taste his beauties! To carry the parallel a little farther: the Greek poet wrote in a language the most proper that can be imagined for this species of composition; lofty, harmonious, and never needing rhyme to heighten the numbers. But, for us, several unsuccessful experiments seem to prove that the English cannot have Odes in blank verse; while, on the other hand, a natural imperfection attends those which are composed in irregular rhymes;-the similar sound often recurring where it is not expected, and not being found where it is, creates no small confusion to the reader,—who, as we have not seldom observed, beginning in all the solemnity of poetic elocution, is by frequent disappointments of the rhyme, at last obliged to drawl out the uncomplying numbers into disagreeable prose. It is by no means our design to detract from the merit of our author's present attempt: we would only intimate that an English poet,-" one whom the Muse has marked for her own,” ́1) could produce a more luxuriant bloom of flowers by cultivating such as are natives of the soil, than by endeavouring to force the exotics of another climate: or, to speak without a metaphor, such a genius as Mr. Gray might give greater pleasure, and acquire a larger portion of fame, if, instead of being an imitator, he did justice to his talents, and ventured to be more an original. These two Odes, it must be confessed, breathe much of the spirit of Pindar; but then they have caught the seeming obscurity, the sudden transition, and hazardous epithet, of his mighty master; all which, though evidently intended for beauties, will, probably, be regarded as blemishes by the generality of his readers. In short, they are in some measure a representation of what Pindar now appears to be, though perhaps not what he appeared to the states of Greece, when they (1) [“ And Melancholy mark'd him for her own."-Elegy in a Country Church Yard.] rivalled each other in his applause, and when Pan himself was seen dancing to his melody. In conformity to the ancients, these Odes consist of the strophe, antistrophe, and epode, which, in each Ode, are thrice repeated. The strophes have a correspondent resemblance in their structure and numbers; and the antistrophe and epode also bear the same similitude. The poet seems, in the first Ode particularly, to design the epode as a complete air to the strophe and antistrophe, which have more the appearance of recitative. There was a necessity for these divisions among the ancients, for they served as directions to the dancer and musician; but we see no reason why they should be continued among the moderns; for, instead of assisting, they will but perplex the musician, as our music requires a more frequent transition from the air to the recitative than could agree with the simplicity of the ancients. ་ The first of these poems celebrates the Lyric Muse. It seems the most laboured performance of the two; but yet we think its merit is not equal to that of the second. It seems to want that regularity of plan upon which the second is founded; and though it abounds with images that strike, yet, unlike the second, it contains none that are affecting. In the second antistrophe the Bard thus marks the progress of poetry. II. "In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight-gloom To cheer the shivering natives' dull abode. And oft beneath the od'rous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, In loose numbers wildly sweet, Their feather-cinctured Chiefs, and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the Goddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous shame, Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame." There is great spirit in the irregularity of the numbers towards the conclusion of the foregoing stanza. II. 3. 66 Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep, Isles, that crown th' Egean deep, Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, Or where Mæander's amber waves How do your tuneful Echoes languish, Ev'ry shade and hollow'd fountain, They sought, oh Albion ! next thy sea-encircled coast. III. 2. "Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid, Her awful face: the dauntless child Richly paint the vernal year: Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy! This can unlock the gates of Joy; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears." The second Ode "is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward the first, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the Bards that fell into his hands to be put to death." The author seems to have taken the hint of this subject from the fifteenth Ode of the first book of Horace. Our poet introduces the only surviving Bard of that country in concert with the spirits of his murdered brethren, as prophetically denouncing woes upon the conqueror and his posterity. The circumstances of grief and horror in which the Bard is represented, those of terror in the preparation of the votive web, and the mystic obscurity with which the prophecies are delivered, will give as much pleasure to those who relish this species of composition, as any thing that has hitherto appeared in our language, the Odes of Dryden himself not excepted. (1) I. 2. "On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Rob'd in the sable garb of Woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood; (Loose his beard and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air,) And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 'Hark how each giant-oak, and desert cave, O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave, To high-born Hoel's harp, or lost Llewellyn's lay. I. 3. "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hush'd the stormy main : Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed : Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head. Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale : Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail; The famished eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes, (1) ["One of the greatest poets of this century, the late and much lamented Mr. Gray of Cambridge, modestly declared to me, that if there was in his own numbers any thing that deserved approbation, he had learned it all from Dryden."-BEATTIE.] On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. II. 1. "Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room, and verge enough, The characters of hell to trace." " When the prophetic incantation is finished, the Bard thus nervously concludes. Enough for me with joy I see To triumph, and to die, are mine.' He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height VIII.-WISE'S ENQUIRIES CONCERNING THE FIRST INHABITANTS, LANGUAGE, RELIGION, LEARNING, AND LETTERS OF EUROPE. (1) [From the Monthly Review, 1758. Some Enquiries concerning the First Inhabitants, Language, Religion, Learning, and Letters of Europe. By a Member of the Society of Antiquaries in London. Printed at the Theatre, Oxford, 4to."] EVERY search into remote antiquity inspires us with a pleasure somewhat similar to what we feel upon the recol (1)[ Francis Wise, B.D., and F. S. A., many years fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, was born in 1695. In 1726, the Earl of Guildford, who had been his pupil, presented him to the vicarage of Ellesfield, in Oxfordshire. Besides the above work, he published "Annales Ælfredi Magni," “Observations on the History and Chronology of the Fabulous Ages,” &c. "He died," says Mr. Nicholls, at his favourite retreat, at Ellesfield, October 1767, aged seventy-two, universally beloved and esteemed, on account of his great merit and learning."-Lit. Anec., vol. v. p. 527.] |