GUISCARD (peremptorily.) Nay, never doubt it! I own my crime, and I desire no pardon.- The tate, thou heard'st from me to-day, was mine! The father of Lothair (long ere thou saw'st me,) Robbed me of peace and honour: fatal chance One word decides thy fate!--Que choice is left Betrayed to Michael's ear this dangerous secret. His heart was hard: my brain was wrought to frenzy; He knew aud threatened me; I feared, and slew him. GUISCARD. Oh! shame! Oh! frenzy --Rash unhappy woman, What hast thou done? ADELGITHA. Swelled by a crime the list Of those, to which one early error forced me: 'Tis in man's choice, never to sin at all; But sinning once, to stop exceeds his power. GUISCARD. My brain! - Twill bear no more!--[Rainulf sup ports him.] ADELGITIIA. My son! My son! LOTHAIR, Curse thee? Kneeling, thus I bless thee, And swear, could drops wrung from my inmost beart Repay the blood thy hand has shed.... GUISCARD [recovering himself.} This instant Let all retire except....except.... the Princess, ADELGITHA [detaining Lothair.] Oh! no, no, no! I dare not.... whose eyes Still love thee .... Shame choaks the words upon my tongue.... Still love thee, And more than light! than life! than fame! than virtue ! ADELGITHA. I'm happy!--Guiscard, Guiscard.... thus I thank thee, [embracing him】 And next reward thee thus!--{stabs herself.] GUISCARD (petrified with horror.] Help! help! Within there! Enter IMMA, LOTHAIR, &c. LOTILAIR. [He receives Adelgitha in his arms.] ADELGITHA [to Guiscard.] Thou! thou, on whom I doated!---Thou, whose lips What mean those cries...... Oh! cruel sight!--1 thought ne'er knew a falsehood.... spoke Each wish of the heart so plainly -In whose arms I hoped to have met death, which in thine arms Had been so free from pain!---And now.... and now.... ADELGITHA. [Her grief changes into gloomy fierceness.] And now you hate me ? GUISCARD [wild and desperate.] Hate thee? would I did! But mark, ungrateful, mark these groans of anguish, Which thus I tear in frenzy!--And these tears... ADELGITHA. Thus only Fly, fly for aid.... L' Bless thee! Farewell! Oh! I am guilty! guilty! Ha!--Flow those tears for me?-Speak, Guiscard, Pray for my soul's repose! Pray too..... here. speak? [Fulling at his feet]-Flow they for me? after.... Our spirits.... in a better, happier world .... [He-motions her to leave him; she rises with frantic || Heaven! Heaven! 'Tis past! gesture] Fool that I was to hope it! And while I seek it, bid the indignant rabble Lister a moment's pause]--"Tis fixed, and farewell My armour! Spread my banners! launch my barks! honour! Farewell, joy ! [To Adelgitha, resolute]-Thy hand in mine!--Part- Through life I'll never leave thee, and in death Come, come, my knights! Fix on your shields the cross! We sail for the Holy Land---[rushing off, he stops He throws himself in despair on the dead body, near, which Lothair is kneeling, while Imma is fainting, supported by Claudia and Ladies.) I make no doubt, that Adelgitha's fate will be reckoned too severe. In my justification I must observe, that my object in writing this Tragedy was to illustrate a particular fact; viz. "the difficulty of avoiding the evil consequences of a first false step." It appeared to me, that the more venial the offence, and the more amiable the character of the offender, the more strongly would the above position be proved; and the very nature of my object made it necessary, that Adelgitha should be the constant victim of her single transgression in this life, and ⚫nly receive the reward of her many virtues in the life to come. But above ali i must request, that no one will mistake Adelgitha for a heroine--I meant to represent in her-" A woman, with all her sex's weakness," whose natural ine'dinations were virtuous and benevolent; but who was totally unprevided with that firmness of naind, which might have enabled her to resist the force of imperious circumStances.---Accordingly she gives way to them one after another, and is led on gradually and iɑvoluntarily from crime to erime, till she finds herself involved in guilt beyond the possibility of escaping..--Such was my plan, though perhaps the defects of its execution may have prevented the reader from discovering it ull now. POETRY, DRAMA, &c. &c. TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. ARTICLE L-Translations from the Greek Anthology, with Tales and Miscellaneous Poems, Evo. Phillips, 1807. Ir is well known to every liberal scholar, || ous fragments which we suspect that we owe, that numerous minor poems and fugitive in a great measure, to the industry of this pieces of Greek writers have been handed author, since we do not remember to have down to us, and to each, or any of which, it met with them in any other collection.-The is difficult to assign its proper author.-WePreface is written in a very masterly manner; have received them as a kind of FAIRY favour, the style is bold, full of the qualities of a without knowing whence they came, or whi-scholar, and, at the same time abounds in ther they are going.-Many of these lighter vivacity and elegance.--The lives of the prinand renowned pieces have been collected by cipal Greek contributors, whose names could our scholars into what they call an ANTHо-be guessed at with any tolerable accuracy, LOGIA, or Poetical Bouquet,-consisting of are prefixed to their several fragment:; and the scattered swcets of various unknown the author's remarks upon them are truly inMuses, the unclaimed dividends of many a po- genious and learned. He may safely be proetical name, now lost in the darkness of cen-nounced an excellent scholar, well suited to turies. The present work consists of numer-his undertaking by that kind of learning and ous translations from the different Antholo-industry of which he seems eminently posgies; and it is fair to confess that the author sessed.--We shall close with some extracts, has made his selection with taste and judg-which we doubt not will prove highly acceptment; he has estimated things according to able to our readers; but we anxiously rethose just principles which should always di-commend them to purchase the work. rect our choice, and has not unduly respected the name and prejudice of antiquity, in preserving the indiscriminate rubbish of the ancients, without any other reason than its age. In a word, the present work contains many beautiful specimcus of Greek poetry of different kinds.-We have the loose Sonnet, He chose to perish at his general's side.' p. 28. the Love Song, the sublimer Ode, the terce The expulsion of the son of Pisistratus, Epigram, and the solemn Epitaph; and vari- "and the consequent establishment of a demo The translation of Simonide's epitaph on This tomb records Megistias' honoured name, Fell by the Persians near Sperchius' tide. cracy at Athens, are events so interesting in Grecian history, that we shall not scruple to insert the best of the two translations here given, of the celebrated Scholium of Callis tratus. In myrtle my sword will I wreath, Like our patriots, the noble and brave, And to Athens equality gave ! Lov'd Harmodius, thou never shalt die! In myrtle my sword will I wreath, And buried his pride in the grave. At the altar the tyrant they seiz'd, While Minerva he vainly implor'd, May your bliss be immortal on high, Among men as your glory shall be ; The following epigram is excellent: All hail, Remembrance and Forgetfulness! And bade our dear country be free! p. 25.ral of the Grecian jokes upon long noses. The beautiful idyll of Moschus is finely translated. O'er the smooth main when scarce a zephyr blows, Dick cannot wipe his nostrils if he pleases ; Placing your nose opposite to the sun, and opening your mouth, you will shew the hour Ent when, white-foaming, heave the deeps on high, to all passengers; which idea is laboriously Swells the black storm, and mingles sca with sky, expanded into eight lines. Let Dick sonie summer's day expose, Would make an excellent sun-dial. p. 145. SAUL, A POEM IN TWO PARTS. Saul, a Poem in two parts, by William Sotheby, Esq. 4to. p. 199 Cadell and Davies. 1807. THE name of Mr. Sotheby is distinguished amongst our modern poets.-His translation of the Georgics, and his more recent version of the German OBERON have elevated him to a rank in poetical literature, from which he will not easily be displaced.-To approach to the works of such a writer with any thing of the petulance of criticism, would be inde cent.-His name is too well established for critics to destroy; they may carp and nibble, but are unable to bite through.-At the same time we sincerely lament the subject he has chosen, and the stile of versification in which he has thought proper to treat it—A - following specimen is a fair sample of the merits of the poem.-It is the Song of the Virgins who celebrate the victory of David over Goliah.-It has merit of the very first order; and we more particularly prefer it on account of its stricter adherence to the lan "Daughters of Israel! praise the Lord of Hosts! My thousands; David his ten thousands slam. Sing a new song. Spake not th' insulting foe? story taken from Scripture, has many disadvantages which no common dexterity can get over, and some obstacles which are never to be overcome. The licence of fiction must he rejected in subjects which, from their stedfast and immovable truth, are the ground of our religious faith, and which we naturallyguage and expressions of Scripture. expect to find always the same, neither diminished nor augmented, neither elevated by poetry, or swolu by declamation.-On the ground of History, fiction may sport as it pleases-Subjects obscurely known, or regarded as true, but felt with little veneration, may be twisted according to the poet's fancy, and, so long as the general substance of truth is preserved, may be cast into any decorative shapes and models, without suffering in the reader's mind from their adventitious embel-Was heard without; the cry of woe within: lishments. But it is not so with those parts The mother, in her anguish, who fore-wept, The shriek of virgins, and the wail of her, of history which are found in the sacred Book|| wept at the breast her babe, as now no more. of our Faith-all licence or perversion of the Shout ye! and ye! make answer, Saul hath slain strict simplicity of these narratives is danger-His ous. The poet, like every other man, has here nothing to do but to BELIEVE; and why be so daring as to grasp at the fruits of genius, at the hazard of impiety and irreverence?Such are the objections to the subject of Mr. Sotheby's poem; and we are inclined to blame equally his choice of the metre,-which is blank verse.—Mr. Sotheby had no occasion His thousands; David his ten thousands lain. for this. In his translations of the Georgics, he has shewn us how adinirably he can acquit Snappeth the spear in sunder. In thy strength himself in a more pleasing and better MEASURE; and in his OBERON, where the stanza was exquisitely difficult, he has displayed a power in poetic arrangements and metrical harmony, not exceeded by any modern writer, and by few even of the best ancient poets. Why, then, make choice of blank verse, in which he is not formed to excel?--Iis blank verse has all the bad qualities of Milton, and none of the good ones. It is full of quaint-For beauty, and fine form, and artful touch ness, constraint, and harshness, and is rendered disgusting by many coarse and auk-The victors back in triumph. On each neck ward inversions. The name of the poem is SAUL; but the hero of it is DAVID.-It only suits us to express a general opinion, without running into any length of criticism; we shall therefore, in spite of all we have said in The pomp of triumph, and in circles, rang'd its condemnation, pronounce it the work of a Arcund the altar of Jehovah, brought man of genius, whose talent frequently bursts Freely their offerings: and with one accord forth in its native vigour and elegance; de-Sang, Glory, and praise, and worship unto God,” pressed and clogged as it is by an injudicious choice of a subject, and a metre to which he was manifestly a stranger and unequal.-The Supplement-Vol. II, groan: Erewhile, to weave my conquest on their looms. Thou heard'st oh God of battle! Thou, whose look A youth, thy chosen, laid their champion low. Our limbs with floating crimson. Then rejoice, Sweet clangor, hymning God, the Lord of Hosts! His thousands; David his ten thousands slain. Such the hymn'd harmony, from voice's breath'd of virgin minstrels, of each Tribe the prime Of instrument, and skill in dance and song; Play'd chains of gold: and, shadowing their charms With colour like the blushes of the morn, Robes, gift of Saul, round their light Innbs, in toss of cymbals, and the many-mazed dance, Floated like roseate clouds. Thus these came on In dance and song. Then, multitudes that swell'a Loud rang the exultation. 'Twas the voice of a free people, from impending chains F |