hillock show, by the lofty Olympus? Such my minute greatness doth seem compar'd to the greatest. When Cedars to the ground fall down by the weight of an Emmet, Or when a rich Rubie's price be the worth of a Walnut, Or to the Sun for wonders seem small sparks of a candle: Then by my high Cedar, rich Rubie, and only shining Sun, Vertues, riches, beauties of mine shall great be reputed. Oh, no, no, worthy Shepherd, worth can never enter a title, T'ward Sicil is seated, to the welkin loftily peaking, A soyl, ycleapt Liparen, from whence with flounce furye flinging. A clapping fier-bolt (such as oft with rounce rebel hobble, Three showrs wringly wrythen glimmring, and forciblye sowing, Thre wateye clowds shymring to the craft they rampired hizzing, Stanihurst's Virgil is certainly one of those curiosities in our literature which ought to be reprinted. Yet notwithstanding the almost incredible absurdity of this version, Stanihurst is entitled to an honourable remembrance for the part which he contributed to Holinshed's Collection of Chronicles. None of our chroniclers possessed a mind better stored, nor an intellect more perpetually on the alert. Sidney, who failed so entirely in writing hexameters, has written concerning them, in his Defence of Poesie, with the good sense and propriety of thought by which that beautiful treatise is distinguished. Let me not be thought to disparage this admirable man and delightful writer, because it has been necessary for me to show the cause of his failure in an attempt 'wherein I have now followed him. I should not forgive myself, were I ever to mention Sidney without an expression of reverence and love. side, hath both the male, as Bon Son; and the Female, as Plaise, Taise, but the Sdrucciola he hath not, where the English hath all three, as Due, True, Father, Rather, Motion, Potion, with much more, which might be said, but that already I find the trifling of this discourse is too much enlarged.» The French attempted to introduce the ancient metres some years before the trial was made in England. Pasquier says, that Estienne Jodelle led the way in the year 1553, by this distich upon the poems of Olivier de Maigny, «lequel,» he adds, « est vrayement une petit chef d'œuvre.» Phobus, Amour, Cypris, vent sauver, nourrir et orner Rien ne me plaist sinon de te chanter, et servir et orner; Si vaine est ma fureur, si vain est tout ce que des cieux Tu tiens, s'en toy gist cette cruelle rigeur: Qui me ruino le corps, qui me raine le cœur. Mais que ma Sourde se change, et plus douce escoute les voix, Ει Voix que je seme criant, voix que je seme, riant. « Of versifying," he says, «there are two sorts, the one ancient, the other modern; the ancient marked the quantity of each syllable, and, according to that, framed his verse; the modern, observing only number, with some regard of the accent; the chief life of it standeth in that like sounding of the words, which we call Rhyme. Whether of these be the more excellent, Pour finir ma douleur, pour finir cette cruauté, would bear many speeches, the ancient, no doubt, more fit for musick, both words and time observing quantity, and more fit, lively to express divers passions by the low or lofty sound of the well-weighed syllable. The latter likewise with his Rhyme striketh a certain musick to the ear; and, in fine, since it doth delight, though by another way, it obtaineth the same purpose, there being in either sweetness, and wanting in neither majesty. Truly the English, before any vulgar lan« Je ne dy pas,» says the author, « que ces vers soient guage I know, is fit for both sorts; for, for the ancient, de quelque valeur, aussi ne les mets-je icy sur la monthe Italian is so full of vowels, that it must ever bestre en intention qu'on les trouve tels; mais bien estime cumbered with elisions: the Dutch so, of the other je qu'ils sont autant fluides que les Latins, et à tant side, with consonants, that they cannot yield the sweet sliding, fit for a verse. The French, in his whole language, hath not one word that hath his accent in the last syllable, saving two, called Antepenultima; and little more hath the Spanish, and therefore very gracelessly may they use Dactyls; the English is subject to none of these defects. Now for Rhyme, though we do not observe quantity, yet we observe the accent very precisely, which other languages either cannot do, or will not do so absolutely. Pas veux-je que l'on pense nostre vulgaire estre aucunement capable de ce subject.» Pasquier's verses were not published till many years after they were written; and in the meantime Jean Antoine de Baif made the attempt upon a larger scale,—« toutesfois,» says quier, «en ce subject si mauvais parrain que non seulement il ne fut suivy d'aucun, mais au contraire des couragea un chacun de s'y employer. D'autant que tout ce qu'il en fit estoit tant despourveu de cette naifveté qui doit accompagner nos œuvres, qu'aussi tost que « That Cæsura, or breathing-place, in the midst of the cette sienne poesie voit la lumière, elle mourut comme verse, neither Italian nor Spanish have; the French and un avorton.» The Abbé Goujet, therefore, had no reawe never almost fail of. Lastly, the very Rhyme itself son to represent this attempt as a proof of the bad taste the Italian cannot put in the last syliable, by the French of the age: the bad taste of an age is proved, when vinamed the Masculine Rhyme, but still in the next to cious compositions are applauded, not when they are the last, which the French call the Female, or the next unsuccessful. Jean Antoine de Baif is the writer of before that, which the Italian call Sdrucciola: the exwhom the Cardinal du Perron said «qu'il étoit bon ample of the former, is Buono Suono: of the Sdruc-homme, mais qu'il étoit méchant poete François. » ciola, is Femina Semina. The French, on the other I subjoin a specimen of Spanish Hexameters, from an Eclogue by D. Esteban de Villegas, a poet of great and deserved estimation in his own country. Licidas y Coridon, Coridon el amante de Filis, Tú, que los erguidos sobrepujas del hondo Timavo Que presto, inspirando Pean con amigo Coturno, It is admitted by the Spaniards, that the fitness of their language for the hexameter has been established by Villegas; his success, however, did not induce other poets to follow the example. I know not whom it was that he followed, for he was not the first to make the attempt. Neither do I know whether it was ever made in Portuguese, except in some verses upon St Ursula and the Eleven Thousand Virgins, which are Latin as well as Portuguese, and were written as a whimsical proof of the affinity of the two languages. I have found no specimens in Italian. The complete success of the metre in Germany is well known. The Bohemians have learnt the tune, and have, like their neighbours, a translation of the Iliad in the measure of the original. This I learn accidentally from a Bohemian grammar; which shows me also, that the Bohemians make a dactyl of Achilles, probably because they pronounce the with a strong aspirate. % Minor Poems. Nos hæc novimus esse nihil. TO EDITH SOUTHEY. WITH way-worn feet, a traveller woe-begone, Life's upward road I journey'd many a day, And framing many a sad yet soothing lay, Beguiled the solitary hours with song. Lonely my heart and rugged was the way, Yet often pluck'd I, as I past along, The wild and simple flowers of poesy ; And sometimes unreflecting as a child Entwined the weeds which pleased a random eye. Take thou the wreath, BELOVED! it is wild And rudely garlanded; yet scorn not thou The humble offering, where dark rosemary weaves Amid flowers its melancholy leaves, gay And myrtle gathered to adorn thy brow. 1796. TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT. THE lily cheek, the « purple light of love,» THE TRIUMPH OF WOMAN. The Subject of the following Poem may be found in the Third and Fourth Chapters of the First Book of Esdras. GLAD as the weary Avail'd again Jerusalem to raise, Call'd forth the sanction of the Despot's nod, Darius gives the feast; to Persia's court, And hang the head, and heave the sigh of woe. From where Choaspes rolls his royal waves, Now on his couch reclined Darius lay, Three youths whom Nature dower'd with every grace, Yet oft for Salem's hallow'd towers laid low Ile loved on Babylon's high wall to roam, Or on Euphrates's willowy banks reclined Hear the sad Harp moan fitful to the wind. « And while,» his friend replied, « in state alone, Lord of the earth, Darius fills the throne, Be yours the mighty power of Wine to sing, My lute shall sound the praise of Persia's King.» To them Zorobabel : « On themes like these Seek ye the Monarch of Mankind to please : To Wine superior, or to Power's strong arms, Be mine to sing resistless Woman's charms. To him victorious in the rival lays Shall just Darius give the meed of praise; A golden couch support his bed of rest, For the KING'S COUSIN shall the Bard be known. Intent they meditate the future lay, And watch impatient for the dawn of day. The morn rose clear, and shrill were heard the flute, To Babylon's gay streets the throng resort, And now Darius bids the herald call Judæa's Bards to grace the thronging hall. As now the perfumed lamps stream wide their light, Hush'd is each sound, the attending crowd are mute, And social converse cheers the livelong night, Thus spake Zorobabel: Too long in vain For Zion desolate her sons complain; All hopelessly our years of sorrow flow, And these proud heathen mock their captives' woe. Opprest by Artaxerxes' jealous reign, «Fair is the occasion,» thus the one replied, «Now then let all our tuneful skill be tried. While the gay courtiers quaff the smiling bowl, And wine's strong fumes inspire the madden'd soul, Where all around is merriment, be mine To strike the lute, and praise the power of Wine. >> And then the Hebrew gently touch'd the lute: When the Traveller on his way, Then shall sorrow sink to sleep, And he who wept no more shall weep; For his care-clouded brow shall clear, And his glad eye will sparkle through the tear. The generous juice with magic power Shall cheat with happiness the hour, And with each warm affection fill The heart by want and wretchedness made chill. When, at the dim close of day, The bowl shall better thoughts bestow, When the wearying cares of state Or with desolating breath Breathe ruin round, and woe, and death: Bid it humanize his soul! He shall not feel the empire's weight, He shall not feel the cares of state, The bowl shall each dark thought beguile, And Nations live and prosper from his smile. Hush'd was the lute, the Hebrew ceased the song, Why should the wearying cares of state What though the tempest rage! no sound Where is the Man who with ennobling pride For Man the vernal clouds descending Waves with soft murmur o'er the plenteous plain. The rude gale wafts him o'er the main ; For him the winds of heaven subservient blow, Earth teems for him, for him the waters flow, He thinks, and wills, and acts, a Deity below! Where is the King who with elating pride Sees not this Man, this godlike Man his slave? Mean are the mighty by the Monarch's side; Alike the wise, alike the brave With timid step and pale, advance, And tremble at the royal glance; Suspended millious watch his breath, Whose smile is happiness, whose frown is death. Why goes the Peasant from that little cot, Where PEACE and LOVE have blest his humble life? In vain his agonizing wife With tears bedews her husband's face, And for his monarch toils, and fights, and bleeds, and dies. What though yon City's castled wall Cast o'er the darken'd plain its crested shade? What though her Priests in earnest terror call On all their host of Gods to aid? Vain is the bulwark, vain the tower! In vain her gallant youths expose Their breasts, a bulwark, to the foes! In vain at that tremendous hour, Clasp'd in the savage soldier's reeking arms, Shrieks to tame Heaven the violated Maid! By the rude hand of Ruin scatter'd round, Their moss-grown towers shall spread the desert ground. Low shall the mouldering palace lie, Amid the princely halls the grass wave high, And through the shatter'd roof descend the inclement sky. Gay o'er the embattled plain Moves yonder warrior train, Their banners wanton on the morning gale! Full on their bucklers beams the rising ray, Their glittering helms give glory to the day; The shout of war rings echoing o'er the vale; Far reaches as the aching eye can strain The splendid horror of their wide array. Ah! not in vain expectant, o'er Their glorious pomp the vultures soar! Amid the Conqueror's palace high Shall sound the song of victory; Long after journeying o'er the plain The traveller shall with startled eye See their white bones then blanched by many a winter sky. |