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Full text of "The reliques of Father Prout, late P.P. of Watergrasshill, in the county of Cork, Ireland. Collected and arr. by Oliver Yorke; with illus. by Alfred Croquis (Daniel Maclise) .."

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IVz'ilt the AittJiot's latest corrections. 

"Exoriare aliquls nostris ex ossibus al'CTOr !" 





This, the authentic Edition of the Woi'k, contains th- 
iiunierojis final corrections and alterations inade by the Author. 
and several pieces tint included in any unauthorized co/a- 

P E E F A C E 


Olivee GrOLBSMiTii, ill his green youth, aspired to be the 
rural pastor of some village Auburn ; and in after-life gave 
embodiment to bis earlier fancies in a Yicar of Wakefield. 
But bis Dr. Primrose bad immense advantages over Dr. 
Prout. Tbe olive branches tbat sprang from tbe vicar's 
roof-tree, if they divided, certainly enhanced the interest felt 
in bis character ; while tbe lone incumbent of "Watergrassbill 
Avas thrown on his own resources for any chance of enlisting 
sympathy. Tbe " great defender of monogamy " could buy 
a wedding gown, send bis boy Moses to tbe fair, set out 
in pursuit of bis ^ost daughter, get into debt and jaU ; 
exploits which the kindly author felt be could have himself 
achieved. Prout's misogamy debarred him from these 
stirring social incidents : he bad nothing left for it; but to 
talk and write, and occasionally " intone'' a genial song. 

Prom such utterances tbe mind and feelings of the man 
have to be distilled. It requires no great palasontological 
acumen to perceive that he belonged to a class of mortals, 
now quite gone out of Irish existence, like tbe elk and 
wolf-dog ; and it has been a main object in this book out of 
his ' relics ' to ' restore ' bim for purposes of comparative 



It -will be noticed that the Father's rambles are not 
limited bv any barrier of caste, or coat, or coterie ; his soul 
is multilateral, his talk multifarious, yet free, it is hoped, 
from garrulity, and decidedly exempt from credulity. He 
seems to have had a shrewd eye for scanning Humbug, and 
it is well for him (and for others) that he has vacated liis 
parish in due course of nature. He would have stoutly re- 
sisted in Ireland the late attempted process of Italian Cul- 
lenization. For though he patronized the effort of Lord 
Kingston to naturaKze in Munster the silkworm from that 
peninsula (see his version of good Bishop Yida's Bomhicss, 
page 523), mere caterpillars, snails, and slimy crawlers, he 
Avould liave put his foot on. 

From Florence the poet Browning has sent for this edi- 
tion some lines lately found in the Euganeian hills, traced 
on a marble slab that covered the bones of Pietro di Abano, 
ftehl in liis old age to be an astrologer. 

" Studiando le mic cifre con compasso 
Rilevo che saro presto sotto terra ; 
Perclib del mio saper si fa gran cliiasso, 
E gli ignorant! mi hanno mosso guerra." 

Of which epitaph the poet has supplied this vernacular, ren- 
dering verbatim. 

" Studying my cyphers with the compass, 
I find I shall bo soon under the daisy ; 
Because of my lore folks make such a rumpus, 
That every dull dog is thereat unaisij.^^ 

Browning's attempt suggests a word or two on Front's 
own theory of trauslatiou, as largely exemplified in this vo- 


lume. The only perfect reproduction of a couplet iu a dif 
ferent idiom occurred in a.b. 1170, -wlien tlie Axclibisliop of 
York sent a salmon to the chronicler of Malmesbury, with 
request for a receipt in verse, which was handed to bearer 
iu duplicate — 

" Miltitur in disco milii piseis ab archiepisco- 
-Po non ponetur nisi potus. Pol ! mihi detur." 

" I'm sent a fBsI)c> in a ti^&\)t, by tl^c artl;bis]^= 
.=1^op, is not put i)cre. 'Higa'IJ ! i)t sent not bccrc." 

Sense, rhythm, point, and even pun are here miraculously 
reproduced. Prout did his best to rival him of Malmesbury, 
but he held that in the clear failure of one language to elicit 
Irom its repertory an exact equivalent, it becomes not only 
proper but imperative (on the law principle of Cestui apres in 
case of trusts) to fall back on an approximate word or idea 
of kindred import, the interchange in vocabulary showing 
at times even a balance in favour of the substitute, as hap- 
pens ia the ordinary course of barter on the markets of the 
world. He quite abhoiTed the clumsy servility of adhering 
to the letter while allowing the spirit to evaporate ; a mere 
verbal echo distorted by natural anfraetuosities, gives back 
neither the tone nor quality of the original voice ; while 
the ease and curious felicity of the primitive utterance is 
marred by awkwardness and effort ; spontaneity of song 
being the quintessence. 

Modest distrust of his own power to please deterred Prout 
from obtruding much of his personal musings ; he preferred 
chewing the cud of classic fancies, or otherwise approved 
and substantial stuff; delighting to invest with new and 
varied forms what had long gained universal recognition. 


He had strict notions as to what really constitute the Belles 
letires. Brilliancy of thought, depth of remark, pathos of 
sentiment, sprightliness of wit, vigour and aptitude of style, 
with some scholarship, were requisites for his notice, or 
claim to be held in his esteem a literary man. It is useless 
to add how much of recent growth, and how many pre- 
tenders to that title, he Avould have eschewed. 

A word as to the Etchings of D. Maclise, E.A. This great 
artist in his boyhood knew Prout, and has fixed' his true 
features in enduring copper. The only reliable outline of 
Sir "Walter Scott, as he appeared in plain clothes, and with- 
out ideal halo, may be seen at page 54, where he " kisses 
the Blarney Stone" on his visit to Prout in the summer of 
1825. Tom Moore, equally eii Jeshahille, can be recognized 
by all who know him, perpetrating one of his " rogueries" 
at page 150. The painter's own slim aiid then youthful 
figure is doing homage to L.E.L. on a moonlit bank at 
page 229, while the "garret" of Beranger, page 299, the 
" night before Larry's execution," page 267, and " Manda- 
rins robing Venus iu silk," page 533, are specimens of 
Erench, Irish, and Chinese humanity. 

But- it is his great cartoon of writers in Fraser, anno 
1835 (front.), that will most interest coming generations. 
The banquet he has depicted was no fiction, but a frequent 
fact in Begent Street, 212. Dr. Maginu iu the chair, ad- 
dressing the staff contributors, has on his right, Barry 
Cornwall (Procter), Eobert Southey, Percival Bankes, 
Thackeray, Churehill, Serjeant jMurphy, Macuish, Ains- 
worth, Coleridge, Hogg, Gait, Dunlop, and Jerdan. Eraser 
is croupier, having on his rigiit Crofton Croker, Lockhai't, 


Theodore Hook, Sir David Brewster, Dr. jNIoir (Delta), 
Tom Carlyle, Count D'Orsay (talking to Allan Cunning- 
ham), Sir Egerton Brydges ; Eev. Gr. R. Grleig, chaplain of 
Chelsea hospital ; Eev. P. Mahony, Eev. Edward Irving (of 
the unknown tongues), a frequent winter in Eraser, and 
frequenter of his sanctum, where " oft of a stilly night " he 
quaffed glenlivat with the learned Editor. 

Of these twenty-seven, only eight are now living : Mr 
Procter, lunacy commissioner ; Serjeant Mur],)hy, insolvency 
ditto ; the Author of Vanity Eair ; the vigorous word- 
wielder, who then was supplying Eraser with Sartor Ee- 
sartus ; Ainsworth ; Gleig, the worthy and efficient chaplain- 
general of Her Majesty's Eor^^s ; Sir David, and 

Pabis. Xov. 20, 1859. 


It is mucTi to be regretted that our Author should be no 
longer iu tlie land of the living, to furnish a general Pre- 
amble, explanatory of the scope and tendency of his multi- 
farious writings. By us, on whom, with the contents of his 
coffer, hath devolved the guardianship of his glory, such 
deficiency is keenly felt ; having learnt from Epictetus that 
every sublunary thing has two handles, (crai/ ffsay/xa huag 
iyj.1 >.a/3aj), and from experience that mankind are prone 
to take hold of the wrong one. King Ptolemy, to whom we 
owe the first translation of the Bible into a then vulgar 
tongue (and consequently a long array of " centenary cele- 
brations"), proclaimed, in the pithy inscription placed by 
liis order over the entrance of the Alexandrian Library, 
that books were a sort of physic. The analogy is just, and 
pursuing it, we would remark that, like other patent medi- 
cines, they should invariably be accompanied with " directions 
for use." Such 'zoo'kiyoij.iva. would we in the present case be 
delighted ourselves to supply, but that we have profitably 
studied the fable of La Fontaine entitled ^^ L' due qui portait 
les Reliques." (liv. v. fab. 14.) 

In giving utterance to regret, we do not insinuate that 
the present production of the lamented writer is un- 
finished or abortive : on the conti-ary, our interest prompts us 
to pronounce it complete, as far as it goes. Prout, as an au- 
thor, will befouud what he was in the flesh — " tofus teres 
atque rotunJusy Still a suitable introduction, furnished by a 
kindred genius, would in our idea be ornamental. The Pau- 
theon of republican Eome, perfect in its simplicity, yet 
derived a supplementary grace from the portico superadded 
by Agrippa. _ 

Much meditating on the materials that fill " tlie chest," 
and daily more impressed with the merit of our author, wo 
thought it a pity that his wisdom should be suffered to 
evaporate iu magazine squibs. What impression could, iu 


sootli, be made on the public mind by sucli desultory ex- 
plosions ? Never on the dense mass of readers can isolated 
random sbots produce tbo effect of a regular /ei< de peloton. 
For this reason we baye an-anged in one volume bis files 
of mental musketry, to secure a simultaneous discbarge. 
The bint, perhaps, of right belongs to the ingenious Fieschi 

AVe have left prefixed to each paper such introductory 
comments as at the time vre indulged in, -n-itli reference to 
contemporary occurrences — and, on looking back, we find 
we have been on some occasions historical, on others pro- 
phetical, on some perhaps rliapsodical. This latter charge 
we hereby " confess and avoid," pleading the advice and 
example of Pliny the Tounger : " Ipsa varietatej'^ are his 
words, '■'^ tentamus efficere vt alia aliis, qucedamfortasse om- 
nibus pi aceant.'''' This would appear to constitute the whole 
theory of miscellaneous Avriting 

We have hitherto had considerable difficulty in establish- 
ing, to the satisfaction of refractory critics, the fact of our 
author's death. People absurdly persist iii holding him in the 
light of a living writer : hence a sad waste of wholesome advice, 
which, if judiciously expended on some reclaimable sinner, 
would, no doubt, fructify in due season. In his case 'tis a 
dead loss — Prout is a literary mummy ! Folks should look tc 
this : Lazarus will not come forth to listen to their stric- 
tures ; neither, sliould tliey happen to be in a complimentary 
mood, will Samuel arise at the witchery of commenda- 

Objects of art and virtu lose considerably by not being 
viewed in tlieir proper light ; and the common noonday eftul- 
gence is not the fittest for the right contemplation of certain 
capi c?' opera. Canova, we know, preferred the midnight 
taper. Let, therefore, " ut f maris reliquiis,'^ {Plued. lib. L 
fab. 22,) tlie dim penumbra of a sepulchral lamp shed its 
solemn influence over the page of Prout, and alone preside 
at its perusal. 

Posthumous authorship possesses infinite advantages ; and 
nothing so truly serves a book as the writer's removal 
from the sphere or hemisphere of his readers. The "Me- 
moirs of Captain Eock" were rendered doubly interesting 
by being dated from Sidney Cove. Byron wrote from 


Venice with increased effect. Nor can we at all sympatliiae 
with tlie exiled Ovid's plaintive utterance, " Sine me, liber, 
ibis in urbemr His absence from to^^^l, he must have 
known, was a right good thing for his publisher under 
" the pillars." But though distance be useful, death is un- 
questionably better. Far off, an author is respected ; dead, 
he is beloved. Extinctiis, amabitur. 

"We were struck with a practical application of this doc- 
trine to commercial enterprise, when we last visited Paris. 
The 2d of November, being " All Souls'-daj," had drawn 
a concourse of melancholy people to Vtre la Chaise, 
ourselves with the rest ; when our eye was arrested, in a 
walk of that romantic necropolis, by the faint glimmering- 
cf a delicious little lamp, a glow-worm of bronze, keeping- 
silent and sentimental vigil under a modest urn of black 
marble, inscribed thus : — ■ 

Ci-GiT FotJEXiER (Pierre Tictor), 

luventeiu' brevete des lampea elites sans fin, 

Brulaut una centime d'hiiile a I'lieitre. 


Continue son commerce, Eue aux Ours, Xo. 19. 

Elle fait des envois dans les depart emens. 

X.E. ne pas confondre avec la boutique eu face S.A'.p. 


AVe had been thinking of purchasing an article of the 
kind ; so, on our return, we made it a point to pass the rve 
(tux Ours, and give our custom to the mouimiul Artemisia. 
On entering the shop, a rubiciind tradesman accosted us ; 
but we intimated our wish to transact business Avith "the 
widow — la veuve inconsolable." '' Eh, pardieu ! c'est moi ! 
je suis, moi, Pierre Pournier, inventeur, &c. : la veuve 
iCest qiCmi sijmbole, tin mythe.'^ AVe admii'ed his ingenuity, 
and bought his lamp ; by the mild ray of which patent 
contrivance we have profitabh'' pursued our editorial labours. 




Father Pkout's Ai'Ology foe Lent : his Death, Obsequies, 

AND AN Elegy .... Illustration 1 

A Plea foij Pilgeuiages ; Sie Walter Scott's Visit to the 
Blaeney Stone. The Groves of Blaeney 

Tivo Illustrations 29 

Father Peout's Carovsal . . . Illustration 62 

Dean Swift's Madness. A Tale of a Chuen Illustration 102 

The Eogueuies op Tom IMoore . . Two Illustrations 131 

Henry O'Brien ..... Illustration 162 

Liteeature and the Jesuits ..... 164 

Vert- Vert, the Parrot . . . Illustration 188 
The Songs op France: 

Chaptee I. — "Wine and War . Tico Jllmtrations 201 

„ II. — Women and Wooden Shoes Illustration 231 

„ III. — Philosophy . . . Illustration 257 

„ IV. — Frogs and Free Trade Two Illustrations 287 

The Songs op Italy : 

Chapter T. ..... Illustration 31/1 

„ II. . . . [Tiro Illustrations 342 

The Songs of Horace : 

Decade the First ..... 370 

„ Second . . . . . .393 

Third ..... 415 

„ Fourth ...... 435 

„ Fifth ..... 459 



Tpie Sabine Farjier's Serenade . . . . -js:? 

To THE Hot "Wells of CLffToy (in Praise of riVM-PiNCii) -ISO 

Molly Caeew ....... 4S7 

The Painter, Barry . . ■ . . . . 4S'J 

A Series of Modern Latin Poets : 

Chapter I. — The Silkworm, a Poem. By Jerome Vida 

Illustration 513 
„ II. — Casbiir Sareiewski, S. Sannazar, Jerome 

Fracastou .... 534 

„ III. — Beza, VANifeKE, Buchanan . . 547 

The Eed-breast op Aquitania and L'Entoy to AV. H. 

AiNswoRTii, Esq. ...... 5G7 

The Legend of Arethcsa ..... 5G1> 

The Ladye of Lee — Life, a Bubble . . „ . 571 

Inaugural Ode to the Author of " Vanity Fair " . 572 

Index ....... . 574 



fkasek's jiagazixe) . . . Frontispiece 


iir. AN APOLOGY FOR LENT ..... Page 9 

IV. PACE IMPLORA . . . . . ,28 



VII. A TALE OF A CHURN . . , . , 129 

VIII. PORTRAIT OF L. E. L. . . , , .133 


X. HENRY o'bRIEN . . . , . .162 




XIV. j'ai garde son verre ..... 250 






XX. THE GIFT OF VENUS ...... 365 


"At Covent Garden a sacred drama, on the stonj of 
JepJttJia, conveying solenm impressions, is peohibiteb as a 
PEOFAif ATiON 0/ the period of fasting and mortification ! 
There is no doubt cohere the odium shoidd fix — on the Lord 
Chainherlain or on the Bishop of Lo'do'. Let some intel- 
ligent Member of Parliament bring the question before ths 
House 01? Commons." 

Times, Feb. 20 and 21, 1834. 






" Cependant, siiivant la chronique, 
Le Carenic, depuis un mois, 
Sur tout I'uniTers Catliolique 

Etendait ses severes lois." — Geesset. 

"Lent sermons abound — fresh preachers are sent 
At this season of fast and sorrow ; 
And tlie loan is complete — for the preacher is — Lent, 
While his sermon he's apt to borrow." 

MSS. of the late Tom higoldsby. 

TriEEE has been tliis season in toAVTi a sad outcry against 
Lent. Por the first week the metropolis was in a complete 
uproar at the suppression of the oratorio ; and no act of 
authority since the fatal ordonnances of Charles X. bid 
fairer to revolutionise a capital than the message sent from 
Bishop Elomfield to Manager Bunn. That storm has 
happily blown over. The Cockneys, haring fretted their 
idle hour, and vented their impotent ire through their 
" safety valve," the press, have resumed their customary 
calm. The dramatic "murder of Jephtha" is forgotten. 
In trutli, after all, there was something due to local re- 
mnii sconces ; and when the present tenants of the " Grar- 



den " recollect that in by-gone days these " deep solitudes 
and awful cells " were the abode of fasting and austerity, 
they will not grudge the once-hallowed premises to com- 
memorate in sober stillness the Wednesdays and Fridays of 
Lent. But let that rest. An infringement on the freedom 
of theatricals, though in itself a grievance, will not, in all 
likelihood, be the immediate cause of a convulsion in these 
realms ; and it will probably require some more palpable 
deprivation to arouse the sleeping energies of John Bidl, 
and to awake his dormant anger. 

It was characteristic of the degeneracy of the Eomans, 
that while they crouched in prostrate servility to each im- 
perial monster that swayed their destinies in succession, 
they never would allow their amusements "to be invaded, 
nor tolerate a cessation of the sports of the amphitheatre ; 
so that even the despot, while he rivetted their chains, 
■would pause and shudder at the well-known ferocious cry 
of " Panem et Circenses .'" Now, food and the drama stand 
relatively to each other in very different degrees of im- 
portance in England ; and while provisions are plentiful, 
other matters have but a minor influence on the popular 
sensibilities. The time may come, when, by the bungling 
measures of a "Whig administration, brought to their full 
maturity of mischief by the studied neglect of the agricul- 
tural and shipping interests, the general disorganisation of 
the state-machinery at home, and the natural results of 
their intermeddling abroad, a dearth of the primary arti- 
cles of domestic consumption may bring to the English- 
man's fireside the broad conviction of a misrule and mis- 
management too long and too sluggishly endured. It may 
then be too late to apply remedial measures with efficacy ; 
and the only resource left, may be, like Caleb Balderstone 
at AVolf's ('rag, to proclami " a general fast." When that 
emergency shall arise, the quaint and original, nay, some- 
times luminous and philosophic, views of Father Prout on 
the fast o^ hent, may aiford much matter for speculation to 
tlie British public, or, as Chdde Harold says, 

"Much tliat may give iis paaso, if pondered fittingly." 

Before we brmg fc-rward Father Prouf ^ lucubrations on 


this grave subject, it may be allowable, by way of pre- 
liminary observation, to remark, that, as far as Lent is 
concerned, as well indeed as in all other matters, " they 
manage these things differently abroad." In foreign 
countries a carnival is the appropriate prelude to abstemi- 
ousness ; and folks get such a surfeit of amusement during 
the saturnalian days which precede its observance, that 
they find a grateful repose in the sedate quietude that 
ensues. The custom is a point of national taste, which I 
leave to its own merits ; but whoever has resided on the 
Continent must have observed that all this bacchanalian 
riot suddenly terminates on Shrove Tuesday ; the fun and 
frolic expire with the " boeuf-gras ;" and the shouts of the 
revellers, so boisterous and incessant during the preceding 
week, on Ash Wednesday are heard no more. A singular 
ceremony in all the churches — that of sprinkling over the 
congregation on that AVednesday the pulverised embers of 
the boughs of an evergreen (meant, I suppose, as an em- 
blem and record of man's mortality) — appears to have the 
instantaneous effect of turning their thoughts into a dif- 
ferent channel : the busy hum subsides at once ; and learned 
commentators have found, in the fourth book of Virgil's 
Georgics, a prophetic allusion to this magic operation : 

"Hi moKis animorum atque lisec certamina tanta 
Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescunt." 

The non- consumption of butchers' meat, and the substi- 
tution of fish diet, is also a prominent feature in the con- 
tinental form of observing Lent ; and on this topic Father 
Prout has been remarkably discursive, as will be seen on 
perusal of the following pages. To explain how I became 
the depository of the reverend man's notions, and why he 
did not publish them in his lifetime (for, alas ! he is no 
more — peace be to his ashes !) is a duty which I owe the 
reader, and from which I am far from shrinking. I admit 
that some apology is required for conveying the lucid and 
clarified ideas of a great and good divine through the opaquo 
and profane medium that is now employed to bring them 
under the public eye ; I account for it accordingly. 

I am a younger son. I belong to an ancient, but poor j 
and dilapidated house, of which the patrimonial estate was | 

B 2 » 


barely enough for my elder ; bence, as my share resembled 
what is scientifically called an evanescent quantity, I was 
directed to apply to that noble refuge of unprovided genius 
— the bar ! To the bar, with a heavy heart and achiug 
head, I devoted year after year, and was about to become a 
tolerable proficient in the black letter, when an epistle from 
Ireland reached me in rurnival's Inn, and altered my 
prospects materially. This despatch was from an old Ca- 
tholic aunt whom I had in that country, and whose house 
I had been sent to, Avhen a child, on tlae speculation that 
this visit to my venerable relative, who, to her other good 
qualities, added that of being a resolute spinster, might 
determine her, as she was both rich and capricioxis, to make 
me her inheritor. The letter urged my immediate presence 
in the dying chamber of the Lady Cresswell ; and, as no 
time was to be lost, I contrived to reach in two days the 
lonely and desolate mansion on Watergrasshill, in the vici- 
nity of Cork. As I entered the apartment, by the scanty 
light of the lamp that glimmered dimly, I recognised, with 
some difiiculty, the emaciated form of my gaunt and withered 
kinswoman, over whose features, originally thin and wan, 
the pallid hue of approaching death cast additional ghastli- 
ness. By the bedside stood the rueful and unearthly form of 
Pather Prout ; and, while the sort of chiaroscuro in which his 
figure appeared, half shrouded, half revealed, served to impress 
me with a proper awe for his solemn functions, the scene 
itself, and the probable consequences to me of this last 
interview Avith my avuit, affected me exceedingly. I invo- 
luntarily knelt ; and while I felt my hands grasped by the 
long, cold, and bony fingers of the dying, my whole frame 
thrilled ; and her words, the last she spoke in this world, 
fell on my ears with all the efiect of a potent witchery, 
never to be forgotten ! " Prank," said the Lady Cresswell, 
" my lands and perishable riches I have bequeathed to you, 
though you hold not the creed of which this is a minister, 
and 1 die a worthless but steadlast votary : only promise 
me and this holy man that, in memory of one to whom 
your welfare is dear, you will keep the fast of Lent while 
you live ; and, as I cannot control your inward belief, be at 
least in this respect a Roman Catholic : I ask no more." 
How could I have refused so simple an injunction ? and 

JlS apology POE IiElfTT. 

what junior member of the bar would not hold a good rental 
by so easy a tenure ? In brief, I was pledged in that solemn 
liour to rather Prout, and to my kind and simple-hearted 
aunt, whose grave is in Eathcooney, and whose soul is in 


During my short stay at "Watergrasshill, (a wild and ro- 
mantic district, of which every brake and fell, every bog 
and quagmire, is well known to Crofton Croker — for it is 
the xery Arcadia of his fictions), I formed an intimacy witli 
this Father Andrew Prout, the pastor of the upland, and a 
man celebrated in the south of Ireland. He was one of that 
race of priests now unfortunately extinct, or very nearly 
so, like the old breed of wolf-dogs, in the island : I allude 
to those of his order who were educated abroad, before the 
Prench revolution, and had imbibed, from associating with ; . 
the polished and high-born clergy of the old Gallican church, J 
a loftier range of thought, and a superior delicacy of senti- / 
ment. Henoe, in his evidence before the House of Lords, j 
" the glorious Dan " has not concealed the grudge he feels 
towards those clergymen, educated on the continent, who, 
having witnessed the doings of the sansculottes in Prance, 
liave no fancy to a rehearsal of the same in Ireland. Of 
this class was Prout, P.P. of Watergrasshill ; but his real 
value was very faintly appreciated by his rude flock : he 
was not understood by his contemporaries ; his thoughts 
were not their thoughts, neither could he commune Avith. 
kindred souls on that wild mountain. Of his genealogy 
nothing was ever known with certainty ; but in this he 
resembled Melchizedek : like Eugene Aram, he had excited 
the most intense interest in the highest quarters, still did 
he studiously court retirement. He was thought by some 
to be deep in alchemy, like Priar Bacon ; but the gangers 
never even suspected him of distilling " potheen." He was 
Icnown to have brought from Prance a spirit of the most 
/.chivalrous gallantry ; still, like Pcnelon retired from the 
court of Louis XIV., he shunned the attractions of the sex, 
for the sake of his pastoral charge : but in the rigour of 
liis abstinence, and the frugality of his diet, he resembled 
no one, and none Icept Lent so strictly. 

Of his gallantry one anecdote will be suflB.eient, The 
fashionable Mrs. Pepper, with two female companions, 


travelling through the county of Cork, stopped for Divine 
service at the chapel of Watergrasshill (which is on the high 
road on the Dublin line), and entered its rude gate "while 
Prout Avas addressing his congregation. His quick eye soou 
detected his fair visitants standing behind the motley crowd, 
by whom they were totally unnoticed, so intent were all on 
the discourse ; when, interrupting the thread of his homily, 
to procure suitable accommodation for tlie strangers, 
'•Boys!" cried the old man, "why don't ye give three 
chairs for the ladies ?" " Three cheers for the ladies !" re- 
echoed at once the parish-clerk. It was Avhat might be 
termed a clerical, but certainly a very natural, error ; and 
so acceptable a proposal was suitably responded to by the 
frieze-coated multitude, whose triple shout shook the very 
cobwebs on the roof of the chapel ! — after which slight in- 
cident, serAaee was quietly resumed. 

He was extremely fond of angling ; a recreation which^ 
while it ministered to his necessary relaxation from the toils 
of the mission, enabled him to observe cheaply tlie fish diet 
imperative on fast days. Por this, he had established his 
residence at the mountain-source of a considerable brook, 
which, after winding througli the parish, joins the Elack- 
water at Permoy ; and on its banks would he be found, 
armed with his rod, and wrapt in his strange cassock, fit to 
personate tlie river-god or presiding genius of the stream. 

His modest parlour would not ill become the hut of one 
of the fishermen of Galilee. A huge net in festoons cur- 
tained his casement ; a salmon-spear, sundry rods, and fish- 
ing-tackle, hung round the walls and over his bookcase, 
which latter object was to him the perennial spring of 
refined enjoyment. Still he would sigh for the vast libraries 
of France, and her well-appointed scientific halls, where he 
had spent his youth, in converse with the first literary 
chai-acters and most learned divines ; and once he directed 
my attention to what appeared to be a row of folio volumes 
at the bottom of his collection, but which I found on trial 
to be so many large stone-flags, with parchment backs, bear- 
ing the appropriate title of Cor>'EL1I a Lapide Opera qum 
extant omnia ; by which semblance of that old Jesuit's 
commentaries he consoled himself for the absence of the 


His classic acquirements were considerable, as will appear 
by his essay on Lent ; and Avhile they made him a most in- 
structive companion, his unobtrusive merit left the most 
favourable impression. The general character of a church- 
man is singularly improved by the tributary accomplish- 
ments of the scholar, and literature is like a pure grain of 
Araby's incense in the golden censer of religion. His taste 
for the fine arts was more genuine than might be conjectured 
from the scanty specimens that adorned his apartment, 
though perfectly in keeping with his favourite sport ; for 
there hung over the mantlepiece a print of Eaphael's cartoon 
the '• Miraculous Draught ;" here, " Tobith rescued by an 
Angel from the Fish ;" and there, " St. Anthony preaching 
to the Fishes." 

With this learned Thebau I held long and serious con- 
verse on the nature of the antiquated observance I had 
pledged myself to keep up ; and oft have we discussed the 
matter at his frugal table, aiding our conferences with a 
plate of water-cresses and a red herring. I have taken 
copious notes of Father Prout's leading topics ; and while I 
can vouch them as his genuine arguments, I will not be 
answerable for the style ; which may possibly be my own, 
and probably, like the subject, exceedingly jejune. 

I publish them in pure self-defence. I have been so often 
called on to explain my peculiarities relative to Lent, that I 
must resort to the press for a riddance of my persecutors. The 
spring, which exhilarates all nature, is to me but the herald 
of tribulation ; for it is accompanied in the Lent season with 
a recurrence of a host of annoyances consequent on the 
tenure by which I hold my aunt's property. 1 have at last 
resolved to state my case openly ; and I trust that, taking 
up arms against a sea of troubles, I may by exposing end 
them. No blessing comes unalloyed here below : there is 
ever a cankerworm m the rose ; a dactyl is sure to be mixed 
up with a spondee in the poetry of life ; and, as Homer 
sings, there stand two urns, or crocks, beside the throne 
of Jove, from which he doles out alternate good and bad 
gifts to men, but mostly both together. 

I grant, that to repine at one's share of the common allot- 
ment would indicate bad taste, and afford evidence of ill- 
humour : but still a passing insight into my case will prove 


it one of peculiar hardsliip. As regularly as dinner is 
announced, so surely do I know that my hour is come to be 
stared at as a disciple of Pythagoras, or scrutinised as a 
follower of the Venetian Coruaro. I am "a lion" at "feed- 
ing-time." To tempt me from my allegiance by the proffer 
of a turkey's wing, to eulogise the sirloin, or dwell on the 
Kaut gout of the haunch, are among my friends' (?) practical 
sources of merriment. To reason Avith them at such nnpro- 
pitious moments, and against snch fearful odds, would be a 
hopeless experiment ; and I have learned from Horace and 
from rather Prout, that there are certain moUia tempora, 
fundi, which should always be attended to : in such eases I 
chew the cud of my resentment, and eke out my repast on 
salt-fish in silence. None will be disposed to question my 
claim to the merit of fortitude. In vain have 1 been sum- 
moned by the prettiest lisp to partake of the most tempting 
delicacies. I have declined each lady-hostess's liospitable 
oifer, as if, to speak in classic parlance, Canidia tractavit 
dapes; or, to use the vernacular phraseology of Moore, as if 

" The trail of the serpent was over them all." 

Hence, at the club I am looked on as a sort of rara avis, 
or, to speak more appropriately, as an odd fish. Some have 
spread a report that I have a large share hi the Huugerford 
jNIarket ; others, that I am a Saint Simoniau. A fellow of 
the Zoological Society has ascertained, forsooth, from certain 
maxillary appearances, that I am decidedly of the class of 
r/dvopajoi, with a mixture of the herbivornns. "When the 
truth is known, as it will be on the publication of this 
paper, it will be seen that I am no phenomenon whatever. 

My witty cousin, Harriet 11., Avill no longer consider me 
a fit subject for the exercise of her ingenuity, nor present 
me a copy of Gray's poems, with the page turned down at 
"An Elegy on a Cat drowned in a tub of Gold Pishes." She 
will perhaps, when asked to sing, select some other aria 
besides that eternal barcarolle, 

" O pcsicator doll' ouda, 
Vicui pcscar in qu^ 

and if I happen to approach the loo-table, she will not think 

/In apology for Lem 


it again necessary to caution tlie old dowagers to take care 
of their fish. 

Revenatis d. 7ios poissons. When last I supped with Pather 
Prout, on the eve of my departure from AVatergrasshill (and 
I can only compare my reminiscences of that classic banquet 
to Xenop'hon's account of the symposion of Plato), "Young 
man," said he, " you had a good aunt in the Lady Cresswell ; 
and if you thought as we do, that the orisons of kindred and 
friends' can benefit the dead, you should pray for her as long 
as you live. But you belong to a different creed — different, 
I mean, as to this particidar point ; for, as a whole, your 
church of England bears a close resemblance to ours of 
Eome. The daughter will ever inherit the leading features 
of the mother ; and though in your eyes the fresh and un- 
withered fascinations of the new faith may fling into the 
shade the more matronly graces of the old, somewhat on the 
principle of Horace, O matre pulchrd filia pulchrior ! still 
has our ancient worship many and potent charms, I could 
proudly dwell on the historic recollections that emblazon 
tier escutcheon, the pomp and pageantry of her gorgeous 
liturgy " 

Pardon me, reverend friend, I interposed, lest he should 
diverge, as was his habit, into some long-winded argument, 
foreign to the topic on which I sought to be informed, — I 
do not undervalue the matronly graces of your venerable 
church ; but (pointing to the remnant of what had been a 
red herring) let us talk of her fish-diet and fast days. 

" Ay, you are right there, child," resumed Prout ; " I per- 
ceive where my panegyric must end — 

'Desiiiit in piscem mulier formosa superue!' 

You will get a famous badgering in town when you are 
found out to have forsworn the flesh-pots ; and Lent will be 
a sad season for you among the Egyptians. But you need 
not be unprovided with plausible reasons for your abstinence^ 
besides the sterling considerations of the rental. Notwith 
standing that it has been said or sung by your Lord Byron 

' I\Ian is a carnivorous production, 
And cannot live (as woodcocks do) on suction ;' 


still that noblo poot (T speak from the record of bis life and 
habits furnisiied us by ^loore) habitually eschewed auimal 
food, detested u;ross feeders, aud in bis owu case lived most 
frugally, I might eveu say ascetieally ; and this abstemious- 
ness he practised from a retiuemeut of choice, for he had 
registered no vow to heaven, or to a maiden aunt. The 
observance "will no doubt prove a trial of fortitude ; but for 
your part at the festive board, were you so criminal as to 
transgress, would not the spectre of the Lady CressweU, 
like the ghost of Banquo, rise to rebuke yon ? 

"And besides, these days of fasting are of the most remote 
antiquity ; they are referred to as being in vogue at the first 
general council that legislated for Christendom at ]Nice, in 
Eithynia, a.d. 3i!5 : aiul the subsequent assembly of bishops 
Jit Laodicea ratified the institution a.p. 304. Its discipline 
is fully developed in the classic pages of the accomplished 
Tertuiliau, in the second century (Tract, dejtyit/iiis). I say 
no more. These are what Edu\und Burke would call 'grave 
and reverend authorities,' and, in the silence of Holy AVrit, 
may go as historic evidence of primitive Christianity ; but 
if you press me. I can no more show cause under the proper 
hand and seal of an apostle for keeping the fast on these 
days, than I can for keeping the Sabbath on Sunday. 

"I do not choose to notice that sort of criticism, in its 
dotage, that would trace the custom to the well-knoNvu 
avocatioi\ of ^the early discijdes : though that they were 
fishermen is most true, aud that eveu at'ter they had been 
raised to the apostolic dignity, they ivlapsed occasionally 
into the innocent pursuit of their primeval calling, still 
haunted the shores of the accustomed lake, and loved 
to disturb with their nets the crystal surface of Geuue- 

" Lent is an institution which should have been long since 
rescued from the cobwebs of theology, aud restoivd to the 
domain of the political economist, for thei'i? is no prospect 
of arguing the matter in a fair spirit among conflictiug 
divines ; and, of all thingss. polemics are the most stale and 
nnprotitable. Loaves aud fishes have, in all ages of the 
church, had charms for us of the cloth ; yet how few would 
confine their frugal bill of fare to mere loaves and fishes ! 
So far Lent may be considered a stumbling-block. But 


hero I cliHrniss theology : nor aliall I further trespass on 
your piitierico by angling for arguments in the muddy stream 
of church history, as it rolls its troubled waters over tho 
midrlie ;ig(;s. 

" Your black-letter acquirements, I doubt not, arc con- 
Hi(l(;i'abl(! ; but have you adverted to a clause in Queen 
Eliz;ilK;th's enactment for the improvement of the shipping 
intcrcists in the year 15G1 ? You will, I believe, iind it to 
run tlius : 

" /In/io 5o El/c. cap. v. sect. 11 : — ' And for cncrease of 
provision of fishe by the more usual eating thereof, bee it 
further enacted, that from the feast of St. MighcU th'arch- 
angell, ano. Dni. fiftene hundreth threescore foure, every 
Wednesdaye in every weeke through the whole yere shal 
be hereafter observed and kepto as the Saturdays in every 
wcekc be or ought to be ; and that no person shal eat any 
fleshe no more than on the common Saturdays. 

Sect. 12. — ' And bee it further enacted by th'auctoritee 
aforesaid, for the commoditie and benifit of this realme, as 
well to growe the navie as in sparing and encrease of flesho 
victual, that from and after the feast of Pentecost next 
coming, yt shall not be lawful for any p'son to cat any fleshe 
upon any days now usually observed as fiMh-days; and that 
any p'son offending herein shal forfeite three powndes for 
every tyme.' 

" 1 do not attach so much importance to the act of her 
royal successor, James I., wdio in 1019 issued a pi'oclama- 
tion, reminding his English subjects of the obligation of 
keeping Lent; because his Majesty's object is clearly ascer- 
tained to have been to encourage the tradic of his coimtry- 
men the Scotch, who had just then embarked largely in tho 
herring trade, and for whom the thrifty Stuart was anxious 
to seiHirc a monopoly in the British markets. 

" But when, in 1(527, I find the chivalrous Charles I., your 
mai'lyrcMl king, sending fortli from the banqueting-room of 
"Whitehall his royal decree to the same ettect, I am at a loss 
to trace! his motives. It is known that Archbishop Laud's 
advice went to »,he eflect of reinstating many customs of 
Catholicity ; but, from a more diligent consideration of the 
subject, I am more inclined to think that the king wished 
rather, by Lhi.. display of austere practices, to soothe and 


conciliate the Puritanical portion of tis subjects, whose 
religious notions were supposed (I know not how justly) to 
have a tendency to self-denial and the mortification of the 
flesh. Certain it is, that the Calvinists and Eouudheads 
were greater favourites at Billingsgate than the high-church 
party ; from which we may conclude that they consumed 
more fish. A fact corroborated by the contemporary testi- 
mony of Samuel Butler, who says that, when the great 
struggle commenced, 

• Each fisherwomau locked her fish up, 
And trudged abroad to cry, No Bishop !' 

" I will only remark, in furtherance of my own views, that 
the king's beef-eaters, and the gormandising Cavaliers of 
that period, could never stand in fair fight against the aus- 
tere and fasting Cromwellians. 

" It is a vulgar error of your countrymen to connect 
valour with roast beef, or courage Avitli plum-pudding. 
There exists no such association ; and I wonder this national 
mistake has not been duly noticed by Jeremy Bentham in 
his ' Book of fallacies.' As soon might it be presumed that 
the pot-bellied Falstaff, faring on venison and sack, could 
overcome in prowess Owen Griendower, who, I suppose, fed 
on leeks ; or that the lean and emaciated Cassius was not a 
better soldier than a well-known sleek and greasy rogue 
who fled from the battle of Philippi, and, as he himself 
unblushingly tells the world, left his buckler behind him : 
' Relictd non bene parmuld.' 

" I cannot contain my bile when I witness the mode in 
Avhich the lower orders in your country abuse the French, 
for whom they have found nothing in their Anglo-Saxon 
vocabulary so expressive of contempt as the term 'frog- 
eater.' A Frenchman is not supposed to be of the same 
flesh and blood as themselves ; but, like the water-snake 
described in the Gi-eorgics— 

* Piscibus atram, 
Improbus inghivicin ranisqiic loquacibus implet.' 

Hence it is carefully instilled into the infant mind (when 
the young idea is taught how to shoot), that you won the 
■victories of Poitiers and Agincourt mainly by the superio- 
rity of your diet. In hewing down the ranks of the foeniau, 


much of the English army's success is of course attributed 
to the dexterous management of tlieir cross-bills, but con- 
siderably more to their bill of fare. If I could reason with 
sucli simpletons, I wovild refer them to the records of the 
commissariat department of that day, and open to their 
vulgar gaze the folio vii. of Eymer's Fvsderu, where, in the 
twelfth year of Edward III., a.d. 1338, at page 1021, they 
would find, that previous to the victory of Cressy there were 
shipped at Portsmouth, for the use of these gallant troops, 
fifty tons of Yarmouth herr'mgs. Such were the supplies 
(rather unusual now in the contracts at Somerset House) 
which enabled Edward and his valiant sou to drive the hosts 
of France before them, and roll on the tide of war till the 
towers of Paris yielded to the mighty torrent. After a 
hasty repast on such simple diet, might the Black Prince 
appropriately address his girded knights in Shakespearian 

' Thus far into the bowels of the land 
Have we marched on without impediment.' 

" The enemy sorely grudged them their supplies. Eor it 
appears by the chronicles of Enguerrand de Monstrellet, 
the continuator of Eroissart, that in 1429, while the English 
were besieging Orleans, the Duke of Bedford sent from his 
head-quarters, Paris, on the Ash "Wednesday of that year, 
five hundred carts laden with herrings, for the use of the 
camp during I.ent, when a party of Erench noblemen, viz, 
Xaintraille, Lahire, De la Tour de Chavigny, and the Che- 
valier de Lafayette (ancestor of the revolutionary veteran), 
made a desperate efi'ort to intercept the convoy. But the 
English detachment, tinder whose safeguard was this pre- 
cious deposit, fought |j?-o aris et focis in its defence, and the 
assailants were routed with the loss of six score knights and 
much plebeian slaughter. Eead Eapin's account of the 
afi'ray, uhich was thence called ^ la journee des harengs.'' 

" AVhat schoolboy is ignorant of the fact, that at the eve 
of the battle of Hastings, which gave to your Norman an- 
cestors the conquest of the island, the conduct of the Anglo- 
Britons was strongly contrasted with that of the invaders 
from France ; for while in Harold's camp the besotted na- 
tives spent the night in revelling and gluttony, the Normau 


cliivalry gave their time to fasting and devotion. — (Gold- 
smith, A.D. 1066.) 

" It has not escaped the penetrating mind of the sagacious 
Buffon, in his views of man and man's propensities (which, 
after all, are the proper study of mankind), that a predilec- 
tion for light food and spare diet has always heen the 
characteristic of the Celtic and Eastern races ; while the 
Teutonic, the Sclavonian, and Tartar branches of the human 
family betray an aboriginal craving for heavy meat, and are 
gross feeders. In many countries of Europe there has been 
a slight amalgamation of blood, and the international pedi- 
gree in parts of the Coutinent has become perplexed and 
doubtful : but the most obtuse observer can see that the 
phlegmatic habits of the Prussians and Dutch argue a dif- 
ferent genealogical origin from that which produced the 
lively disposition of the tribes of southern Europe. The 
best specimens extant of the genuine Celt are the Greeks, 
the Arabians, and the Irish, all of whom are temperate in 
their food. Among European denominations, in proportion 
as the Celtic infusion predominates, so in a corresponding 
ratio is the national character for abstemiousness. Nor 
would I thus dwell on an otherwise uninteresting specula- 
tion, were I not about to draw a corollary, and shew how 
these secret influences became apparent at what is called 
the great epoch of the Reformation. The latent tendency 
to escape from fasting observances became then revealed, 
and what had lain dormant for ages was at once developed. 
The Tartar and Sclavonic breed of men flung olf the yoke 
of Rome ; while the Celtic races remained faithful to the 
successor of the ' Fisherman,' and kept Lent. 

" The Hollanders, the Swedes, tlie Saxons, the Prussians, 
and in Germany tliose circles in which the Gothic blood 
ran heaviest and most stagnant, hailed Luther as a deliverer 
from salt fish. The fatted calf was killed, bumpers of 
ale went round, and Popery went to the dogs. Half Europe 
followed the impetus given to free opinions, and the con- 
genial ijnpulse of the gastric juice; joining in reform, 
not because they loved Rome less, but because they loved 
substantial fare more. jMeantime neighbours dilfered. The 
Dutch, dull and opaque as their own Zuidersee, growled de- 
fiance at the Vatican wlien their food was to be controlled ; 


tbe Belgians, being a shade nearer to the Celtic family, 
submitted to the fast. AVhile Hamburg clung to its heef, 
and Westphalia preserved her hams, Munich and Bavaria 
adhered to the Pope and to sour crout with desperate 
fidelity. As to the Cossacks, and all that set of northern 
marauders, they never kept Lent at any time ; and it would 
be arrant folly to expect that the horsemen of the river 
Don, and the Esquimaux of the polar latitudes, would think 
of restricting their ravenous propensities in a Christian 
fashion ; the veiy system of cookery adopted by these 
terrible hordes would, I fear, have given Dr. Kitchiner a fit 
of cholera. The apparatus is graphically described by 
Samuel Butler : I will indulge you with part of the quo- 
tation : 

' For like their countrymen the Huns, 
They stew their meat under f 

# * # # 

All day on horses' backs they straddle, 
Then every man eats up his saddle !' 

A strange process, no doubt : but not without some sort of 
precedent in classic records ; for the Latin poet introduces 
young lulus at a picnic, in the ..Eneid, exclaiming — 

' Heus ! etiam mensas consumimus.' 

"In England, as the inhabitants are of a mixed descent, 
and as there has ever been a disrelish for any alteration in the 
habits and fireside traditions of the country, the fish- days 
were remembered long after every Popish observance had 
become obsoletQ ; and it was not imtil 1668 that butchers' 
meat finally established its ascendency in Lent, at the 
arrival of the Dutchman. AVe have seen the exertions of 
the Tudor dynasty under Elizabeth, and of the house of 
Stuart under James I. and Charles I., to keep up these 
fasts, which had flourished in the days of the Plantagenets, 
which the Heptarchy had revered, which Alfred and Canute 
had scrupulously observed, and which had come down posi- 
tively recommended by the Venerable Bede. AVilliam III. 
gave a death-blow to Lent. Until then it bad lingered 
among the threadbare curates of the country, extrema pef 

t Hudibras, Canto ii. L 275. 


illos excedens ten-is vestigia fecit, Laving been long before 
exiled from the gastronomic baU. of both Universities. But 
its extinction was complete. Its ghost might stiU remain, 
flitting through the land, without corporeal or ostensible 
form ; and it vanished totaDy with the fated star of the 
Pretender. It was AVilliam who conferred the honour of 
knighthood on the loin of beef; and such was the progress 
of disaffection imder Queen Anne, that the folks, to mani- 
fest their disregard for the Pope, agreed that a certain ex- 
tremity of the goose should be denominated his nose ! 

" The indomitable spirit of the Celtic Irish preserved 
Lent in this country unimpaired ; an event of such import- 
ance to England, that I shall dwell on it by and by more 
fully. The Spaniards and Portuguese, although Gothic and 
Saracen blood has commingled in the pure current of their 
Phoenician pedigree, clung to Lent witli characteristic 
tenacity. The Grallic race, even in the days of Caesar, were 
remarkably temperate, and are so to the present day. The 
Prench very justly abhor the gross, carcase-eating propen- 
sities of John Bull. But as to the keeping of Lent, in an 
ecclesiastical point of view, I cannot take on myself to 
vouch, since the ruffianly revolution, for their orthodoxy in 
that or any other religious matters. They are sadly deficient 
therein, though still delicate and refined in their cookery, 
like one of their own artistes, whose epitaph is in P^re la 
Chaise — 

' Ci git qui d^s I'agc le plus tcndi'e 
Inventa la smice Robert ; 
Mais jamais il ne put apprendre 
Ni son credo ni son puter* 

" It was not so of old, wlien the pious monarchs of Prance 
dined publicly in Passion week on fasting fare, in order to 
recommend by their example the use of fish — when the 
heir-apparent to the crown delighted to be called a tlolphin 
— and when one of your own kings, being on a visit to 
Prance, got so fond of their lamprey patties, that he died of 
indigestion on his return. 

" Antiquity has left us no document to prove that the 
early Spartans kept certain days of abstinence ; but their 
li/ac/c broth, of which the ingredients have puzzled the 


learned, must have been a fitting substitute for the sovpe 
maigre of our Lent, since it required a hard run on the 
banks of the Eurotas to make it somewhat palatable. At 
all events, their great lawgiver was an eminent ascetic, and 
applied himself much to restrict the diet of his hardy coun- 
trymen ; and if it is certain that there existed a mystic 
bond cf union among the 300 Lacedemonians who stood in 
the gap of Thermopylae, it assuredly was not a beef-steak 
club of which Leonidas was president. 

" The Athenians were too cultivated a people not to 
appreciate the value of periodical days of self-denial and 
abstemiousness. Accordingly, on the eve of certain fes- 
tivals, they fed exclusively on figs and the honey of Mount 
Hymettus. Plutarch expressly tells us that a solemn fast 
preceded the celebration of the Thermophoria ; thence 
termed r/idTna. In looking over the works of the great 
geographer Strabo (lib. xiv.), I find sufficient evidence of 
the respect paid to fish by the inhabitants of a distinguished 
Greek city, in which that erudite author says the arrival of 
the fishing-smacks in the harbour was announced joyfully 
by sounding the "tocsin;" and that the musicians in the 
public piazza were left abruptly by the crowd, whenever the 
bell tolled for the sale of the herrings : ■/.I'^aiitibo-j i'xiOir/.yjijA^ryj 
rsc/jg iXiVj ay.ooaG^ai rrcvjrag' ug o« o zctjduv o zara, tyiV o-^orru'/.iv.'j 
s^'ofjjcs ■/.a.TaXimiVTig a-7:c}.kiv irri to o-^ov. A custom to which 
Plutarch also refers in his Symposium of Plato, lib. iv. cap. 
4. rov; met iy(i-jo'::oi'Kiav avaoihrnrat vma rou y.uduvog o'^ioig 

" That practices similar to our Lent existed among the 
Eomans, may be gathered from various sources. In Ovid's 
Fasti (notwithstanding the title) I find nothing : but from 
the reliques of old sacerdotal memorials collected by 
Stephano Morcelli, it appears that Numa fitted himself by 
fasting for an interview with the mysterious inmate of 
Egeria's grotto. Livy tells us that the decemvirs, on 
the occurrence of certain prodigies, were instructed by a 
vote of the senate to consult the Sibylline books ; and 
the result was the establishment of a fast in honour of 
Ceres, to be observed perpetually every five years. It is 
hard to tell whether Horace is in joke or in earnest 
' See Translation in Bolin's Strabo, Yol. iii. p. 37. 



wlieu he introduces a vow relative to tliese days of 
penance — 

' Frigida si puerum quartana reliqucrit illo 
Mane die quo tii indicts jcjtmia uudus 
In T>-beri stabit !' Senn. lib. ii. sat. 3. v. 290. 

But we are left in tlie dark as to whether tliey observed their 
fasts by restricting themselves to lentils and vegetable diet, 
or \vl«ther fish was allowed. On this interesting pomt 
we find nothing in the laws of the twelve tables. However, 
a marked predilection for herbs, and such frugal fare, was 
distinctive of the old Eomans, as the very names of the 
j^rincipal families sufficiently indicate. The Fabii, for in- 
stance, were so called from faha, a bean, on which simple 
aliment that indefatigable race of heroes subsisted for many 
generations. The noble line of the Lentuli derive then* 
patronymic from a favourite kind of lentil, to which they 
were partial, and from which Lent itself is so called. The 
aristocratic Pisoes were similarly circumstanced ; for their 
family appellation will be found to signify a kind of vetches. 
Scipio was titled from ce/)e, an onion ;^ and we may trace 
the sui'name and hereditary honours of the great Eomau 
orator to the same horticultiu'al source, for c'lcer in Latin 
means a sort of pea ; and so on through the whole nomen- 

" Hence the Eomau satirist, ever alive to the follies of his 
age, can find nothing more ludicrous than the notion of the 
Egyptians, who entertained a religious repugnance to vege- 
table fare : 

' Porrura et cepe iiefas violare ct fraugcro niorsn, 
O sanctas gentes !' Juv. Sat. 15. 

And as to fish, the fondness of the people of his day for such 
food can be demonstrated from his fourth satire, where he 
dwells triumphantly on the capture of a splendid tuuny in 
the waters of tlie Adi'iatic, and describes the assembling of 
a cabinet council in the " Downing Street " of Eome to 
determine how it should be properly coolced. It must be 
admitted that, suice the Whigs came to office, although they 

^ Here Proiit is in error. Scipio means a " walking-stick," and coni- 
memoratps the f!li:il piety of one of tlie pens Cornelia, who went about 
constantly supporting his tottering aged father. — 0. Y. 


have had many a pretty kettle of fish to deliberate upon, they 
have shown nothing half so dignified or rational in their 
decisions as the imperial privy council of Domitian. 

" The magnificence displayed by the masters of the world 
in getting up fish-ponds is a fact which every schoolboy has 
learnt, as well as that occasionally the mureence were treated to 
the luxury of a slave or two, flung in alive for their nutri- 
ment. The celebrity which the maritime villas of Baias ob- 
tained for that fashionable watering-place, is a further argu- 
ment in point ; and we know that when the reprobate Yerres 
was driven into exile by the brilliant declamation of Cicero, 
he consoled himself at Marseilles over a local dish oi Anr/uilles 
a la Marseillaise. 

" SimpKcity and good taste in diet gradually declining in 
the Eoman empire, the gigantic frame of the colossus itself 
soon hastened to decay. It burst of its own plethory. The 
example of the degenerate court had pervaded the provinces ; 
and soon the whole body politic reeled, as after a surfeit of 
debauchery. Yitellius had gormandised with vulgar glut- 
tony ; the Emperor Maximiaus was a living sepulchre, where 
whole hecatombs of butchers' meat were daily entombed ;^ 
and no modern keeper of a table d'hote could stand a suc- 
cession of such guests as Heliogabalus. Gibbon, whose 
penetrating eye nothing has escaped in the causes of the 
Decline and Fall, notices this vile propensity to overfeeding ; 
and shows that, to reconstruct the mighty system of 
dominion established by the rugged republicans (the Fabii, 
the Lentuli, and the Pisoes), nothing but a bojid fide return 
to simple fare and homely pottage could be efiectual. The 
hint was duly acted on. The Popes, frugal and abstemious, 
ascended the vacant throne of the Caesars, and ordered Lent 
to be observed throughout the eastern and western world. 

" The theory of fasting, and its practical application, did 
wonders in that emergency. It renovated the rotten con- 
stitution of Europe — it tamed the hungry hordes of despe- 
rate savages that rushed down -with a war-whoop on the 
prostrate ruins of the empire — it taught them self-control, 
and gave them a masterdom over their barbarous propensi- 
ties ; — it did more, it originated civilisation and commerce. 

^ It is said that in a single day he could devour forty pounds of meat 
and di'iuk au amphora of wine. 



" A few straggling fisliermen built huts on the flats of the 
Adriatic, for the convenience of resorting thither in Lent, 
to procure their annual supply of fish. The demand for that 
article became so brisk and so extensive through the A'ast 
dominions of the Lombards in northern Italy, that from a 
temporary establishment it became a permanent colony in 
the lagunes. Working like the coral insect under the seas, 
with the same unconsciousness of the mighty residt of their 
labours, these industrious men for a century kept on en- 
larging their nest upon the ■waters, till their eutei'prize be- 
came fully developed, and 

' Venice sat in state, tlu-oned on a hundred isles.' 

" The fasting necessities of France and Spain were minis- 
tered to by the rising republic of Genoa, whose origin I 
delight to trace from a small fisliing town to a mighty em- 
porium of commerce, fit cradle to rock (in the infant Co- 
lumbus) the destinies of a new world. Few of us have 
turned our attention to the fact, that our favourite fish, the 
John Dory, derives its name from the Genoese admiral, 
Doria, whose seamanship best thrived on meagre diet. Of 
Anne Chovy, who has given her name to another fish found 
in the Sardinian waters, no record remains ; but she was 
doubtless a heroine. Indeed, to revert to the liumble her- 
ring before you, its etymology shews it to be well adapted 
for warlike stomachs, heer (its German root) signifying an 
army. In England, is not a soldier synonymous with a 
lobster ? 

"In the progress of maritime industry along the shores of 
southern, and subsequently of northern Europe, we find a 
love for fi'eedom to grow up witli a fondness for fish. Enter- 
prise and liberty flourished among the islands of tlie Archi- 
pelago. And when Naples was to be rescued from thraldom, 
it was the hardy race of watermen who plied in her beau- 
teous bay, that rose at Freedom's call to eftect her deliverance, 
when she basked for one short hour in its full sunshine under 
the gallant JNlasaniello. 

" As to the commercial grandeur, of wliich a constant 
demand/or fish was the creating principk^, to illustrate its 
importance, I need only refer to a remarkable expression of 


that deep politician, and exceedingly clever economist, 
Charles V., when, on a progress through a part of his do- 
minions, on which the sun at that period never went down, 
he happened to pass through Amsterdam, in company with 
the Queen of Hungary : on that occasion, being compli- 
mented in the usual form by the burgomasters of his faith- 
ful city, he asked to see the mausoleum of John Bachalen, 
the famous herring-barreler ; but when told that his grave, 
simple and unadorned, lay in his native island in the Zuyder- 
see, ' What !' cried the illustrious visitor, ' is it thus that my 
people of the ^Netherlands shew their gratitude to so great 
a man ? Know ye not that the foundations of Amsterdam 
are laid on herring-bones r' Their majesties went on a pil- 
grimage to his tomb, as is related by Sir Hugh "Willoughby 
in his ' Historie of Fishes.' 

" It would be of immense advantage to these countries 
were we to return vmanimously to the ancient practice, and 
restore to the full extent of their vidse policy the laws of 
Elizabeth. The revival of Lent is the sole remedy for the 
national complaints on the decline of the shipping interest, 
the sole way to meet the outcry about corn-laws. Instead 
of Mr. Attwood's project for a change of currency, Mr. 
Wilmot Horton's panacea of emigration, and Miss Marti- 
ueau's preventive check, re-enact Lent, But mark, I do 
not go so far as to say that by this means all and every- 
thing desirable can be accomplished, nor do I undertake by 
it to pay off the national debt — though the Lords of the 
Treasury might learn that, when the disciples were at a loss 
to meet the demand of tax-collectors in their day, they 
caught a fish, and found in its giUs sufficient to satisfy the 
revenue. {St. Matthew, chap, xvii.) 

" Of all the varied resources of this great empire, the 
most important, -in a national point of view, has long been 
the portion of capital afloat in the merchantmen, and 
the strength invested in the navy of Great Britain. True, 
the British thunder has too long slept under a sailor-king, 
and vmder so many galling national insults ; and it were 
fuU time to say that it shall no longer sleep on in the 
grave where Sir James Graham has laid it. But my con- 
cern is principally for the alarming depression of our mer- 
chants' property in vessels, repeatedly proved in evidence 


before j-our House of Commons. Poulett Thomson is rirrlxt 
to call attention to the cries of the shipowners, and to that 
dismal howling from the harbours, described by the prophet 
as the forerunner of the fall of Babylon. 

•' The best remedial measure would be a resumption of 
fish-diet during a portion of the year. Talk not of a resump- 
tion of cash payments, of opening the trade to China, or of 
finding a north-west passage to national prosperity. Talk 
not of ' calling spirits from the vasty deep,' when you neg- 
lect to elicit food and employment for thousands from its 
exuberant bosom. Visionary projectors are never without 
some complex system of beneficial improvement ; but I 
would say of them, in the words of an Irish gentleman who 
has lately travelled in search of religion, 

' They may talk of the iicctar that sparkled for Helen — 
Theii'3 is a fiction, but tliis -s reality.' 


Demand would create supply. Flotillas would issue from 
every sea-port in the spring, and ransack the treasures of 
the ocean for the periodical market : and the wooden walls 
of Old England, instead of crumbling into so much rotten 
timber, would be converted into so many huge wooden 
spoons to feed the population. 

" It has been sweetly sung, as well as wisely said, by a 
genuine English writer, that 

' Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark, uufathom'd caves of ocean bear.' 

To these undiscovered riches Lent would point the national 
eye, and direct the national energies. Very absurd would 
then appear the forebodings of the croakers, who with some 
plausibility now predict the approach of national bankruptcy 
and famine. Time enough to tliink of that remote contin- 
gency when the sea shall be exhausted of its live bullion, 
and the abyss shall cry ' Hold, enough !' Time enough to 
fear a general stoppage, when the run on the Dogger Bank 
shall have produced a failure — when the shoals of the teem- 
ing north shall have refused to meet tlieir engagements in 
the sunny waters of the south, and the drafts of the net 
shall have been dishonoured. 

"I admire Edmund Burke ; who in his speech on Ameri- 


can conciiiation, lias au arr/innentum jnscafoi-iinn quite to my 
fancy. Tolie ! lege ! 

" ' As to the -wealtli which these colonies have derived 
from the sea by their fisheries, you had all that matter fully 
opened at your bar. You surely thought these acquisitions 
of value ; for they even seemed to excite your env}-. And 
yet the spirit with which that enterprising employment has 
been exercised ought rather, in my opinion, to have raised 
your esteem and admiration. And j^ray, sir, what in the 
world is equal to it ? Look at the manner in which the 
people of jS'ew England have carried on their fishery. 
While we follow them among the tumbling mountains of 
ice, penetrating into the deepest recesses of Hudson's 
Bay ; while we are looking for them beneath the arctic 
circle, we hear that they have pierced into the opposite 
region of polar cold, — that they are at the antipodes, and 
engaged under the frozen serpent of the south. Falkland 
Island, which seemed too remote and romantic an object for 
tlie grasp of national ambition, is but a stage and resting 
place in the progress of their victorious industry. Xor is 
the equinoctial heat more discouraging to them than the 
accumulated winter of both the poles. We know, that 
while some of them draw the line and strike the harpoon 
on the coast of Africa, others run the longitude, and pursue 
their gigantic game along the shores of Brazil : no sea that 
is not vexed by their fisheries, no climate that is not witness 
to their toils !' 

" Such glorious imaginings and beatific dreams would (I 
speak advisedly) be realised in these countries by Lent's 
magic spell ; and I have no doubt that our patriot King, 
the patron of so many very questionable reforms, Avill see 
the propriety of restoring the laws of Elizabeth in this mat- 
ter. Stanislaus, the late pious king of Lorraine, so endeared 
himself to his subjects in general, and market-gardeners in 
particular, by his sumptuaiy regulations respecting vege- 
table diet in Lent, that in the hortus siccus of jS^ancy his 
statue has been placed, with an appropriate inscription : — 

* Vitales inter succos herbasque saluhre?, 
Qu^m bene stat populi vita salusque sui !' 

"A similar compliment would await his present ^Majesty 


"William TV. from the sliipowuers and the ' worshipful 
Fishmongers' Company,' if he should adopt the suggestion 
thrown out here. He would figure colossally in Trafalgar 
Sqi;are, pointing with his trident to Ilungerford Mai'ket. 
The three-pronged instrument in his hand would he a most 
appropriate emblem (much more so than on the pinnacle of 
Buckingham Palace), since it would signify equally well the 
fork with Avhich he fed his people, and the sceptre with 
which he ruled the world. 

' Le trident de Neptune est le sceptre du monde !' 

" Then would be solved the grand problem of the Corn-law 
question. Hitherto my Lord Fitzwilliam has taken nothing 
by his motions. But were Lent pi'oclaimed at Charing 
Cross and Temple Bar, and through the market towns of 
England, a speedy fall in the price of grazing stock, though 
it might afflict Lord Althorp, would eventually harmonise 
the jarring interests of agriculture and manufacturing in- 
dustry. The superabundant population of the farming dis- 
tricts would crowd to the coast, and find employment in the 
fisheries ; while Devonshire House Avould repudiate for a 
time the huge sirloin, and receiving as a substitute the pon- 
dei'ous tui'bot, Spitallields would exhibit on her frugal board 
salt ling flanked v.'ith potatoes. A salutary taste for fish 
would be created in the inmost recesses of the island, an 
epoch most beneficial to the country would take date from 
that enactment. 

' Omne quiim Proteus pccus egit altos 
Visere montcs.' 

Xor need tlie landlords take alarm. People would not 
plough the ground less because they might plough the deep 
more ; and while smiling Ceres would still walk through 
oiu- isle with her horn of plenty, Thetis would follow in her 
train with a rival cornucopia. 

" Mark the cflects of this observance in Ireland, where 
it continues in its primitive austerity, undiminished, un- 
shorn of its beams. The Irish may be wrong, but the con- 
sequences to Protestant England are immense. To Lent 
you owe the connexion of the two islands ; it is the golden 
link that binds the two kingdoms together. Abolish fasting, 


6ucl from tliat evil hour no beef or pork would be suffered 
by tbe wild natives to go over to your English markets ; and 
the export of provisions would be discontinued by a people 
that had unlearned the lessons of starvation. Adieu to 
shipments of live stock and consignments of bacon ! AVere 
there not some potent mysterious spell over this country, 
think you we should allow the fat of the land to be ever- 
lastingly abstracted ? Let us learn that there is no virtuo 
in Le)it, and repeal is triumphant to-morrow. AVe are in 
truth a most abstemious race. Hence our great superiority 
over our Protestant fellow-countrymen in the jury-box. It 
having been found that they could never hold out against 
hunger as Ave can, when locked up, and that the verdict was 
generally carried by popish obstinacy, former administra- 
tions discountenanced our admission to serve on juries at 
all. By an oversight of Sergeant Lefroy, all this has escaped 
the framers of the new jury bill for Ireland. 

" To return to the Irish exports. The principal item is 
that of pigs. The hog is as essential an inmate of the Irish 
cabin as the Arab steed of the shepherd's tent on the plains 
of Mesopotamia. Both are looked on as part of the house- 
hold ; and the aflectionate manner in which these dumb 
li'iends of the family are treated, here as well as there, is a 
trait of national resemblance, denoting a common origin. 
We are quite oriental in most of our peculiarities. The 
learned Yallancey will have it, that our consanguinity is 
with the Jews. I might elucidate the colonel's discovery, 
by shewing how the pig in Ireland plays the part of the 
scape-goat of the Israelites : he is a sacred thing, gets tlie 
run of the kitchen, is rarely molested, never killed, but alive 
and buoyant leaves the cabin when taken off by the land- 
lord's driver for arrears of rent, and is then shipped clean 
out of the country, to be heard of no more. Indeed, the 
pigs of Ireland bear this notable resemblance to their cou- 
sins of Judea, that nothing can keep them from the sea, — • 
a tendency which strikes all travellers in the interior of the 
island whenever tliey meet our droves of swine precipitating 
themselves towards the outports for shipment. 

" To ordinary observers this forbearance of the most ill-fed 
people on the face of the globe towards their pigs would 
appear inexplicable ; and if you have read the legend of 


Saint Anthony and his pig, you v.!]! understand the value of 
their resistance to temptation. 

" They have a great resource in the potato. This capital, 
esculent grows nowhere in such perfection, not even in. 
America, where it is indigenous. But it has ofteu struck 
me that a great national delinquency has occurred in the 
sad neglect of people in this country towards the memory of 
the great and good man who conferred on us so valuable a 
boon, on his return from the expedition to Virginia. To 
Sir Walter Raleigh no monument has yet been erected, and 
nothing has been done to repair the injustice of his contem- 
poraries. His head has rolled from the scaiFold on Tower 
Hill ; and though he has fed with his discovery more fami- 
lies, and given a greater impulse to population, than any 
other benefactor of mankind, no testimonial exists to com- 
memorate his benefaction. jN^elson has a pillar in Dublin : — 
in the city of Limerick a whole column has been devoted to 
Spring Eice ! ! and the mighty genius of Ealeigh is forgotten. 
I have seen some animals feed under the majestic oak on. 
the acorns that fell from its spreading branches {glande 
sues li^fi), without once looking up to the parent tree that 
showered down blessings on their ungrateful heads." 

Here endeth the " Apology," and so abruptly terminate 
my notes of Prout's Lenten vindicicv. But, alas ! still more 
abrupt Avas the death of this resjiectable divine, Avhich oc- 
curred last month, on Shrove Tuesday. There was a peculiar 
fitness in the manner of .'^Luacreon's exit from this life ; but 
not so in the melancholy termination of Prout's abstemious 
career, an account of which is conveyed to me in a long and 
pathetic letter Irom my agent in Ireland. It was well 
known that he disliked revelry on all occasions ; but if there 
Avas a species of gormandising wliich he more especially 
abhorred, it was that practised in the parisli on pancake- 
night, which he frequently envleavoui'ed to discountenance 
and put down, but unsuccessfully. Oft did he tell his rude 
auditors (for he was a profound Hellenist) that such orgies 
had originated with the heathen Greeks, and had been even 
among them the source of many evils, as the very name 
shewed, crav Ttaxcv ! So it Avould appear, by Prout's etymo- 
logy of the pancake, that in the English language thera 


are many terms whicli answer the descriptiou of Horace, 

' Grseco fonte cadunt parce detorta.' 

Contrary to liis own better taste and sounder judgment, 
he was, however, on last Shrove Tuesday, at a wedding-feast 
of some of my tenantry, induced, from comphacency to the 
newly -married couple, to eat of the profane aliment ; and 
never was the Attic derivation of the pancake more wofuUy 
accomplished than in the sad result — for his condescension 
cost him his life. Tlie indigestible nature of the compost 
itself might not have been so destructive in an ordinary 
case ; but it was quite a stranger and ill at ease in Tather 
Front's stomach : it eventually proved fatal in its efi'ects, 
and hurried him away from this vale of tears, leaving the 
parish a widow, and making orphans of all his parishioners. 
My agent writes that his funeral (or berrinr/, as the Irisli 
call it) was thronged by dense multitudes from the whole 
county, and was as well attended as if it were a monster 
meeting. The whole body of his brother clergy, with the 
bishop as usual in full pontificals, were mourners on the 
occasion ; and a Latin elegy was composed by the most 
learned of the order. Father Magrath, one, like Front, ot 
the old school, who had studied at Florence, and is still a 
correspondent of many learned Societies abroad. That elegy 
I have subjoined, as a record of Front's genuine worth, and 
as a specimen of a kind of poetry called Leonine verse, little 
pultivated at the present day, but greatly in vogue at the 
revival of letters under Leo X. 


Quid juvat m pidchro Sanctos dormirc sepulc/iro ! 

Optimus usque bonos nonne nianebit honus ? 
Plebs teuuiyb.ysrt Pastoris condidit ossa, 

Splendida scd miri mens petit astra viri. 
Porta patens eslo ! cccluui reseretiu* honesto. 

Neve sit a Pe/ro jussus abirc retro. 
Tota malam sortem sibi flet vicinia mortem, 

Ut pro patre sclent undique rura dolent ; 
Sed fui'cs gaudent ; securos hactenus andcnt 

Disturbare grer/e.i, nee mage tua f-er/es. 
Audio sinffulttts, rixas, miserosquo tumultus, 

Et pietas lugef, sobrictasque/dyiV. 


Xamque furoi-e brevi liquidaquc ardentis aijude vi 

Autiquus Nicholas perdidit ayricolas. 
Jam patre defuncto, meliores lliunine cuncto 

Laetantur pisces obtinuisse vices. 
Exiiltans almo, loetare sub a;quore salmo > 

Carpe, o carpe dies, uam tibi pai-ta quies ! 
Gaudcnt anguillo', quia tandem est moi'tuus ille. 

Presbyter Andreas, qui capiebat eas. 
Petro piscator placuit plus artis amator, 

Cui, propter mores, pandit utrosque/ores. 
Cur laclu'yma/«/n(s justi comitabitur unus? 

Flendum est non tali, sed bene morte mali : 
Munera nunc Florce spargo. Sic llebile rore 

Florescat gramen. Pace quiescat. Amen. 

Sweet upland ! where, like hermit old, in peace sojouru'a 

This priest devout ; 
Mark where beneath thy verdant sod lie deep inui-n'd 

The bones of Prout ! 
Xor deck with monumental shi'iuc or tapering column 

His place of rest, 
"Mliose soul, above earth's homage, meek yet solemn, 

Sits mid the blest, 
iluch was he prized, much loved ; his stern rebuke 

O'erawed sheep-stealers ; 
And rogues fear'd more the good man's single look 

Than forty Peelers. 
He's gone ; and discord soon I ween will visit 

The laud with quarrels ; 
And the foul demon vex witli stills illicit 

Tlie village morals. 
No fatal chance could happen more to cross 

The pubhc wishes ; 
And all the neighboiu-liood deplore his loss, 

Except the fishes ; 
For he kept Lent most strict, and pickled hcrrmg 

Preferred to gammon. 
Grim Death has broke liis angling-rod ; liis herring 

Delights the salmon. 
No more can he hook up carp, ccl, or trout, 

For fasting pittance, — 
Ai'ts wliich Saint Peter loved, whoso gate to Prout 

Gave prompt admittance. 
Mom-n not, but verdantly let shamrocks keep 

His sainted dust ; 
The bad man's death it well becomes to weep,— 

Not so tJio just. 


No. 11. 


" Bcsrare, beware 
Of tlie black Mar, 
Who sittetli by jS^orman stone : 
For he mutters his prayer 
lu the midnight au', 
And liis mass of the days that are gone." 


SixcE the publication of tliis •wortliy man's " Apology for 
Lent," ■which, with some account of his lamented death and 
Avell-attended funeral, appeared in our last Kumher, we have 
written to his executors — (one of whom is Father Mat. Hor- 
rogan, P. P. of the neighbouring village of Blarney ; and the 
other, our elegiac poet, Father Magrath) — in the hope of 
being able to negotiate for the valuable posthumous essays 
and fugitive pieces which we doubted not had been left 
behind in great abundance by the deceased. These two dis- 
interested divines — fit associates and bosom-companions of 
Prout during his lifetime, and whom, from their joint letters, 
Ave should think eminently qualified to pick up the fallen 
mantle of the departed propliet — have, in the most hand- 
some manner, promised us all the literary and philosophic 
treatises bequeatlied to tliem by the late incumbent of 
"Watergrasshill ; expressing, in the very complimentary note 
which they have transmitted us, and which our modesty 
prevents us from inserting, their thanks and that of the 
whole parish, for our sympathy and condolence on this melan- 
choly bereavement, and intimating at the same time their 
regret at not being able to send us also, for our private 
perusal, the collection of the good father's parochial ser- 
mons ; the whole of which (a most valuable MS.) had been 
taken oft" for his own use by the bishop, whom he had 
made his residuary legatee. These " sermons" must be 


doubtless good tilings in tlieir way — a theological /xf^a 
^c.y/Aa — well adapted to swell tlie episcopal Hbrary ; but 
as we confessedly are, and suspect our readers likewise to be, 
a very improper multitude amongst whom to scatter such 
pearls, we shall console ourselves for that sacrifice by plung- 
ing head and ears into the abundant sources of intellectual 
refreshment to which we shall soon have access, and from 
Avhich Erank Creswell, lucky dog ! has drawn such a draught 
of inspiration. 

" Sacros ausus recludere fontes !" 

for assuredly we may defy any one that has perused Front's 
vindication of fish-diet (and ivho, we ask, has 7iot read it con 
amore, conning it over with secret glee, and forthwith calling 
out for a red-herring ?), not to prefer its simple unsophisti- 
cated eloquence to the oration of Tally _^j/'o Domo sua, or 
Barclay's '• Apology for Quakers." After all, it may have 
been but a sprat to catch a whale, and the whole affair may 
turn out to be a Popish contrivance ; but if so, Ave have 
taken the bait ourselves : we have been, like Festus, " almost 
persuaded," and Prout has Avi'ought in us a sbrt of culinary 
conversion. "Why should we be ashamed to avow that we 
have been edified by the good man's blunt and straight- 
forward logic, and drawn from his theories on fish a higher 
and more moral impression tlian from the dreamy visions of 
an " English Opium-eater," or any other " Confessions " of 
sensualism and gastroiaomy. If this " black friar " has got 
smuggled in among our contributors, like King Saul among 
the regular votaries of the sanctuary, it must be admitted 
that, like the royal intruder, he has caught the tone and 
chimed iu with the general harmony of our political opinions 
— no Whigling among true Tories, no goose among swans. 
Arf/utos inter strepere anser olores. 

How we long to get possession of *' the Prout Papers!" that 
chest of learned lumber which haunts our nightly visions ! 
Already, in imagination, it is within our grasp ; our greedy 
hand hastily its lid 

" Unlocks, 
And all Arcatlia bivathes from yonder box !" 

In this prolific ago, when the most inilettered dolt can 
find a mare's nest iu the domain of philosophy, why should 


uot we also cry, 'E-jir//.u!JAv ! How mucli of novelty in his 
views ! how much embryo discovery must not Prout unfold ! 
It were indeed a pity to consign the writings of so eminent 
a scholar to oblivion : nor ought it be said, in scriptural 
phi'ase, of him, what is, alas ! applicable to so many other 
learned divines when they are dead, that " their works have 
followed them." Such Avas the case of that laborious Trench 
clergj-man, the Abbe Trublet, of whom Voltaire profanely 
sings : 

" L'Abbe TruLlet ecrit, le Lethe sur ses rives 
Ro9oit avec plaisir ses feuilles fugitives !" 

"Wniich epigram hath a recondite meaning, not obvious to the 
reader on a first perusal ; and being interpreted into plain 
English, for the use of the London University, it may run 
thus : 

" Lardner compiles — kind Lethe on her bants 
Receives the doctor's useful page with thanks." 

Such may be the fate of Lardner and of Trublet, such the 
idtimate destiny that awaits their literary labours ; but 
neither men, nor gods, nor our columns (those graceful pil- 
lars that support the Muses' temple), shall sutler this old 
priest to remain in the unmerited obscurity from which Frank 
Cresswell first essayed to draw him. To that young barrister 
we have written, -ndth a request that he would furnish us .with 
further details concerning Prout, and, if possible, a few 
additional specimens of his colloquial wisdom ; reminding 
him that modern taste has a decided tendency towards il- 
lustrious private gossip, and recommending to him, as a 
Bublime model of the dramatico-biographic style, my Lady 
Blessington's " Conversations of Lord Byron." How far he 
has succeeded in following the ignis fatuus of her ladyship's 
lantern, and how many bogs he has got immerged in because 
of the dangerous hint, which we gave him in an edl hour, 
the judicioiis reader vrill soon find out. Here is the com- 
munication OLIYEE TOEKE 


FurnivaVs Inn, April 14. 

AcKNOWLEDQixG the receipt of your gracious mandate, 
O Queen of Periodicals ! and kissing the top of your ivory 
Bceptre, may I be allowed to express uublamed my utter 
devotion to your orders, in the language of ^olus, quondam 
ruler of the ^vinds : 

' Tivcis, O Regijta, quid optes 

Esplorare labor, milii jussa capessere fas est!" 

■without concealing, at the same time, my Tvonderment, and 
that of many other sober individuals, at your patronising the 
advocacy of doctrines and usages belonging exclusively to 
another and far less reputable Queen (quean ?) whom I shall 
have sufficiently designated when I menicion that she sits upon 
seven hills ! — in stating which singular phenomenon con- 
cerning her, I need not add that her fundamental maxims 
must be totally different from yours. Many orthodox people 
cannot understand how you could have reconciled it to your 
conscience to publish, in its crude state, that Apology for 
Lent, without adding note or comment in refutation of such 
dangerous doctrines ; and are still more amazed that a Popish 
parish priest, from the wild Irish hills, could have got among 
your contributors — 

" Claimed kindi'cd there, and hare that claim allowed." 

It will, however, no doubt, give you pleasure to learn, that 
you have established a lasting popularity among that learned 
set of men the fishmongers, who are never scaly of theip 
support when deserved ; for, by a unanimous vote of the 
" worshipful company " last meeting-day, the marble bust of 
Father Prout, crowned with sea-weeds like a Triton, is to 
be placed in a conspicuous part of their new hall at London 
Bridge. But as it is the hardest thing imaginable to please 
all parties, your triumph is rendered incomplete by the 
grumbling of another not less respectable portion of the 
community. By your proposal for the non-consumption of 
butchers' meat, you have given mortal oftence to tlie dealers 
in horned cattle, and stinrd up a nest of hornets in Smitli- 
field. In your ]ierambulatious of the metropolis, go not into 
tlie bucolic purlieus of that dangerous district; beware of 
the enemy's camp ; tempt not the ire of men armed with 


cold steel, else the long-dormant fires of that land celebrated 
in every age as a tierra del fuego may be yet rekindled, and 
made "red with uncommon wrath," for your especial roast- 
ing. Lord Althorp is no warm friend of yours ; and by 
your making what he calls " a most unprovoked attack on 
the graziers," you have not propitiated the winner of the 
prize ox. 

" Foenum habet in comu, — bunc tu, Eomane, careto !" 

In vain would you seek to cajole the worthy chancellor of 
his IMajesty's unfortunate exchequer, by the desu-able pros- 
pect of a net revenue from the ocean : you will make no im- 
pression. His mind is not accessible to any reasoning on 
that subject ; and, like the shield of Telamon, it is wrapt in 
the impenetrable folds of seven tough bull-hides. 

Eut eliminating at once these insignificant topics, and 
setting aside all minor things, let me address myself to the 
grand subject of my adoption. Verily, since the days of 
that ornament of the priesthood and pride of Venice, Pather 
Paul, no divine has shed such lustre on the Church of Eome 
as Father Prout. His brain was a storehouse of inexhaustible 
knowledge, and his memory a bazaar, in which the intel- 
lectual riches of past ages were classified and arranged in 
marvellous and brilliant assortment. "When, by the libe- 
rality of his executor, you shall have been put in possession 
of his writings and posthumous papers, you will find I do 
not exaggerate ; for though his mere conversation was 
always instructive, still, the pen in his hand, more potent 
than the wand of IProspero, embellished every subject with 
an aerial charm ; and whatever department of literature it 
touched on, it was sure to illuminate and adorn, from the 
lightest and most ephemeral matters of the day, to the 
deepest and most abstruse problems of metaphysical inquiry ; 
vigorous and philosophical, at the same time that it is minute 
and playful ; having no parallel unless we liken it to the 
proboscis of an elephant, that can with equal ease shift an 
obelisk and crack a nut. 

jSTor did he confine himself to prose. He was a chosen 
favourite of the nine sisters, and flirted openly with them 
all, his vow of celibacy preventing his forming a permanent 
alliance with one alone. Hence pastoral poetry, elegy, soa- 


nets, and still grander effusions in the best style of Bob 
Montgomery, flowed from his muse in abundance ; but, I 
must confess, his peculiar forte lay in the Pindaric. Be.^ 
sides, he indulged copiously in Grreek and Latin versifica- 
tion, as well as in French, Italian, and High Dutch; oi 
which accomplishments I happen to possess some fijie spe- 
cimens from his pen ; and before I terminate this paper, I 
mean to introduce them to the benevolent notice of the 
candid reader. By these you -will find, that the Doric reed 
of Theocritus was to him but an ordinary sylvan pipe — that 
the lyre of Anacreon was as familiar to him as the German 
flute — and that he played as well on the classic chords of 
the bard of Mantua as on the Cremona fiddle ; at all events, 
he will prove far superior as a poet to the covey of unfledged 
rhymers who nestle in annuals and magazines. Sad abor- 
tions ! on which even you, Queen, sometimes take com- 
passion, infusing into them a life 

"Which did not you prolong, 
The world had wanted many an idle song." 

To return to his conversational powers : he did not waste 
them on the generality of folks, for he despised the vulgar 
herd of Corkonians with whom it was his lot to mingle ; 
but when he was sure of a friendly circle, he broke out in 
resplendent style, often humorous, at times critical, occa- 
sionally profound, and always interesting. Inexhaustible in 
his means of illustration, bis fancy was an nnwasted mine, 
into which you had but to sink a shaft, and you were sure 
of eliciting the finest ore, Avhich came forth stamped with 
the impress of genius, and fit to cumulate among the most 
cultivated auditory : for though the mint of his brain now 
and then would issue a stivange and fantastic coinage, ster- 
ling sense was sure to give it value, and ready wit to pro- 
mote its currency. The rubbish and dust of the schools 
with Avhich his notions were sometimes incrusted did not 
alter their intrinsic worth ; people only wondered how the 
diaphanou mind of Prout could be obscured by such com- 
mon stuff": its brightness was still undiminished by the 
admixture ; and like straws in amber, without deteriorating 
the substance, these matters only made manifest its trans- 
parency. Whenever he undertook to illustrate any subject 


worthy of him, he was always felicitous. I shall give you 
an instance. 

There stands on the borders of his parish, near the village 
of Blarney, an old castle of tlie M'Carthy family, rising 
abruptly from a bold cliff, at the foot of which rolls a not 
inconsiderable stream — the fond and frequent witness of 
Front's angling propensities. The well-wooded demesne, 
comprising an extensive lake, a romantic cavern, and an 
artificial \valderness of rocks, belongs to the family of Jef- 
fereys, which boasts in the Dowager Countess Glengall a 
most distinguished scion ; her ladyship's mother having 
been immortalised under the title of '• Lady Jefiers," with 
the other natural curiosities produced by this celebrated 
spot, in that never-sufl&ciently -to-be-encored song, the Groves 
of Blarney. But neither the stream, nor the lake, nor the 
castle, nor the village (a sad ruin ! which, but for the recent 
establishment of a spinning-factory by some patriotic Cork- 
onian, would be swept away altogether, or possessed by the 
owls as a grant from Sultan ]Mahmoud) ; — none of these 
picturesque objects has earned such notoriety for '•' the 
Groves" as a certain stone, of a basaltic kind, rather unusual 
in the district, placed on the pinnacle of the main tower, 
and endowed -with the property of communicating to the 
happy tongue that comes in contact with its polished sui'face 
the gift of gentle insinuating speech, with soft talk in all its 
ramifications, whether employed in vows and promises light 
as air, srsa crrsjosira, such as lead captive the female heart ; 
or elaborate mystification of a grosser grain, such as may 
do for the House of Commons ; all summed up and charac- 
terised by the mysterious term Blarney.* 

Front's theory on this subject might have remained dor- 

* To Crofton Croker belongs the merit of ehicidating this obscure 
tradition. It appears that in 1602, -when the Spaniai'ds -n-ere exciting 
our chieftains to harass the EngUsh authorities, Cormac M'Derraot 
Carthy held, among other dependencies, tlie castle of Blarney, and had 
concluded an armistice with the lord-president, on condition of sun o-. 
dering this for^. to an English garrison. Day after day did his lordshiH 
look for the fulfilment of the conijiact ; while tlie Irish Pozzo di Boi'qo, 
as loatli to part with his stronghold as Kussia to reUnquish the D»r- 
danelles, kept protocolising with soft promises and delusive delays, 
imtn at last Carew became the laughing-stock of Elizabeth's ministers, 
ond ^^ Blarney talk" proverbial. 

s 2 


uiant for ages, and perhaps been ultimately lost to tli& 
world at large, were it not for an event which occurred in 
ite summer of 1825, while I (a younker then) happened to 
be on that visit to my aunt at Watergrasshill which even- 
tually secured me her inheritance. The occurrence I am 
about to commemorate was, in truth, one of the first mag- 
nitude, and well calculated, from its importance, to form an, 
epoch in the Annals of the Parish. It was the arrival of 
SiE Walter Scott at Blarney, towards the end of the 
month of July. 

Years have now rolled away, and the " Ariosto of the 
North " is dead, and our ancient constitution has since 
fallen under the hoofs of the Whigs ; quenched is many a 
beacon-light in church and state — Prout himself is no more ; 
and plentiful indications tell us we are come upon evil days .- 
but still may I be allowed to feel a pleasurable, though 
somewhat saddened emotion, while I revert to that intellec- 
tual meeting, and bid memory go back in " dream sublime" 
to the glorious exhibition of Prout's mental powers. It 
was, in sooth, a great day for old Ireland ; a greater still 
for Blarney ; but, greatest of all, it dawned, Prout, on thee ! 
Then it was that thy light was taken from under its sacer- 
dotal bushel, and placed conspicuously before a man fit to 
appreciate the eftulgence of so brilliant a luminary — a light 
which I, v/ho pen tliese words in soxtow, alas ! shall never 
gaze on more ! a light 

" That ne'er shall shine again 
On. Blarney's stream !" 

That day it illumined the " cave," the " shady walks," and 
tlie " sweet rock-close," and sent its gladdening beam into 
the gloomiest vaults of the ancient fort ; for all the recon- 
dite recesses of the castle were explored in succession by 
•the distinguished poet and the learned priest, and Prout 
held a candle to Scott. 

We read with interest, in tlie liistorian Polybius, the 
account of Hannibal's interview with Scipio on tlie plains 
of Zama ; and often have we, in our school-boy days of 
unsophisticated feeling, sympathised with Ovid, when he 
told us that he only got a glimpse of Virgil ; but Scott 
basked for a whole summer's day in the blaze of Pi'out's 


wit, and witnessed the coruscations of his learning. The 
great Marius is said never to have appeared to such advan- 
tage as when seated on the ruins of Carthage : with equal 
dignity Prout sat on the Blarney stone, amid ruina of kin- 
dred glory. Zeno taught in the " porch ;" Plato loved to 
muse alone on the bold jutting promontory of Cape Sunium ; 
Socrates, bent on finding Truth, " hi sj/lvis Aeademi qimt'ere 
verum,'' sought her among the bowers of Academus ; Prout 
coui'ted the same coy nymph, and wooed her in the " groves 
of Blarney." 

I said that it was in the summer of 1825 that Sir "Walter 
Scott, in the progress of his tour through Ireland, reached 
Cork, and forthwith intimated his wish to proceed at once 
on a visit to Blarney Castle. For him the noble river, the 
magnificent estuary, and unrivalled harbour of a city that 
proudly bears on her ci^^c escutcheon the well-applied 
motto, " Statio bene jida carinis,^^ had but little attraction 
when placed in competition with a spot sacred to the IMuses, 
and wedded to immortal verse. Such was the interest which 
its connexion with the popular literatiu'e and traditionary 
stories of the country had excited in that master-mind — 
such the predominance of its local reminiscences — such the 
transcendent influence of song ! For this did the then 
" Great Unknown " wend his way through the purlieus of 
" Golden Spur," traversing the great manufacturing faux- 
bourg of " Black Pool," and emerging by the " Eed Forge ;" 
so intent on the classic object of his pursuit, as to disregard 
the unpromising aspect of the vestibule by which alone it is 
approachable. Many are the splendid mansions and hospi- 
table halls that stud the suburbs of the "beautiful city," 
each boasting its grassy lawn and placid lake, each decked 
with park and woodland, and each well furnished with that 
paramount appendage, a batterie de cuisine ; but all these 
castles were passed unheeded by, carent quia valesacro. Gor- 
geous residences, picturesque seats, magnificent villas, they 
be, uo doubt ; but unknown to literature, in vain do they 
plume themselves on their architectural beauty ; in vain do 
they spread wide their well-proportioned rwiwys — they cannot 
soar aloft to the regions of celebrity. 

On the eve of that memorable day I was sitting on a 
stool in tlie priest's parlour, poking the turf fire, whi/e 


Prout, "wlio .bad been angling all day, sat nodding over ids 
" breviary^'' and, according to my calculation, ougbt to be 
at tbe last psalm of vespers, wben a loud official knock, not 
usual on tbat bleak hill, bespoke the presence of no ordi- 
nary personage. Accordingly, the " wicket, opening with a 
latch," ushered in a messenger clad in the livery of the 
ancient and loyal corporation of Cork, who announced him- 
self as the bearer of a despatch from the mansion-house 
to his reverence ; and, handing it with that deferential awe 
which even his masters felt for the incumbent of Water- 
grasshill, immediately vrithdrew. The letter ran thus : — 

Council Chamber, July 24, 1825. 

Yest Eeteee^'d Doctoe Peout, 

Cork harbours within its walls the illustrious autlioi' 
of Waverley. On receiving the freedom of our ancient city, 
which we presented to him (as usual towards distinguished 
strangers) in a box carved out of a chip of the Blarney 
stone, he expressed his determination to visit the old block 
itself. As he will, therefore, be in yoiu' neighbourhood to- 
morrow, and as no one is better able to do the honours than 
you (our burgesses being sadly deficient in learning, as you 
and I well know), your attendance on the celebrated poet is 
requested by your old friend and foster-brother, 

GrEOEGE Knapp,* Mayor. 

* The republic of letters has great reason to complain of Dr. llaginii, 
for liis non-fulfilment of a positive pledge to publish " a great historical 
•work" on the mayors of Cork. Owing to this desideratum m the 
annals of the empire, I am compelled to bring into notice thus abruptly 
tlie most respectable civic -worthy that lias worn the cocked }iat and 
chain since the days of John Walters, wlio boldly proclaimed Perkiu 
Warbeck, in the reign of Henry TIT., in the market-place of that beau- 
tiful city. Knapp's virtues and talents thd not, like those of Donna 
Ines, dcsei-ve to be called 

" Classic all, 
Ifor lay they chiefly in the mathematical," 

for his favourite pm-suit during the canicule of 1825, was the extermi- 
nation of mad dogs ; and so vigorously did he lU'gc the carnage during 
the summer of his mayoralty, that some thought he wished to eclipse 
the exploit of St. Patrick in destroying the breed altogether, as the 
saiut did that of toads. A Cork poet, the laureate of the mansion- 


Never shall I forget the beam of triumph that lit up 
the old man's features on the perusal of Knapp's pithy- 
summons; and right warmly did he respond to my congra- 
tiilations on the prospect of thus coming in contact with so 
chstinguished an author. " Ton are right, child !" said he ; 
and as I perceived by his manner that he was about to enter 
on one of those rambling trains of thought — half-homily, 
half- soliloquy — in which he was wont to indulge, I settled 
myself by the fire-place, and prepared to go througii my 
accustomed part of an attentive listener. 

" A great man, Frank ! A truly great man ! No token 
of ancient days escapes his eagle glance, no venerable memo- 
rial of former times his observant scrutiny ; and still, even 
he, versed as he is in the monumentary remains of bygone 
ages, may yet learn something more, and have no cause to 
regret his visit to Blarney. Yes ! since our 'groves' are to 
be honoured by the presence of the learned baronet, 

' SylvsD sint consule cTignEc !' 

let us make them deserving of his attention. He shall fis 
his antiquarian eye and rivet his wondering gaze on the 
rude basaltic mass that crowns the battlements of the main 
tower ; for though he may have seen the " chair at Scone," 
where the Caledonian kings were crowned ; though he may 
have examined that Scotch pebble in Westminster Abbey, 
which the Cockneys, in the exercise of a delightful credu- 
lity, believe to be " Jacob's pillow ;" though he may have 
visited the mi^hapen pillars on Salisbury plain, and the 
Eock of Cashel, and the " Hag's Bed," and St. Kevin's 
petrified matelas at Glendalough, and macy a cromlech of 
Druidical celebrity, — there is a stone yet unexplored, which 
he shall contemplate to-morrow, and place on record among 
his most profitable days that on which he shall have paid it 
homage : 

' Huuc, Macrine, diem numera meliore lapillo !' 
" I am old, Frank. In my wild youth I have seen many 

house, has celebrated Knapp's piowess in a didactic composition, en- 
titled Dog-Killing, a Poem ; in wliich the mayor is likened to Apollo it 
the Grecian camp before Troy, in the opening of the Iliad: — 
Avrap jSov^ vpiorcv tip' wkito kui Kvvai- Ajiyoys;. 


of the celebrated ASTiters that adorued the decline of the 
last century, and shed a lustre over France, too soon eclipsed 
in blood at its sanguinary close. I have conversed \vith 
Buftbn and 'ndth Fontenelle, and held intercourse with 
Nature's simplest child, Bernardin de St. Pierre, author of 
' Paul and Virginia ;' Gresset and Marmontel were my 
college-friends ; and to me, though a frequenter of the haUs 
of Sorbonne, the octogenaire of Ferney was not unknown : 
nor was I unacquainted with the recluse of Ermenonville. 
Eut what are the souvenirs of a single period, however bril- 
liant and interesting, to the recollections of full seven cen- 
turies of historic glory, all condensed and concentrated in 
Scott ? "What a host of personages does his name coujui-e 
up ! what mighty shades mingle in the throng of attendant 
Sieroes that wait his bidding, and form his appropriate 
retinue ! Cromwell, Claverhouse, and Montrose ; Saladin, 
Front de Boeuf, and Coeur de Lion ; Bob Eoy, Eobiu Hood, 
and Marmion; those who fell at Culloden and Floddeu- 
Field, and those who won the day at Bannockburn, — all 
start up at the presence of the Enchanter. I speak not of 
iis female forms of surpassing loveliness — his Flora M'lvor, 
his Eebecca, his Amy Kobsart : these you, Frank, can best 
admire. But I know not how I shall divest myself of a 
secret awe when the wizard, with all his spells, shall rise 
before me. The presence of my old foster-brother, George 
Knapp, will doubtless tend to dissipate the illusion ; but if 
so it will be by 'personifying the Baillie j!sicol Jarvie of 
Glasgow, his worthy prototype. Nor are Scott's merits 
those simply of a pleasing novelist or a spirit-stirring poet ; 
his ' Life of Dryden,' his valuable commentaries on Swift, 
his researches in the dark domain of demonology, his bio- 
graphy of Napoleon, and the sterling views of European 
policy developed in 'Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk,' all 
contribute to enhance his literary pre-eminence. Kightly 
has Silius Italicus depicted the Carthaginian hero, sur- 
rounded even in solitude by a thousand recollections of well- 
earned renown — 

' Nee crcdis incrmem 
Qiiem mihi tot oinxcrc duces : si adiiiovcris ora, 
Cannas ct Trebiam ante oculos, Eomauaqiic busts, 
Et PauU stare ingentem ruii-abcris unibrara !" 


Yet, greatly and deservedly as be is prized by bis contempo- 
raries, future ages will A'alue bim even more : and bis laurel, 
ever extending its brancbes, and growing in secret like the 
' fame of Marcellus,' will oversbadow the eartb. Posterity 
will canonise bis every relic ; and bis footsteps, even in tbis 
remote district, will be one day traced and sougbt for by tbe 
admirers of genius. Eor, notwithstanding tbe breadth and 
brilliancy of effect with which be waved tbe torch of mind 
while living, far purer and more serene will be the lamp 
that shall glimmer in bis tomb and keep vigil over his hal- 
lowed ashes : to that fount of inspiration other and minor 
spirits, eager to career through tbe same orbit of glory, will 
recur, and 

' In their golden irms draw light.' 
Xor do I merely look on him as a 'writer who, by the blan- 
dishment of his narrative and the witchery, of his style, has 
calmed more sorrow, and caused more happy hours to flow, 
than any save a higher and a holier page, — a writer who, 
like the autumnal meteor of bis own North, has illumined 
the dull horizon of these latter days with a fancy ever varied 
and radiant with joy fulness, — one who, for useful purposes, 
has interwoven the plain warp of history with the many- 
coloured web of his own romantic loom ; — but further do I 
hail in bim the genius who has rendered good and true 
service to the cause of mankind, by driving forth from tbe 
temple of Eeligion, with sarcasm's knotted lash, that canting 
puritanic tribe who would obliterate from the book of life 
every earthly enjoyment, and change all its paths of peace 
into walks of bitterness. I honour him for bis efforts to 
demolish the pestilent influence of a sour and sulky system 
that would interpose itself between the gospel sun and the 
world — that retains no heat, imbibes no light, and transmits 
none ; but flings its broad, cold, and disastrous shadow over 
the land that is cursed with its visitation. 

" The excrescences and superfoetations of my own church 
most freely do I yield np to his censure ; for while in bis 
Abbot Boniface, his Triar Tuck, and bis intriguing Easb- 
leigh, be lias justly stigmatised monastic lazmess, and de- 
nounced ultramontane duplicity, be has not forgotten to 
exhibit tbe bright reverse of the Eomau medal, but has done 
full measure of justice to the nobler inspirations of our 


creed, bodied forth in Mary Stuart, Hugo de Lacy, Cathe- 
rine Seaton, Die Yernou, and Eose de Bt'ranger. Nay, even 
in his fictions of cloistered life, among the drones of that 
ignoble crowd, he has drawn minds of another sphere, and 
spirits whose ingenuous nature and piety unfeigned were 
not worthy of this world's deceitful intercourse, but fitted 
them to commune in solitude with Heaven. 

'* Such are the impressions, and such the mood of mind in 
which I shall accost the illustrious visitor ; and you, Frank, 
shall accompany me on this occasion." 

Accordingly, the next morning found Front, punctual to 
Knapp's summons, at his appointed post on the top of the 
castle, keeping a keen look-out for the arrival of Sir Walter. 
He came, at length, up the " laurel avenue," so called from 
the gigantic laurels that overhang the path, 

" Which bowed, 
As if each brought a new classic wreath to his head ;" 

and alighting at the castle-gate, supported by Knapp, he 
toiled up the winding stairs as well as his lameness would 
permit, and stood at last, with all his fame around liim, in 
the presence of Front. The form of mutual introduction 
Avas managed by Knapp with his usual tact and urbanity ; 
and the first interchange of thoughts soon convinced Scott 
that he had lit on no " clod of the valley " in the priest. 
The confabulation wliich ensued may remind you of the 
"Tusculanae Qusestiones" of TuUy, or the dialogues "Do 
Oratore," or of Home Tooke's " Diversions of Purley," or of 
all three together. La void. 


I congratulate myself, reverend fiither, on the prospect of 
having so experienced a guide in exploring the wonders of 
this celebrated spot. Indeed, I am so far a member of your 
communion, that I take delight in pilgrimages ; and you be- 
hold in me a pilgrim to the Blarney stone. 


I accept the guidance of so sincere a devotee ; nor has a 
more accomplished palmer ever worn scrip, or staif, or 
scollop-shell, in my recollection ; nay, more — right honoui-ed 
shall the pastor of the neighbouring upland feel in aflbrdiug 


shelter and hospitality, such as every pi.grim has claim to, 
if the penitent will deign visit my humble dwelHug. 


My vow forbids ! I must not think of bodily refresh- 
ment, or any such profane solicitudes, until I go through 
the solemn rounds of my devotional career — until I kiss 
" the stone," and explore the " cave where no. daylight 
enters," the "fracture in the battlement," the "lake well 
stored with fishes," and, finally, "the sweet rock-close." 


All these shall you duly contemplate when you shall have- 
rested from the fatigue of climbing to this lofty eminence, 
whence, seated on these battlements, you can command a 
landscape fit to repay the toil of the most laborious pere- 
grination ; in truth, if the ancient observance were not 
sufliciently vindicated by your example to-day, I should 
have thought it my duty to take up the gauntlet for that 
much-abused set of men, the pilgrims of olden time. 


In all cases of initiation to any solemn rites, such as I am 
about to enter on, it is customary to give an introductory 
lecture to the neophyte ; and as you seem disposed to 
enlighten ns with a preamble, you have got, reverend father, 
in me a most docile auditor. 


There is a work. Sir "Walter, with which I presume you 
are not unacquainted, which forcibly and beautifully por- 
trays the honest fervour of our forefathers in their untu- 
tored views of Christianity : but if the " Tales of the 
Crusaders " count among their dramatis perso7i(B the mitred 
prelate, the cowled hermit, the croziered abbot, and the 
gallant templar, strange mixture of daring and devotion, — 
far do I prefer the sketch of that peculiar creation of Catho- 
licity and romance, the penitent imder solemn vow, who 
comes do\\Ti from Thabor or from Lebanon to, embark for 
Europe : and who in rude garb and with uushodden feefc 
will return to his native plains of I-i'.nguedoc or Lombardy, 

•i4i TATnEE pkotjt's eeliques. 

displaying with pride the emblem of Palestine, and realising 
what Virgil only dreamt of — 

" Pi'imus Iclumseas referam tibi, Mantua, palmas !" 

But I am wrong in saying that pilgrimages belong exclu- 
sively to our most ancient form of Christianity, or that the 
patent for this practice appertains to reKgion at all. It is 
the simplest dictate of our nature, though piety has conse- 
crated the practice, and marked it for her own. Patriotism, 
poetry, philanthropy, all the arts, and all the finer feelings, 
have their pilgrimages, their hallowed spots of intense in- 
terest, their haunts of fancy and of inspiration. It is 
the first impulse of every genuine affection, the tendency 
of the heart in its fervent youthhood ; and nothing but the 
cold scepticism of an age which Edmund Burke so truly 
designated as that of calculators and economists, could scoff 
;xt the enthusiasm that feeds on ruins such as these, that 
visits with emotion the battle-field and the ivied abbey, or 
Shakespeare's grave, or Galileo's cell, or Eunnymede, or 

Filial afliection has had its pilgrim in Telemaehus ; gene- 
rous and devoted loyalty in Blondel, the best of trouba- 
dours ; Bruce, Belzoni, and Humboldt, were pilgrims of 
science ; and John Howard was the sublime pilgrim of 

Actuated by a sacred feeling, the son of Ulysses visited 
every isle and inhospitable shore of the boisterous ^gean, 
until a father clasped him in his arms ; — propelled by an 
equally absorbing attachment, the faithful minstrel of Coeur 
de Lion sang before every feudal castle in Germany, until 
at last a dungeon-keep gave back the responsive echo of 
'' O Richard ! mon roj/ .'" If Belzoni died toilworn and 
dissatisfied — if Baron Humboldt is still plodding his course 
through the South American peninsida, or wafted on the 
bosom of the Pacific — it is because the domain of science is 
infinite, and her votaries must never rest : 

" For there are wanderers o'er eternity, 
"VV^aose bark goes on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be !" 

But when Howard explored the secrets of every prison- 
liouse in Europe, perforuiing that which Burke classically 
described as " a circumnavigation of charity •" nay, when, 


on a still holier errand, three eastern sages came from the 
boundaries of the earth to do homage to a cradle ; think ye 
not that in theirs, as in every pilgrim's progress, a light 
unseen to others shone on the path before them ? derived 
they not untiring vigour from the exalted nature of their 
pursuit, felt they not " a pinion lifting every limb ?" Such 
are the feelings which Tasso beautifully describes when he 
brings his heroes within view of Sion : 

" Al grand piacer clie quella prima vista 
Dolcemente spiro, nell' altrui petto, 
Alta contrizion successe, mista 
Di timoroso e riverente aifetto. 
Osano appena d' innalzar la vista 
Ver la citta, di Cristo albergo eletto, 
Dove mori, dove sepolto fue, 
Dove poi rivestx le membra sue !" 

Canto III. 

I need not tell you, Sir "Walter, that the father of history, 
previous to taking up the pen of Clio, explored every monu- 
ment of Upper Egypt ; or that Herodotus had been pre- 
ceded by Homer, and followed by Pythagoras, in this philo- 
sophic pilgrimage ; that Athens and Corinth were the 
favourite resorts of the Eoman literati, Sylla, Lucullus, and 
Mecaenas, when no longer the seats of empire ; and that 
Eome itself is, in its turn, become as well the haunt of the 
antiquarian as the poet, and the painter, and the Christian 
pilgrim ; for dull indeed would that man be, duller than the 
stagnant weed that vegetates on Lethe's shore, who again 
would put the exploded interrogatory, once fallen, not in- 
aptly, from the mouth of a clown — 

" Quse tanta fait Komam tibi causa videndi ?" 

I mean not to deny that there exist vulgar minds and souls 
without refinement, whose perceptions are of that stunted 
nature that they can see nothing in the " pass of Thermo- 
pyla)" but a gap for cattle ; in the " Forum" but a cow- 
yard ; and for whom St. Helena itself is but a barren rock : 
but, thank Heaven ! wo are not all yet come to that unen- 
viable stage of utilitarian philosophy ; and there is still some 
hope left for the IMuses' haunts, when he of Abbotsford 
blushes not to visit the castle, the stone, and the groves of 


Nor is he unsupported in tlie indulgence of this classic 
fancy ; for there exists another pilgrim, despite of modern 
cavils, who keeps up the credit of the profession — a way- 
ward childe, whose restless spirit has long since spurned 
the solemn dulness of conventional life, preferring to hold 
intercourse with the mountain-top and the oeean-hrink: 
Ida and Salamis "are to him companionship;" and every 
broken shaft, prostrate capital, and marble fragment of that 
sunny land, tells its tale of other days to a fitting listener in 
Harold : for him Etruria is a teeming soil, and the spirit of 
song haunts Eavenna and Parthenope : for him 

" There is a tomb in Ai-qua," 

which to the stolid peasant that wends his away along the 
Euganeian hills is mute indeed as the grave, nor breathes 
the name of its indweller ; but a voice breaks forth from 
the mausoleum at the passage of Byron, the ashes of Pe- 
trarch grow warm in their marble bed, and the last wish of 
the poet in his " Legacy" is accomplished: 

" Then if some bard, -who roams forsaten, 

Shall touch on thy cords in passing along, 
O may one thought of its master waken 
The sweetest smile for the Childe of Sonff .'" 

Proud and flattered as I must feel, most learned 
divine ! to be classified with Herodotus, Pythagoras, Bel- 
zoni, Bruce, and Byron, I fear much that I am but a sorry 
sort of pilgrim, after all. Indeed, an eminent ^va'iter of 
your church has laid it down as a maxim, which I suspect 
applies to my case, " Qui multiim peregrinantur rar6 sancti- 
ficantur." Does not Thomas -X Kempis say so ? 


The doctrine may be sound ; but the book from which 
you quote is one of those splendid productions of uncertain 
authorship which we must ascribe to some " great unknown" 
of the darlc agea. 


Be that as it may, I can give you a parallel sentiment 
from one of your Erench poets ; for I understand you are 


partial to tlie literature of that merry nation. The pilgrim's 
wanderings are compared by this gallic satirist to the 
meandering course of a river in Grermany, which, after 
watering the plains of Protestant AVirtemberg and Catholic 
Austria, enters, by way of finale, on the domains of the 
Grand Turk : 

'• J'ai vu le Danube inconstant, 
Qui, tantot Catliolique et tantot Protestant, 
Sert Home et Luther de son onde ; 

Mais, comptant apres pour rien 

Romain et Lutherien, 
Finit sa course vagabonde 

Par n'etre pas meme Chretien. 
Earement en coiu'ant le monde 

On devient homme de bien !" 

By the way, have you seen Stothard's capital print, " The 
Pilgrimage to Canterbury ?" 


Such orgies on pious pretences I cannot but deplore, with 
Chaucer, Erasmus, Dryden, and Pope, who were all of my 
creed, and pointedly condemned them. The Papal hierarchy 
in this country have repeatedly discountenanced such unholy 
doings. Witness their efforts to demolish the cavern of 
Loughderg, called St. Patrick's Purgatory, that has no 
better claim to antiquity than our Blarney cave, in which 
" bats and badgers are for ever bred." And still, concerning 
this truly Irish curiosity, there is a document of a droll 
description in Rymer's " Poedera," in the 32d year of Ed- 
ward III., A.D. 1358. It is no less than a certificate, duly 
made out by that good-natured monarch, shewing to all men 
as how a foreign nobleman did really visit the Cave of St. 
Patrick,* and passed a night in its mysterious recesses, 

* This is, we believe, what Prout alludes to ; and we confess it is a 
nrccious relic of olden simplicity, and ought to see the light : — 

"A.D. 1358, an. 32 Edw. III. 
"IjJtterse testimoniales super mora in S'" Patricii Purgatorio. Ecx 

(tnivei'sis et singulis ad quos prjesentes littersD pcrvenerint, salutcm! 

"Nobilis vir Malatesta Ungarus de Arimenio, miles, ad proesentiaiu 
nostram reniens, matiu-e nobis exposuit quod ipse nuper a teiTte sure 
discedens laribus, Purgatorium Sancti Patricii, infra teiTam nostram 
Hybemia; constitutum, in mvdtis corporis sui laboribus peregre visitdrat, 



I was aware of the existence of that document, as also of 
the remark made by one Erasmus of Kotterdam conceruinir 
the said cave : " ISTon desunt liodic^ qui descendunt, sed 
prius triduano enecti jejunio ne sano capite ingrediantur." * 
Erasmus, reverend friend, was an honour to your cloth ; 
but as to Edward III., I am not surprised he should have 
encouraged such excursions, as he belonged to a family 
whose patronymic is traceable to a pilgrim's vow. My 
reverend friend is surely in possession of the historic fact, 

ac per integroe diei ac noctis continuatura spatiiim, ut est moris, clausus> 
manserat iii eodem, nobis cum iustantia supplicando, lit in pi-aeniissorum 
veracius fulcimentum regales nostras litteras indc sibi coneedere digna- 

"Nos autem ipsius peregrinationis considerantes periculosa discri- 
mina, licet tanti nobilis in hac parte nobis assertio sit aceepta, quia 
tanien dilecti ac fidelis nostri Almarici de S'" Amando, militis, justiciarii 
nostri Hybernice, simul ac Prioris ct Couveutus loci dioti Pui-gatorii, et 
ctiam ali'orum auctoritatis multse virorum litteris, aliisque claris cviden- 
tiis informamm- quod dictus nobilis banc peregrinationem 7-it^ perfeeerat 
et etiam animosh. 

" Di'^num duximus super his testimonium nostrum favorabiliter ad- 
liibere, ut sublato cujusvis dubitationis involucro, prjemissorum Veritas 
singulis lucidius patefiat, bas litteras nostras sigillo regie consignatas 
illi duximus concedendas. 

•'Dat' in palatio nostro West', xxiv die Octobris, 1358." 

Rynier's Fmdera, by Caley. London, 1825. 
Vol. iii.'pt. i. p. 408. 

* Erasmus in Adagia, artic. de antro Trophonii. See also Camden's 
account of this cave in his Ili/hernice Descriptio, edition of ISQ^, p. 671. 
It is a singular fact, though liltlc known, that from the visions said to 
occm- in this cavern, avid bruited abroad by the fraternity of monks, 
whose connexion with Italy was constant and intimate, Dante took the 
first hint of his Divina Comniedia, // Purr/atorio. Such was the cele- 
brity tliis cave had obtauiod in Spahi, that tlio great dramatist Calderon 
made it the subject of one of his best pieces ; and it was so well knowii 
at the court of Ferrara, that Ariosto introduced it into bis Orlanda 
Furioso, canto x. stanza 92. 

" Quindi Ruggier, poiche di banda in bauda 
Tide gl' Tnglesi, and6 verso 1' Irlauda 
E vide Ibernia labulosa, dove 
II santo vecchiarel feee la cava 
In chc tanta mcreo par ehc si trove, 
Che r uom vi purga ogni sua colpa prava l" 


that the name of Plantagenet is derived from plante de 
genest, a sprig of healh, which the first Duke of Anjou wore 
in his hehnet as a sign of penitential humiliation, when 
about to depart for the holy land : though why a broom- 
sprig should indicate lowliness is not satisfactorily explained. 


The monks of that day, who are reputed to have been 
very ignorant, were perhaps acquainted with the " Georgics" 
of Virgil, and recollected the verse — 

"Quid majora sequar? Salices humilesque Genista;." 

II. 434. 


I suppose there is some similar recondite allusion in that 
unaccountable decoration of every holy traveller's accoutre- 
ment, the scollop-shell ? or was it merely used to quaff the 
waters of the brook ? 


It was first assumed by the penitents who resorted to the 
shrine of St. Jago di Compostella, on the western coast of 
Spain, to betoken that they had extended their penitential 
excursion so far as that sainted shore ; just as the palm- 
branch was sufficient evidence of a visit to Palestine. Did 
not the soldiers of a Roman general fill their helmets with 
cockles on the brink of the German Ocean ? By the by, 
when my laborious and learned friend the renowned Abbe 
Trublet, in vindicating the deluge against Voltaire, instanced 
the heaps of marine remains and conchylia on the ridge of the 
Pyrenees, the witty reprobate of Ferney had the unblushing 
effrontery to assert that those were shells left beliind by the 
pilgrims of St. Jacques on re-crossing the mountains. 


I must not, meantime, forget the objects of my devotion ; 
and with your benison, reverend father, shall proceed to 
examine the " stone." 


You behold, Sir Walter, in this block the most valuable 


remnant of Ireland's ancient glory, and the most precious 
lot of her Phoenician inheritance ! Possessed of this trea- 
sure, she may well be designated 

" i'u'st flower of the earth and first gem of the sea ;" 

for neither the musical stone of Memnon, that " so sweetly 
played in tune," nor the oracular stone at Delphi, nor the 
lapidary talisman of the Lydian G-yges, nor the colossal 
granite shaped into a sphinx in Upper Egypt, nor Stone- 
henge, nor the Pelasgic walls of Italy's Palsestrina, ofier 
so many attractions. The long-sought lapis p/illosop/iontm, 
compared with this jewel, dwindles into insignificance; nay, 
the savoury fragment which was substituted for the infant 
Jupiter, when Saturn had the mania of devouring his child- 
ren ; the Luxor obelisk ; the treaty-stone of Limerick, with 
all its historic endearments ; the zodiacal monument of 
Denderach, with all its astronomic importance ; the Elgin 
marbles with all their sculptured, the Arundelian with all 
their lettered riches, — cannot for a moment stand in com- 
petition with the Blarney block. What stone in the world, 
save this alone, can communicate to the tongue that suavity 
of speech, and that splendid effrontery, so necessary to get 
through life ? "Without this resource, how could Brougham 
have managed to delude the English public, or Dan O'Con- 
nell to gull even his own countryuien ? How could St. 
John Long thrive ? or Dicky Sheil prosper ? What else 
could have transmuted my old friend Pat Lardner into a man 
of letters— LL.D., F.E.S.L. and E., M.E.I. A., E.R.A.S., 
E.L.S., F.Z.S., F.C.P.S., &c. &c. ? What would have be- 
come of Spring Eice ? and who would have heard of Charley 
Phillips ? When the good fortune of the above-mentioned 
individuals can be traced to any other source, save and 
except the Blarney stone, I am ready to renounce my belief 
in it ahogeiher. 

This palladium of our country was brought hither origi- 
nally by the Pha?nician colony that peopled Ireland, and is 
the best proof of our eastern parentage. The inhabitants of 
Tyre and Carthage, who for many years had the Blarney 
stone in their custody, made great use of the privilege, as 

c ])vo\'erhs Jules Punica, Ti/riosqtce bilinyues, testify. Hence 


the origin of this wondrous talisman is of the remotesi 

Strabo, Diodorus, and Pliny, mention the arrival of the 
Tyrians in Ireland about the year 883 before Christ, accord- 
ing to the chronology of Sir Isaac Newton, and the twenty- 
first year after the sack of Troy. 

Now, to show that in all their migrations they carefully 
watched over this treasure of eloquence and soiirce of di- 
plomacy, I need only enter into a few etymological details. 
Carthage, where they settled for many centuries, but which 
turns out to have been only a stage and resting-place in 
the progress of their western wanderings, bears in its very 
name the trace of its having had in its possession and cus- 
tody the Blarney Stone. This city is called in the Scripture 
Tarsus, or Tarshish, ^'^"iri, which in Hebrew means a 
valuable stone, a stone of pi-ice, rendered in your authorised (?) 
version, where it occurs in the 28th and 39th chapters of 
Exodus, by the specific term beryl, a sort of jewel. In his 
commentaries on this word, an eminent rabbi, Jacob Eodri- 
gues Moreira, the Spanish Jew, says that Carthage is evi- 
dently the Tarsus of the Bible, and he reads the word thus — 
UCnn, accounting for the termination in ish, by which 
Carthago becomes Curshisk, in a very plausible way: "now," 
says he, " our peoplish have de very great knack of ending 
dere vords in ish ; for if you go on the 'Change, you will 
hear the great man Nicholish Eotchild calling the English 
coin fnonlsh." — See Lectures delivered in the JVestern Sijna- 
() 0(1 IIP, by J. R. M. 

But, further, does it not stand to reason that there 
must be some other latent way of accounting for the pur- 
chase of as much (jround as an ox-hide would cover, besides 
the geuerally received and most unsatisfactory explanation ? 
The fact is, the Tyrians bought as much land as their Blarney 
stone would require to fix itself solidly, — 

" Taurine quantum potuit cLrcumdare tergo ;" 
and having got that much, by the talismanic stone they 
Inuubugged and deluded the simple natives, and finally be- 
came the masters of Africa. 

I confess jou have thrown a new and unexpected light ou 

E 2 


a most obscure passage iu ancient klstory; but how the 
stone got at last to the county of Cork, appears to me a 
difficult transition. It must give you great trouble. 


My dear sir, don't mention it ! It went to Minorca •with 
a chosen body of Carthaginian adventurers, who stole it 
away as their best safeguard on the expedition. They first 
settled at Port Mahon, — a spot so called from the clan of 
the O'Mahonys, a powerful and prolific race still flourishiag 
in this county ; just as the Nile had been previously so 
named from the tribe of the 'Neils, its aboriginal inhabi- 
tants. All these matters, and many /wore curious points, will 
be one day revealed to the world by my friend Henry 
O'Brien, in his work on the Eound Towers of Ireland. Sir, 
we built the pyramids before we left Egypt ; and all those 
obelisks, sphinxes, and Memnonic stones, were but emblems 
of the great relic before you. 

George Knapp, who had looked up to Prout with dumb 
amazement from the commencement, here pulled out his 
spectacles, to examine more closely the old block, while Scott 
shook his head doubtingly. 

" I can convince the most obstinate sceptic, Sir "Walter," 
continued the learned doctor, " of the intimate connexion 
that subsisted between us and those islands which the Ro- 
mans called insulce Balecires, without knowing the signification 
of the words which they thus applied. That they were so 
called from the Blarney stone, will appear at ouce to any 
person accustomed to trace Celtic derivations : the Ulster 
king of arms. Sir William Betham, has shown it by the fol- 
lowing scale." 

Here Prout traced with his cane on the muddy floor of the 
castle the words 

" BflLcARe* ilf«</iE=Blarn8e !" 


Prodigious ! My reverend friend, you have set the point 
at rest for ever — rem acu tetigisti ! Have the goodness to 



Setting sail from Minorca, the expedition, after encounter- 
inof a desperate storm, cleared the Pillars of Hercules, and 
landing in the Cove of Cork, deposited their treasure in the 
greenest spot and the shadiest groves of this beautiful vi- 


How do you account for their being left by the Cartha- 
ginians in quiet possession of this invaluable deposit ? 


They had sufficient tact (derived from their connexion 
with the stone) to give out, that in the storm it had been 
thrown overboard to relieve the ship, in latitude 36° 14", 
longitude 24°. A search was ordered by the senate of Car- 
thage, and the Mediterranean was dragged without effect ; 
but the mariners of that sea, according to Virgil, retained a 
superstitious reverence for every submarine appearance of 
a stone : 

" Saxa vocant Itali mediifl qme in fluctibjis aras !" 

And Aristotle distinctly says, in his treatise " De Mirandis," 
quoted by the erudite Justus Lipsius, that a law was enacted 
against any further intercourse with Ireland. His words 
are ; " In mari, extra Herculis Columnas, insulam desertam 
inventam fuisse sylvd 7iemorosam, in quam crebro Carthagini- 
enses commearint, et sedes etiam fixerint : sed veriti ne 
nimis cresceret, et Carthago laberetur, edicto cavisse ne 
quis poena capitis eo deinceps navigaret." 

The fact is, Sir AValter, Ireland was always considered a 
lucky spot, and constantly excited the jealousy of Greeks, 
Eomans, and people of every country. The Athenians 
thought that the ghosts of departed heroes were transferred 
to our fortunate island, which they call, in the war-song of 
Harmodius and Aristogiton, the land of O's and Macs : 

fbiXrad' ' A»iMohi, ovrs tod -i6vr,-/.ag, 
N>j(ro/f 6' iv MAK ao' UN 6i faffiv iivai. 

Anc the " Groves of Blarney " have been commemorated 
by the Greek poets many centuries before the Christian era. 



There is certainly somewhat of Grecian simplicity in the 
old song itself ; and if Pindar had been an Irishman, I think 
Le would have celebrated this favourite haunt in a style not 
very different from Millikin's classic rhapsody. 


Millikin, the reputed author of that song, was but a 
simple translator from the Greek original. Indeed, I have 
discovered, when abroad, in the library of Cardinal Mazarin, 
an old Greek manuscript, which, after diligent examination, 
I am convinced must be the oldest and " princeps editio " 
of the song. I begged to be allowed to copy it, in order 
that I might compare it ■with the ancient Ijatin or Vulgate 
translation which is preserved in the Brera at Milan ; and 
from a strict and minute comparison with that, and with the 
Norman-rreuch copy which is appended to Doomsday-book, 
and the Celtic-Irish fragment preserved by Crofton Croker, 
(rejecting as spurious the Arabic, Armenian, and Chaldaic 
stanzas on the same subject, to be found in the collection of 
the Royal Asiatic Society.) I have come to the conclusion 
that the Greeks were the luidoubted original contrivers of 
that splendid ode ; though whether we ascribe it to Tyrtaeus 
or Callimachus will depend on future evidence ; and per- 
La:j)s, Sir AA^altei', you would give me yoiu' opinion, as I have 
copies of all the versions I allude to at my dwelling on the 


I cannot boast, learned lather, of much vovg in Hellenistic 
matters ; but should iiud myself quite at home in the Gaelic 
and Norman-French, to inspect which I shall with pleasure 
-accompany you : so here I kiss the stone ! 

The wonders of " the castle," and " cave," and " lake," 
were speedily gone over ; and now, according to the usage 
of tlie dramatist, niodo Romce, modb ponit Athenis, we shift 
the scene to the tabernacle of Father Front on Watergrass- 
hill, wliere, round a small table, sat Scott, Knapp, and Front 
— a triumvii'ate of critics never equalled. The papers 



fell into my hands wlien the table was cleared for 
the subsequent repast ; and thus I am able to submit 
to the world's decision what these three could not de- 
cide, viz. which is the original version of the " Groves of 

P.S. At the moment of going to press with the Doric, 
the Vulgate, and Gallic texts in justa-position with the sup- 
posed original, (Corcagian) a fifth candidate for priority 
starts up, the Italic, said to be sung by Garibaldi in bivouac 
amid the woods over Lake Como, May 25, 1859. 

Dl Bxarae' i boschi 
Bei, benche foschi, 
In vevsi Toschi 

Vorrei cantar — 
La dove meschi 
Son fiori freschi 
Ben pittoreschi 

Pel passegiar. 
Vi sono gigli 
Biaiich' e vermigli 
Ch' ognun ne pigli 

In liberta — 
Anch' odorose 
Si coglian' rose 
Da giovin' spose 

Fior di belta, ! 

Miladi Gifra 
Si gode qui fi'a 
Immensa cifra 

Di ricchi ben, 
E tutti sanno 
Se Carlomanno 
E Cesaro hanno 

Piu cor nel sen. 
II tier' Cromwello 
Si sa, fu quelle 
Ch' a sue castcllo 

As?alto die, 
Si dice ])er5 
Ch' Oliviero 
Al quartiero 

La breccia fe I 

5 33o^c]^i Ki 33Ianua. 

Quei luoghi dunque 
Veggo ; chiunque 
Brama spelunche 

Non cerch' in van, 
Dentr' una grotta 
Vi'e fiera lotta 
Mai interrotta 

Era gatti stran'. 
Ma fuor si sei'ba 
Di musco ed erba 
Sedia superba 

Per qiii pescar 
Nel lago anguille ; 
Poi faggi mille 
L'acque tranquille 

Stan per ombrai*. 

Con cheto passo 
Si va a spasso 
Qiu, fin che lasso 

Si vuol seder ; 
II triste amante 
Puo legger Dante 
Od ascoltar canti 

Dello pivier. 
Poi se la gonna 
Di gentil donna, 
Non mica nonna, 

Yien qua passar^ 
II c"i'teggiano 
Non prcgh' in vano 
Sarebbe strano 

Di non amar ! 

Intorao, parmi, 
Scolpiti marmi 
Vi son, per farmi 

Stupir ancor' ; 
Quei sembran' essere 
Plutarch' e Cesare 
Con Nebuchnezzere, 

Venere ed Amor ! 
Stan, cosa unica, 
Qui senza tunica! 
Mentre comunica 

Con altro mar' 
Leggiadra barca ; — 
Ma ci vuol' Petrarca 
Per la gran carca 

Di quel narrar 

Saio ben basso 
Se oltre passo 
Un certo sasso 

D' a)to valor ; 
In su la faccia 
Di chi lo baecia 
Perenne traccia 

Kiman talor : 
Quel si distingue 
Con usar lingue 
Pien di lusinghe 

Per ingannar : 
Famosa Pietra ! 
Mia umir cetra 
Or qui dipoiigo 

Su quest' altar" I 


Ci^c <Bvobei of 33lanici). 

The groves of Blarney, 

They look so charming, 

Down by the purlings 

Of sweet silent brooks, 

All decked by posies 

That spontaneous grow there, 

Plantea in order 

In the I'ocky nooks. 

'Tis there the daisy, 

And the sweet carnation, 

The blooming pink. 

And the rose so fair ; 

Likewise the lily, 

And the daffodilly — 

All flowers that scent 

The sweet open air. 


'Tis Lady Jcffcrs 
Owns tliis plantation ; 
Like Alexander, 
Or like Helen fair, 
There's no commander 
In all tlie nation, 
For regulation 
Can with her compare. 
Such walls sm-round her, 
That no nine-pounder 
Could ever plunder 
Her place of strength ; 
But Oliver Cromwell, 
Her he did pommel, 
And made a breach 
la her battlement. 



Charmans hocages ! 
Vous me ravissez, 
Que d'avantages 
Vous reunissez ! 
Hookers sauvages, 
Paisibles ruisseaux, 
Tendres ramagcs 
De gentHs oiscaux : 
Dans ce doux parage 
Aimable Nature 
A fait etalage 
D'eternelle verdure; 
Et lesfieurs, a mesure 
Qu'elles croissent, a raison 
De la belle saison 
Foyit br tiler leur parure. 


C'est Madame de Jefferts, 
Femme pleitie d'addresse, 
Qui sur ces beaux deserts 
Itegne en Jiere princesse. 
Elle exerce ses droits 
Comme dame tnaiiresse, 
Datis cette forteresse 
Que la hantje vois. 
Plus sage millefois 
Qu' H^lcn^ ou CUopatre, 
Cromvcl seul put rabbatre. 
La mettant aux aboii, 
Quand, allumani sa mScJie, 
Point ne lira an hasard, 
Ulais bieti dans son rempart 
Fit irreparable briche. 


'H 'Xa?3 BXa^vizr}. 

Blarneurn Nemus, 

T/;c 'GXapvLaQ aX v\ai 
4>fpt<Trat, KaWifvWai, 
'Ottov oiyy ptovai 
Tlr)yai ^"■(^vpi-Zovffai' 
'Ekovtu ytvvt]9ivra 
'Ojuwg T£ ipvTfvOevra 
Miffaoie tv ayicovt(T(nv 
Effr' avOe TrtTpwdtaaiv. 
EKt^ ttTT ayXaiiJua 
rXuKv Kat ipvOrjiia, 
loi' t' eku QaXov T£ 
BaaiXiKoi' poSov re. 
Km Xnpiov TS (pvti, 
AafoStXoi; T( (3p>jei, 
TIavr' avOcfi' a KaXyaiv 
Ey evSiaig arjaiv. 

Quisquis hic in Isetis 
Gaudes errare viretis, 
Turrigeras rupes 
Blarnea saxa stupes ! 
Murmiu'e dum caeco 
Lympharum perstrepit echo, 
Quas veluti mutas 
Ire per arva putas. 
Multus in hoc luco 
Eubet uudique flos sine fuco, 
Ac ibi fonnosam 
Cernis ubique rosam; 
Suaviter hi flores 
Miseent ut amabis odores ; 
Nee requiem demus, 
Nam placet omne nemus ! 

TavrriQ 1E*EPE2SA 
K«X>j Kai ■^apiiiyaa 
'Qq ''EXivrj, wg T vioq 
Tou A/xfiCvog Siog, 
^VTnag fCTT* avaaar). 
Ifpi'j/ T IV aizaay 


'Oq avTy avfifepoiro, 
OucovofiHV yap olS(, 

To<\;0£ TOffOl TOIOt St 

Avrtjv nfi<l)itTTe^ovrai, 
rioXf/ii/cy; WQ jSpovTt} 
'MaTjjv riv /3aXX' wg t]pwc, 
KpofiviXXoQ OXtftipog 
ETTtpTt, t5t aTTciffag 
AKpoiroXtwg -Ktpaaaq, 


Foemina dux hoinim 
Eegnat Jeferessa locorum, 
Pace, virago gravis, 
Marteque pej or avis ! 
Africa non atram 
Componeret ei Cleopatram, 
Nee Dido constares ! 
Non habet ilia pares. 
Turre manens ista 
Nvdla est violanda balistS. : 
Tun-is crat diris 
Non penetranda viris ; 
Cromwellus latum 
Tamen illic fecit hiatum, 
Et ludos heros 
Lucit in area feros ' 





There is a cave where 
No daylight enters, 
But cats and badgers 
Are for ever bred ; 
And mossed by natui-e 
Makes it completer 
Than a coach-and-six, 
Or a downy-bed. 
'Tis there the lake is 
Well stored with fishes, 
And comely eels in 
The verdant mud ; 
Besides the leeches, 
And groves of beeches. 
Standing in order 
To guard the flood. 

// est aans ces valhns 
Utie sombre cavernc. 
Oil jamais nous naUtms 
Qiiarmes (Tune lanicrna. 
La mousse en cette grotte 
Tapissant chaque matte 
Vous offre des sofas ; 
M la se trouve unie 
La douce sympJionie 
Bes hiboux et des chats. 
Tout pres on voit un lac, 
Ou les poissons affluent, 
Avec assez de sangsties 
Pour en remplir un sac ; 
Et sur ces hords chatnpetres 
On a plants des hetres. 



There gravel walks are 
For recreation, 
And meditation 
In sweet solitude. 
'Tis there the lover 
May liear the dove, or 
The gentle plover, 
In the afternoon ; 
And if a lady 
Would be so engaging 
As for to walk in 
Those shady groves, 
'Tis there the courtier 
Might soon transport her 
Into some fort, or 
The " sweet rock-close." 

Ici I'homme atrahilaire 
Un sentierpeut choisir 
Pour y suivir a loisir 
Son reve solitaire, 
Quand une jiijmphe cntelle 
L'a mis au desespoir. 
Sans qti'it puissc emouvorT 
L^ inexorable belle. 
Quel doux reposje goide^ 
jissis sur ce gazon ! 
JJu rossignol fecoute 
Le tendre diapason. 
Ah ! dans cet antre noiy 
Puissc w!« Leonore, 
Celte que mon ccexr adcr^f 
Venir furtive ausoir: 



Kot avrpov tar^ ikh Se 
'Oy' t'lijitp' ovitoT eiSe, 
MiXtig Se Kai ya\ai ev 
Ai)r(,(j rptfovTai aiev 
^VTiXtart()Oy fvov ts 
A/x6ig TToui (3pvov ye 

"E^tTTTTOl) rj OKppOlO 

H KOiTrjc louXoio' 

AtftvT} iKSi -KapeaTi, 
K'fyj^cXefj ipvovai 
El/ i\vi GaXovcyy 
BJtXXat re tiaiv aWa 
^tiyujv Ti aXffij icaX' it 
Y.Tixi'^'j' «K£i TiraKTat, 
Ale pot] TTi^vXaKrai. 


Hie tenebrosa cavema 
Est, gattonimque taberna, 
Talpa habitata pigro, 
Non sine ftle nigro j 
Muscus iners olli 
Stravit loca tegmine molli 
Lecticee, ut plumis 
Mollior esset humus : 
Inque lacu angiiillsD 
Luteo nant gurgite mille ; 
Q.uo nat, arnica luti, 
Hostis hirudo cuti : 
Grande decus pagi, 
Eluvii stant margine fagi ; 
Quodque tegunt ramo 
Labile fluinen amo ! 


AiQ'vac y' e^" Tropeiaq 
'EvfKa TTfptTraraaf, 
Evi'oiav T£ Oiiav 
liar' ipt][iiav yXvKeiaV 
E^fcrri (cai ipaary 
MeQ' tOKipav aXacrnj 
Akov(iv rj Tprjcxtjv' t) 
Sf, jxiKpt Xiyv(pu)Vt ! 
Et rig r£ cat Stanoiva 
Eicti icaXij fiivoivcf. 
AXaaOat rtntvtaai 
IiTwi; tv aiciotaai, 
Tic ivytvriQ yivoiTO 
Avrqv Of arrayoiro 

ElC TTVpyOV Tl T] TrpOg (Tf, 

Q XiOti'ov (JTttoQ ye ! 

Cernis in has valles 
Qu6 ducunt tramite ealles, 
Hanc mente in sedem 
Fer meditante pedem, 
Quisquis ades, bellse 
Transfixus amore puellse 
Aut patrise carse 
Tempus inane dare ! 
Dumque jaces herba, 
Turtur ilet voce superba, 
Arboreoque throno 
Flet philomela sono : 
Spelunca apparet 
Quam dux Trojanus amar3l» 
In simili nido 
Nam fuit iota Dido. 




There are statues gracing 
This noble place in — 
All heathen gods, 
And nymphs so fair ; 
Bold Neptune, Cajsar, 
And Nebuchadnezzar, 
All standing naked 
In the open air ! 
There is a boat on 
The lake to float oa, 
And lots of beauties 
Which I can't entwine : 
But were I a preacher, 
Or a classic teacher, 
In every feature 
I'd make 'em shine I 


Dans ces classiques lietus 
Plus d'une statue brille, 
Et sepresente aux yens 
En parfait deshabille ! 
La Ifeptunc on disccrne, 
Et Jules Cesar en plomb, 
Et Ventis, et le tronc 
Du General Holoferne. 
Veut-on voguer au large 
Sur ce lac ? un esquif 
Offre a Vamateur crainiif 
Les chances d'un naufrags. 
Que ne suis-je im Hugo, 
Ou quclqu' auteur en vogue, 
En ce genre £eglog\ie. 
Je n' aura is pas d^egaux. 


There is a stone there, 
That whoever kisses, 
Oh ! he never misses 
To grow eloquent. 
'Tis he may clamber 
To a lady's chamber, 
Or become a member 
Of parhament : 
A clever spouter 
He'll sm'e turn out, or 
An out-and-outer, 
"To be let alone," 
Don't hope to hinder liim, 
Or to bewilder him ; 
Sure he's a pilgrim 
Fi'om the Blarney stone !* 

* End of Millikin's Translation of 
tbe Qjoves of JUlarney. 


Une pierre s'y rencontre, 

Ettimable iresor, 

Qui vaut son poids en or 

Au guide qui la montre. 

Qui baise ce monument, 

Acquicrt la parole 

Qui doucement cajole; 

II devient eloquent. 

Au boudoir d'une datne 

II sera bien regu, 

Et meme a son insgu 

Fera naitre ttne Jlamme. 

JTotnme a bonnes fortunet, 

A lui on 2)ct>t scjicr 

Pour mystifer 

La Chambre des Communes.f 

t Ici finist le I'oi'^rae dit lo Bois de Elar* 
nayo, copie du Livre de Dooms»daye, a. d. 



Et^wX' ay\ai(^ovra 
Etrrt dtov tottov re. 
Tiiiv tOviKwv Otiov re, 
Twv ApvaOoJV KaXojv rt' 
Tlotreidwv r)Se Kaicrap 
T' iSov Na/3£xw^vai(7ap* 
Ev aiOpi^ diravTaQ 
Ecrr' iStiv yvfivovg (Tjavrac. 
Ev Xifiv?j £(7ri irXoiov, 
Et Tig nXenv 6t\oi av' 
Kat KoKa oaa tyu) trot 
Ou Switfi eKrvTTwaai' 
AW £1 y' tirjv XoyioT/jc, 
H SiOa<nca\og crofiaTtjc, 
Tor' fsox'^'"'"'' '**' ""' 
Ati^aifit TO aTTav aoi. 

Plumbea signa DeAm 

Nemus ornant, grande trophsBuml 

Stas ibi, Bacche teres ! 

Nee sine fruge Ceres, 

Neptunique vago 

De flumine surgit imago ; 

Julius hie Caesar 

Stat, Nabechud que Nezar ! 

Navicula insonti 

Dat cuique pericula ponti, 

Si quis cymba hac cum 

Vult super ire lacum, 

Carmini huic ter sum 

Conatus hie addere versum i 

Pauper at ingenio, 

Plus nihil iuTenio ! 

Eic£i \i9ov t' evpriffHQ 
KvTOV iifv n (piXtjasiQ 
"EvSainov TO tpiXtf/ia' 
TrfTiop yap TTapaxptlHO- 
Tivr](Tfai av StivoQ, 
TvvaiKi t' (paTtivoQ, 
2f/xi'0rar^t ri XaXCiv 
Ev jSovXy rwv fiir aXXiov 
Kai tv TutQ ayopatfft 
" KaOoXiKaig" fioaiffi 
ArifioQ ffoi 'KoXov9ri(Ttt, 
^at xf'P'^C "o* (cporjjffft 

"Qc OI'Cj)t rqj niyi(JT(ft 

Atjfioyopuv t' apiOTifi' 

Q liCcQ ovpavovSi 

Aia llXapviKOP Xt9oi' y' y* 

* TeXor T,|f 'YAti9 BXavpiiciif- Ex Co- 
dice Vatic, vetusliss, incert.sevi circa 
an. Sal. CM. 

Fortimatam autem 
Premuerxmt oscula cautera 
(Fingere dilm conor 
Debitus huic sic honor) ; 
Quam bene tu fingis 
Qui saxi oracula lingis, 
Eloquioque sapis 
Quod dedit ille lapis ! 
Gratus homo bellis 
Fit unctis melle labellis, 
Gratus erit populo 
Oscula dans scopulo ; 
Fit 8ubit6 orator, 
Caudaque sequcnte senator. 
Scaudere vis sethram ? 
Hanc venerare petrara If 

t Explicit hie Camden de Nemore Blai*. 
nensi. Ek Coiiice No. 4G-1 in Bibliothcci 
Brerie apud Mediuliinum. 


leir At) be lepni beAtjAir aij A]z reo 
2I}An CTieun-SnAvctiAti) T)o f)e\ei) CAofi) 
Ki'l ceAijpeA6i)A Aifi fMbijA CTtte 
CorrijMl lejci cunj ATfiAcrAir &' f-i^oAjl. 
Ca cAirl^Af) 'oA rioiDcjoU, tjAleotric pleuttc*. 
21 bAtiA76 ccaf^a si'ATtSMt) i)A rsniof ; 

2lcc Ol)beri Cfion)fMl ; D't:vi5 50 pAfj f, 
2lf lU') bCAjlIJA li^Ofl lOIJA pi\lcA fin-* 

No. III. 


" He spread his vegetable stoi'e, 
And gaily pressed and smiled ; 
And, skilled in legendary lore, 
The hngering hours beguiled." 


Beeoee w8 resume tlie thread (or yarn) of Prank Cress- 
well's narrative concerning the memorable occurrences 
which took place at Blarney, on the remarkable occasion of 
Sir AValter Scott's visit to " the groves," we feel it impera- 
tive on us to set ourselves right with an illustrious corre- 
spondent, relative to a most important particular. We 
have received, through that useful medium of the inter- 
change of human thought, " the twopenny post," a letter 
which we think of the utmost consequence, inasmuch as it 
goes to impeach the veracity, not of Father Prout {patrem 
quis dicer e f(tl sum audeat?), but of the young and somewhat 
facetious barrister who has been the volunteer chronicler of 
his life and conversations. 

Tor the better understanding of the thing, as it is likely 
to become a rjnces/io vexatn in other quarters, we may be 
allowed to bring to recollection that, in enumerating the 

* Fragment of a Celtic MS., from the King's Libraiy, Copenhagen. 


many eminent men who had kissed the Blarney stone during 
Prout's residence in the parish — an experience extending 
itself over a period of nearly half a century — Doctor D. 
Lardner was triumpliantly mentioned by the benevolent and 
simple-minded incumbent of AVatergrasshill, as a proud and 
incontestable instance of the virtue and efficacy of the talis- 
man, applied to the most ordinary materials with the most 
miraculous result. Instead of feeling a lingering remnant 
of gratitude towards the old parent- block for such super- 
natural interposition on his behalf, and looking back to that 
"kiss" with fond and filial recollection — instead of allowing 
"the stone" to occupy the greenest spot in the wilderness 
of his memory — "the stone" that first sharpened his intel- 
lect, and on which ought to be inscribed the line of Horace, 

" Fungor vice cotis, acutum 
Eeddere quae valeat ferriim, exsors ipsa secandi" — 

instead of this praiseworthy expression of tributary acknow- 
ledgment, the Doctor writes to us denying all obligation in 
the quarter alluded to, and contradicting most flatly the 
"soft impeachment" of having kissed the stone at all. His 
note is couched in such peevish terms, and conceived in such 
fretful mood, that we protest we do not recognise the tame 
and usually unexcited tracings of his gentle pen ; but rather 
suspect he has been induced, by some medical wag, to use a 
quill plucked from the membranous integument of that cele- 
brated "man-porcupine" who has of late exhibited his hir- 
suteness at the IMiddlesex hospital. 

"London University, May Sth. 
" SlE, 

" I owe it to the great cause of ' Useful KJnow- 
ledge,' to which I have dedicated my past labours, to rebut 
temperately, yet firmly, the assertion reported to have been 
made by the late Eev. Mr. Prout (for whom I had a high 
regard), in conversing with the late Sir Walter Scott on the 
occasion alluded to in your ephemeral work ; particularly as 
1 find the statement re-asserted by that widely-circulated 
journal the Morning Herald of yesterday's date. Were 
either tlie reverend clergyman or the distinguished baronet 
now living, I would appeal to their candour, and so shame 


the inventor of that tale. But as both are withdrawn by 
death from the literary world, I call on you, sir, to insert in 
your next Number this positive denial en my part of having 
ever kissed that stone ; the supposed properties of which, I 
am ready to prove, do not bear the test of chymical analysis. 
I do recollect having been solicited by the present Lord 
Chancellor of England (and also of the London University), 
whom I am proud to call my friend (though you have given 
him the sobriquet of Bridlegoose, with your accustomed want 
of deference for great names), to join him, -^hen, many years 
ago, he privately embarked on board a Westmoreland collier 
to perform his devotions at Blarney. That circumstance is 
of old date : it was about the year that Paris was taken by 
the allies, and certainly previous to the Queen's trial. But 
I did not accompany the then simple Harry Bronyham, con- 
tent with what nature had done for me in that particular 

" Ton will please insert this disavowal from, 

" SiK, 

" Tour occasional reader, 


" P.S. — If you neglect me, I shall take care to state my 
own case in tne Cycloptedia. I'll prove that the block at 
Blarney is an ' Aerolithe,' and that your statement as to its 
Phoenician origin is unsupported by historical evidence. 
Eecollect, you have thrown the first stone." 

jS'ow, after considering these things, and much pondering 
on the Doctor's letter, it seemed advisable to refer the 
matter to our reporter, Frank Cress well aforesaid, who has 
given us perfect satisfaction. By him our attention was 
called, first, to the singular bashfuluess of the learned man, 
in curtailing from his signature the usual appendages that 
shed such lustre o'er his name. He lies before us in this 
epistle a simple D D., whereas he certainly is entitled to 
write himself F.K.S., M.R.I. A., F.R.A.S., F.L.S., F.Z.S., 
F.C.P.3., &c. Thus, in his letter, "we saw him," to borrow 
an illustration from the beautiful episode of James Thomson, 

"We saw liim charming ; but we saw not half — 
The rest liis downcast modesty concealed." 


Next as to dates : lio->;v redolent of my Uncle Toby — 
"about the year Dendermonde was taken by the allies." 
The reminiscence Avas probably one of which he was uncon- 
scious, and we therefore shall not call him a plagiary ; but 
how slily, how diabolically does he seek to shift the onus 
and gravamen of the whole business on the rickety shoulders 
of his learned friend Bridlegoose ! This will not do, O 
sage Thaumaturyus ! By implicating " Bridoison," you shall 
not extricate yourself — " et vitidd tu dir/ims, et hie ;" and 
Frank Cresswell has let us into a secret. Know then, all 
men, that among these never-too-anxiously-to-be-looked-out- 
for " Prout Papers," there is a positive record of the initia- 
tion both of Henry Brougham and Patrick Lardner to the 
freemasonry of the Blarney stone ; and, more important 
still — (0, most rare document !) — there is to be found amid 
the posthumous treasures of Pather Prout the original pro- 
ject of a University at Blarney, to be then and there founded 
by the united efforts of Lardner, Dan O' Connell, and Tom 
Steele ; and of which the Doctor's " aeeolithe " was ta 
have been the corner-stone.* 

AVe therefore rely on the forthcoming Prout Papers for a 
confirmation of all we have said ; and here do we cast down 
tlie glove of defiance to the champion of Stinkomalee, even 
though he come forth armed to the teeth in a panoply, not, 
of course, forged on the classic anvil of the Cyclops, however 
laboriously hammered in the clumsy arsenal of his own 
" Cyclopaedia." 

* This projected university has since assumed another shape, and a 
house in Steven's Green, Dublin, once the residence of "Buck Whalley," 
or "Jerusalem Whalley," (he having walked there and back for a vrager;, 
has been bought by Dr. Cullen, to wliora Mr. DisraeU will grant a 
charter to put down the " Queen's colleges." The Blarney university 
would have cultivated fun and the genial development of national 
acutcness, but the Cullen affair can have naught in common with 
Blarney, save being 

" A cave where no daylight enters, 

But cats and badgers are for ever bred !" 
a foTil nest of discord, rancour, hopeless gloom, and Dens' theology, ot 
as the Italiaa version, page 55, has it, 
" In questa grotta 

Mai interrotta 

Yi e flora lotta, £ra gatti stran !" 


"We know tliere is anotter world, where every man will 
.iret bis due according to his deserts ; but if there be a Umbus 
pat rum, or literary purgatory, where the efirontery and ingra- 
titude of folks ostensibly belonging to the republic of letters 
are to be visited with condign retribution, Ave think we behold 
in that future middle state of purification (which, from our 
friend's real name, we shall call Patrick's Purgatory), Pat 
I-ardner rolling the Blarney stone, a la Sisyphus, up the hill 
of Science. 

Ka/ /x>;v "SkjU^ov ndii^ov x^arsp' a),yi' iyovra 
Aac/.v ^asraZ^ovra 'ZsXoooiov a/jb(poriPr,aiv, 
Aung i'lTcircx. 'zsoovdi ■/.uXivoiTO AAA2 ANAIAH2 ! 
And now we return to the progress of events on AVater- 
grasshill, and to matters more congenial to the taste of our 


Regent Street, 1st June, 1S35. 

FurnivaTa Inn, May 14. 

Accept, O Queen ! my compliments congratulator}^ on 
the unanimous and most rapturous welcome with which the 
whole literary world hath met, on its first entrance into 
life, that wonderful and more than Siamese bantling your 
'' Polyglot edition" of the " Gi'oves of Blarney." Of course, 
various are the conjectures of the gossips in Paternoster 
Eow as to the real paternity of that " most delicate mon- 
ster;" and some have the uuwarrautable hardihood to hint 
that, like the poetry of Sternhold and Hopkins, your incom- 
parable lyric must be referred to a joint-stock so.'t of pa- 
rentage : but, oitre nous, how stupid and malignant arc all 
such insinuations ! How little do such simpletons suspect 
or know of tho real source from whicli hath emanated that 
rare combination of the Te'ian lyre and the Tipperary bag- 
pipe— of the Ionian dialect blending harmoniously with the 
Cork brogue ; an Irish potatoe seasoned with Attic salt, and 
the humours of Donnybrook wed to the glories of MiU'athon ! 
Verily, since the days of the great Complutensian Polyglot 
(by the compilation of which the illustrious Cardinal Xi- 
menes so endeared himself to the bibliomaniacal world), since 
the appearance of that still grander eft'ort of the " Claren- 
don" at Oxford, tho "Tetrapla," originally compiled by tho 


most laborious and eccentric father of the Church, Origen 
of Alexandria, nothing has issued from the press in a com- 
pleter form than your improved quadruple version of the 
" Groves of Blarney." The celebrated proverb, lucus d, non 
lucendo, so often quoted with malicious meaning and for 
invidious purposes, is no longer applicable to your " Groves:" 
this quaint conceit has lost its sting, and, to speak in Gully's 
phraseology, you have taken the shine out of it. What a 
lialo of glory, what a flood of lustre, will henceforth spread 
itself over that romantic " plantation !" How oft shall its 
echoes resound with the voice of song, Greek, French, or 
Latin, according to the taste or birthplace of its European 
visitors ; all charmed with its shady bowers, and enraptured 
with its dulcet melody ! From the dusty purlieus of High 
Holborn, where I pine in a foetid atmosphere, my spirit 
Koars afar to that enchanting scenery, wafted on the wings 
of poesy, and transported with the ecstacy of Elysium — 

" Videor pios 
Errave per lucos, amoense 
Quos et aquoe subeunt ct aiu'cc !" 

Mine may be an illusion, a hallucination, an " amahilis in- 
sania" if you will ; but meantime, to find some solace in 
my exile from the spot itself, I cannot avoid poring, with 
more than antiquarian relish, over the different texts placed 
by you in such tasteful juxtaposition, anon comparing and 
collating each particular version with alternate gusto — 

" Amant alterna Camoeuse." 

How pui'e and pellucid the flow of harmony ! how resplen- 
dent the well-grouped images, shining, as it were, in a sort 
of milky way, or poetic galaxy, through your glorious co- 
lumns ; to which I cannot do better than apply a line of 
St. Gregory (the accomplished Greek father) of Nazian- 
zene — 

'H co^iag 'Ki'i'yri ev ^ijSXioiei ^en ! 

A great minister is said to have envied his foreign secretary 
the ineffixble pleasure of reading " Don Quixote" in the 
original Spanish, and it would, no doubt, be a rare sight to 
get a peep at Lord Palmerston's French notes to Talleyrand : 


but how I pity tlie sorry ■wight who hasn't learnt Greek ? 
What can he know of the recondite meaning of certain 
passages in the " Groves ?" He is incapacitated from en- 
joying the full drift of the ode, and must only take it di- 
luted, or Velluti-ed, in the common Enfflish version. Norunt 
fideles, as Tom Moore says. 

Tor my part, I would as soon see such a periwig-pated 
fellow reading your last ]S"umber, and fancying himself ca- 
pable of understanding the full scope of the poet, as to be- 
hold a Greenwich pensioner with a wooden leg trying to 
run a race with Atalanta for her golden apple, or a fellow 
with a modicrnn quid of legal knowledge aftecting to sit and 
look big under a chancellor's peruke, like Bridlegoose on the 
woolsack. In verity, gentlemen of the lower house ought 
to supplicate Sir Daniel Sandford, of Glasgow, to give 
them a few lectures on Greek, for the better intelligence of 
the real Blarney style ; and I doubt not that every member 
will join in the request, except, perhaps, Joe Hume, who 
would naturally oppose any attempt to throw light on 
Greek matters, for reasons too tedious to mention. Verb, 

To have collected in his youthful rambles on the conti- 
nent, and to have diligently copied in the several libraries 
abroad, these imperishable versions of an immortal song 
was the pride and consolation of Father Front's old age, 
and still, by one of those singular aberrations of mind in- 
cident to all great men, he could never be prevailed on to 
give further publicity to the residt of his labours ; thus 
sitting down to the banquet of literature with the egotistic 
feeling of a churl. He would never listen to the many 
offers from interested publishers, who sought for the prize 
with eager competition ; but kept the song in manuscript 
on detached leaves, despite of the positive injunction of the 
sibyl in the ^neid — 

" Non foliis tu carmina manda, 
Kc correpta volent rapidis ludibria vcntis !" 

I know full well to what serious imputations I make myself 
liable, when I candidly admit that 1 did not come by the 
treasure lawfully myself; having, as I boldly stated in the 
last Number of Eegina, filched the precious papers, disjectt 


metnhi-u j)oef(e, when the table was being cleared by Prout's 
servant maid for the subsequent repast. But there are 
certain " pious frauds" of whicli none need be ashamed in 
the interests of science : and when a great medal-collector, 
(of whom " Tom England''^ will tell you the particulars), 
being, on his homeward voyage from Egypt, hotly pursued 
by the Algerines, swallowed the golden series of the Ptole- 
mies, who ever thought of blaming Mr. Dufour, as he had 
purchased in their human envelope these recondite coins, 
for having applied purgatives and emetics, and every pos- 
sible stratagem, to come at the deposit of glory ? 

But to describe " the repast" has now become my solemn 
duty — a task imposed on me by you, Queen ! to whom 
nothing relating to Sir "Walter Scott, or to Pather Proufc 
appears to be uninteresting. In that I agree with you, for 
nothing to my mind comes recommended so powerfully as 
what hath appertained to these two gi-eat ornaments of 
*' humanity ;" which term I must be understood to use in its 
double sense, as relating to mankind in general, and in par- 
ticular to the literce humaniores, of which you and I are rap- 
turously fond, as Terence was before we were born, according 
to the hackneyed line — 

" Homo sum : hiimani nihil a u:e alienum puto !" 

That banquet was in sooth no ordinary jollification, no 
mere bout of sensuality, but a philosophic and rational com- 
mingling of mind, with a pleasant and succulent addition of 
matter — a blending of soul and substance, typified by the 
union of Cupid and Psyche — a compound of strange ingre- 
dients, in which a large infusion of what are called (in a 
very Irish-looking phrase) " animal spirits" coalesced with 
an abundance of distilled ambrosia ; not without much eru- 
dite observation, and the interlude of jovial soug ; wit con- 
tending for supremacy with learning, and folly asserting her 
occasional predominance lil^e the tints of the rainbow in 
their tout ensemble, or like the smile and the tear in Erin'a 
left eye, when that fascinating creature has taken " a drop" 
of her own mountain dew. But though there were lots of 
I'un at Prout's table at all times, which the lack of provi- 
sions never could interfere with one way or another, I have 
bpecial reason for recording in fuU the particulars of this 


carousal, liaving learned witli indignation that, since the ap^ 
pearance of the Father's "Apology for Lent," calumny has 
been busy with his character, and attributed his taste for 
meagre diet, to a sordid principle of economy. ]N"o ! Prout 
was not a penurious wretch ! And since it has been indus- 
triously circulated in the club-houses at the west-end, that 
he never gave a dinner in his life, by the statement of one 
stubborn fact I must silence for ever that " whisper of a 

From the first moment of delight, when the perusal ot 
George Knapp's letter, (dated July 25, 1S25) had apprised 
Prout of the visit intended by Sir Walter Scott to the 
Blarney stone, he had predetermined that the Great Un- 
known should partake of sacerdotal hospitality. I recollect 
well on that evening (for you are aware I was then on a visit 
to my aunt at AVatergrasshill, and, as luck would have it, 
happened to be in the priest's parlour when the news came- 
by express) how often he was heard to mutter to himself, 
as if resolving the mighty project of a " let out," iu that 
beautiful exclamation borrowed from his favourite Milton — 

" Wliat neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, 
Of Attic taste with wine ?" 

I then foresaw that there really would be '• a dinner" and 
sure enough there was no mistake, for an entertainment en- 
sued, such as the refinement of a scholar and the tact of a 
well-informed and observant traveller natui-ally and unafiect- 
edly produced, with the simple but not less acceptable ma- 
terials which circumstances allowed of and a style as far 
removed from the selfishness of the anchorite as the extra- 
vagance of the glutton. 

Prout had seen much of mankind ; and in his deportment 
through life shewed that he was well versed in all those 
varied arts of easy, but still gradual acquirement, which sin- 
gularly embellish the intercourse of society : these were the 
results of his excellent continental education — 

rXoXXwc S' avdsuru'j ibov agrsa, zui •iow sy\/uj- 

But at the head of his ovn\ festive board he particularly 
shoue ; for though in his ministerial functions, he was ex- 


emplary and admirable, ever meek and unaiFected at tlie 
altar of his rustic chapel, where 

" His loots adorned the venerable place," 

still, surrounded by a few choice friends, the calibre of 
whose geni?»s was in unison with his own, with a bottle of 
his choice old claret before him, he was truly a paragon. I 
say claret ; for when, in his youthful career of early travel, 
he had sojourned at Eourdeaux in 1776, he had formed an 
acquaintanceship Avith the then representatives of the stiU 
flourishing house of Maccarthy and Co. ; and if the prayers 
of the old priest are of any avail, that firm will long pros- 
per in the splendid capital of Gascony. This long-remem- 
bered acquaintanceship was periodically refreshed by many 
a quarter cask of excellent medoc^ which found its way (no 
matter how) up the rugged by-roads of Watergrasshill to 
the sacerdotal cellar. 

Kor was the barren upland, of which he was the pastor 
(and which will one day be as celebrated for having been 
his residence as it is now for ivater-cresses), so totally 
estranged from the wickedness of the world, and so exalted 
above the common level of Irish highlands, that no lohisky 
was to be found there ; for though Prout never openly 
countenanced, he still tolerated Davy Draddy's public-house 
at the sign of the " Mallow Cavalry." But there is a spirit, 
(an evil one), which pays no duty to the King, under pre- 
tence of having paid it to her majesty the Queen (God bless 
her!) — a spirit which would even tempt you, O Eegiica! 
to forsake the even tenour of your Avays — a spirit which 
Father Prout could never effectually chain doAvn in the Eed 
Sea, where every foul demon ought to lie in durance until 
the vials of WTath are finally poured out on this sinful world 
— that spirit, endowed with a smoky fragrance, as if to 
indicate its caliginous origin — not a drop of it would he give 
Sir Walter. He would have wished, such was his anxiety 
to protect the morals of his parishioners from the baneful 
effects of private distillation, that what is called technically 
"mountain-dew" were never heard of in the district; and 
that in this respect "NVatergrasshill had resembled the moun- 
tain of Gilboa, in the country of the Pliilistines. 

But of legitimate and excellent malt whisky he kept a 


constant supply, througli tlie friendship of Joe Hayes, a 
capital fellow, who presides, with great credit to himself, 
and to his native city, over the spiritual concerns of the 
Glin Distillery. Through his intelligent superintendence, 
he can boast of maintaining an unextinguishable furnace 
and a worm that never dies ; and ! may he in the next 
life, through Front's good prayers, escape both one and the 
other. This whisky, the pious offering of Joe Hayes to his 
confessor, Pather Prout, was carefully removed out of 
harm's way ; and even I myself was considerably puzzled 
to find out where the good divine liad the habit of conceal- 
ing it, until I got the secret out of Margaret, his servant- 
maid, who, being a 'cute girl, had suggested the hiding-place 
herself. I don't know whether you recollect my description, 
in your April JSTumber, of the learned Father's bookcase 
and the folio volumes of stone-flag inscribed " Coenelii a 
Lapide Opera quee ext. oinn. :" v/ell, behind them lay hidden 
the whisky in a pair of jars — 

For buxom Maggy, careful soul, 

Had two stone bottles found, 
To hold the liquor that Prout loved, 

And kept it safe and sound. 

Orders had been given to this same Margaret to kill a 
turkey, in the first impulse of the good old man's mind, 
"on hospitable thoughts intent:" but, alas ! when the fowl 
had been slain, in accordance with his hasty injunctions, he 
bethought himself of the melancholy fact, that, the morrow 
being Friday, fish diet was imperative, and that the death- 
warrant of tlie turkey had been a most premature and ill- 
considered act of precipitancy. The corpus delicti was 
therefore hung up in the kitchen, to furnish forth the 
Sunday's dinner next ensuing, and his thoughts of necessity 
ran into a piscatory channel. He had been angling all daj^, 
and happily with considerable success ; so that, what with 
a large eel he had hooked out of the lake at Blarney, and 
two or three dozen of capital trout from the stream, he 
might emulate the exploit of that old Calabrian fiirmer, who 
entertained Virgil on the produce of his hives : 

" Seraque revertens 
Nocte domum, dapibus meusas onci'abat inemptis." 


Eut when Prout did the thing, lie did it respectably : this 
was no ordinary occasion — " pot luck" would not do here. 
And though he bitterly deplored the untoward coincidence 
of the fast-day on the arrival of Sir "Walter, and was heard 
to mutter something from Horace very like an imprecation, 
viz. " Ille et nefasto te posuit die, quicumque,^^ &c. &c. ; still 
it would ill become the author of an " Apology for Lent" to 
despair of getting up a good fish dinner. 

In this emergency he summoned Terry Callaghan, a genius 
infinitely superior even to the man-of-all-work at Eavens- 
worth Castle, the never-to-be-forgotten Caleb Baldei'stone. 
Terry Callaghan (of whom we suspect we shall have, on 
many a future occasion, much to recoiuit, ere the star of 
Father Prout shall eclipse itselfiu the firmament of Eegika), 
Terry Callaghan is a character well known in the Arcadian 
neigiabourhood of Watergrasshill, the life and soul of the 
village itself, where he officiates to this day as " pound- 
keeper," " grave-digger," " notary public," and " parish 
piper." In addition to these situations of trust and emolu- 
ment, he occasionally stands as deputy at the turnpike on 
the mail-coach road, where he was last seen with a short 
pipe in his mouth, and a huge black crape round his " cau- 
tjeen," being in mourning for the subject of these memoirs. 
He also is employed on Sundays at the chapel-door to collect 
the coppers of the faithful, and, like the dragon of the 
Hesperides, keeps watch over the " box " with untameable 
fierceness, never having allowed a raj) to be subtracted for 
the O'Connell tribute, or any other humbug, to the great 
pecuniary detriment of the Derrynane dynasty. In the 
palace at Iveragh, where a geographical chart is displayed 
on the wall, shewing at a glance the topography of the 
" riat," and exhibiting all those districts, from Dan to Beer- 
sheba, where the copper-mines are most productive, the 
parish of Watergrasshill is marked " all barren ;" Terry very 
properly considering that, if there was any surplus in the 
poor-box, it could be better placed, without going out of the 
precincts of that wild and impoverished tract, in the palm of 
squalid misery, than in the all-absorbing Charybdis, the 
breeches-pocket of our glorious Dan. 

Such was the " Mercury new-lighted on a heaven-kissing 
hid," to whom Prout delivered his lirovisional orders for the 


market of Cork ; and early, witli a hamper ou his back, at 
tho dawn of that important day Y.-hieh settled into so glori- 
ons an evening of fun and conviviality, Terry set off to lay 
the foundation of the -whole affair at the fish-stall kept by 
that celebrated dame de la halle, the widow Desmond. Pur- 
suant to directions, he bought a turbot, two lobsters, a sal- 
mon, and a hake, with a hundred of Cork-harbour oysters ; 
and considering, prudently, that a cori^s de reserve might be 
wanted in the course of the repast, he added to the afore- 
said matters, which Prout had himself specified, a hors 
d'ceicrre of his ovni selection, viz. a keg of cod-sounds ; he 
having observed that on all state occasions, when Prout 
entertained his bishop, he had always, to suit his lordship's 
taste, a 2}lat oblige of cod-sounds, "by particular desire." 

At the same time he was commissioned to deliver sundry 
notes of invitation to certain choice spirits, who try to keep 
in wholesome agitation, by the buoyancy of their wit and 
hilarity, the otherwise stagnant pond of Corkonian society ; 
citizens of varied humour and diversified accomplishments, 
but of whom the highest praise and the most comprehensive 
eulogy cannot convey more to the British public than the 
simple intimation of their having been " the friends of Father 
Prout :" for while Job's Arabian '' friends " will be remem- 
bered only as objects of abhorrence, Prout's associates will 
be cherished by the latest posterity. These Avere, Jack Bel- 
lew, Dan Corbet, Dick Dowden, Bob Olden, and Friar 

Among these illustrious names, to be henceforth embalmed 
in the choicest perfume of classic recollection, you will find 
on inquir}^, O Queen ! m.en of all parties and religious per- 
suasions, men of every way of thinking in politics and po- 
lemics, but who merged all their individual feelings in the 
broad expanse of one common philanthropy ; for at Prout's 
tabic the serene horizon of the festive board was never 
clouded by the suftusion of controversy's gloomy vapours, 
or the mephitic feuds of party condition. And, most 
peace-loving Kechna ! should it ever suit your fancy to go 
on a trip to Ireland, be on your guard against the foul and 
troublesome n\iisance of speech-makers and political oracles, 
of whatever class, who infest that otherwise happy island : 
betake thyself to the hospitable home of Dar. Corbet, or 


some such good and rational circle of Irish society, "where 
never will a single drop of acrimony be found to mingle in 
the disembosomings of feeling and the perennial flow of 
soul — 

" Sic tibi cum fluctiis prseterlabere Sicanos, 
Doris amara suam non intermisceat undam 1" 

But, in describing Prout's guests, rank and precedency- 
belong of right to that great modern ruler of mankind, "the 
Press ;" and therefore do we first apply ourselves to the de- 
lineation of the merits of Jack Bellew, its significant repre- 
sentative — he being the wondrous editor of that most accom- 
plished newspaper, the " Cork Chronicle." 

Jack MontesquieuBellew'(-2';(?M honoris causa nomino) was — 
I say teas, for, alas ! he too is no more : Prout's death was too 
much for him 'twas a blow from which he never recovered ; 
and since then he was visibly so heart-broken at the loss 
of his friend, that he did nothing but droop, and soon 
died of what the doctor said was a decline :) — Jack was the 
very image of his own " Chronicle," and, vice versd, the 
" Chronicle " was the faithful mirror (iihuXov, or alter ego) of 
Jack : both one and the other were the queerest concerns 
in the south of Ireland. The post of editor to a country 
newspaper is one, generally speaking, attended with sundry 
troubles and tribulations ; for even the simple department 
of " deaths, births, and marriages," would require a host of 
talent and a superhuman tact to satisfy the vanity of the 
subscribers, without making them ridiculous to their next 
neighbours. Now Bellew didn't care a jot who came into 
the world or who left it ; and thus he made no enemies by 
a too niggardly panegyric of their kindred and deceased 
relations. There was an exception, however, in favou.r of an 
old subscriber to the " paper," whose death was usually 

^ How the siimame of the illustrious author of the Esprit de Lcla, 
came to be used by the 33elle\vs in Ireland has puzzled the Heralds' 
College. Indeed, many other Irish names offer a wide field for genea- 
logical inquiry : e. g. Sir Hercules Langhrish, Ccesar Otway, Eneas Mae- 
Donnell, Hannibal Plunkctt, Ebenezer Jacob, Jonah Barrington (this 
last looks very like a whale). Tliat the Bellews dealt largely in spirit.i, 
appears to be capable of 2iroof: at any rate, there was never any pro- 
ponsity for Vespril des lois, whatever might be the pefichant ior unlawful 
■spirit, at the family mansion Knock an isqueiu — Aiujlica ilount Whisky, 
Gallice Montesquieu. 


commemorated by a rim of mourning at the edges of the 
*' Chronicle :" and it was particularly when the subscription 
had not been paid (which, indeed, was generally the case) 
that the emblems of sorrow were conspicuous — so much so, 
that you could easily guess at the amount of the arrears 
actually due, from the proportionate breadth of the black 
border, which in some instances was prodigious. But Jack's 
attention was principally turned to the aflairs of the Conti- 
nent, and he kept an eye on Eussia, an eye of vigilant obser- 
vation, which considerably annoyed the czar. In vain did 
Pozzo di Borgo endeavour to silence, or purchase, or intimi- 
date BeUew ; he was to the last an uncompromising op- 
ponent of the " miscreant of the Xorth." The opening of the 
trade to China was a favourite measure with our editor ; for 
he often complained of the bad tea sold at the sign of the 
"Elephant," on the Parade. He took part with Don Pedro 
against the Serene Infanta Don Miguel ; but that was attri- 
buted to a sort of Platonic he felt for the fascinating Donna 
Maria da Gloria. As to the great question of repale, he was 
too sharp not to see the full absurdity of that brazen im- 
posture. He endeavoured, however, to suggest a "juste mil- 
lieu," a "medius terminus" between the politicians of the 
Chamber of Commerce and the common-sense portion of the 
Cork community; and his plan was, — to hold an imperial parlia- 
ment for the three hiitgdoms on the Isle of Man ! But he failed in 
procui'ing the adoption of his conciliatory sentiments. Most 
Irish provincial papers keep a London "private corres- 
pondent " — some poor devil, who writes from a blind alley 
in St. Giles's, with the most graphic minuteness, and a truly 
laughable hatred of mystery, all about matters occurring at 
the cabinet meetings of Downing Street, or in the most im- 
penetrable circles of diplomacy. Jack despised such fudge, 
became his own " London private correspondent," and ad- 
dressed to himself long communications dated from "White- 
hall. The most useful intelligence Avas generally found in 
this epistolary form of soliloquy. But in the " fashionable 
world," and " News from the beaumonde," the " Chronicle" 
was unrivalled. The latest and most rcchercM modes, tho 
newest Parisian lashious, were carefully described ; not- 
withstanding which, Jack himself, like Diogenes or Sir 
Charles Wetherell, went about in a most ragged habiliment. 


To speak with Shakspeare, thougli not well dressed himself' 
he was the cause of dress in others. His finances, alas • 
were always miserably low ; no fitting retribution was ever 
the result of his literary labours ; and of him might be 
said what we read in a splendid fragment of Petronius 
Arbiter, — 

" Sola pruinosis horret facundia pannis, 
Atque inopi lingua disertaa invocat artes !" 

Such was Bellew ; and next to him of political importance 
in public estimation was the celebrated Dick Dowden, the 
great inventor of the " pyroligneous acid for curing bacon." 
He was at one time the deservedly popular librarian of the 
Royal Cork Institution ; but since then he has risen to 
eminence as the greatest soda-water manufacturer in the 
south of Ireland, and has been unanimously chosen by the 
sober and reflecting portion of his fellow-citizens to be the 
perpetual president of the " Cork Temperance Society." He 
is a Presbyterian — but I believe I have already said he was 
concerned in vinegar.* He is a great admirer of Dr. Bow- 
ring, and of the Eajah Eammohun Eoy ; and some think 
him inclined to favour the new Utilitarian philosophy. But 
why do I spend my time in depicting a man so well known 
as Dick Dowden ? AVho has not heard of Dick Dowden ? 
I pity the Avretch to whom his name and merits are un- 
kno-\vn ; for he argues himself a dunce that knows not Dow- 
den, and deserves the anathema pronounced by Goldsmith 
against his enemies, — 

" To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor !" 

Talking of razors, the transition to our third guest, Bob 
Olden is most smooth and natural — Olden, the great inven- 
tor of the wonderful shaving-lather, called by the Greeks EU- 
KEiEOGENEiON (EuTiiipoyiHiov) ! — Olden, the reproducer of an 
Athenian cosmetic, and the grand discoverer of the patent 
"Trotter- oil," for the growth of the human hair; a citizen 
of infinite worth and practical usefulness ; a high church- 
man eke was he, and a Tory ; but his " conservative" excel- 
lence was chiefly applicable to the epidermis of the chin, 
which he eff'ectually preserved by the incomparable lather of 

* " A Quaker, sly ; a Presbyterian, sour." — Pope 


bis E-j/i£/ff&} iviio'j ; an invention that would, to use the words 
of a Cork poet, 

" Bid even a Jew bid adieu to liis beard.'" 

But Dan Corbet, the third guest, was a real trump, the 
very quintessence of fun and frolic, and of all Front's friends 
the one of whom he was most particularly proud. He is the 
principal dentist of the Munster district — a province where 
a tooth-ache is much rarer, unfortunately for dentists, than a 
broken head or a black eye. In Corbet, the kindliest of human 
beings, and sincerest of Corkonians, the buttermilk of human 
friendliness was ever found in plentiful exuberance ; Avhile 
the loud laugh and the jocund song bespoke the candour of his 
soul. Never was a professor of odontology less pedantic or 
less given to quackery. His ante-chamber was always full of 
patients, awaiting his presence with pleasurable anticipation 
and some were known to feign a tooth-ache, in order to 
have a pleasant interview with the dentist. AVhen he made 
his appearance in his morning gown before the crowd of 
afflicted visitors, a general titter of cheerfulness enlivened the 
visages of the sufferers ; and I can only compare the effect 
produced by his presence to the welcome of Scarron on the 
banks of the Styx, when that man of wondrous hilarity 
went down to the region of the ghosts as a dispeller of 
sorrow : 

" Solvuntur risu mosstissima turba silcntuin, 
Cum venit ad Stygias Scarro facctus aquas." 

I have only one thing to say against Corbet. At his hos- 
pitable table, where, without extravagance, every good dish 
is to be found, a dessert generally follows remarkable for the 
quantity and iron-hardness of the walnuts, while not a nut- 
cracker can be had for love or money from any of the ser- 
vants. Now this is too bad : for, you must know, that next 
morning most of the previous yuests reappear in the charac- 
ter of patients j and the nuts (like the dragon-teeth sown 
in a field by Cadinus) produce a harvest of lucrative visitors 
to the cabinet of the professor. Ought not this system to 
be abolished, Queen ! and is it any justification or pallia- 
tion of such an enormity to know that tlie bane and anti- 
dote are both before one ? When I spoke of it to Corbet, 


ne only smiled at my simplicity, and quoted tlie precedent 
in Horace, (for he is a good classic scholar), 

"Et nux ornabat mensam, cum duplice ficn." 

Lib. ii. sat. 2. 

But I immediately pointed out to him, that he reversed the 
practice of the Eomans ; for, instead of the figs heing in 
double ratio to the nuts, it was the latter with him that pre- 
dominated in quantity, besides being pre-eminently hard 
when submitted to the double action of that delicate lever 
the human jaw, which nature never (except in some in- 
stances, and these more apparent, perhaps, in the conform- 
ation of tlie nose and chin) intended for a nut-cracker. 

Of Friar O'Meara there is little to be said. Prout did 
not think much of friars in general ; indeed, at all times 
the working parochial clergy in Ireland have looked on them 
as a kind of undisciplined Cossacks in the service of the 
church militant, of whom it cannot conveniently get rid, 
but who are much better adepts in sharing the plunder than 
in labouring to earn it. The good father often explained 
to me how the matter stood, and how the bishop wanted to 
regulate these friars, and make them work for the instinic- 
tion of the poor, instead of their present lazy life ; but they 
were a match for him at liome, where none dare whisper a 
word against one of tlie fraternity of the cowl. There are 
some papers in the Prout collection on this subject, which 
(when you get the chest) will explain all to you. O'Meara 
(who was not the " Yoice from St. Helena," though he some- 
times passed for that gentleman on the Continent) was a 
pleasant sort of fellow, not very deep in divinity or black- 
lettered knowledge of any kind, but conversable and chatty, 
having frequently accompanied young 'squii-es, as travelling 
tutor to Italy, much in the style of those learned function- 
aries who lead a dancing-bear through the market-toAvus of 
England, There was no dinner within seven miles of Cork 
without O'Meara, Pull soon would his keen nostril, ever 
upturned, (as jMilton sayeth) into the murky air, have 
snufled the scent of culinary preparation in the breeze that 
came from "Watergrasshill : therefore it was that Prout sent 
him a note of invitation, knowing he tvould come, whether 
or no. 

80 rATHEU PEon's eeliques. 

Sucli were tlie guests who, with George Knapp and ray- 
self, formed the number of the elect to dine Avdth Sir Wal- 
ter at the father's humble board ; and when the covers wera 
removed (grace having been said by Prout in a style that 
would have rejoiced the sentimental Sterne) a glorious vision 
of fish was unfolded to the raptured sight ; and I confess I 
did not much regret the absence of the turkey, whose plump 
carcass I could get an occasional glimpse of, hanging from 
the roof of the kitchen. AVe ate, and confabulated as fol- 
lows : — 

"I don't approve," said Bob Olden, "of Homer's ideas as 
to a social entertainment : he does not let his heroes converse 
rationally until long after they have set down to table, or, 
as Pope vulgarly translates it, 

" Soon as the rage of hunger is repressed." 

JS'ow I think that a very gross way of proceeding." 


In our convent we certainly keep up the observance, such 
as Pope has it. The repast is divided into three distinct pe- 
riods ; and in the conventual refectory you can easily dis- 
tinguish at what stage of the feeding time tlie brotherhood 
are engaged. The first is called, 1°, ultum silentium ; then, 
2°, clangor dentium ,- then, 3" rumor gentium. 


I protest against the personal allusion contained in that 
second item. You are always making mischief, O'Meara. 


I hope that when the friars talk of the news of the day, 
— for such, I suppose, is the meaning of rumor genthan — 
they previously liave read the private London correspond- 
ence of the " Cork Chronicle." 


Sir "Walter, perhaps you would wish to begin Avitli a fresh 
egg, ab oi'o, as Horace recommends ; or perhaps you'd 


prefer tlie order described by Pliny, in bis letter to Septi- 
mius, 1°, a radish; 2°, three snails; and 3°, two effffs* or 
oysters ad libitum, as laid do\Yn by Macrobius.f 


Thank you, I can manage with this slice of salmon-trout. 
I can relish the opinion of that great ornament of your 
church, Thomas a Kempis, to whose taste nothing was more 
delicious than a salmon, always excepting the Psalms of 
David! as he properly says, Jj/y^j Psalmi Davidici sapiunt 
salmones !% 


That was not a bad idea of Tom Kempis. But my fa- 
vourite author, St. Chrysostom, surpasses him in wit. "When 
talking of the sermon on the Lake of Tiberias, he marvels 
atthe singularpositionof the auditory relative to thepreacher: 
his Avords are, Aj/yoi; ^sa/xa, o'l lyj-ji', i-ri rr^v yr^i^ xa/ 6 ay-izv; 
iv da7.aTTyi ! Serm. de Nov. et Vet. Test. 


That is a capital turbot, O Prout ! and, instead of talk- 
ing Greek and quoting old Chrysostom (the saint with the 
golden mouth), you ought to be helping Jack Bellew and 
George Knapp. — What sauce is that ? 


The senate of Eome decided the sauce long ago, by order 

* Vide Plin. Ep. ad Septim, where he acquaints us ■with the proper 
manner of commencing operations. His words are, " Lactucas singulas, 
cochleas trcs, ova bina." Our cockle and the French word cialler, a 
ppoon, are derived from the Latin cochleare ; of which cochlea (a snail 
or periwinkle) is the root. Thus we read in Martial — 
" Sum cochleis habilis, sed nee magis utilis ovis ; 
Numquid scis potius cur cochleare vocer ?" 
■{• In the third hook of his "Saturnalia," Macrobius, describing tho 
feast given by tlie Flamen Lentiilus to the Roman people on his instal- 
lation to office, praises the host's generosity, inasmuch as he opened tho 
banquet by providing as a whet " uslreas crudas quantiim quisqiic vellet," 
;J; See the Elzevir eihtion of Thorn, u Ketupis, in vihi, p. 21G. 



of Domitian, as Juvenal might tell you, or even the French 
translation — 

" Le senat mit aux voix cette affaii-e impovtantc, 
Et le turbot fut mis a la saiice piquanle." 

Sir "Walter ! as it has been my distinguished lot — a cir- 
cumstance that confers everlasting glory on my mayoralty — 
to have had the honour of presenting you yesterday with 
the freedom of the corporation of Cork, allow me to pre- 
sent you with our next best thing, a potato. 


I have received with pride the municipal fi-anchisc, and ] 
now accept with equal gratitude the more substantial gift 
you have handed me, in this capital esculent of your happy 


Our round towers, Sir AValtcr, came from the oast, as 
will be one day proved ; but our potatoes came from the 
west ; Persia sent us the one, and Virginia the other. AVe 
are a glorious people ! The two hemisplieres minister to our 
iiistoric recollections ; and if we look back on our annals, 
we get drunk with glory ; 

"For when hist'ry begins to grow dull in the cast, 
We may order our -wings, and be off to the west." 

May I have the pleasure of wine with you ? Gentlemen, 
nil all round. 


I intend ^VI'it^ng a somewhat in which Sir Walter llaleigh 
shall be a distinguished and prominent character; and 1 
])romise you the potato shall not be forgotten. The discovery 
of that root is alone suiricient to immortalize the hero who 
lost his liead so unjustly on Tower Hill. 


Christoplior Columbus was equally ill-treated : and nei 


tlier lie uor llaleigli have even given their name to the ob- 
jects they discovered. Great men have never obtained 
justice from their contemporaries. — I'll trouble you for 
some of the fins of that turbot, Prout. 


Nay, further, Avithout going beyond the circle of this 
festive board, why has not Europe and the world united to 
confer some signal distinction on the useful inventor of 
" Pyroligneous Acid?" A¥hy is not the discoverer of" Trotter 
oil" and '' Eukeirogeneion" fittingly rewarded by mankind ? 
Because men have narrow views, and prefer erecting columns 
to Spriug Rice, and to Bob AVaithman who sold shawls in 
Fleet Street. — Let me recommend some lobster-sauce. 


Minerv' a, who first extracted oil from the olive, was deified 
in Greece ; aud Olden is not j-et even a member of the 
dullest scientific body ; while Dr. Lardner belongs to them 
all, if I can understand the phalanx of letters that follows 
his name. 


I have read the utilitarian Doctor's learned treatise on 
the potato — a subject of which he seems to understand the 
chemical manipulation. He says, very justly, that as the 
root contains saccharine matter, sugar may be extracted 
therefrom ; he is not sure whether it might not be distilled 
into ivhisJaj ; but he is certain that it makes capital stai-ch, 
and triumphantly shews that the rind can feed pigs, and 
the stalk thatch the pigsty, O most wonderful Doctor 
Lardner ! Here's his health ! AiovjGio; ! — not a bad intro- 
duction to a bumper of claret. [Three times three.l 


I too have turned my thoughts into that channel, and 
nmong my papers there is a treatise on " the rooty I have 
prefixed to my dissertation this epigraph from Cicero's 
speech " pro Archiii Poetu," where the Eoman orator talks 
of the belles lettres; but I apply the words much more 
literally — I hate metaphor in practical matters such as 



these : " They are the food of our youth, the sustenance of 
our old age ; they are delightful at home, and by no means 
in one's way abroad ; they cause neither nightmare nor in- 
digestion, but are capital things on a journey, or to fill the 
wallet of a pilgrim." " Adolescentiam alunt, senectuteui 
oblectant ; delectant domi, non impediunt foris ; pei'uoctant 
nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur." So much for pota- 
toes. But there are other excellent natural productions 
in our island, which are also duly celebrated in my papers, 
and possibly may be published ; but not till I am gathered 
to the grave. I have never forgotten the interests of pos- 
terity. — Pass that decanter. 


Talking of the productions of the soil, I cannot reconcile 
the antiquity, the inconteaiahle antiquity, of the lyric ode 
called the " Groves of Blarney," of which before dinner 
we have traced the remote origin, and examined so many 
varied editions with a book of more modern date, 'called 
" Caesar's Commentaries." The beech tree, Caesar says, 
does not grow in these islands, or did not in his time : All 
trees grow there, he asserts, the same as in Gaul, except the 
lime-tree and the beech — " Materia fer^ eadem ac in Gallia, 
•^v^iev fagum et abietem." {Cces. de Bello Gallico, lib. v.) 
Now in the song, which is infinitely older than Caesar, we 
Lave mention made, " besides the leeches," of certain 
"groves of beeches," — the text is positive. 


That observation escaped me totally ; and still the differ- 
ent versions all concur in the same assei'tion. The Latin or 
Vulgate codex says — 

" Grantlc dccus pagi 
Fluvii stant marginc FAGI." 

The Greek or Scptuagiut version is equally stubborn in 
making out the case-^ 

'igraiMsvuv za/ 6/.»j 

^_.^u y\^.A/^Uc^ 


And the Frencli copy, taken from Doomsday Book, is con- 
clusive, and a complete poser — 

"Silt ces bords champetres 
Ou a plante des hethes." 

I am afraid Caesar's reputation for accuracy "will be greatly 
shaken by this discovery : he is a passable authority in mili- 
tary tactics, but not in natural history : give me Pliny ! — 
This trout is excellent ! 


I think the two great authors at issue on this heech-tree 
business can be conciliated thus; let us say, thatby the Greek 
^rr/uv, and the Latin fagi, nothing more is meant than 
the clan the O'Fagans, who are very thickly planted here- 
abouts. They are still a hungry race, as their name Fagau 
indicates — a-o to-j (fayuv. 


It must have been one of that family who, in the reign of 
Aurelius, distinguished himself by his great appetite at the 
imperial court of Home. Thus Berchoux sings, on the au- 
thority of Suetonius : 

" Phagon fut en ce genre un liomme extraordinaire ; 
II avait I'estomac (grands Dieux !) d'un flromadan-e ; 
II faisait disparaitre, en ses rares festins, 
Un pore, un sanglier, un mouton, et cent pains ! ! .'" 


That's what we at Paris used to call pain h discretion. — 
INEargaret, open some oysters, and get the cayenne pepper. 


I protest I don't like to see the O'Fagans run down— m.y 
aunt was an O'Fagan ; and as to deriving the name from the 
Greek aero to-j (payuv, I think it a most gratuitous assumption. 


I agree with my worthy friend Bellew as to the impro- 
priety of harping upon names. One would think the mayor 
of Cork ought to obtain some respect, and be spared the 
infliction of the waggery of his fellow-townsmen. But no ; 
because I clear the city of mad dogs, and keep hydrophobia 


far from our walls, I am called the " dog- (I bad almost said 
kid-) Knapper /" Now, my family is of German extraction, 
and my great-grandfather served under the gallant Dutch- 
man in his wars with the " Grande Monarque," before he 
came over with William to deliver this country from slavery 
and wooden shoes. It was my great-grand-fatber who in- 
vented that part of a soldier's accoutrement, called, after 
him, a " Knapp's sack." 


I hope. Sir "Walter, you will not leave Cork without din- 
ing at the mansion-house with our worthy mayor. Talstaff 
himself could not find fault with the excellent flavour of 
Knapp's sack. 


I fear I shall not be able to postpone my departure ; but 
as we are on this subject of names, I have to observe, that 
it is an old habit of the vulgar to take liberty with the 
syllables of a great man's patronymic. Melaucthon * was 
forced to clothe his name in Greek to escape their allusions ; 
Jules de I'Echelle changed his into Scaliger ; Pat Lardner 
has become Dionysius ; and the great author of those im- 
mortal letters, which ho has taken care to tell us will be read 
when the commentaries of Cornelius a Lapide are forgotten, 
gave no name at all to the v.^orld — 

" Stat noininis iimbra !" 


Poor Erasmus ! how he used to bo badgered about his 
cognomen — 

" Qua;ritur undc tibi sit nomcn, EiiASJirs ? — Eras !!Mus !" 
for even so that arch wag, the ClianccUor Sir Thomas IMore, 
addressed him. But his reply is on record, and his penta- 
meter beats the Chancellor's hexameter — 

" Si Slim Mus ego, tcjiiclicc Su:mmis ero!"' 

* The re^l name of i\rolaiK-thon was riii]i)ip Suhwartzei-ilfSiInpavfjflb), 
Triiicb means l/lack earth, and is most happily rendered into Greek by 
the tcvm Melancthon, MtXwn'ax'Owi'. Thus sought he to escape tlm 
vulgar conundrums wliich his name in the vernacular German could 
not I'uil to elicit. A Lapido's name was slehi 



Ay, and j'ou will recollect how he splendidly retaliated 
on the punster by dedicating to Sir Thomas his Mw^/k; 
E/xw/jc/ov. Erasmus was a capital fellow, 

" The gloiy of the priesthood, and the shame !" 

Pray, Sir "Walter, are you any relation of our great irro- 
frae:able doctor, Duns Scotus ? He was an ornament of the 
Tranciscan order. 


No, I have not that honour ; hut I have read what Ei'as- 
mus says of certain members of your fraternity, in a dia- 
logue between himself and the Echo : 

" (EEASJirs loquitur.) — Quid est sacerdotiam ? 
{'EcJio resjjond it.) — Otiura !" 

That reminds me of Lardner's idea of '• otium cum digni- 
tate," whicli he proposes to read thus — otium aim diggbC 
Katies ! — The sugar and the materials here for Mr. Beliew. 


There was a witty thing, and a severe thing, said of the 
Barberini family at Kome, when they took the stones of the 
Amphitheatrum Elavium to build them their palazzo : 
" Quod non fecerant Barbari, hoc fecerunt Barberini." But 
I think Jack Bellew, in his " Clironicle," made as pointed a 
remark on Sir Tliomas Deane, knight and builder, who bought 
the old furniture and gutted the old castle of Blarney : 
" The Bones,'' quoth Jack, " have always been pillaging old 
Ireland !" 


"VVTioever connived at or abetted the destruction of that 
old mansion, or took any part in the transaction, had the 
soul of a Goth ; and the " Chronicle " could not say less. 


Bellew has vented his indignation in a song, whicli, u 


called on by so distinguished an antiquary, lie '^'ill, no doubt, 
sing. And first let me propose the " Liberty of the Press " 
and the " Cork Chronicle," — nine times nine, standing. 

Air — " wscpfor the hour .'" 

Oh ! the muse shed a tear 

Wlien the cruel auctioneer, 
"With a hammer iii his hand, to sweet Blarney came ! 

Lady Jeffery's ghost 

Left the Stygian coast. 
And shi'iek'd the hve-long night for her grandson's sliame. 

The Vandal's hammer fell, 

And we know full well 
Who bought tlie castle fumitui'e and fixtiu-es, O ! 

And took off in a cart 

('Twas enough to break one's heart!) 
All the statues made of lead, and the pictures, ! 

You're the man I mean, liight 

Sir Thomas Deane, knight, 
^^liom the people have no reason to thank at all ; 

But for you those things so old 

Sure would never liave been sold, 
2\or the fox be looking out from the banquet-hall. 

Oh, ye pull'd at such a rate 

At every -wainscoting and grate, 
Dctermin'd the old house to sack and garble, 01 

That you didn't leave a splinter, 

To keep out the coidd winter. 
Except a limestone chimney-piece of mai-ble, O ! 

And there the place was left 

AVlicre bold King Charles the Twelfth 
Iluug, before his portrait went upon a journey, O ! 

Och ! the family's itcli 

For going to law was sitch, 
That they bound him long before to an attorney, O? 

But still the magic stone 

(Blessings on it !) is not flown, 
To which a debt of gratitude Pat Lanlner owes : 

Kiss that block, if you're a dunce, 

And you'll emulate at once 
The genius who to fame by dint of blai-ney roEe. 



1 thanlt you, Mr. Bellew, for your excellent ode on that 

most lamentable subject : it must have been an evil day for 


A day to be blotted out of the annals of Innisfail — a day 
of calamity and downfal. The nightingale never sang so 
plaintively in "the groves," the dove or the "gentle plover" 
were not heard " in the afternoon," the fishes wept in the 
deepest recesses of the lake, and strange sounds were said 
to issue from " the cave where no daylight enters." — Let me 
Lave a squeeze of lemon. 

But what became of the " statues gracing this noble 
mansion ?" 


Sir Thomas Deane bought " jS'ebuchadnezzar," and the 
town-clerk, one Besnard, bought " Julius Csesar." Sir 
Thomas of late years had taken to devotion, and conse- 
quently coveted the leaden effigy of that Assyrian king, of 
whom Daniel tells us such strange things ; but it turned out 
that the graven image was a likeness of Hercules, after all ! 
so that, having put up the statue in his lawn at Blackrock, 
the wags have since called his A-illa " Herculaneum." Like 
that personage of whom Tommy Moore sings, in his pretty 
poem about a sculptor's shop, who made a similar (lui pro 
quo. AV hat's the verse, Corbet ? 


" lie came to buy Jonah, and took away Jove !" 


There is nothing very wonderful in that. In St. Peter's 
at Kome we have an old statue of Jupiter (a capital antique 
bronze it is), which, with the addition of " keys" and some 
other modern improvements, makes an excellent figui'e of the 
prince of the apostles. 



Swift says that Jupiter -was originally a mere corruption 
of " Jew Peter. '^ You have given an edition of the Dean, 
Sir Walter ? 


Yes ; but to return to your Blarney statue : I Avonder the 
peasantry did not rescue, vi et armis, the ornaments of their 
immortal groves from the grasp of the barbarians. I hap- 
pened to be in Paris when the allies took away the sculp- 
tured treasures of the Louvre, and the Venetian horses of 
the Carrousel ; and I well remember the indignation of the 
sous of France. Praj^ what was the cojuiexion between 
Blarney Castle and Charles XII. of Sweden ? 


One of the JefFery family served with distinction under 
the gallant Swede, and had received the royal portrait on his 
return to his native country, after a successful campaign 
against the Czar Peter. The picture Avas swindled out of 
Blarney by an attorney, to satisfy the costs of a law-suit. 


The Czar Peter was a consummate politician ; but when 
he chopped off the beards of the Eussians, and forced his 
subjects by penal laws to shave their chins, he acted ver}'- 
unwisely ; he sliould liave procured a supply of eukeiro- 
(/eneion, and effected his object by smooth means. 


Come, Olden, let us have one of your songs about that 
wonderful discovery. 


I'll willingly give you an ode in praise of the incomparable 
lather ; but 1 tliink it fair to state that my song, like my 
eukeirogencion, is a modern imitation of a Greek original : 
you shall hear it iu both languages. 



Come, list to my stave, 
Yc who roam o'er the land or the wave. 
Or in grots subterranean, 
Or lip the blue Mediteri-auean, 
Near Etna's big crater, 
Or across the equator, 
Where, within St. Helena, t'uere licth an 

emperor's grave ; 
If, when you have got to the Ca^^e of 

Good Hope, 
You begin to experience a sad want of 

Bless yoiu' lot 
On the spot, 
If you chance to lay eye on 
A flask of Eukcirogeneion ; 
For then you may safely rely on 
A smooth and most comfortmg shave ! 

In this liquid thoi'e lies no deception ; 
For even old Neptune, 
Whose busliy clhn frightens 
The green squad of Tritons — 
And who turns up the deep 
With the huge flowing sweep 
Of his lengthy and ponderous bivu-d, — 
Shoidd ho rub but his tlu'ottlo 
With the foam of this bottle, 
He'd find, 
To his mind, 
In a twinkling the mop wovdd have all 

King Nebuchadnezzar, 
WIio was turn'd for his sins to a gi-azicr, 
(For they stopp'd his allowance of pratie?. 
And made him eat gi'ass on the banks of 

Whose statue Sh- Thomas 
Took from us ; 
Along with the image of Ccesar : 
(But Frank Crcsswell wiU tell the whole 

story to Fraser :) 
Tliough they left him a capital razor, 
Still went for seven years with his hair 

like a lion. 
For want of Eukcirogeneion. 

Tr]g f/y);(- aKnoaads 
QSrjt;, 6(104 TrXavanOt 
El' yy, T fv Kiifta'Sffcrt 
H-araYaiois, r (v (TTTijfrct 
Kvai'ioj Ti Mfffoyca/;^, 
Tiupa Kafiirqt Airi'aiot 

1(Trifi£pU'0V TTipaV TS 

KvkXou. £7r' EXti'ai' ts 
'OSov TrXtcvTtg iiaicoar, 
" AyaOiXTviSog" TrpoQ aicpav, 
'^TTavic ii -iQ ytvoiTo 
"S.airijovoQ, kTjp ■\(^aipoiTO 
Et y' ofifia TO 0\tTrei <t<jV 
Koi»pa yap ij /inXiffra 
naptari aoi rpiWiara. 

Ev KKvajiar' ovro) ri;>Ci 
Effr' aTTarij, yap 6 ci/ 
Tloaiidtoi', 6 ytpaio'j 
Mtyag Evvocrtyator, 
Aaaov i\ii)i' Trutyojiii, 
'Q <po€itl TpiTdiva, 
Kat oiSavii SaXaffcai', 
OaaKig ti^tTTtraaati' 
TlwyiopoQ tKTaOtrrar 
nXoicanovQ (ioTpvoii Tug, 
Tipoaunrov ii yt \ovu, 
KvTovg a(ppt<> rov-nvi 
Ev aKdpil TO Oiiov 

Aeiaivtrai yiviiov. 

'NitvxaSt'aiuap (riiXj;*' 
Od BXapJ'iKrig a0' vXiic 
'0 ©oj/irtc ''o tiCioXoi' 
'O j3aoSopoc ju;; ^oXior. 
MeyaXijv a<patpMi> Xnur 
Kat S)}ioiov tpvTuav., 
"Zoi T avTO pt^£ Kiiirrap, 
'Qg ytnxnrni 6 <I>l'Ali:AI*) 
Ta ^vp' apiar' ava^' si' 
OiKtiJ (x^v Tapa^tv, 
'0 Trwywr Kill ;^oi7J/<T()' 
^a9i]^ii'og, TrXai'iig i/i' 
Qr]p oxt', ovru) yap Sioi' 




I don't think it fair tliat Prank Cresswell sliould say no- 
thing all tke evening. Up, up, my boy ! give ns a speech or 
a stave of some kind or other. Have you never been at 
school ? Come, let us have " JSTorval on the Grampian 
hnis," or something or other. 

Thus apostrophized, O Queen ! I put my wits together ; 
and, anxious to contribute my quota to the common fund of 
classic enjoyment, I selected the immortal ode of Campbell, 
and gave a Latin translation in rhyme as well as I could. 

Cije JSattle o£ ?l>oIjcnlintlcu. PrceUum apud Hohenlinden. 

On Linden, -when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser rolluig rapidly. 

Sol ruit coelo miuuitquc lumen, 
Kix super terris jacet usque 

Et tenebrosa fluit Iser unda, 
Flebile flumen ! 

But Linden saw another sight. 
When the di-ums beat at dead of 

Commanding fii-es of death to light 
The darkness of the scenery. 

By torch and trumpet fast ai-ray'd, 
I'^ach horseman drew his battle-blade 
And furious every charger neigh'd 
To jom the dreadful rivalry. 

Kamque noetm'nus sunul arsit 
Tympanum rauco sonuitboaiu, 
Dum micant flamniis, agitaute 

Rura mahgnis. 

Jam dedit vocem tuba ! las ru- 
Ordinat turmis cquites, ct idtro 
Pert equos ardor^ rutilante 

Ire fiu'entes. 

Then shook the hills, by thunder 

riven ; 
Then rush'd the steed, to batllo 

driven : 
And louder than the bolts of heaven 
Far flashed the red artillery ! 

The combat thickens ! on, ye brave ! 
Who rush to glory or the grave. 
W^ave, Munich ! all thy banners 

Turn sono colles tremucre belli, 
Tiun ruit campo sonipes, et 

!Mugit, ct rubra tonitru vidctiir 
Ai-ce rcvelli ! 

lugi-uit strages ! cito, fertc grcs- 
sum ! 
Q.uos triumphantem rodiniere 


Aud cliarge -with all thy chivalry ! Tempori laurum juvat ! aut se- 


Stare cuprcssum ! 

Few, few shall part where many Hie ubi catnpum premuere multi, 

meet ! Tecta quam rari patriae vide- 

The snow shaU be their winding- bmit! 

sheet, Heu sepulchi'ali nive quot ma- 

And every sod beneath then- feet nebunt, 

ShaU be a soldier's sepulclirc ! Pol ! nee inulti ! 

Such, O Queen! was my feeble effort : and to your fos- 
tering kindness I commit the luckless abortion, hoping to 
be forgiven by Tom Campbell for having upset into very in- 
adequate Latin his spirit-stirring poetry. I made amends, 
however, to the justly enraged Muse, by eliciting the fol- 
lowing dithyrambic from Dan Corbet, Avhom I challenged 
in my turn : 

Ban €oibtt'5 i»ong. 
The Ivo)-y Tooth. 

Believe me, dear Prout, 
Shoulc: a tooth e'er grow loose in youi' head. 

Or faU out. 
And perchanee you'd wish one in its stead, 
Soon you'd see what my Art could contrive for yo 5 

When I'd forthwith produce, 

For your reverence's use, 
A most beautiful tooth carved from ivoi-y ! 

Whicli, when dinner-time comes, 

Would so well fit your gurus, 

That to make one superior 

'Twould puzzle a fau-y, or 

Any cute Leprechawu 

That trips o'er the lawn. 

Or the spirit that dwells 

In the lonely harebells. 
Or a witch from the big lake Ontario 

'Twould fit in so tig'ut. 

So briUiant and bright, 
And be made of such capital stu^", 
That no food 

Must needs be eschew'd 
On account of its being too tough | 


'Twould enable a sibvl 
The hardest sea-bisimit to nibble ; 
Kay, with such a sliarp tusk, and such pohshed enamel. 
Dear Prout, you could eat up a camel ! 

As I tnow you will judge 
"With eye microscopic 
What I say on this delicate topic, 
And I wish to beware of all fudge, 
I tell but the bare naked truth, 
And I hope I don't state what's irrelevant, 
When I say that this tooth. 
Brought fi'om Africa, when 
In the depths of a palm-shaded glen 
It was captured by men, 
Then adorned in the full bloom of youth, 
The jaws of a blood-royal elephant. 

We are told, 
Tliat a sm'geon of old — 
Oh, 'tis he was well skilled in the art of nosology! 
For such was his knowledge, ho 
Could make you a nose bran new ! 
I scarce can believe it, can you ? 
And still did a public most keen and disceriung 
Acknowledge liis learning ; 
Yea, siu'li skill was liis. 
That on any unfortunate phiz, 
By some luckless chance, 
In the wars of Fraiice, 
Deprived of its fleshy ridge. 
He'd raise up a nasal bridge. 

Xow my genius is not so precocious 
As that of Dr. Tagliacotius, 
For I only profess to be versed in the art of dontoiogyj 
To make you a noso 
" C'est toute autre chose ;" 
For at best, my dear Prout, 
lustcad of a human snout. 

You'd get but a sorry apology. 
But let me alone 
For stopping a gap, or correcting a flaw 
In a patient's jaw ; 
Or making a tooth tliat, like bone of your bo:??. 
Will outlive your own, 
And shine ou in the grave when your spirit is llowa. 



I know there's a blockhead 
That will put you a tooth up with wires, 
And then, when the clumsy thing tires, 

This most impudent feUow 

Will quietly tell you 
To take it out of its socket, 
And put it back into your waistcoat pocket ! 

But 'tis not so witli mine, 

O most learned divine ! 
For witliout any spurious auxiliary, 
Ho firmly infixed in your dexter maxiUary, 

To your last dying moment 'twill shine, 
Unless 'tis kuock'd out, 
In some desperate rout. 
By a sudden discharge of artillery. 

Thus the firmer 'twill grow as the wearer grows older. 

And then, when in death you shall moulder. 

Like that Greek who had gotten an ivory shoulder. 

The delight and amazement of ev'ry beholder. 

You'll be sung by the poets in your turn, O ! 

" Dente Front humeroque Pelops insignis eburno ! 

YiKG. Georg. II. 


Come, old Front, let's have a stave ! Aud first, here's to 
yoiii' health, my old cock ! 

•' Perpetual bloom 
To the Church of Rome !" 

l^Brunk standing.l 

The excellent old man acknowledged the toast Avith ho- 
coming dignity, and tunefully warbled the Latin original of 
one of " the Melodies." 

dTatljcr ^pi'OUt'^ ^ojtcJ- Front cantat. 

Li't Erni remember the days of 1 utinani sanos mea lerna reco- 

old, gitct annos 

Ere her faithless sons betray'd Antea, quam nati vmcla dedere 

liev, pati, 

When Malachi wore the collar of Cum IMalachus torqtje ut patria) 

gold, defensor honoi'que 

Which he won from tlic proud Ibat : erat vcro pignus ab hosto 

invader ; fero. 


When Xial, ■n-itli standard of green Tempore vesillo vii-idaute equita- 

unfurl'd, bat in illo 

Led the red-branch knights to ^ialus ante truces fervidus ire 

danger, duces. 

Ere the emerald gem of the west- Hi nee erant anni radiis in fronte 

em world tyranni 

"Was set in the brow of a strau- Tulgeat ut clai-is, insula gemma 

ger. mai'is. 

On Lough Neagh's banks as the Quando tacet ventus, Xeaghae dim 

fisherman strays, margine lentus 

When the cool, calm eve's dc- Piscator vadit, vespera; ut unibr:i 

chnuig, cadit, 

He sees the round towers of other Conteraplans undas, ibi turres stare 

days rotimdas 

Beneath the waters shuaing. Crcdidit, inque lacus oppida cer- 

So shall memory oft, in di'eam sub- nit aquis. 

lime, Sic memori in somnis res gesta 

Catch a glimpse of the days that reponitui" oranis 

are over, Historicosque dies retliilit alma 

And, sighing, look through the qiiies, 

waves of time, Gloria sublimis se effert e fluctibv.s 

For the long-faded glories they imis, 

cover. JL tque apparet ibi patria cara tibi. 


I now call on my wortliy friend Dowden, whom I am 
sorry to sec indulging in nothing hut soda all the evening : 
come, President of the " Temperance," and ornament of" the 
Kirk," a song ! 

AiE — " I sing the Mai J of Lodi." 

I sing the fount of soda, Apitrror /j«i' to v^ujp — 

That sweetly springs for me, So Pindar sang of old, 

And I liope to make this ode a Though modei-n bards — pro/i j-'ic 

Delightful melody ; dor ! — 

For if " Castaliau" water Deem water dull and cold ; 

Refreshed the tuneful nine, Eut if at my suggestion 

HealthtotheMuse! I've brought her Tliey'd try the crystal spring, 

S bubbling draught of mine. Tiiey'd find tliat, for digestion, 

Pure element's the thing. 


With soda's cheerful essence 

They'd fill the brimming glass, 
And feel the mild 'fervescence 

Of hydi-ogen and gas ; 
Nor quaff Geneva's liquor — 

Source of a thousand iUs ! 
Nor swill the poisonous ichor 

Cork (to her shame !) distils. 

Gin is a Im-khig tiper, 

That stings the maddened soul, 
And Reason pays the piper, 

While FoUy di'ains the bowl ; 
And rum, made of molasses, 

Inclineth man to sin ; 
And far potheen sui'passcs 

The alcohol of gin. 

But pm'est ah* in fixture 
PeiTades the soda draught, 

And forms the sylph-like mistui'e 
Brewed by our gentle craft. 

Nor is the beverage injured 
When fiavourcd with a lime ; 

Or if, when shghtly gingered, 
'Tis swallowed ofi" in time. 

Far from the tents of topers 

Blest be my lot to dwell, 
Secui'e from interlopers 

At peaceful " Sunday's well." 
Free o'er my lawn to wander, 

Amid sweet flowers and fruits ; 
And may I still grow fonder 

Of chemical pui-suits. 

Through life witli step unerring 

To glide, nor wealth to hoard. 
Content if a red herring 

Adorn my frugal board ; 
While Martha, mild and placid. 

Assumes the household cares. 
And pyroligneous acid 

The juicy ham prepares. 


That is a capital defence of the Temperance Society, and 
of sodaic compounds, Mr. Dowden, and clearly refutes the 
rash assertion of Horace — 

" Nee diu-are diu nee vivere carmina possunt 
Quae scribimtur aquee potoribus." 


Dick, you have a decided claim for a song on any of our 
guests whose melodious pipe we have not as yet heard. 


I call on O'Meara, whom I have detected watching, with 
a covetous eye, sometliing in the distant landscape. A song, 
friar ! 


I am free to confess that yonder turkey, of which I t-aii. 
get a glimpse through the kitchen-door, has a most tempt- 


rATHEE PKOUT s heliques. 

ing aspect. "Would it were spitted ! — but, alas ! this is 
Friday, However, there are substitutes even, for a turkey, 
as I shall endeavour to demonstrate in the most elegant 
style of Franciscan I/atinity ; adding a free translation for 
the use of the ignorant. 

Wliy then, siu'e it was made by a learn- 
ed owl, 
The " rule" by vrhich I beg, 
Forbidding to eat of the tender fowl 
That hangs on yonder peg. 
But, rot it ! no matter : 
For here on a platter, 
Sweet Margaret brhigs 
A food lit for kings ; 
And a meat 
Clean and neat — 
That's an egg ! 

Sweet maid, 
She brings me au egg newly laid ! 
And to fast I need ne'er be afraid, 
For 'tis Peg 
That can find me an egg. 

Cantilena Omeurica. 


Xcstra non est rcgula 

Edenda galhna, 
Altera sed edula 

Splendent in culinu : 
Ova manus sedula 

Affert mUu biua ! 
Est Margarita, 
Qure facit ita, 

Puellarum regiua ! 

Three different ways there arc of eat- 
ing them ; 
First boU'd, then fried with salt, — 
But there's a particular way of treating 
Where many a cook's at fault : 
For with parsley and flour 
'Tis iu jMargaret's power 
To make up a dish, 
Neither meat, fowl, nor fish ; 
Eut in Paris they call 't 
A neat 
Sweet girl ! 
In truth, as in Latin, her name ii a 

^Yhen she gets 
Mc a flutter of nice omelettes. 


Trii^lex mos est cderc : 

Prim5, genuina ; 
Dein, certo foedere 

Tosta et salina ; 
Turn, nil herba) Itcdere 

Possunt aut farina; 
Est Margarita, 
Qua; facit ita, 

Puellarum regina ! 


{Lento e maestoso.) 
Och ! 'tis all in my eye, and a joke, Tom pus stulta plebs abliorret 

To call fastiug a sorrowful yoke ; Quadragesimale ; 

Sure, of Dublin-bay herrings a keg, Ilalec sed si in mensa, foret, 

And an egg, Res ii-et non tam male ! 

Is enough for all sensible folk ! Ova dum hsec nyu^pba torret 

Success to the fragrant turf-smoke, In oUa cum sale. 

That curls round the pan on the fire; Est Margai'ita, 

While the sweet yellow yolk QufE facit ita, 

From the egg-shells is broke Puellarum regina ! 

In that pan. 
Who can, 
If he have but the heart of a man, 
iS'ot feel tJie soft flame of desire, 
When it burns to a clinker the heart of 
a fi'iar ? 


I coincide with all that has been said in praise of eggs ; 
I have written a voluminous essay on the subject ; and as 
to frying them in a pan, it is decidedly the best method. 
That ingenious man, Crofton Croker, was the first among 
all the writers on " useful knowledge " who adorn this utili- 
tarian epoch to discover the striking resemblance that exists 
between those two delightful objects in natural history, a 
daisy and a fried egg. Eggs broken into a pan seem encir- 
cled with a whitish border, having a yellow nucleus in the 
centre ; and the similar appearance of the field-daisy ought 
to have long since drawn the notice of Wordsworth. Mean- 
time, in the matter of frying eggs, care should be taken not 
to overdo them, as an old philosopher has said — /isX^T-^j to crai. 
But let none imagine that in all I have said I intend to 
hint, in the remotest manner, any approval of that barbarous 
and unnatural combination — that horrid amalgam, yclept a 
■pancake, than which nothing can be more detestable. 


Have you any objection, learned host, to our hearing a 
little instrumental nuisic ? (Suppose we got a tune ou the 
bagpipe ? I understand your man, Terry Callaglian, can 
squeeze tlie bags to some purpose. 



Terry ! come in, and bring yorn* pipes ! 

Terry, nothing loath, came, thoiigh ^Yith some difficulty, 
and rather unsteadily, from the kitchen ; and having esta- 
blished himself on a three-legged stool (the usual seat of 
Pythonic inspiration), gave, after a short prelude, the fol- 
lowing harmonious strain, with vocal accompaniment to suit 
the tuneful drone of the bags : in which arrangement he 
strictly adhered to the Homeric practice ; for we find that 
the most approved and highly gifted minstrels of the " Odys- 
sey," (especially that model among the bards of antiquity, 
Demodocus), owing to their contempt for wind-instruments, 
were enabled to play and sing at the same time ; but neither 
the lyre, the plectrum, the fooiuy^, the chelys, the testudo, 
or the barbiton, afford such facilities for the concomitance 
of voice and music as that wondrous engine of harmony, the 
Celtic bagpipe, called '■'come vmse'''' by the French, as if 
2iar excellence "coniu mnscc.^' Terry, having exalted his horn, 
eang thus : 

Being a fiill and true Account of the Storming of Elamoy Castle, by 
■^'le united forces of Cromwell, Ireton, and Taii-fox, in 1628. 

Air — " I'7}i akin to the CaUagham.''* 
O Blarney Castle, my darlint ! 

Siu'e you're nothing at all but a stone 
Wrapt in ivy — a nest for all varmint, 

Since the ould Lord Clancarty is gone. 
Och ! 'tis you that was once strong and aincicnt. 

And ye kcp all the Sasscnachs down, 
While lighting tliem battles that aint yet 
rorgottcn by martial renown. 

Blarney Castle, &c. 

Bad luck to tliat robber, ould Crommill ! 

That plundered our beautiful fort ; 
We'll never forgive him, though some will — 

Saxons ! such as George Knapp and his sort. 
But Uicy tell us the day '11 come, wlien Dannel 

Will jnu-ge the wliole country, and drive 
AU the Sasscnachs into the channel, 

Nor leave a Cromwcllian alive. 

Blarn(>y Castle, &c. 


Curse the day clumsy Noll's ugly corpus. 

Clad in copper, was seen on our plain ; 
When he rowled over here like a porpoise, 

In two or three hookers from Sjjain ! 
And bekase that he was a freemason 

He mounted a battering-ram, 
And into her mouth, full of treason, 

Twenty pound of gunpowder he'd cram. 
O IJlaruey Castle, &c. 

So when the brave boys of Clancarty 

Looked over their battlement- wall, 
J.'Iiey saw wicked Oliver's party 

All a feeding on powder and ball ; 
And that giniral that married his daughter, 

Wid a heap of grape-shot in his jaw — 
That's bould Ireton, so famous for slaughter — 

And he was his brother-in-law. 

O Blarney Castle, &c. 

They fired oif their bullets like thunder, 

ITiat whizzed through the air like a snako ; 
And they made tlie ould castle (no wonder !) 

With all its foundations to shake. 
WhQe the Irisli had nothing to shoot off 

But their bows and their arras, the sowls ! 
Waypons fit for the wars of old Plutarch, 

And perhaps mighty good for wild fowls, 
O Blarney Castle, &e. 
•Ocli! 'twas Crommill then gave the dark token— 

For in the black art he was deep ; 
And tho' the eyes of the Irish stood open. 

They found themselves all fast asleep! 
With his jack-boots he stepped on the water, 

And he walked clane right over the lake ; 
Wliile his sodgers they all followed after, 

As di'y as a duck or a drake. 

O Blarney Castle, &c. 
Then tlie gates he bm'nt down to a cinder, 

And the roof he demolished Ukcwise ; 
O ! the rafters tliey flamed out hke tinder, 

And tlie hnWdin' Jlared up to the skies. 
And he gave the estate to the Jeh'ers, 

VVitli the dairy, the cows, and the hay ; 
And llioy lived there in clover hke heifers. 

As their ancestors do to this day. 

O Blarney Castle, &;c. 

Such was tlae song of Terry, in the chorus of which lie 
was aided by the sympathetic baryton of Jack Bellew's 


voice, never sileut when liis country's woes are the theme 
of eloquence or minstrelsy. An incipient somnolency be- 
gan, however, to manifest itself in Corbet and Dick Dow- 
den ; and I confess I myseK can recollect little else of the 
occm'rences of the evening. Wherefore with this epilogue we 
conclude our account of the repast on "Watergrasshill, ob- 
serving that Sir Walter Scott was highly pleased with the 
sacerdotal banquet, and expressed himself so to Knapp ; to 
whom, on their return in a post-chaise to Cork, he ex- 

" Prorsus jucuude coenam produximiis illaui." — IIOE. 

No. IV. 


^rom tijc 3!3iout iSaprvsi. 

" O thou, -wLaterei' title please thine ear, 
Dean, Drapier, Bickei-stall', or Gulliver — 
Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air, 
Or laugh and shake in Eab'lais' easy ehair, 
Or praise the court, or magnify mankind, 
Or thy grieved country's copper chains wwh'iwiX !" 


We are perfectly prepared for the overwhelming burst of 
felicitation which we shall elicit from a sympathizing public, 
when we announce the glad tidings of the safe arrival in 
London of the AVatergrasshill " chest," fraught with trea- 
sures such as no Spanish galleon ever wafted from JManilla 
or Peru into the waters of the Gruadalquiver. Prom the re- 
mote Irish highland where Proiit wasted so much Athenian 
suavity on the desert air, imnoticed and imappreciated by 
the rude tenants of the hamlet, his trunk of posthumous 
papers has been brought into our cabinet ; and there it 
stands before us, like unto the Trojan horse, replete with the 
armed oflsp ring of the great man's brain, right well packed with 

DEAK swift's ITAD^ESS. 103 

classic stuffing — ay, pregnant "with life and glory ! Haply has 
Pate decreed that it should fall into proper hands and fit- 
ting custody ; else to what vile uses might not this vile box 
of learned lumber have been unwittingly converted — we 
shudder in spirit at the probable destiny that would have 
awaited it. The Caliph Omar warmed the bath of Alex- 
andria with Ptolemy's library; and the " Prout Papers" 
might ere now be lighting the pipes of " the boys " in Blar- 
ney Lane, while the chest itself might afford materials for a 
three-legged stool — ^^ Tnmms ficidnus, inutile lirjnum P'' 

In verity it ought to be allowable at times to indulge ia 
that most pleasing opiate, self-applause ; and having made 
so goodly an acquisition, why should not we chuckle in- 
wardly while congratulated from without, ever and anou 
glancing an eye of satisfaction at the chest : 

" Milii plaudo ipse domi, simul ac contemplor in area !" 

Xever did that learned ex- Jesuit, Angelo Mai, now Kbrarian 
of the Vatican, rejoice more over a, "palimpsest" MS. of some 
crazy old monk, in which his quick eye fondly had detected 
the long-lost decade of Livj' — never did friend Pettiorew 
gloat over a newly uncoffined mummy — (warranted of the 
era of Sesostris) — never did (that living mummy) Maurice 
de Talleyrand exult over a fresh bundle of Palmerstonian 
protocols, with more internal complacency, — than did we, 
jubilating over this sacerdotal anthology, this miscellany "in 
boards," at last safely lodged in our possession. 

Apropos. We should mention that we had previously the 
honour of receiving from his Excellency Prince IMaurice 
(aforesaid) the following note, to which it grieved us to 
return a flat negative. 

"Le Prince de Talleyrand prie Mr. Olivier Yoeke d'agreer 
ses respectueux hommages. Ayaut eu I'avantage de connaitre 
personellement feu I'Abbc de Prout lors de ses etudes a la 
Sorbonne en 1778, il serait charme, sitot qu'arriveront les 
papiers de ce respectable ecck'siastique, d'assister k I'ouver- 
ture du cofFre. Cette faveur, qu'il se flatte d'obtenir de ia 
politesae reconnue de Monsieur Toese, il S9aura duement 

" Ambassade de Franca, Hanovre Sq. 
" ce 3 Juin." 

104 F-iTHER peout's heliques. 

We suspected at ouce, and our surmise Las proved correct;, 
lliat many documents would be found referring to Marie 
Antoinette's betrayers, and the practices of those three 
prime intriguers, Mirabeau, Cagliostro, and Prince Maurice ; 
so that we did well in eschewing tlie honour intended us in 
overhauling these papers — Nou " Talley " auxilio ! 

AVe hate a flourish of trumpets ; and though we could 
justly command all the clarions of renown to usher in these 
Prout writings, lettheir own intrinsic worth be the sole herald 
of their fame. We are not like the rest of men — that 
is, such as Lardner and Bob Montgomery — obliged to 
inflate our cheeks with incessant effort to blow our com- 
}nodities into notoriety. No ! we are not disciples in the 
school of Pufiendorf: Prout's_^s7i will be found fresh and 
substantial — not " blown," as happens too frequently in the 
literary market. AVe have more than once acknowledged 
the unsought and unpi'rchased plaudits of our contempora- 
ries : but it is also to tht* imperishable verdict of posterity that 
we ultimately look for a ratification of modern applause ; 
with Cicero we exclaim — ' Memoria vestra, Quirites, nostrae 
res vivent, sermonibus crescent, litterarum monumentis 
veterascent et corroborabuntur!" Tes ! while the epheme- 
ral writers of the day, mere bubbles on the surface of the 
flood, will become extinct in succession, — while a few, 
more lucky than their comrade dunces, may continue 
for a space to swim with the aid of those vile bladders, news- 
paper pulfs, Pather Prout will be seen floating triumphantly 
down the stream of time, secure and buoyant in a genuine 
" Cork " jacket. 

W"e owe it to the public to account for the delay experi- 
enced ir the transmission of the "chest" from AVatergrasshill 
to our hands. The fact is, that at a meeting of the parisliioners 
lield on the subject (jMat ILorrogan, of Plarney, in the 
chair), it was resolved, " That Terry Callaghan, being a tall 
and trustworthy man, able to do credit to the village in 
London, and carry eleven stone weight (the precise tarilf of 
the trunk), sliould be sent at tlie public expense, f/« Bristol, 
with the colfer stra})ped to his shoulders, and plenty of the 
wherewithal to procure ' refreshment ' on the western road, 
rmtil he should deliver the same at ]\Jr. Eraser's, Eegent 
Street, with the compliments of the parish." Terry, wisely 

DEAX swift's madxess 105 

considering, like the Commissioners of the Deccan prize- 
money, that the occupation was too good a thing not to 
make it last as long as possible, kept refreshing himself, ac 
the cost of the parochial committee, on the great western 
road, and only arrived last week in Regent Street. Havinof 
duly stopped to admire Lady Aldborough's " round tower," 
set up to honour the Duke of Tork, and elbowed his way 
through the " Squadrint," he at last made his appearance 
at our office ; and when he had there discharged his load, 
went off to take pot-luck with Feargus O'Connor. 

Here, then, we are enabled, no longer deferring the pro- 
mised boon, to lay before the public the first of the " Prout 
Papers ;" breaking bulk, to use a seaman's phrase, and pro- 
ducing at hazard a specimen of what is contained in the 
coffer brought hither on the shoulders of tall and trust- 
worthy Terry Callaghan. 

" Pandcrc res altei Terra ct Caligine mei'sas." 


Regsnl Street. 1st July, 1834. 

Wattyi^rasshill, March 1830. 

Yet a few years, and a full century shall have elapsed since 
the death of Dr. Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's. Yes, 
O my friends ! if such I may presume to designate you into 
whose hands, when I am gatliered to the silent tomb, these 
writings shall fall, and to whose kindly perusal I commend 
them, bequeathing, at the same time, the posthumous bless- 
ing of a feeble and toil-worn old man — yes, when a few win- 
ters more shall have added to the accumulated snow of age 
that weighs on the hoary head of the pastor of this upland, 
and a short period shall have rolled on in the dull monotony 
of these latter days, the centenary cycle will be fully com- 
pleted, the secular anthem of dirge-like solemnity may be 
sung, since the grave closed for ever on one whom Britain 
justly reveres as the most upright, intuitive, and gifted of 
her sages ; and whom Ireland, when the frenzied hour of 
strife shall have passed away, and the turbulence of parties 
shall have subsided into a national calm, will hail with the 

103 rATHER peout's eeliques. 

rapture of returning reason, as the first, the best, the mighti- 
est of her sons. The long arrears of gratitude to the only 
true disinterested champion of her people ^Yill then be paid — • 
the long-deferred apotheosis of the patriot-divine will then 
take place — the shamefully-forgotten debt of glory which the 
lustre of his genius shed around his semi-barbarous country- 
men Avill be deeply and feelingly remembered ; the old land- 
mark of genuine worth will be discovered in the ebbing of 
modern agitation, and due honour will be rendered by a 
more enlightened age to the keen and scrutinizing philoso- 
pher, the scanner of wliate'er lies hidden in the folds of the 
human heart, the prophetic seer of coming things, the un- 
sparing satirist of contemporary delinquency, the stem 
Ehadamanthus of the political and of the literary world, 
the star of a benighted land, the lance and the buclder of 
Israel — 

" We ne'er shall loot upon liis lite again."* 

And still why must I recall (what I would foin ob- 
literate) the ever-painful fiict, — graven, alas ! too inde- 
libly on the stubborn tablets of his biographers, chronicled 
in the annals of the country, and, above all, firmly and 
fatally established by the monumental record of his own 
philanthropic munificence, — the disastrous fiict, that ere 
this brilliant light of oiu- island was quenched in death, to- 
wards the close of the year 1745 — long before that sad 
consummation, the flame had wavered wild and flickered fit- 
fully in its lamp of clay, casting around shadows of ghastly 
form, and soon assuming a strange and melancholy hue, that 
made eveiy well-wisher hail as a blessing the event of its 

* Note in Pronl's handwriting: "Dovle, of Carlow, faintly resembles 
him. Bold, honest, disinterested, an able writer, a seholar, a gentle- 
man : a bishop, too, in our chureh, with none of the shallow pedantry, 
silly hauteur, arrant selfishness, and anile dotage, which may be some- 
times covered, but not hidden, under a mitre. Swift demolislied, in his 
day, Woods and his bad halfpence ; Doyle denounced Daniel and his 
box of coppers. A provision for the starving Irish was called for by 
' the Dean,' and was sued for by ' J. K. L.' Alas ! when will the Go- 
vernment awaken to the voice of our island's best and most enhghtened 
patriots? Truly, it hath ' Moses and tlic ])rophets' — doth the Legis* 
lature wait until one come from the dead ?" 

Doyle is since dead — but " defunctus adhiic loquitiu.' !" — O. Y. 

DEAX swift's mad:>'ess. 107 

final extinction in the cold and dismal vaults of St. Patrick's r 
In what mysterious struggle his gigantic intellect had been 
cloven down, none could tell. But the evil genius of in- 
sanity had clearly obtained a masterdom over faculties the 
most powerful, and endowments the highest, that have fallen 
to the lot of man. 

We are told of occasional hours of respite from the fangs 
of his tormenting oa//xcov, — we learn of moments when tlie 
" mens divinior" v.'as sufiered to go loose from its gaoler, 
and to roam back, as it were on "parole," into the domi- 
nions of reason, like the ghost of the murdered king, allow- 
ed to revisit, for a brief space, the glimpses of our glorious 
firmament, — but such gleams of mental enlightenment were 
but few, and short in their duration. They were like the 
flash that is seen to illumine the wreck when all hope is 
gone, and, fiercely bursting athwart the darkness, appears 
but to seal the doom of the cargo and the mariners — inter- 
vals of lugubrious transport, described by our native bard as 

" That ecstasy -which, from the depths of sadness, 
Glares like the maniac's moon, -whose light is madness." 

Alas ! full rapidly would that once clear and sagacious spirit 
falter and relapse into the torpor of idiocy. His large, ex- 
pressive eyes, rolling wildly, would at times exhibit, as it 
were, the inward working of his reason, essaying in vain to 
cast ofi:" the nightmare that sat triumphant there, impeding 
that current of thought, once so brisk and brilliant. ]S"oble 
and classic in the very writhings of delirium, and often, 
sublime, he would appear a living image of the sculptured 
Laocoon, battling with a serpent that had grasped, not the 
body, but the mind, in its entangling folds. Yet must we 
repeat the sad truth, and again record in sorrow, that the 
last two or three years of Jonathan Swift presented nothing 
but the shattered remnants of what had been a powerfully 
organized being, to whom it ought to have been allotted, 
according to our faint notions, to cany unimpaired and un- 
diminished into the hands of Him who gave such varied 
gifts, and formed such a goodly intellect, the stores of 
hoarded wisdom and the overflowing measure of talents well 
employed: but such was not the counsel of an inscrutable 


providence, whose decree was to be fulfilled in the pros- 
tration of a mighty understanding — 

Aio; STtXenro jSou/.ti. 

And here let me pause — for a sadly pleasing rem in iscence 
steals across my mind, a recollection of youthful days. I 
love to fix, ia its flight, a transitory idea ; and I freely plead 
the privilege of discursiveness conceded to the garrulity of 
old age. When my course of early travel led me to wander 
in search of science, and I sought abroad that scholastic 
knowledge which was denied to us at home in those evil 
days ; when, by force of legislation, I became, like others of 
my clerical brethren, a " peripatetic" philosopher — like them 
compelled to perambulate some part of Europe in quest of 
professional education, — the sunny provinces of southern 
France were the regions of my choice ; and my first glean- 
ings of literature were gathered on the banks of that mighty 
stream so faithfully characterised by Burdigala's native poet 
Ausonius, in his classic enumeration : 

•' Lenh'.s Arar, Khodanusque celer, PixsTTsque GAEntXA."' 

One day, a goatherd, who fed his shaggy flock along the 
river, was heard by me, as, seated on the lofty bank, he gazed 
on the shining flood, to sing a favourite carol of the country. 
'Twas but a simple baUad ; yet it struck me as a neat illus- 
tration of the ancient parallel between the flow of human 
life and the course of the running waters ; and thus it 

*' Salut ! O vieui flenre, qui coulez par la plaine ! 
Helas ! tm meme cotits ici bas nous entraine — 

Egal est en tout notre sort : 
Tons deui nous foumissons la meme carriere ; 
Car un meme destin nous mene, O riviere ! — 

Yous a la mer ! nous a la mort !' 

So sang the rustic minstrel. But it has occurred to me. 
calmly and sorrowfully pondering on the fate of Swift, that 
although this melancholy resemblance, so often alluded to in 
Scriptural allegory, may hold good in the general fortunes 
of mankind, still has it been denied to some to complete ia 

DEA>" SWirx's irXD^iESS. 100 

their personal history the sad similitude ; for not a few, and 
these some of the most exalted of our species, have been 
forbidden to glide into the Ocean of Eternity bringing 
thereunto the fulness of their life-current with its brim- 
ming banks undrained. 

Who that has ever gazed on the glorious Ehine, coeval 
in historic memory with the first Caesar, and boasting much 
previous traditionary renown, at the spot where it gushes 
from its Alpine soiu-ce, would not augur to it, with the poet, 
an iminterrupted career, and an ever-growing volume of 
copious exuberance ? 

" All pied du Mont Adidle, entre miile roseaux, 
Le Rhin tranquil, et tier da progres de ses eaiLS, 
Appuye d'une main sm* sou lu-ne penchante, 
S'endort au bruit flattcur de son onde naissante." 


Whcuce if it is viewed sweeping in brilliant cataracts through 
many a mountain gleu, and many a woodland scene, until it 
glides from the realms of romance into the business of life, 
and forms the majestic boimdary of two rival nations, con- 
ferring benefits on both — reflecting fi-om the broad expanse 
of its waters anon the mellow vineyards of Johannisberg, 
anon the hoary crags of Drachenfels — who then could 
venture to foretell that so splendid an alliance of usefulness 
and grandeur was destined to be dissolved — that you rich 
flood would never gain that ocean into whose bosom a 
thousand rivulets flow on with imimpeded gravitation, but 
woidd disappear iu the quagmires of Helvoetsluys, be lost 
in the swamps of Flaudors, or absorbed iu the sands of 
Holland ? 

Yet such is the course of the Ehine, and such was the 
destiny of Swift,— of that man the outpourings of whose 
abundant mind fertilized alike the land of his lathers * and 
the land of his birth : that man the very overflowings of 
whose strange genius were looked on by his contemporaries; 
with delight, and welcomed as the inundations of the Nile 
are hailed by the men of Egypt. 

* Prout supposes Swift to have boeu a natural son of Sir William 
Xemplo, We believe him iu error hero. — O. Y. 


A deep and hallo\red motive impels me to select that last 
and dreary period of his career for tlie subject of special 
analysis ; to elucidate its secret history, and to examine it 
in all its bearings ; eliminating conjecture, and substituting 
fact ; prepared to demolish the visionary superstructure of 
liypothesis, and to place the matter on its simple basis of 
truth and reality. 

It is far from my purpose and far from my heart to tread 
on such solemn ground save with becoming awe and with 
feet duly unshodden. If, then, in the following pages, I 
dare to unseal the long-closed well, think not that I seek to 
desecrate the fountain : if it devolves on me to lift the veil, 
fear not that I mean to profane the sanctuary : tarry until 
this paper shall have been perused to its close ; nor wiU it 
fall from your grasp without lea^-ing behind it a cou^•ictiou 
that its contents were traced by no unfriendly hand, and by 
no tnnvarranted biographer : for if a bald spot were to be 
found on the head of Jonathan Swift, the hand of Andrew 
Prout should be the first to cover it with laurels. 

There is a sometliing sacred about insanity: the traditions 
of every country agree in flinging a halo of mysterious dis- 
tinction around the unhappy mortal stricken with so sad and 
so lonely a visitation. The poet Avho most studied from 
nature and least from books, the immortal Shakespeare, has 
never made our souls thrill with more intense sympathy than 
when his personages are brought before us bereft of the 
guidance of reason. The grey hairs of King Lear are silvered 
over with additional veneration when he raves ; and the 
wild flower of insanity is the tenderest that decks the pure 
garland of Ophelia. The story of Orestes has furnished 
Greek tragedy with its most powerful emotions ; and never 
did the mighty Talma sway Avith more irresistible dominion 
tlie assembled men of France, than when he personated the 
fury-driven maniac of Euripides, revived on the French stage 
by the muse of Voltaire. We know that among rude and 
untutored nations madness is of rare occurrence, and its in- 
stances few indeed. But though its frequency in more re- 
fined and civilised society has taken away much of the 
deferential homage paid to it in primitive times, still, in the 
palmiest days of Greek and Eoman illumination, the oracles 
of Delphi found their fitting organ iu the frenzy of the 

DEA:^7 SWin's ilADXESS. Ill 

Pythoness ; and tlirougli sucli channels does the Latin lyrist 
represent the Deity commimicating with man : 

" quatit 

Mentem sacerdcrtum iucola Pytliiiis." 

But let us look into our o^vn breasts, and acknowledge that, 
with all the fastidious pride of fancied superiority, and in 
the full plenitude of our undimmed reason, we cannot face the 
breathing ruin of a noble intellect undismayed. The broken 
sounds, the vague intensity of that gaze, those whisperings 
that seem to commune with the world of spirits, the play of 
those features, still impressed with the signet of immortality, 
though illegible to our eye, strike us with that awe which 
the obelisk of the desert, with its insculptured riddles, in- 
spires into the Arabian shepherd. An oriental opinion makes 
such beings the favourites of Heaven : and the strong tinc- 
ture of eastern ideas, so discernible on many points in Ire- 
land, is here also perceptible : for a born idiot among the 
offspring of an Irish cabin is prized as a family palladmm. 

To contemplate what was once great and resplendent in 
the eyes of man slowly mouldering in decay, has never been 
an unprofitable exercise of thought ; and to muse over reason 
itself fallen and prostrate, cannot fail to teach us our com.- 
plete deficiency. If to dwell among ruins and amid sepul- 
chres — to explore the pillared grandeur of the tenantless 
Palmyra, or the crumbling wreck of that Eoman amphi- 
theatre once manned with applauding thousands and rife 
Avith joy, now overgrown with shrubs and haunted by the 
owl — if to soliloquize in the valley where autumnal leaves 
are thickly strewn, ever reminding us by their incessant 
rustle, as we tread the path, " that all that's bright must 
fade ;" — if these things beget that mood of soul in which 
the suggestions of Heaven find readiest adoption, — how 
forcibly must the 'wreck of mind itself, and the mournful 
aberrations of that facidty by which most we assimilate to 
our Maker, humble our self-sufficiency, and bend down our 
spirit in adoration ! It is in truth a sad bereavement, a dis- 
severing of ties long cherished, a parting scene melancholy 
to witness, when the ethereal companion of this clay takes 
its departure, an outcast from the earthly coil that it once 
animated with intellectual fire, and wanders astrar. cheerless 


and friendless, beyond the picturings of poetiy to describe; — 
a picture realised in Swift, who, more than Adrian, was en- 
titled to exclaim : 

" Anjjnula vagula, blandula, " Wee soul, fond rambler, wliitlier, say, 
Hospes comesqvie corporis, Whither, boon comrade, fleest away? 
Qure nunc abibis in loca ? Ill canst tiiou bear the bitter blast — 

PaUidula, rigida, nudula. Houseless, iniclad, aSVight, aghast ; 

Nee, ut soles, dabis jocos !" Jocund no more ! and hush'd the mirth 
That gladdon'd oft the sons of earth!" 

S'or tmloath am I to confess that such contemplations have 
■won upon me in the decline of years. Youth has its appro- 
priate pursuits ; and to him who stands on the thresliold of 
Hfe, with all its gaieties and festive hours spread in alluring 
blandishment before him, such musings may come amiss, 
and such studies may offer no attraction. We are then eager 
to mingle in the crowd of active existence, and to mix with 
those who swarm and jostle each other on the molehill of 
this world — 

" Towered cities please us then, 
And the busy hum of men !" 

But to me, numbering fourscore years, and full tired of the 
frivolities of modern wisdom, metaphysical inquiry returns 
with all its charms, fresh as when first I courted, in the 
Jialls of Sorbonne, the science of the soul. On this barren 
hill where my lot .is fallen, in that " sunset of life " which is 
said to " bring mystical lore," I love to investigate subjects 
3ueh as these. 

" And may my lamp, at midnight hour, 
Be seen in some high, lonely tower. 
Seeking, with Plato, to unfold 
What realms or wliat vast regions hold 
Til' immortal soul that hath forsook 
Its mansion in this fleshy nook ! 
And may, at length, my weary age 
Find out some peaeefid hermitage, 
Till old experience doth attain 
To something like prophetic strain T' 

To fix the precise limits where sober reason's well-regu- 
lated dominions end, and at what bourne the wild region of 
the fanciful commences, extending in many a tract of length- 
ened wilderness until it joins the remote and volcanic terri- 

DEA^r swipt's madness. 113 

tory of downright insanity, — were a task wliich the most 
deeply-read psychologist might attempt -in vain. Hopeless 
would be the endeavour to settle the exact confines ; for no- 
where is there so much debateahle ground, so much un- 
marked frontier, so much undetermined boundary. The 
degrees of longitude and latitude have never beea laid down, 
nor, that I learn, ever calculated at all, for want of a really 
sensible solid man to act the part of a first meridian. Tha 
same remark is applicable to a congenial subject, viz. that 
state of the human frame akin to insanity, and called intoxi- 
cation ; for there are here also various degrees of intensity ; 
and where on earth (except perhaps in the person of my 
friend Dick Dowden,) will you find, /ca-a <fpi\a kua -/.a-a 
^u/xov a SOBER man, according with the description in a hymn 
of our church liturgy ? 

" Qtii pius, pnidens, liumilis, pudicus, 
Sobriam dvixit sine labe Titam, 
Donee humanos levis afflat aiu'a 
Spii'itus jgnes." 
Ex officio Brev. Rom. de communi Conf. non 
Pont, ad vesperas. 

I remember well, when in 1815 the present Lord Chan- 
cellor (then simple Harry Brougham) came to this part of 
the country (attracted hither by the fame of our Blarney- 
stone), having had the pleasure of his society one summer 
evening in this humble dwelling, and conversing with him 
long and loudly on the topic of inebriation. He had certainly 
taken a drop extra, but perhaps was therefore better quali- 
fied for debating the subject, viz. at luhat precise point dnmlc- 
enness sets in, and ivliat is the exact low ivater-marh. He first 
advocated a three-lottle system, but enlarged" his view of the 
question as he went on, im til he reminded me of those spirits 
described by Milton, who sat apart on a hill retired, discuss- 
ing freeivill, fixed fate, forehioivledge absolute, 

" Aiid found no end, in wandering mazes lost !" 

My idea of the matter was very simple, although I had some 
trouble in bringing him round to the true understanding 
of things ; for he is obstinate by nature, and, like the village 
Bcboolmaster, whom he has sent " abroad," 

" Even though vanquished, he can argue still." 



I Bhewed him that the poet Lucretius, in his ekborate work 
" De ]!^atura Eerum," had long since established a criterion, 
or standard — a sort of clepsydra, to ascertain the final de- 
parture of sobriety, — being the well-known phenomenon of 
reduplication in the visual orb, that sort of second-sight 
common among the Scotch : 

" Bina lucemarum flagrantia lumina flammis, 
Et duplices hominum yultus et corpora bina !" 

LucBETius, lib. iv. 452. 

But, unfortunately .just as I thought I had placed my opinions 
in their most luminous point of view, I found that poor 
Harry was completely fuddled, so as to be unconscious of all 
I could urge during the rest of the evening ; for, as Tom 
Moore says in ' Lalla Eookh,' 

> — " tlie delicate chain 

Of thought, once tangled, could not clear agaia." 

It has long ago been laid do^\Ti as a maxim by Seneca, that 
" nullum magnum ingenium sine raixtura insanise." IS'ewton 
was decidedlymadwhen hewrote his comment onEevelations; 
BO, I tliink, was JSTapier of tlie logarithms, when he achieved a 
similar exploit ; Burns was more than once labouring under 
delirium, of the kind called tremens ; Tasso was acquainted 
with the cells of a madhouse ; Nathaniel Lee,* the dramatist, 

* This fact concerning Lee I stumbled on in that olla podrida, the 
" Curiosities of Literature," of the elder D'Israeli. In his chapter on 
the " Medicine of the Mind," (vol. i. second series : Murray, 1823), I 
find a passage which tells for yny theory ; and I therefore insert it here, 
on the principle of je prends mon hien partoid ouje le (rottve : " Plutarcli 
eays, in one of his essays, that should tlie body sue the mind in a court 
of judicature for damages, it would be found that tlie mind would prove 
to liave been a most ruinous tenant to its landlord." Tliis idea seemed 
to me so ingenious, that I searched for it tlirough all the metaphysical 
writings of the Boeotian sage ; and I find that Democritus, the laughing 
philosopher, first made the assertion about the Greek law of landlord and 
tenant retailed by liimofCheronaja: Oiiiai /xaXiara rovAii/ioKpirov uttup, 
ijJC II TO moiia fjiKunaiTo ry '•p'^XVi KaKcofffojf ovk op avrtjv uiroipvynv. 
Thcophrastiis enlarges on the same topic : &to<<tfta<jTOQ aki]Qi^ inriv, 
■TToXv Ti[) (TojiiaTi TtXfiv evoiKiov Ttjv ■ipvxvv- llXtiova fxevroi ro aiofia 
rriQ \|/wx''C airoXavH kuku, fit] Kara Xoyov avT<i) xputntvoQ. See tho 
magnificent edition of Plutarch's Moral Treatises, from the Clarendon 
press of Oxford, 1795, being nAOYT. TA HOI KA, torn. i. p. 376.— 

DEA^'" S\V1IT'S ilABXESS. 115 

when a tenant of Bedlam, wrote a tragedy twenty-five acts 
long ; and Sopliocles was accused before the tribunal of the 
(pparpia, and only acquitted of insanity by the recitation of 
his CEdip. Coloji. Pascal was a miserable hypochondriac ; the 
poet Cowper and the philosopher Eousseau were subject to 
lunacy ; Luis de Camoens died raving in an hospital at Lis- 
bon ; and, in an hospital at Madrid, the same fate, ^vith the 
same attendant madness, closed the career of the author of 
" Don Quixote," the immortal Miguel Cervantes. Shelley 
was mad outright ; and Byron's blood was deeply tainted 
with maniacal infusion. His uncle, the eighth lord, had been 
the homicide of his kindred, and hid his remorse in the 
dismal cloisters of Xewstead. He himself enumerates three 
of his maternal ancestors who died by their own bands. Last 
February (1830), Miss Milbanke, in the book she has put 
forth to the world, states her behef and that of her advisers, 
that " the Lord Byron was actually insane." And in Dr. 
]\Iillingen's book (the Siu'geon of the Suliote brigade) we 
find these words attributed to the Childe : '' I picture myself 
slowly expiring on a bed of torture, or terminating my days, 
like Swift, a grinning idiot." — Anecdotes ofJBi/roii's Illness and 
Death, hj Julius i\[iLLixaE>', p. 120. — London. 

Strange to say, few men have been more exempt from the 
usual exciting causes of insanity than Swift. If ambition, 
vanity, avarice, intemperance, and the fury of sexual 
passion, be the ordinary determining agents of lunacy, then 
should he have proudly defied the approaches of the evil 
spirit, and withstood his attacks. As for ambitious cravings, 
it is Avell known that he sought not the smiles of the court, 
nor ever sighed for ecclesiastical dignities. Though a church- 
man, he had none of the crafty, aspiring, and intriguing 
mania of a Wolsey or a Mazarin. By the boldness and can. 
dour of his writings, he effectually put a stop to that ecclesi- 
astical preferment which the low-minded, the cunning, and 
the hypocrite, are sure to obtain : and of him it might be 
truly said, that the doors of clerical promotion closed while 
the gates of glory opened. 

But even glory (mystic word !), has it not its fascinations, 
too powerful at times even for the eagle eye of genius, and 
capable of dimming for ever the intellectual orb that gazes 
too fixedly on its irradiance ? How often haa splendid 


talent been its ovna. executioner, and the best gift of Heaven 
supplied the dart that bereft its possessor of all that maketh 
existence valuable ! The veiy intensity of those feelings 
which refine and elevate the soul, has it not been found to 
operate the work of ruin ? 

" Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, 

And help'd to plant the woimd that laid thee low. 
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, 
?f o more through rolling clouds to soar agaiu, 
Views his own leather on the fatal dart 
Which wing'd the shaft that quivers in his heart. 
Keen are his pangs, but keener far to feel 
He nursed the pmion that impeU'd the steel ; 
While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest 
Drinks the last life-drop of his bleeding breast." 

So Byron sings in his happiest mood ; and so had sung be- 
fore him a young Prench poet, who died in early life, worn 
out by his own fervour ; 

" Oui, I'homme ici bas aux talents condamne, 
Siu' la terrc en passant sublime infortune, 
Ne pent impuuement achever une vie 
Que le Ciel surchargea du fardeau du genie ! 
Souvent il meurt brule de ces celestes feux . , . 
Tel quelquefois I'oiseau du souverain des dieux, 
L'aigle, tombe du liaut des plaines immortelle?, 
Brule dufoudre ardent qu'il jtortait sous ses ailes .'" 


I am fully aware that in Swift's case there was a common 
rumour among his countrymen in Ireland at the time, that 
over-study and too much learuiug had disturbed the equi- 
librium of the doctor's brain, and unsettled the equipoise of 
his cerebellum. The " most noble " Festus, who was a well- 
bred Italian gentleman, fell into the same vulgar error long- 
ago with respect to St. Paul, and opined that much literature 
had made of him a madman ! But surely such a sad con- 
fusion of materialism and spiritualism as that misconception 
implies, will not require refutation. The villagers in Grold- 
smith's beautiful poem may have been excusable for adopt- 
ing so unscientific a theory ; but beyond the sphere of rustic 
sages the hypothesis is intolerable : 

" And stdl they gazed, and still their wonder grew, 
That one email head coulil carry ail be knew !" 

DEAN swift's MADlSrESS. 117 

How can the ethereal and incorporate stores of knowledge 
become a physical weight, and turn out an incumbrance, 
exercising undue pressure on the human brain ? — liow can. 
mental acquu-ement be described as a body ponderous ? 
What folly to liken the crevices of the cerebral gland to the 
fissui-es in an old barn bursting with the riches of a collected 
harvest ! — ruperunt horrea messes — or to the crazy bark of 
old Charon, when, being only fitted for the liglit waftage of 
ghosts, it received the bulky personage of the ^neid : 

" Gremuit sub pondere cymba 
Sutilis, ac uiultam accepit rimosa paludem." — Lib. vi. 

Away with such fantasies ! The more learned we grow, 
the better organised is our mind, the more prejudices we 
shake off ; and the stupid error which I combat is but a pre- 
text and consolation for ignorance. 

The delusions of love swayed not the stern mind of the 
Dean of St. Patrick's, nor could the frenzy of passion ever 
overshadow his clear understanding. Like a bai'k gliding 
along a beautiful and regular canal, the soft hand of woman 
could, with a single riband, ch'aw him onward in a fair and 
well-ordered channel ; but to drag him out of his course into 
anj devious path, it was not in nature nor the most potent 
fascination to accomplish. Stella, the cherished companion 
of his life, his secretly wedded bride, ever exercised a mild 
influence over his aftections — 

" And rose, where'er lie tiu'iied his eye, 
The moruing star of memory." 

But his acquaintanceship with Vanessa (Mrs. Vanhomrigg) 
Avas])urelyofthat description supposed to have beeuintroduced 
by Plato. For my part, having embraced celibacy, I am 
perhaps little quaiiiied for the d.iscussion of these delicate 
matters ; but I candidly confess, that never did Goldsmith 
so win upon my good opinion, by his superior knowledge of 
those recondite touches that ennoble the favourite character 
of a respectable divine, as when he attributes severe and 
uncompromising tenets of monogamy to Dr. Primrose, vicar 
JDf "Wakefield ; that being the next best state to the one 


•wliicla I have adopted myself, in accordauce witli tlie Platoiue 
philosophy of Virgil, and the example of Paul ; 

" Qidquc sttcerdoies casti, dum vita manebat ; 
Qiiique pii vates, et Phocbo cligna lociiti ; 
Omnibus his nivea cinguutur tempora vita !" 

jT:iwid. FI. 

The covetousness of this ■world had no place iu the breast 
of Swift, and never, consequently, was his mind liable to be 
shaken from its basis by the inroads of that overwhelming 
vice, avarice. Broad lands and manorial possessions he 
never sighed for; and, as Providence had granted him a 
competency, he could well adopt the resignation of the poet, 
and exclaim, "Nil amplius oro." Nothing amused him more 
than the attempt of his friend Doctor Delauy to excite his 
jealousy by the ostentatious display of his celebrated villa, 
which, as soon as purchased, he invited the Dean to come 
and admire. "We have the humorous lines of descriptive 
poetry whicli were composed by Swift on the occasion, and 
were well calculated to destroy the doctor's vanity. The 
estate our satirist represents as liable to suffer " an eclipse 
of the sun " wherever " a crow " or other small opaque 
body should pass between it and that luminary. The plan- 
tations " might possibly supply a toothpick ;" 

" And the stream that's called ' Meander 
Might bo sucked up by a gander !" 

Such were the sentiments of utter derision with which he 
contemplated the territorial aggrandisement so dear to the 
votaries of Mammon ; nor is it foreign from this topic to 
remark, that the contrary extreme of hopeless poverty not 
having ever fallen to his lot, one main cause of insanity iu 
high minds was removed. Tasso went mad through sheer 
distress and its concomitant shame ; the fictions of his ro- 
mantic love for a princess of the Court of Perrara are all 
fudge : he had at one time neither fire nor a decent coat to 
his back ; and he tells us that, having no lamp iu his garret, 
he resorted to his cat to lend him the glare of her eyes : 

*' Non avcndo candclo per iscrivcrc i suoi versi !" 

Intemperance and debauchery never mterfered v^ith tlio 



quiet tenour of the Dean's domestic habits ; aud hence the 
medical and constitutional causes of derangement flowing 
from these sources must be considered as null in this case. 
I have attentively" perused the best record extant of his 
private life — his own " Journal to Stella," detailing his 
sojourn in London ; and I find his diet to have been such as 
I could have wished. 

" London, Oct. 1711. — Mrs. Vanhomrigg has changed her 
lodgings — I dined with her to-day. I am growing a mighty 
lover of herrings ; but they are much smaller here than with 
you. In the afternoon I visited an old major-general, and 
ate sis oysters.'''' — Letter 32, p. 384, in Scott's editmi of Swift. 

" I was invited to-day to dine with Mrs. Yanhomrigg, 
with some company who did not come ; but I ate nothing 
but herrings.''' — Same letter, p. 388. 

" Oct. 23, iVll. I was forced to be at the secretary's 
office till four, and lost my dinner. So I went to Mrs. Van's, 
and made them get me three herrings, which I am very fond of. 
And they are a light victuals'" {sic. in orig.) — Letter 33, p. 400. 

He further shews the lively interest he always evinced 
for fish diet by the following passage, which occurs in a pub- 
lication of his printed in Dublin, 1732, and entitled " An 
Examination of Certain Abuses, Corruptions, and Enormi- 
ties in this City of Dublin. By Dr. Jonathan Swift, D.D." 

" The affirmation solemnly made in the cry of Herrings ! 
is against all truth, viz. ' Herrings alive, ho !' The very pro- 
verb will convince us of this ; for what is more frequent in 
ordinary speecli than to say of a neighbovir for whom the 
bell tolls, He is dead as a herring ! And pray, how is it 
possible that a herring, which, as philosophers observe, can- 
not live longer than one minute three seconds and a half 
out of water, should bear a voyage in open boats from 
Howth to Dublin, be tossed into twenty hands, and preserve 
its life in sieves for several hours ?" 

The sense of loneliness consequent on the loss of friends, 
and the withdrawal of those whose companionship made life 
pleasaut, is not unfrequently the cause of melancholy mono- 
mania ; but it could not have aftected Swift, whose residence 
in Dublin had estranged him long previously from those 
who at that period died away. Gray, his bosom friend, had 
died in December, 1732 ; Bolingbroke had retired to France 


in 1734 ; Pope was become a liypoclioudriac from bodily in- 
firmities ; Dr. Arbuthnot was extinct ; and be, the admirep 
and tbe admired of Swift, Jolin of Blenbeim, the illustrious 
Marlborough, had preceded him ia a madhouse ! 

" Down IMarlborough's cheeks the tears of dotage flow." 

A lunatic asylum was the last refuge of the warrior, — if, in- 
deed, he and' his fellows of the conquering fraternity were 
not candidates for it all along intriusically and profes- 

" From Macedonian's madman to the Swede." 

Thus, although the Dean might have truly felt like one who 
treads alone some deserted banquet-hall (according to the 
beautiful simile of the Melodist), still we cannot, with the 
Blightest semblance of probability, trace the outbreak of his 
madness to any sympathies of severed friendship. 

If Swift ever nourished a predominant affection — if he 
was ever really under the dominion of a ruling passion, it 
was that of piu-e and disinterested love of country; and were 
he ever liable to be hurried into insane excess by any over- 
powering enthusiasm, it was tlie patriot's madness that had 
the best chance of prostrating his mighty soul. His works 
are the imperishable proofs of the sincere and enlightened 
attachment which he bore an island connected with him hy 
no hereditary recollections, but merely by the accident of 
his birth at Cashel. 

"We read in the saci'ed Scriptures (Eccles. Ixxvii.), that 
"the sense of oppression maketh a man mad;" and whoso- 
ever will peruse those splendid eftusions of a patriot soul, 
"the Story of an iujui-ed Lady" (Dublin. 1725), "Maxims 
controlled in Ireland " (Dublin, 1724), "Miserable State of 
Ireland " (Dublin, 1727), must arise irom the perusal im- 
pressed with the integrity and fervour of the Dean's love of 
nis oppressed country. The " Maxims controlled" develop, 
according to that highly competent authority, Edmund 
Burke, the deepest and most statesmanslike views ever taken 
ofthe mischievous mismanagement that has constantly marked 
England's conduct towards her sister island. In the "Miser- 
able State, &c., we have evidence that the wretched peasantry 
at that time was at just the same stage 'of civilization and 

DEAX SAYIFt's M.U)>'ESS. 121 

■comfort as thej are at the present day ; for we find tho 
Dean thus depicting a state of things which none but an 
Irish landlordcould read without blushingfor human nature — 
" There are thousands of poor creatures who think themselves 
blessed if they can obtain a hut worse than the squire's dog- 
kenuel, and a piece of ground for potato-plantation, on con- 
dition of being as very slaves as any in America, starving in 
the midst of plenty." Further on, he informs us of a sin- 
gular item of the then traffic of the Irish : — " Our fraudu- 
lent trade in wool to Trance is the best branch of our 

And in his '' Proposal for the Use of Irish Manufactures," 
which was prosecuted by the government of the day, and 
described by the learned judge who sent the case to the jury 
as a plot to bring in the Pretender ! we have this wool- 
traffic again alluded to : " Our beneficial export of wool to 
Prance has been our only support for several years : we con- 
A'ey our wool there, in spite of all the harpies of the custom- 
house." In this tract, he introduces the story of Pallas and 
the nymph Aracline, whom the goddess, jealous of her spin- 
ning, changed into a spider; and beautifully applies the 
allegoiy to the commercial restrictions imposed by the sister- 
country on Ireland. " Arachne was allowed still to spin ; 
but Britain will take our bowels, and convert them into the 
web and warp of her own exclusive and intolerant in- 

Of the " Drapier's Letters," and the signal discomfiture 
of the base-currency scheme attempted by AVilliam Woods, 
it were superfluous to speak. Xever was there a more bare- 
faced attempt to swindle the natives than the copper impo- 
sition of tliat notorious hardwareman ; and the only thing 
that in modern times can be placed in juxtaposition, is the 
begging-box of O'Connell. O for a Drapier to expose that 
second and most impudent scheme for victimising a deluded 
and starving peasantry ! 

Ihe Scotch rebellion of 1745 found the Dean an inmate 
of his last sad dwelling — his own hospital ; but the crisis 
awakened all his energies, and he found an interval to pub- 
lish that address to his fellow-countrymen which some at- 
tributed to the I(ord-Lieutenant Chesterfield, but which 
tears intrinsic evidence of his pen. It is printed by Sif 


"W. Scott, in the appendix of tlie "" Drapier's Letters." 
There is a certain chemical preparation called sympathetis 
ink, which leaves no trace on the paper ; but if applied to 
the heat of a fire, the characters will become at once legible. 
Such was the state of Swift's soul — a universal blank ; but 
when brought near the sacred flame that bui'nt on the altar 
of his country, his mind recovered for a time its clearness, 
and found means to communicate its patriotism. Touch 
but the interests of Ireland, and the madman was sane 
again ; such was the mysterious nature of the visitation. 

" O Reason ! who shall say what spells renew. 
When least we look for it, thy broken clue ; 
Through what small vistas o'er the darken' d brain 
The intellectual daybeam bm-sts again ! 
Enough to shew the maze in which the sense 
Wandered about, but not to guide thee hence — 
Enougli to ghmnier o'er the yawning wave, 
But not to point the harbour which might save !" 

"When Eichard Cceur de Lion lay dormant in a dungeon, 
the voice of a song which he had known in-better days came 
uponhisear,aud was the means of leading himforthto light and 
freedom ; but, alas ! Swift was not led forth from his lonely 
dwelling by the note of long-remembered music, the anthem 
of fatherland. Gloomy insanity had taken too permanent 
possession of his mind ; and right Avell did he know that he 
should die a maniac. For this, a few years before his death, 
did lie build unto himself an asylum, where his own lunacy 
might dwell protected from the vulgar gaze of mankind. He 
felt the approach of madness, and, like Casar, when about 
to fall at the feetof Pompey's statue, he gracefully arranged 
the folds of his robe, conscious of his own dignity even in 
that melancholy downfal. The Pharaohs, we are told in 
Scripture, built unto themselves gorgeous sepulchres : their 
pyramids still encumber the earth. Sardanapalus erected a 
pyre of cedar-wood and odoriferous spices when death was 
inevitable, and perished in a blaze of voluptuousness. The 
asylum of Swift will remain a more characteristic memorial 
than the sepulclu-es of Egypt, and a more honourable fune- 
real pyre than that licaped up by the Assyrian king. He 
died mad, among fellow- creatures similarly visited, but 
sheltered by his munificence ; and it now devolves on me 

DEAN swift's madness. 123 

to reveal to the world the unkno\\Ti cause of that sad 

I have stated that his affections were centered iu that ac- 
complished woman, the refined and gentle Stella, to whom 
he had been secretly married. The reasons for such secrecy, 
though perfectly familiar to me, may not be divulged ; but 
enough to know that the Dean acted in this matter with his 
usual sagacity. An infant son was born of that marriage 
after many a lengthened year, and in this child were con- 
centrated all the energies of the father's affection, and all 
the sensibilities of the mother's heart. In him did the Dean 
fondly hope to live on when his allotted days should fail, 
like unto the self-promised immortality of the bard — " Non 
omnis moriar, multaque pars mei vitabit Libitinam !" How 
vain are the hopes of man ! That child most unaccountably, 
most mysteriously disappeared ; no trace, no clue, no shadow 
of conjecture, could point out what had become its destiny, 
and who were the contrivers of this sorrowful bereavement. 
The babe was gone ! and no comfort remained to a despond- 
ing father in this most poignant of human afflictions. 

In a copy of Verses composed on his own Death, the Dean 
indulges in a humorous anticipation of the motives that 
would not fail to be ascribed, as determining his mind to 
make the singular disposal of his property which (after the 
loss of his only child) he resolved on : 

" He gave the little wealth lie had 
To build a house for people mad, 
To shew, by one satiric touch, 
No nation wanted it so much." 

"But this bitter pleasantry only argued the sad inroads which 
grief was making in his heart. The love of offspring, which 
the Greeks call sro^yrj (and which is said to be strongest 
in the stork), was eminently perceptible in the diagnosis 
of the Dean's constitution. Sorrow for the loss of his child 
bowed down his head eventually to the grave, and unsettled 
a mind the most clear and well-regulated that philosophy 
and Christianity could form. 

These papees will not meet the public eye until 
i too am no more • but when that day shall come — 



Baifled in his wicked conti'ivances by my venerable fatlier, 
and foiled in every attempt to brazen out bis notorious scheme 
of bad halfpence, this vile tinker, nourishing an imj^laeable 
resentment in his soul, 

' Sternum servans sub pectore tuIuus," 

resolved to wreak his vengeance on the Dean ; and sought 
out craftily the most sensitive part to inflict the contem- 
plated wound. In the evening of October, 1741, he kid- 
napped me. Swift's innocent child, from rny nurse at Glen- 
dalough, and fraudulently hurried olf his capture to the 
extremity of Muuster ; where he left me exposed as a found- 
ling on the bleak summit of WatergrasshiU. The reader 
will easily imagine all the hardships I had to encounter in 
this my first and most awkward iutroduction to my futiu'e 
parishioners. Often have I told the sorrowful tale to my 
college companion in France, the kind-hearted and sensi- 
tive Grrcsset, who tlius alludes to me in the well-known lines 
of his " Lutrin Vivant :" 

" Et puis, cl'ailleui's, le petit mallieurcux, 
Ouvrage no d'un autcm* anonyme, 
Ke conuaissaut pai-eus, iii k'gitiine, 
Is'avait, eu tout daus cc sterile lieu, 
Poui" sc chauiTer que la grace de Dieu !" 

Some are born, says the philosophic Goldsmith, with a 
silver spoon in their mouth, some with a wooden ladle ; but 
wretched I was not left by Woods even tliat miserable im- 
plement as a stock-in-trade to begin the world. Moses lay 
ensconced in a snug cradle of bulrushes when he was sent 
adrift ; but I was cast on the flood of life with no equipage 


or outfit whatever ; and found myself, to use the solemn 
language of my Lord Byron, 

" Sent afloat 
With, notliing biit the sky for a great coat." 

But stop, I mistake. I liad an appendage round my neck 
— a trinket, which I still cherish, and by which I eventually 
found a clue to my real patronage. It was a small locket 
of my mother Stella's hair, of raven black, (a distinctive 
feature in her beauty, which had especially captivated the 
Dean) : around this locket was a Latin motto of my gifted 
father's composition, three simple words, but beautiful in 
their simplicity — " pkout stella eepulges !" So that, 
when I was taken into the " Cork Poundling Hospital," I 
was at once christened " Prout," from the adverb that begins 
llie sentence, and which, being the shortest word of the 
three, it pleased the chaplain to make my future patro- 

Of all the singular institutions in Great Britain, philan- 
thropic, astronomic, Hunterian, ophthalmic, obstetric, or 
zoological, the " Eoyal Cork Foundling Hospital," where I 
had tlie honour of matriculating, was then, and is now, de- 
cidedly the oddest in principle and the most comical in prac- 
tice. Until the happy and eventful day when I managed, 
by mother-wit, to accomplish my deliverance from its walls, 
(liaving escapedin a c/i«07«, as I will recount presently), it 
was my unhappy lot to witness and to endure all the va- 
rieties of human misery. The prince of Latin song, when 
he wishes to convey to his readers an idea of the lower 
regions and the abodes of Erebus, begins his affecting pic- 
ture by placing in the foreground the souls of infants taken 
by the mischievous policy of such institutions from the 
mother's breast, and pei'ishing by mjTiads under t-he inflic 
tion of a mistaken philanthropy : 

" Infantumque animcc flentes in lumine primo : 
Quos cliilcis vitfc exsortes, et ah xibere rnplos, 
Abstiilit atra dies, et funere mersit accrbo." 

The inimitable and philosophic Scarron's translation of this 
passage in the ^neid is too much in my father's own style 
not to ffive it insertion » 


" Lors il entend, en ce lieu sombre, 
Les cris aigus d'enfants sans nombre. 
Pauvres bambins ! ils font grand bruit, 
Et braUlent de jour et de nuit — 
Peut-etre faute de nourrice ?" &c. &c. 

Eneid traveit. 6. 

But if I liad leisure to dwell on tlie melancholy subject, I 
could a tale unfold that would startle the Legislatui-e, and 
perhaps arouse the Irish secretary to examine into an evil 
crying aloud for I'edress and suppression. Had my perse- 
cutor, the hard-hearted coppersmith, Woods, had any notion 
of the sufferings he entailed on Swift's luckless infant, he 
would never have exposed me as an enfant trouve ; he would 
have been satisfied with plunging my father into a mad- 
house, without handing over his child to the mercies of a 
foundling hospital. Could he but hear my woful story, I 
would engage to draw " copper" tears down the villain's 

Darkness and mystery have for the last half century hung 
over this establishment ; and although certain returns 
have been moved for in the House of Commons, the public 
knows as little as ever about the fifteen hundred young 
foundlings that there nestle until supplanted, as death col- 
lects them under his wings, by a fresh supply of victims 
offered to the Moloch of ■vj/JuSo-philanthropy. Horace tells 
us, that certain proceedings are best not exhibited to the 
general gaze — 

" Ncc natos coram populo Medea trucidet." 

Such would appear to be the policy of these institutions, 
the only provision which the Legislature has made for Irish 

Some steps, however, have been taken latterly by Govern, 
ment ; and from a paper laid before Parliament last mouth 
(May 1830), it appears that, in consequence of the act of 
1822, the annual admissions in Dublin have fallen from 2000 
to 400. But who will restore to society the myriads whom 
the system has butchered ? Avho will recall the slain ? When 
the flower of Roman chivalry, under improvident guidauoe, 
fell in the Grerman forests, " Varus, give back my legions !" 

DEAN swift's madness. 127 

was the frantic cry wrung from tlie bitterness of patriotic 

My illustrious father has written, among other bitter sar- 
•casms on the cruel conduct of G-overnment towards the 
, Irish poor, a treatise, which was printed in 1729, and which 
he entitled " A Modest Proposal for preventing Poor Chil- 
dren from being a Burden to their Parents." He recom- 
]nends, in sober sadness, that they should be made into salt 
provisions for the navy, the colonies, and for exportation ; 
or eaten fresh and spitted, like roasting-pigs, by the alder- 
men of Cork and Dublin, at their civic banquets. A quo- 
tation from that powerful pamphlet may not be unaccept- 
able here : 

" Infant's flesh (quoth the Dean) will be in season through- 
out the year, but more plentifully in March, or a little be- 
fore ; for we are told by a grave author, an eminent Prencli 
physician, that fish being a prolific diet, there are more chil- 
dren born in Roman Catholic countries about nine months 
after Lent than at any other season. Therefore, reckoning 
a year after Lent, the markets will be more glutted than 
usual, because the number of Popish infants is at least three 
to one in the kingdom ; and therefore it will have one othei 
collateral advantage, by lessening the number of Papists 
amongst us." 

These lines were clearly penned in the very gall and bit 
terness of his soul ; and while the Irish peasant is still con- 
rsidered by the miscreant landlords of the country as less 
worthy of his food than the beasts of the field, and less 
entitled to a legal support m the land that bore him ; while 
the selfish demagogue of the island joins in the common 
hostility to the claims of that pauper who makes a stock- 
purse for him out of the scrapings of want and penury ; 
the proposal of Swift should be repi'inted, and a copy sent 
to every callous and shallow-pated disciple of modern poli- 
tical economy. Poor-laws, forsooth, they cannot reconcile 
to their clear-sighted \4ews of Irish legislation ; fever has- 
pitals and ffaols they admire ; grammar-schools they v/ill ad- 
vocate, where half-starved urchins may drink the physic of 
the soul, and forget the cravings of huuger ; and they -wiil 
provide in the two (j real foundling hospitals a receptacle for 
troublesome infants, who, in those " white-washed sepul- 


clires," soon cease to be a burden on the commimity. The 
great agitator, meantime (God wot !) will bring in " a bill '^ 
for a //rand national cemetery in Dublin :* such is the pro- 
Aasion he deigns to seek for his starving fellow-countrymen ! 

" The great have still some favom* in reserve — 
They help to bury whom they help to starve." 

The Dublin Hospital being supported out of the consoli- 
dated fund, has, by the argumentum ad crumenam, at last 
attracted the suspicions of government, and is placed under 
a course of gradual reduction ; but the Cork nursery is up- 
held by a compulsory local tax on coal, amounting to the- 
incredible sum ot £6000 a-year, and levied on the unfor- 
tunate Corkonians for the support of children brought into- 
their city from AVales, Connaught, and the four winds of 
heaven ! Three hundred bantlings are thus annually saddled 
on the beautiful city, with a never-failing succession of cou- 
tinuoas supply : 

" Mirantiirque novas frondes, et non sua poma !" 

By the Irish act of Parliament, these young settlers are- 
entitled, on coming of age (which few do), to claim as a 
right the freedom of that ancient and loyal corporation ; so 
that, although of the great bulk of them it may be said 
that we had "no hand in their birth," they have tlie bene- 
fit of their coming — "a place in the commonwealth" (ita 

My sagacious father used to exliort his countrymen to 
burn every article that came from England, excejit coals ; 
and in 1729 he addressed to the " Dublin Weekly Journal" 
a series of letters on the use of Irish coals exclusively. But 
it strikes me that, as confessedly we cannot do without the 
English article in the present state of ti'ade and manufac- 
tures, the most mischievous tax that any Irish seaport could 
be visited witli, would be a tonnage on so vital a commodity 
to the productive interests of tlie community. AVere thi^i 
vile impost withdrawn from Cork, every class of mauufoc- 
ture would hail the boon ; the iron foundry would snpply 
us at home with what is now brought across the Channel ; 
tKe glassblower's I'urnace Avould glow with inextinguish.ilile 
fires ; the steam engine, that giant power, as yet bo feebly 
* Historical fact. Vide pari, proceedings. — O. Y, 


A Tale of a churn 



developed among us, would delight to wield on our behalf, 
its energies unfettered, and toil unimpeded for the national 
prosperity ; new enterprize would inspirit the capitalist ; 
while the hvunble artificer at the forge would learn the 
tidings with satisfaction, — 

" Eelax Ms ponderous strength, and lean to hear." 

Something too much of this. But I have felt it incum- 
bent on me to place on record my honest conviction of the 
impolicy of the tax itself, and of the still greater enormity 
of the evil which it goes to support. To return to my own 

In this " hospital," which was the first alma mater of my 
juvenile days, I graduated in all the science of the young 
gipsies who swarmed arou.nd me. My health, which was 
naturally robust, bore up against the fearful odds of mor- 
tality by which I was beset ; and although I should have 
ultimately, no doubt, perished with tlie crowd of infant suf- 
ferers that shared my evil destiny, still, like that favoured 
Grreciau who won the good graces of Polyphemus in his an- 
thropophagous cavern, a signal privilege would perhaps 
have been granted me : Prout would have beea the last to 
be devoured. 

But a ray of light broke into my prison-house. The idea 
of escape, a bold thought ! took possession of my soul. Tet 
how to accomplish so daring an enterprise ? how elude the 
vigilance of the fat door-keeper, and the keen eye of the 
chaplain ? Bight well did they know the muster-roll of their 
stock of urchins, and often verified the same : 

" Bisque die numerant ambo pecus, alter et hsedos." 
Heaven, however, soon granted what the porter denied. The 
milkman from Watergrasshill, who brought the suppHes 
every morn and eve, prided himself particularly on the size 
and beauty of his churn, — a capacious wooden recipient 
which my young eye admired witli more than superficial 
curiosity. Ha^ang accidentally got on the wagon, and ex- 
plored the capacious hollow of the machine, a bright angel 
whispered in my ear to secrete myself in the cavity. I did 
so ; and shortly after, the gates of the hospital were flung 
wide for my egress, and I foimd myself joggiug onward on 


tlie high, road to light and freedom ! Judge of my sen- 
sations ! IViilton has sung of one who, "long in populous 
city pent," makes a xdsit to Highgate, and, snuffing the 
rural breeze, blesses the country air : my rapture was of a 
nature that defies description. To be sure, it was one of 
the most boisterous days of storm and tempest that ever 
vexed the heavens ; but secure in the churn, I chuckled with 
joy, and towards evening fell fast asleep. In my subsequent 
life I have often dwelt with pleasure on that joyous escape ; 
and when in my course of studies I met vriih the following 
beautiful elegy of Simonides, I could not help applying it to 
myself, and translated it accordingly. There have been ver- 
sions by Denman, the Queen^s solicitor ;* by Elton, by W. 
Hay, and by Doctor Jortm ; but I prefer my owti, as more 
literal and more conformable to genuine Greek simplicity. 

Wi)t Eanuitt of iBauaf. 

By Simonides, the elegiac Poet of Cos. 
On Xa^vaxi iv daidaXicf,, avB/j^og 

AiiiJ^oLTi riPi'Tiv, oud' ahiavToiet 

Tlapsiaic, a/Jb^i o= xli^ffn fSaXs 

<bi7MV %£fa, £/ff£v rv n rv/.oc, 

O'lO'j tyjji Tovov 6v d' aurs:^, yaXadri'Jw r* 

Hropi y.vudssig sv aripmi ow/^iar-/, 

XaXxsoyo/j^cpuj Bs vjxriXa/M-:r;i 

Kvavitjj ri bvo^M' cv 6' auaXsav 

'Tts^Os nuv Tio/Mav ISaDnav 

Jla^iovTog zvfjbarog ouK aXsyiig, 

Ou5' avs/j^ov fdoyyuiv, rrosipuoscc 

Kii/Msvog iv "^Aavidi, cgoffw-oi/ y.aXoj. 

E/ di Toi Bitvov royi Bsivov r,v, 

Kai Kiv ijjjoiv pntJ^ar'j))! Xsttou 

'T'miy^sg oyag* JcsXo/xa/, iiBi fSsi^og, 

EuSsro 8i rrovTog, ibbsro a/Mirpov xaxof. 

MaTatoQcvXia 8i rig famrt, 

ZsS 'xan^, ix ffio' 6 ri dri OapaaXsov 

E'Toj, ivy^ofiai rizvo(pi hr/.ag {loi. 

• We never employed him.— Kegina. 'Twas Caroline of Brunswick. 

DEA2f swift's MADNESS. 131 

€f)t Eament of Stella. 

Bi/ Father ProuL 

Wliile round the cliui'n, 'mid sleet and rain, 

It blew a perfect hm-ricane, 

Wrapt in slight garment to protect her, 

Methoiight I saw my motliei-'s spectre, 

Wlio took her infant to her breast — 

Me, the small tenant of that chest — 

Wliile thus she lulled her babe : " How cruel 

Have been the Fates to thee, my jewel! 

But, caring naught for foe or scoffer. 

Thou sleepest in this milky coffer, 

Cooper'd with brass hoops weather-tight, 

Impervious to the dim moonlight. 

The shower cannot get in to soak 

Thy hair or little pm-ple cloak ; 

Heedless of gloom, in dark sojouna. 

Thy face illuminates the churn ! 

Small is thine ear, wee babe, for hearing, 

But grant my prayer, ye gods of Erin ! 

And may folks find that this yoimg fellow 

Does credit to his mother Stella." 

No. V. 


dTrom t\)t H^vaut i3apci-£(. 

" Grata cai-pendo thyma per laborem 
Plurimum, circa nemus* uvidique 
Tiburis ripas, opcrosa paktus 
Carmina fingo." 


" By taking time, and some advice from Prout, 
A polish'd book of songs I hammered out ; 
But still my Muse, for she the fact confesses, 
Haunts that sweet hill, renown'd for water-cresses." 

TuoiTAS L. Moore. 

When the etax of Father Prout (a genuine son of the ac- 
* i. c. Blanieum nemus. 


complished Stella, aud in himself the most eccentric lumi- 
nary that has of late adorned our planetary system) first 
rose in the firmament of literature, it deservedly attracted 
the gaze of the learned, and riveted the eye of the sage. We 
know not what may have been the sensation its appearance 
created in foreign countries, — at the Observatoire Eoyal of 
Paris, in the Val d'Arno, or at Fesole, where, in Milton's 
time, the sons of Galileo plied the untiring telescope to de- 
scry new heavenly phenomena, " rivers or mountains in the 
shadowy moon," — but we can vouch for the impression 
made on the London University ; for all Stinkomalee hath 
been perplexed at the apparition. The learned Chaldeans 
of Gower Street opine that it forebodes nothing good to the 
cause of " useful knowledge," aud they watch the '• tran- 
sit " of Prout, devoutly wishing for his " exit." "With throb- 
bing anxiety, night after night has Dr. Lardner gazed on tlie 
sinister planet, seeking, with the aid of Dr. Babbage's calcu- 
lating machine, to ascertain the probable period of its final 
eclipse, and often muttering its name, " to tell how lie hates 
its beams." He has seen it last April shining conspicu- 
ously in the constellation of Pisces, when he duly conned 
over the " Apology for Lent," and the Doctor has reported 
to the University Board, tliat, "advancing with retrograde 
movement in the zodiac," this disastrous orb was last 
perceived in the inilk}/ waij, entering the sign of " Amphora," 
or " the churn." But what do the public care, while the 
general eye is delighted by its irradiance, that a few owls 
and dunces are scared by its eftulgency ? The G-eorgium 
Sidus, the Astrium Julium, the Soleil d'Austerlitz, the Star 
at Vauxhall, the Nose of Lord Chancellor Yaux,* and the 

* The following song was a favoiirite with the celebrated Chancellor 
i'Agucsseau. It is occasionally sung, in our own times, by a moderi* 
performer on the woolsack, in the intervals of business ; 

" Sitot que la lumioi'e 
Redorc nos coteaiix, 
Je commence ma carriere 
Par visiter mes tonneaxix. 

Ravi de revoir I'aurore, 

Le verre en main, jc lui dis, 
Vois-tu done plus, chez le Manre, 

Que sw 7)ion nez, de rubis ?" 


r ^ 


grand Eoman Giraudola sliot off from the mole of Adrian, 
to. the annual delight of modern " Quirites," are all fine 
things and rubicund in their generation ; hut nothing to the 
star of WatergrasshiU. 'Nov is astronomical science or pyro- 
technics the only department of philoso2)hy that has been 
influenced by this extraordinary meteor — the kindred study 
of &ASTEOnomy has derived t1ae hint of a new combination 
from its inspiring ray ; and, after a rapid perusal of " Prout's 
Apology for Fish," the celebrated Monsieur Ude, whom 
Croquis has so exquisitely delineated in the gallery of Re- 
GiNA, has invented on the spot an original sauce, a nove] 
obsonium, more especially adapted to cod and turbot, tf 
which he has given the reverend father's name ; so that Sir 
William Curtis will be found eating his " turbot a la Prout " 
as constantly as his " cotelette a la Maintenou." The fasci- 
nating Miss Landon has had her fair name affixed to a frozen 
lake in the map of Captain Eoss's discoveries ; and if Prout 
be not equally fortunate in winning terraqueous renown 
with his pen, (" JS^ititur penna vitreo daturus nomiua 
ponto"), he will at least figure on the "carte" at our 
neighbour Verey's. 

Wlio can tell what posthumous destinies await the late 
incumbent of WatergrasshiU ? In truth, his celebrity (to 
use an expression of Edmund Burke) is as yet but a " speck 
in the horizon — a small seminal ])rinciple, rather than a 
formed body ;" and when, in the disemboguing of the chest, 
in the evolving of his MSS., he shall be uniblded to the view 
in all his dimeusious, developing his proportions in a gor- 
geous shape of matchless originality and grandeur, then will 
be the hour for the admirers of the beautiful and the vota- 
ries of the sublime to hail him with becoming veneration, 
and welcome him with the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, 
saekbut, psaltery, and dulcimer, and all kinds of music. — 
(Dan. viii. 15.) 

" Then shall the reign of mind commcnco on earth, 
And, starting fresh, as from a second birth, 
Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring, 
Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing ! ! ! 
Then, too, your prophet from liis angel-brow 
Shall cast llie veil that hides its splendom* now, 
And gladdcn'd earth shall, through her wide expanse, 
Bask in the gloi-ics of his comitenance !" 


The title of tliis second paper takeu from the Prout Col- 
lection is enough to indicate that we are ordy firing off the 
small arms — the pop-guns of this stupendous arsenal, and 
that we reserve the heavy metal for a grander occasion, when 
the Whig ministry and the dog-days shall be over, and a 
merry autumn and a "Wellington administration shall mellow 
our bctober cups. To talk of Tom Moore is but small 
talk — " m tenui labor, at tenuis non gloria ;" for Prout's 
great art is to magnify what is little, and to fling a dash of 
the sublime into a two-penny-post communication. To use 
Tommy's own phraseology, Prout could, with great ease and 
comfort to himself, 

" Teach an old cow pater-noster, 
And whistle Moll Roe to a pig." 

But we have another reason for selecting this " Essay on 
Moore " from the papers of the deceased divine. We have 
seen with regret an effort made to crush and annihilate the 

^. A . young author of a book on the " Hound Towers of Ireland," 
with whom we are not personally acquainted, but whose 
production gave earnest of an ardent mind bent on abstruse 
and recondite studies ; and who, leavhig the frivolous bou- 
doir and the drawing-room coterie to lisp their ballads and 
retail their Epicurean gossip unmolested, trod alone the 
craggy steeps of venturous discovery in the regions of Ori- 
ental " learning ; whence, returning "to the isle of the west, 
the " lEau of the fire-worshipper," he trimmed his lamp, well 
fed Avith the fragrant oil of these sunny lands, and penned a 
work which Avill one day rank among the most extraordinary 
of modern times. The " Edinburgh Eeview " attempted, 
long ago, to stifle the iinfledged muse of Eyron ; these trucu- 
lent northerns would gladly have bruised in the very shell 
the yoimg eagle tliat afterwards tore with his lordly talons 

rTj botli Jeffery and his colleague Moore (of the leadless pistol), 
I who were glad to wax subservient slaves, after being impo- 
tent bullies. The same review undertook to cry down 
"Wordsworth and Coleridge ; they shouted their vulgar 
" crucifigatur " against Kobert Southey ; and seemed to 
have adopted the motto of the French club of witlings, 

"Nuln'aiira de I'csprit que nous ct nos amis." 

But in the present case they will find themselves equally 


impotent for evil : O'Brien may defy them. He may defy 
his own ahna mater, the silent and nnproductive Trin. CoU. 
Dub. ; he may defy the Eoyal Irish Academy, a learned as- 
sembly, which, alas ! has neither a body to be kicked, nor a 
soul to be damned ; and may rest secure of the applauss 
which sterling merit challenges from every freeborn inhabi- 
tant of these islands, — 

" Save where, from yonder ivy -mantled tower, 

The moping owl does to the moon complain 
Of those who, ventm'ing near her silent bower, 

Molest her ancient sohtaiy reign." 

Moore — (we beg his pardon) — the reviewer, asserts that 
O'Brien is a plagiary, and pilfered his discovery from " Mm- 
rod." Now we venture to offer a copy of the commentaries 
of Cornelius a Lapide (which we find in Prout's chest) to 
Tom, if he will shew us a single passage in " IS^imrod" (which 
we are confident he never read) warranting his assertion. 
But, aj)ropos of plagiarisms ; let us hear the prophet of 
"VVatergrasshill, who enters largely on the subject. 


Regent Street, 1st August^ 1834 , 

WateryrassMU, Feb. 1834. 

That notorious tinker, "William Woods, who, as I have re- 
corded among the papers in my coiFer somewhere, to spite 
my illustrious father, kidnapped me in my childhood, little 
dreamt that the infant Prout would one day emerge from 
the Eoyal Cork FoundHng Hospital as safe and \mscathed 
as the children from jSTebuchadnezzar's furnace, to hold up 
liis villany to the execration of maukind : 

" Xon sme Dis animosus infans !" 

Among the Eomans, whoever stole a child was liable by 
law to get a sound flogging ; and as j^laga in Latin means a 
stripe, or lash, kidnappers in Cicero's time were called plagi- 
arii, or cat-oi' -nine-tait-villains. I approve highly of this law 
of the twelve tables ; but perhaps my judgment is biassed, 


and I slioiild be an unfair juror to give a verdict in a case 
wliicli comes home to my own feelings so poignantly. The 
term plagiary has since been applied metaphorically to lite- 
rary shop-lifters and book-robbers, who stuif their pages 
with other men's goods, and thrive on indiscriminate pillage. 
This is justly considered a high misdemeanour in the 
republic of letters, and the lash of criticism is imsparingly 
dealt on pickpockets of this description. Among the Latins, 
Martial is the only classic author by whom the term plagi- 
ariiis is used in the metaphorical sense, as applied to litera- 
ture ; but surely it was not because the practice only began 
in his time that the word had not been used even in the 
Augustan age of Eome. Be that as it may, we first find 
the term in Martial's Epigrams (lib. i. epigr. 53) : talking 
of his verses, he says, 

" Dicas esse mcos, manuque missos : 
Hoe si terque quaterque clamitaris, 
linpoues 2>toffiario pudorem." 

Cicero himself was accused by the Greeks of pilfering whole 
passages, for his philosophical works, from the scrolls of 
Athens, and cooking up the fragments and broken meat of 
Greek oi-ations to feed the hungry barbarians of the Eoman 
forum. My authority is that excellent critic St. Jerome, 
who, in the " Proemium in qu. Heb. lib. Genesis," distinctly 
says, " Cicero repetundarum accusatur a Grnecis," &c. &c. ; 
and in the same passage he adds, that Virgil being accused 
of taking whole similes from Homer, gloried in the theft, 
exclaimiug, " Think ye it nothing to wrest his club from 
Hercules ?" (it. ibidem.) Vide S*^" Hieronymi Opera, torn, 
iv. fol. 90. But what shall we say when we find Jerome ac- 
cusing another holy father of jilagiarism ? Verily the tempt- 
ation must liave been very great to have shaken the probity 
of St. Ambrose, when he pillaged bis learned brother in the 
faith, Origen of Alexandria, by wholesale. " Js^uper Sanctus 
Ambrosius Hexaemeron illius comj)ilavit " (S'"Hieronymi 
Opera, tom. iii. fol. 87, in e]nst<)ld ad Pammach). It is well 
known that Mcnandrr and Aristophanes were mei'cilessly 
pillaged b}^ Terence and Plautus ; aud the Latin freebooters 


thought nothing of stopping the Thespian waggon on the 
highways of Parnassus. The French dramatists are simi- 
larly waylaid by our scouts from the green-room, — and the 
plunder is awful ! What is Talleyrand cabout, that he can- 
not protect the property of the Erench ? Perhaps he is better 
employed ? 

I am an old man, and have read a great deal in my time — 
being of a quiet disposition, and having always had a tasta 
for books, which I consider a great blessing ; but latterly I 
find that I may dispense with further perusal of printed 
volumes, as, unfortunately, memory serves me but too well ; 
and all I read now strikes me as but a new version of what 
I had read somewhere before. Plagiarism is so barefaced 
and so universal, that I can't stand it no longer : I have 
shut up shop, and won't be taken in no more. Qucere pere- 
grinum ? clamo. I'm sick of hashed-up works, and loathe 
the baked meats of antiquity served in a fricassee. Give me 
a solid joint, in which no knife has been ever fleshed, and I 
will share your intellectual banquet most willingly, were it 
but a moimtain kid, or a limb of Welsh mutton. Alas ! 
whither shall I turn ? Let me open the reviews, and lo ! the 
critics are but repeating old criticisms ; let me fly to the 
poets, 'tis but the old lyre with catgut strings ; let me hear 
the orators, — " that's my thunder !" saj's the ghost of Sheri- 
dan or the spectre of Burke ; let me listen to the sayers of 
good things, and alas for the injured shade of Joe Miller ! 
I could go thi'ough the whole range of modern authors (save 
Scott, and a few of that kidney), and exclaim, with more 
truth than the chieftaiu of the crusaders in Tasso — 

" Di chi di voi non so la patria e '1 seme ? 
Qual spada m' e ignota ? e qual saetta, 
Benche per 1" am ancor sospesa treme, 
IVon saprei dir s' e Franca, o s' e d'Irlanda, 
E quale appimto il braccio e che la manda ?" 

Gerusal. Liber, cauto xx. st. 18. 

To state the simple truth, such as I feel it in my own 
conviction, I declare that the whole mass of contemporary 
scribblement might be bound up in one tremendous volume, 
and entitled " Elegant Extracts ;" for, if you except tlie form 
and style, the varnish and colour, all the rest is what I have 


known in a different shape forty years ago ; and there is 
more philosophy than meets the vulgar eye in that excellent 
song on the transmutation of things here below, which per- 
petually oifer the same intrinsic substance, albeit under a 
different name : 

" Dear Tom, this brown jug, which cow foams with mild ale, 
Was once Toby PhUxDot, a many old soul," &c. &e. 

This transmigration of inteUect, this metempsychosis of 
Literature, goes on silently reproducing and reconstructing 
what had gone to pieces. But those whose memory, like 
mine, is unfortunately over-tenacious of its young impres- 
sions, cannot enjoy the zest of a twice-told tale, and conse- 
quently are greatly to be pitied. 

It has lately come out that " Childe Harolde " (like other 
in London " by being sent to the "Euryalus hulk,") was given 
to picking pockets. Mr. Beckford, the author of " Vathek," 
and the builder of Fonthill Abbey, has been a serious sufierer 
by the Childe's depredations, and is now determined to pub- 
lish his case in the shape of " Travels, in 1787, through Por- 
tugal, up the Rhine, and through Italy;" and it also appears 
that Saml. Eogers, in his " Italy," has learned a thing or 
two from the " Bandits of Terracina," and has de'valise Mr. 
Beckford aforesaid on more than one occasion in the Apen- 
nines. I am not surprised at all this: murder will out ; and 
a stolen dog will natui-ally nose out his original and primi- 
tive master among a thousand on a race-course. 

These matters may be sometimes exaggerated, and (honour 
bright !) far be it from me to pull the stool from under every 
poor devil that sits down to write a book, and sweep away, with 
unsparing besom, all the cobwebs so industriously wover 
across Paternoster Eow. I don't wish to imitate Father 
Hardouin, the celebrated Jesuit, who gained great renown 
among the wits of Louis XlVth's time by his paradoxes. 
A favourite maggot hatched iu his })rolific brain was, that the 
Odes of Horace never were written by the friend of Mecirnas, 
but were an imposture of some old Benedictine monk of the 
twelfth century, who, to amuse his cloistered leisure, per- 
sonated Placcus, and under his name strung together those 
lyrical effusions. This is maintained in a large folio, printed 


at Amsterdam in 1733, viz. " Harduini Opera Yaria, -^iiiSo- 
Horatius." One of his arguments is drawn from the Chris- 
tian allusions which, he asserts, occur so frequently in these 
Odes : ex. gratia, the " praise of celibacy ;" 

" Platanusque coelebs 
Eyincit ulinos j" 

Lib. ii. ode 15. 

for the elm-tree used to be married to the vine ; not so the 
sycamore, as any one who has been in Italy must know. The 
rebuilding of the temple by Julian the Apostate is, accord- 
ing to the Jesuit, thus denounced : 

" Sed bellicosis fata Qiiii'itibiis 
Hac lege dico, iie nixuium pii, 
Tecta yelint reparare Trojse." 

Lib. iii. Ode 3. 

Again, the sacred mysteries of the Lord's Supper, and the 
concealed nature of tlie bread that was broken among the pri- 
mitive Christians : 

" Vetabo, qui Cereris sacrum 

Vulgarit arcanee, sub iisdem 

Sit trabibus, fragilemve meeum 

Solvat pliaselum" (i.e. the baric of Peter'). 
Lib. iii. ode 2. 

And the patriarch Joseph, quoth Hardouin, is cleai-ly pointed 
out under the strange and un-Eoman name of Procideius, of 
whom pagan history says naught : 

" Yivet extento Proculeius ecto, 
Notus infratres animi paterni T 

Lib. ii. ode 2. 

For the rest of Ilardouiu's discoveries I must refer to the 
work itself, as quoted above ; and I must in fairness add, 
tliat his other literary efforts and deep erudition reflect the 
highest credit on the celebrated order to which he belonged 
— the Jesuits, and, I may add, the Benedictines beiug as 
distinct and as superior bodies of monastic men to the re- 
maining tribes of cowled coenobites as the Brahmins in India 
are to the begging Parias.* 

• Fatlier Hardouin, who died at Paris 3rd Sept. 1729, was one of 
tlio many high ornaments of the society and the centm-y to which h» 


There is among the lyric poems of the lower Irish a very 
remarkable ode, the authorship of which has been ascribed 
to the very Kev. Eobert Burrowes, the mild, tolerant, and 
exemplary Dean of St. Finbarr's Cathedi'al, Cork, whom I 
am proud to call my friend : it refers to the last tragic scene 
in the comic or melodramatic life of a Dublin gentleman, 
whom the above-mentioned excellent divine accompanied in 
]iis ministerial capacity to the gallows ; and nothing half so 
characteristic of the genuine Irish recklessness of death was 
ever penned by any national Labruyere as that incompar- 
able elegy, beginning — 

" The night before Larry was stretched, 
The boys they all paid him a visit," &c. 

Now, were not this fact of the clerical authorship of a most 
sublime Pindaric composition chronicled in these papers, 
some future Hardouin would arise to unsettle the belief of 
posterity, and the claim of my friend Dean Biurowes would 
be overlooked ; while the songster of Turpin the highway- 
man, the illustrious author of " Eookwood,"* wotild infal- 
libly be set down as the writer of " Larry's" last hornpipe. 
But let me remark, en passant, that in that interesting depart- 
ment of literature " slang songs," Ireland enjoys a proud 
and lofty pre-eminence over every European countiy : her 
imisa 2)eclestrisy or ''\footi)ad poetry^'' being unrivalled; and, as 
it is observed by Tacitus (in his admirable work "De Mori- 
bus Germanorum") of the barbarians on tlie Ehine — the 
native Irish find an impulse for valorous deeds, and a com- 
fort for all tlieir tribulations, in a song. 

belonged. Ilis Collection of the Conncils ranks among the most ela- 
borate efforts of theological toil, " Concil. Collect. Kegia," 15 vols, 
folio, Paris, 1715. The best edition extant of the naturalist Pliny is 
liis (in usum Delphini), and displays a wondrous range of reading. He 
was one of the witty and honest crew of Jcsiuts who conducted tliat 
model of periodical criticism, (he "Journal de Trcvoux." Bishop 
Attcrbury of Kochcslcr has written his epitaph ; 
"Hicjacct Pctrus Ilarduinvs, 
Ilomiuum paradoxotatos, vir sunima; memoriae, 

Judicium expectans." PuorT. 

* Prout must have enjoyed the gift of prophecy, for " Rookwood' 
was not published till four months after liis death at Watergrassliill. 
Perhaps Mr. Ainsworth submitted his embryo romance to the priest's 
inspection when he went to kiss the stone. — O. Y. 


Many folks like to write anonymously, others posthu- 
mously, others under an assumed name ; and for each of these 
methods of conveying thought to our fellow-men there may 
be assigned sundry solid reasons. But a man should never 
be ashamed to avow his writings, if called on by an injured 

?arty, and I, for one, will never shrink from that avowal. 
f, as my friend O'Brien of the Eoimd Towers tells me, 
Tom Moore tried to run him down in the " Edinburgh Ee- 
view," after holdiug an unsuccessful negotiation with him 
for his services in compiling a joint-stock history of Ireland, 
why did not the man of the imper luUet fire a fair shot in 
his own name, and court the publicity of a dirty job, which 
done in the dark can .lose nothing of its infamy ? Dr. John- 
son tells us that Bolingbroke wrote in his old age a work 
against Christianity, which he hadn't the courage to avow 
or publish in his lifetime ; but left a sum of money in his 
will to a hiuigry Scotchman, Mallet, on condition of print- 
ing in his own name this precious production. " He loaded 
the pistol," says the pious and learned lexicographer, " but 
made Sawney pull the trigger." Such appear to be the 
tactics of Tommy in the present instance : but I trust the 
attemjjt will fail, and that this insidious missile darted 
against the towers of O'Brien will prove a " telum imbelle, 
sine ictu." 

The two most original writers of the day, and also the 
two most ill-treated by the press, are decidedly Miss Harriet 
Martineau and Hemy O'Brien. Of Miss Martineau I 
shall say little, as she can defend herself against all hep 
foes, and give them an effectual check when hard-pressed in 
literary encounters. Her fame can be comprised in one 
brief pentameter, which I would recommend as a motto for 
the title-page of all her treatises : 

" Foemina tractavit ' propria qiijB maribus.' " 

But over Henry O'Brien, as he is young and artless, I must 
throw the shield of my fostering protection. It is now 
some time since he called at Watergrasshill ; it was in the 
summer after I had a visit from Sir "Walter Scott. The 
young man was then well versed in the Oriental languages 
and the Celtic : he had read the " Coran" and the " Psalter 
of Cashil," the " Zendavesta" and the " Ogygia," " Lalla 


Eookli" and " Eock's Memoirs," besides other books that 
treat of Phopnician antiquities. From these authentic 
sources of Irish and Hindoo mythology he had derived 
much internal comfort and spiritual consolation ; at the 
same time that he had picked up a rude (and perhaps a 
crude) notion that the Persians and the boys of Tipperary 
were first cousins after all. This might seem a startling 
theory at first sight ; but then the story of the fire-worship- 
pers in Arabia so corresponded with the exploits of General 
Decimus Eock in Mononia, and the camel-di'iver of Mecca 
was so forcibly associated in his mind with the bog-trotter 
of Derrynane, both haviug deluded an imtutored tribe of 
savages, and the flight of the one being as celebrated as the 
vicarious im-prisonment of the other, he was sure he should 
find some grand feature of this striking consanguinity, 
some landmark indicative of former relationship : 

Journeying ■with that intent, he eyed these Towees ; 
And, Heaven-directed, came this way to find 
The noble truth tliat gilds his humble name. 

Being a tolerable Greek scholar (for he is a Kerryman), 
with Lucian, of course, at his fingers' ends, he probably 
bethought himself of the two great phallic towers which 
that author describes as having been long ago erected in 
the countries of the East, (" ante Syriae De£E tempium stare 
phallos duos mirse altitudinis ; sacerdotem per funes ascen- 
dere, ibi orare, sacra facere, tinnitumque ciere," &c. &.c.) ; 
a ray of light darted through the diaphanous casement of 
O'Brien's brain, — 'twas a most eurehish moment, — 'twas a 
cotip (le soleil, a manifestation of the spirit, — 'twas a divined 
particula aura, — twas what a Frenchman would call Vlieure 
du herger ; and on the spot the whole theory of " Eound 
Towers" was developed in his mind. The dormant chrA'salis 
burst into a butterfly. jVnd this is the bright thing of sur- 
passing brilliancy that Tom Moore would extinguish witli 
his flimsy foolscap pages of the " Edinburgh Eeview." 

Forbid it, Heaven ! Thougli all the mercenary or time- 
serving scribes of the periodical press should combine to 
slander aud burke thee, O'B. ! though all the world betray 
thee, one pen at least thy right shall guard, and vindicate 
thy renown : here, on the summit of a bleak Irish hill — 


here, to the cliild of genius and enthusiasm my door is still 
open ; and though the support which I can give thee is but 
a scanty portion of patronage indeed, I give it with good 
will, and assuredly with good humour. O'Brien ! historian 
of round towers, has sorrow thy young days faded ? 

Does Moore with liis cold wing wither 

Each feehng that ouce was dear ? 
Then, cliild of misfortune, come hither — 

I'll weep with thee tear for tear. 

When O'Brien consulted me as to his future plans and 
prospects, and the development of his theory, in the first 
instance confidentially to Tom Moore, I remember distinctly 
that in the course of our conversation (over a red herring), 
I cautioned the young and fervent enthusiast against the 
tricks and rogueries of Tommy. No man was better able 
to give advice on this subject — Moore and I having had 
many mutual transactions, the reciprocity of which was all 
on one side. We know each other intus et in cute, as the 
reader of this posthumous paper will not fail to learn be- 
fore he has laid down the document ; and if the ballad- 
monger comes off second best, I can't help him. I warned 
O'B, against confiding his secret to the man of melody, or 
else he would surely repent of his simplicity, and to his 
cost find himself some day the dupe of his credulous reli- 
ance : while he would have the untoward prospect of seeing 
his discovery swamped, and of beholding, through the me- 
dium of a deep and overwhelming flood of treachery, 

" His round towers of other days 
Beneath the waters shining." 

For, to illustrate by a practical example the man's way of 
doing business, I gave, as a striking instance, his " Travels 
in Search of Eeligion." Now, since my witty fother's cele- 
brated book of " Grulliver's Travels," I ask, was there ever 
a more clever, or in every way so well got up a performance 
as this Irish gentleman's " steeple chase ?" But unfortu- 
nately memory supplies me with the eact, that this very same 
identical Tommy, who in that work quotes the " Fathers " 
80 accurately, and, I may add (without going into polemics), 
BO felicitously and triumphantly, has written the most 


abusive, scurrilous, and profane article that ever sullied the 
pages of the '• Edinburgh [Review," — the whole scope of 
which is to cry down the Fathers, and to turn the highest 
and most cherished ornaments of the primitive church into 
ridicule. See the 24th volume of the " Edinburgh Eeview,"* 
p. 65, Nov. 1814, where you will learn with amazement that 
the most accomplished Christian writer of the second 
century, that most eloquent churchman, Africa's glorious 
son, was nothing more in Tommy's eye than the " harsh, 
muddy, and unintelligible TertuUian !" Eurther on, you 
will hear thi'S Anacreontic little chap talk of " the pompous 
rigidity of Chrysostom ;" and soon after you are equally 
edified by hearing him descant on the " antithetical trifling 
of Grregopy JSTaziauzene " — of Gregory, whose elegant mind 
was the result and the index of pure unsullied virtue, ever 
most attractive when adorned with the graces of scholar- 
ship — Grregory, the friend of St. Basil, and his schoolfellow 
at Athens, where those two vigorous champions of Chris- 
tianity were associated in their youthful studies vnth. that 
Julian who was afterwards an emperor, a sophist, and an 
apostate — a disturber of oriental provinces, and a fellow who 
perished deservedly by the javelin of some j'^oung patriot 
admirer of round towers in Persia. In the article alluded 
to, this incredulous Thomas goes on to say, that these same 
Fathers, to whom he afterwards refers his Irish gentleman 
in the catch-penny travels, are totally " wiJU to be guides 
either in faith or morals." (it. ib.) The prurient rogue dares 
to talk of their "pa{/an imapinatio7is .'" and, having turned up 
his ascetic nose at these saintly men, because, forsooth, they 
appear to him to be but " indifferent Christians" he pro- 
nounces them to be also " elephants in battle," and, chuckling 
over this old simile, concludes with a comph^ceut smirk quite 
self-satisfactory. for the proboscis of the royal animal in 
the Surrey IMcnagerie, to give this poet's carcass a sound 
drubbing! O most theological, and zoological, and super- 
eminently logical Tommy ! 'tis you that are fit to travel in 
search of religion ! 

If thei'c is one plain truth that oozes forth from the fecu- 
lent heap of trash which the reviewer accumulates on the 

* The book reviewed by Moore is entitled " Select Passages from the 
Fathers," by Hugh Boyd, Esq. Dublin, 1814. 


merits of the Fathers, it is the conviction in every observant 
mind, drawn from the simple perusal of his article, that he 
never read tliree consecutive pages of their works in his Hfe. 
jSTo one that ever did — no one who had banqueted wath the 
gorgeous and magnificent Chrysostom, or drained the true 
Athenian cup of Grregory Naziauzene, or dwelt wath the 
eloquent and feelingly devout Bernard in the cloistered 
shades of Clairvaux, or mused with the powerful, rich, and 
scrutinizing mind of Jerome in his hermitage of Palestine, — 
could Avrite an article so contemptible, so low, so little. He 
states, truly with characteristic audacity, that lie has moiuited 
to tlie most inaccessible shelves of the library in Trin. Coll. 
Dublin, as if he had scaled the "heights of Abraham," to 
get at the original editions ; but believe him not : for the 
old folios would have become instinct with life at the ap- 
proach of the dwarf— they would have awakened from their 
slumber at his touch, and, tumbling their goodly volumes 
on their diminutive assailant, would have overwhelmed him, 
like Tarpeia, on the very threshold of his sacrilegious in- 

Towards my young friend O'Brien of the toivers he acts the 
same part, appearing in his favourite character — that of an 
auo]]ymous reviewer, a veiled prophet of Khorasjan. Having 
first negotiated by letter with him to extract his brains, and 
make use of him for his meditated "History of Ireland" — 
(the correspondence lies before me) — he wdnds up the con- 
fidential intercourse by an Edinburgh volley of canister shot,' 
" quite in a friendly way." He has the iuefi\ible impudence 
to accuse O'B. of plaf/iaris7n, and to state that this grand and 
iniparalleled discovery had been previously made by the author 
of " Nimrod;"* a book which Tommy read not, neitlier did 
he care, so he plucked the laurel from the brow of merit. But 
to accuse a Avriter of plagiarism, he should be himself im- 

* Nimrod, by the Hon. Reginald Herbert. 1 vol. 8vo. London, 1826. 
rricstlcj. A work of iinconnnon erudition ; but the leading idea of 
which is, that these towers were f re-altars. O. B.'s thcoiy is not to 
bu found ill anij page of it haiiiKj the remotest reference to Ireland ; and 
wo are astonislied at the imfairness of giving (as Moore has done) a 
pretended quotation from " Mmrcd" without indicating where it is 
to be met with in the volume. — O. Y. 


maculate ; and wliile lie dwells in a glass house, he sjould 
not throw stones at a man in a tower. 

The Blarney-stone inmy neighbourhood has attracted hither 
man}'- an illustrious visitor ; but none has been so assiduous 
a pilgrim in my time as Tom Moore. AVhile he was engaged 
in his best and most unexceptionable work on the melodious 
ballads of his country, he came regularly every summer, and 
did me the honour to share my humble roof repeatedly. He 
knows well how often he plagued me to supply him with 
original songs which I had picked up in France among the 
merry troubadours and carol-loving inhabitants of that 
once happy land, and to what extent he has transferred 
these foreign inventions into the " Irish Melodies." 
Like the robber Cacus, he generally dragged the plundered 
cattle by the tail, so as that, moving backwards into his 
cavern of stolen goods, the foot-tracks might not lead to 
detection. Some songs he would turn upside down, by a 
figure in rhetoric called lanpov 'rponpov ; others he would dis- 
guise in various shapes ; but he would still worry me to 
supply him with the productions of the Gallic muse; "for, 
d'ye see, old Prout," the rogue would say, 

" The best of all ways 
To lengthen our lui/s, 
Is to steal a few thoughts from the French, ' my dear.' " 

Kow I would have let him enjoy unmolested the renown 
which these " Melodies " have obtained for him ; but his 
last treachery to my I'ound-tower friend has raised my bde, 
and I shall give evidence of the imsuspected robberies : 

" Abstractseque boves abjiu-attcque rapiurc 
Ccclo ostendeutur." 

It would be easy to point out detached fragm.cnts and 
stray metaphors, which he has scattered here and there in 
such gay confusion that every page has within its limits a 
mass of felony and plagiarism sufficient to hang him. For 
instance, I need only advert to his " Bard's Legacy." Even 
on his dying bed this " dying "bard " cannot help indulging 
liis evil pranks ; for, in bequeathing his " heart " to his 
"miL-tresa dear," aud recommending her to '* borroiv" balmy 



drops of port wine to bathe the relic, he is all the while rob- 
bing old Clement Mar6t, who thus disposes of his remains; 

" Quand je suis mort, je veux qu'on m'entere 
Dans la cave ou est le vin ; 
Le corps sous ua tonueau de Madere, 
Et la bouche sous le robin." 

But I won't strain at a gnat, when I can capture a camel— 
a huge dromedary laden with pilfered spoil ; for, would you 
believe it if you had never learned it from Prout, the very 
opening and foremost song of the collection, 

" Go where glory waits tiiee," 

iS but a literal and servile translation of an old French 
ditty, which is among my papers, and which I believe to have 
been composed by that beautiful and interesting " ladye," 
l"'ran9oise de Foix, Comtesse de Chateaubriand, born in 
1491, and the favourite of Francis I., who soon abandoned 
lier : indeed, the lines appear to anticipate his infidelity. 
They were written before the battle of Pavia. 

dc la Comtesse de Chateaubriand a 
Francois I. 

Va ou la gloire t'invite ; 
Et quand d'orgued palpite 

Ce ccEur, qu'il pense a moi i 
Quand Feloge enflamine 
Toulerardcur deton amc, 

Pense encore a moi ! 
Autres charmcs pcut-etre 
Tu voudi'as comialtre, 
Autre amour en niaitrc 

Regnera sur toi ; 
Mais quand ta levi'c pressc 
r<>lle qui tc caresse, 

Mediant, pense a moi ! 

Quand au soir tu erres 
Sous I'astre des bergeres, 
Pense aux doux instans 

Tfanslaiion of this Song in the Iris'i 

Go Tvliere glory waits thee ; 
But while fame elates thee, 

Oh, still remember me ! 
When the praise thou meetes^ 
To thine ear is sweetest. 

Oh, then remember me ' 
Other arms may press thee, 
Dearer friends caress thee — 
All tlie joys that bless thee 

Dearer far may be : 
But when friends are dearest. 
And when joys are nearest, 

Oh, then remember me ! 

When at eve thou rovest 
By the star thou lovcst. 
Oh, then remember :nfc» 



Xiorsquc cette etoile, 
Qu'uu beau ciel dcvoile, 

Giiida (Ic iix amans ! 
Quand la fleur, syuibole 
D'ete qui s'envole, 
Penche sa tetc moJle, 

S'eshalant a Fair, 
Pnnse a la guirlande, 
De ta niie Toffrande — > 

Don qui fut si cher I 

Quand la feuillc d'aufomne 
Sous tes pas resonno, 

Pense alors :\ moi ! 
Quand de la famille 
L'antique foyer briUe, 

Fense encore a moi ! 
Efc si de la chanteuse 
La vois melodieuse 
Berce ton ume heureuse 

Et ravit tes sens, 
Pense a I'aii' que eliaute 
Pour toi ton amante — 

Tant aim^s accens ! 

Think, when home returning, 
Bright we've seen it burning — 

Oh, then remember me ! 
Oft as summer closes, 
AVTien thine eye reposes 
On its lingering roses. 

Once so loved by thee, 
Think of her who wove them— 
J ler who made thee love them : 

Oh, then remember me ! 

AVTaen aroimd thee, dying, 
-Vutumn leaves are lying. 

Oh, then remember me ! 
And at night, when gazing 
On the gay liearth blazing. 

Oh, still remember me ! 
'then, should music, steaHng 
All the soul of feeling, 
'Jo thy heart appealing, 

Draw one tear from thee ; 
Then let memory bring thee 
Strains I used to sing thee — 

Oh, then remember me ! 

Any one who lias tlie sliglitest tincture of rrench litera- 
ture mnst recognise the simple and unsophisticated style of 
a ijenuine love-sonc: in the above, the lausruage being that of 
the century in which Clement Marot and Maitre Adam 
wrote their incomparable ballads, and containing a kindly 
admixture of gentleness and sentimental delicacy, which 
no one but a " ladye" and a lovely heart could infuse into 
the composition. Moore has not been infelicitous in ren- 
dering the charms of the wondrous original into English 
lines adapted to the measure and tune of the French. The 
air it^ plaintive and exquisitely beautiful ; but I recommend 
it to be tried first on the French words, as it was sung by the 
charming lips of the Countess of Chateaubriand to the en- 
raptured car of the gallant Francis I. 

The following pathetic strain is the only literary relic 
which has been preserved of the unfortunate Marquis de 
Cinqmars, who Avas disappointed in a love affair, and who, 
" to fling forgetfulness around him," mixed in politics, con- 
spired against Cardinal liichelieu, was betrayed by an ac- 
complice, and perished on the scaffold. ]\Ioore has trans- 



planted it entii-e into his " National Melodies ;" but is very 
careful not to give the nation or writer whence he translated 

JCc iHavqui^ tic Ctngmais. 

Tu n'as fait, o mon ccBur ! qu'im 
beau songe, 
Qui te fut, helas ! ravi trop tot ; 
Ce doux. reye, ab. clieux ! qu'il gy 
Je consens a u'aspircr plus iiaut. 
Faut-il que d'avancc 
Jeiuie esperauce 
Lc destin detniise ton avenir ? 
!Faut-il que la rose 
La premiere eclose 
Soit celle qu'il se plaise a fletrir ? 
Tu n'as fait, &c. 

Que de fois tu trompas notre at- 
Amitie, soeur de ramoiu* trom- 
peur ! 
De I'auiour la coupe encore en- 
A ramionlivre encor' son cceur : 
L'insecte qui file 
Sa frame inutile 
Yoit perir cent fois le frele tissu; 
Tel, amouL" ensorceie 
L'iiomnic qui renouvclle 
Des liens qui Tout cent foia 
de^u ! 

Tu n'as fait, &c. 

CT;oma5 iHosrc. 

! 'twas all but a dream at the 
And still when happiest, soonest 
o'er : 
But e'en in a dream to be blest 
Is so sv/eet, that I ask for no 
more ! 
The bosom tliat opes 
With earhest hopes 
The soonest finds tho.^e hopes un- 
true ; 
Like llowers that first 
In spring-time burst, 
Tlie soonest wither too ! 

Oh, 'twas all but, &c. 

By friendship we've oft been de- 
And love, even love, too soon is 
past ; 
Butfriendship will still be believed. 
And love trusted on to the last ; 
Like the web in the leaves 
The spider weaves, 
Is the charm that hangs o'er men — 
The' oft as he sees 
It broke by the breeze, 
lie weaves the bright line again ! 
O ! 'twas all but, &c. 

Every thing Avas equally acceptable in the wa}' of a song 
to Tommy ; and provided I brought grist to his mill, lie did 
not care where the produce came from — even the wild oats 
and the thistles of native growth on Watergrasshill, all was 
good provender for his Pegasus. There was an old Latin 
Bong of my own, which I made when a boy, smitten with 
the charms of an Irish milkmaid, who crossed by the liedcje- 
school occasionally, and who used to distract my attention 
from " Corderius" and " Erasm- 'PoUoquia." I have often 



laughed at my juvenile gallantry when my eye has met the 
copy of verses in overhauling my papers. Tommy saw it, 
,<^raspecl it with avidity ; and I find he has given it, word 
I'or word, in an English shape in his " Irish Melodies." Let 
the intelligent reader judge if he has done common justice 
to my young muse. 

hi pitlcljram Safttleram. 

Carmen, Auciore Front. 

Lesbia semper liinc et inde 

Oculorum tela movit ; 
Capiat omnes, sed doiude 

Qiiis amctur nemo novit. 
Palpebrarum, Nora cara, 

Lux tuarum non est fens, 
Flamma micat ibi rara, 

Sed sinceri lux amoris. 
Ifora Creina sit regina, 

Vultu, gressu tam modesto ! 
Hi?ec, puellas inter beUas, 

Jui'c omnium dux esto ! 

Lesbia vestcs auro graves 

Fert, et gemmis, juxta noi'mam ; 
Gratiix) sed, elieu ! suaves 

Cinctam reliquere Ibrmam. 
iNoraj tunicam prajfei'res, 

Flanfce zephjro volantem ; 
Oculis et raptis erres 

Contemplando ambulantom ! 
Vesta Nora tam decora. 

Semper indui memento, 
S' iTiper puris sic naturso 

[bis tecta vesiimcnio. 

Ko a ijfaittiful fMtlfemaiU 

A Melody, by Thomas Moore. 

Lo-3bia hath a beaming eye, 

But no one knows for wbom 
it beameth ; 
E.:,':;lit and left its arrows fly, 
But what they aim at, no one 
Sweeter 'tis to gaze npon 

My Norah's lid, that seldom 
rises ; 
Few her looks, but every one 

Like unexpectetl light surprises. 
0, my Norah Creina dear ! 

!My gentle, bashful Norah Creina ! 
Beauty lies 
In many eyes — 
But Love's iu thine, my Norah 
Crema ! 

Lesbia wears a robe of gold ; 
But all so tight the nymph hath 
laced it, 
Not a charm of beauty's mould 
Presumes to stay where nature 
placed it. 
O, my Norah's gown for me, 
That floats as wild as mountain 
Leaving evei'y beauty free 

To sink orswcliaslleavenpleases. 
Yes, my Norah Creina dear ! 
i\Iy sini]3le, gracefidNorah Creina ! 
Nature's dress 
Is loveliness — ■ 
The dress you wear, my Norab 
Creina ! 


J'llf. T;,-,.M,,Ti^.: .rf T.,,,, M 

Pngf If'O. 



Lesbia mentis prsefert lumen, 

Quod coruscat perlibenter ; 
Seel quis optet hoc acumen, 

Quando acupuncta dentur ? 
NorEC sinu cum recliner, 

Dormio luxuriose, 
Nil corrugat hoe pulvinar. 

Nisi crispiB ruga rosae. 
Nora blanda, lux amanda, 

Expei's usque tenebrarum, 
Tu cor mulees per tot didces 

Dotes, fous iilecebrarum ! 

Lesbia hath a wit refined ; 

But when its points are gloam- 
ing round us, 
Who can tell if tliey're design'd 
To dazzle merely, or to wound 
Pillow'd on my Norah's breast, 

In safer slumber Love reposes — 
Bod of peace, whose roughest part 
Is but the crumpling of the roses. 
O, my Norah Creina dear ! 

Jly mild, my artless NoraL 
Creina ! 

Wit, though bright, 
Hath not the Ught 
That warms yoiu* eyes, my Norah 
Creina ! 

It will be seen by these specimens that Tom Moore can 
eke out a tolerably fair translation of any given ballad ; and 
indeed, to translate properly, retaining all the fire and spirit 
of the original, is a merit not to be sneezed at — it is the 
next best thing to having a genius of one's own ; for he 
who can execute a clever forgery, and make it pass current, 
is almost as well off as the capitalist who can draw a sub- 
stantial check on the bank of sterling genius : so, to give 
the devil his due, I must acknowledge that in terseness, 
])oint, pathos, and elegance, Moore's translations of these 
jFrench and Latin trifles are very near as good as the pri- 
mary compositions themselves. He has not been .half so 
lucky in hitting off Anacreon ; but he was a young man 
then, and a " Avild fellow ;" since which time it is thought 
that he has got to that climacteric in life to which few poets 
attain, viz. the years of discretion. A predatory sort of 
life, the career of a literarj^ freebooter, has had great charms 
for him from his cradle ; and I am afraid that he will pur- 
sue it on to final impenitence. He seems to care little 
about the stern reception he will one day receive from that 
inflexible judge, Ehadamanthus, who will make him confess 
all his rogueries — " Castigatque doles, subigitque fateri" — 
our bard being of that epicurean and careless turn of mind 
so strikingly expressed in these lines of " Lalla Eookh" — 

" O ! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this ! it is tliis I" 


Wliicli verses, by the by, are alone euougli to couviet kirn of 
downright plagiarism and robbery ; for they are (as Tommv 
knows right well) to be seen written in large letters in the 
Mogul language over the audienee-cliamber of the King ol 
Delhi :* in fact, to examine and overhaul his " LallaEookh" 
would be a most diverting task, which I may one day un- 
dertake. He will be found to have been a chartered pirate 
in the Persian Gulf, as he was a highwayman in Europe — 
'' spoliis Orientis onustum." 

Eat the favourite field in which Tommy has carried on 
his depredations, to an almost inci'cdible extent, is that of 
the early French troubadours, whose property he lias thought 
fair game, availing himself thereof Avithout scruple. In his soi- 
disunt " Irish " Melodies, and indeed in all his effusions of 
more refined gallantry, he has poured in a large infusion of 
the spirit and the letter of southern France. To be sure, 
be has mixed up with the pure, simple, and genuine inspi- 
rations of these primitive hearts, who loved, in the olden time, 
after nature's fashion, much of his own overstrained fancy, 
strange conceits, and forced metaphors ; but the initiated 
can easily distinguish when it is he speaketh in jjrojjrid 2)er- 
sond, and when it is that he uses the pathetic and soul- 
stirring language of the menhlrels of Gaul, those legitimate 
laureates of love. There has been a squib fired off by some 
wag of the sixteenth century against an old astrologer, who 
practised many rogueries in his generation, and which I 
think not inapplicable to Moore : 

" K ostra damns cum falsa damns, nam fallere nostrum est : 
Et cum falsa damns, nou nisi Nostra damus." 

Aui, only it were a profanation to place two such person- 
ages in juxtaposition, I would say that Moore might use the 
atfectiug, the soul-rending appeal of the ill-fated Mary Stu- 
nrt, addressed to that land of song and civilisation which 
the was quitting for ever, when she exclaimed, as the Gallic 
fc;hore receded from her view, that " half of her heart would 
titill be found on the loved plains of Fi-auce, and even the 
other half pined to rejoin it in its primitive abodes of plea- 
santness and joy." The song of the unfortunate queen is too 

* See the " Asiatic Journal" for May, 183 i, p. 2, 


exquisitely beautiful not to be given here by me, such as 
she saug it on the deck of the vessel that wafted her away 
from the scenes of her youth and the blessings of friendship, 
to seek the dismal regions of bleak barbarity and murderous 
fanaticism. I also give it because Tommy has modelled on 
it his melody, " As slow our ship its foamy track," and 
Byron his " Native laud, good night !" 

" Adieu, plaisanfc pays de France ! " Farewell fair land, 

Oh, lua patrie la plus cherie, Mine heart's countrie ! 

Qui as nouvri ma jeune enfance — Where girlhood planned 

Adieu, France ! adieu, mes beaux Its wild freaks free. 

jours ! The bark that bears 

La nef qvu dejoint mes amours ' A Queen to Scots, 

N'a ici de moi que la moitie ; In twain but tears 

line part te reste, eUe est tienne. Her who allots 

Je la fie a ton amitie — Her dearer half to thee : 
Pom- que de 1' autre, il te souvienne !" Keep, keep lier memorie !" 

I now come to a more serious charge. To plunder the 
French is all right ; but to rob his own countrymen is 
what the late Lord Liverpool Avould call " too bad." I 
admit the claims of the poet on the gratitude of the abori- 
ginal Irish ; for glorious Dan might have exerted his 
leathern lungs during a century in haranguing the native 
sails cidoites on this side of the Channel ; but had not 
the " Melodies " made emancipation palatable to the think- 
ing and generous portion of Britain's free-born sons — had 
not bis poetry spoken to the hearts of the great and the 
good, and enlisted the fair daughters of England, the spouters 
would liave been but objects of scoi*n and contempt. The 
" Melodies " won the cause silently, imperceptibly, effec- 
tually ; and if there be a tribute due from that class of the 
native, it is to the child of song. Poets, however, are 
always destined to be poor ; and such used to be the case 
with patriots too, until the rint opened the eyes of the 
public, and taught them that even that sacred and exalted 
passion, love of country, could resolve itself, through an 
Irish alembic, into an ardent love for the copper currency 
of one's native land. The dagger of Harmodius, which 
used to be concealed under a wreath of myrtle, is now-a-days 
hidden within the ca\'ity of a church-door begging-box : and 
Tom Moore can only claim the second part of the cele- 



orated line of Virgil, as the first evidently refers to Mr 
O'Coimell ; 

" jSSre ciere viros — Martemque acccudere cantu." 

But I am digressing from the serious charge I mean to 
bring against the author of that beautiful melody, " The 
Shamrock." Does not Tom Moore know that there was 
such a thing in France as the Irish brigade ? and does he 
not fear and tremble lest the ghosts of that valiant crew, 
whom he has robbed of their due honours, should, " in the 
stilly night, when slumber's chains have bound him," drag 
his small carcass to the Styx, and give him a Avell-mcrited 
sousing ? For why should he exhibit as his production 
their favourite song ? and what ineffable audacity to pawn 
off on modern drawing-rooms as his own that glorious carol 
which made the tents of Fontenoy ring with its exhilarating 
music, and Avhich old General Stack, who lately died at 
Calais, used to sing so gallantly ? 

Chanson de la Brigade, 1748. 

Un jour en Hybernie, 

D'Amotte le beau genie 
Et le dieu de la Valeue firent ren- 

Avce lo " Eel Espeit," 

Ce drole qui se rit 
De tout cequi luivicnt a I'cncontre; 

Partout leur pas reveille* 

line herbe a. triple feuille, 
Que la nuit humecta de scs plciu's, 

Et que la douce aurore 

Fraielicment fait eclorre, 
De I'emeraude cllc a les couleurs. 

Vive le treile ! 

Vive le vert gazon ! 
De la patrie, terre cherie ! 

L'embleme est bel et bon ! 

Vaxeue, d'un ton superbe, 
S'ecrie, " Pour moi cette herbe 
Credit sit6t qu'elle lue voit ici pa- 

Clje ^Ijanu'Ofh. 

A "Melodi/" of Tom Moore's, 1SI3. 

Through Erin's isle, 

To sport awhile, 
As Love and Valour wandcr'd 

With Wit the sprite, 

Whose quiver bright 
A thousand arrows squander'd : 

V/here'er they pass, 

A triple grass 
Shoots up, with dew-drops stream- 

As softly green 

As emeralds seen 
Through piu'est crystal gleaming. 

O the shamrock ! 

The green immortal shamrock! 
Chosen leaf of bard and chief — 
Old Erin's native shamrock ! 

Says Valour, " Sec ! 
They sjjring for me. 
Those leafy gems of moi'ning f 

Aliii lectio : jT'rrloiil leur inai7i recueUle. 



Says Love, *' No, no, 

For Dae they grow, 
My fragrant path adorning." 

But Wit perceives 

The triple leaves. 
And cries, " O, do not seyer 

A type that blends 

Three godlike friends — 
Wit, Valour, Love, for ever !" 

O the shamrock ! 

The green immortal sharorock!. 
Chosen leaf of bard and chief. 

Old Erin's native shamrock !' 

Amour lui dit, "Non, non, 

C'est moi que le gazon 
Honoi'e en ces bijoux qu'il fait 
naitre :" 

Mais Bel Espeit dirige 

Sur I'herbe a triple tige 
Un ceil obscrvateur, a son tour, 

" Pourquoi," dit-il, " defaire 

L'n nceud si beau, qui serre 
En ce type Espeit, Yaieue, et 

Vive le trefle ! 

Vive le vert gazon ! 
De la pati'ie, terre cherie ! 

L'embleme est bel et bon ! 

Prions le Ciel qu'il dure 

Ce ncEud, oii la natm-e 
Voudraitvoirune eterneUe alliance; 

Que nul venin jamais 

iK'empoisonne les traits 
Qu'a I'entour si gaiement I'EsPEiT 
lance ! 

Que nul tyran ne reve 

D'user le noble glaive 
De la Vaxeur centre la libertc ; 

Et que I'AiiouR suspende 

Sa plus belle guirlande 
Sui' I'autel de la fidelite ! 

Vive le trefle ! 

Vive le vert gazon ! 
De la patrie, terre cherie ! 

L'embleme est bel et bou ! 

Moliere has written a pleasant aud iustructive comedy 
entitled the Fonrheries de Scapin, ^yhicll I recommend to 
Tom's perusal ; and in the " spelling-book" which I used 
to con over when at the hedge-school with my foster- 
brother George Knapp, who has since risen to eminence as 
mayor of Cork, but with Avhom I used then to share the 
reading of tne " Universal Spelling-Book" (having but one 
between us), there is an awful story about " Tommy and 
Marry," very capable of deterring youthful minds from evil 
practices, especially the large wood-cut representing a lion 
tearing the stomach of the luckless Avight who led a career 
of wickedness. Had Tommy Moore been brought up pro- 
perly (as Knapp and I were), he would not havi,' coninntted 

So firm and fond 

May last the bond 
They wove that morn together ; 

And ne'er may faU 

One drop of gall 
On Wit's celestial feather ! 

May Love, as shoot 

His flowers and fruit, 
Of thorny falsehood weed them ; 

Let Valour ne'er 

His standard rear 
Against the cause of freedom, 

Or of the shamrock. 

The green immortal shamrock! 
Chosen leaf of bard and chief, 

Old Erin's native shamrock ! 



SO many depredations, wliicli he ought to know would be 
d.iscovered on him at last, and cause him bitterly to repent 
his " rogueries." 

"With all my sense of indignation, unabated and unmiti- 
gated >at the unfairness with wliich O'Brien " of the round 
towei's" has been treated, and which has prompted me to' 
make disclosures which would have otherwise slept with me 
in the grave, I must do Moore the justice to applaud his 
accurate, spirited, and sometimes exquisite translations from 
recondite MSS. and other totally unexplored MTitings of 
antiquity. I felt it my duty, in the course of these stric- 
tures, to denounce the version of Anacreon as a total failure, 
only to be accounted for by the extreme youth and inexpe- 
rience of the subsequently matured and polished melodist ; 
but there is an obscure Greek poet, called '2,ra-/.xog Mo^ziorjc, 
Avhose ode on whisky, or negus, composed about the six- 
teenth olj-mpiad, according to the chronology of Archbishop 
Usher, he has splendidly and most literally rendered into 
English Anacreontic verse, thus : 

{Stat minims umbra.') 

'ZTt^iOfltV ovv KVTriWov 
Totf ctiiOfnoKTi ■d/i<)(T]g, 
'Vote (pipraroit; (^jptvte y' a 
']:\fiiv Svi'aivr' Kpevpdv. 
Tavry yap ovpavorcs 
'Vy vvKTi del tz traaQai, 
'TaVTiJP Atrroi'T-fc aiau. 
Ee y' ovv Ep(jc ^aQoiro 
Toif <JTijinaTt(ra' a Tipxpig 
'H/jti' fiayng SiCuxrw, 
•OvTTW <po€og yti'oiro, 
'Qg yap TiCtpiOTiv oivoi;, 
Ba-^^ofxev f£y£ KtiTil. 

Hi/ Moore. 

Wreathe the bonl 

With flowers of soiil 
The brightest wit can fiud us ; 

We'll take a flight 

Towards heaven to-night, 
And leave dull earth behind \is. 

Should Love amid 

The wreath be hid, 
That joy th' enchanter brings us ; 

No danger fear 

While wine is near — 
We'll drown him if he stings us. 

Thcu wreathe the bowl, ic. L(X 

'Qq fioi Xeyovoi, vtKzap 
JlaXat tirifov "HP.Vl 

Kai ziiN'ES ijct *oinor. 

Tj^tOTi teal fipuToiaiv 


UoitjTtcv yap ioSf 

'Twas nectar fed 

Of old, 'tis said, 
Their Junos, Joves, Apollos ; 

And man may brew 

His nectar too — 
The rich receipt's as follows : 



Vowroi' \a€ovTti; otvor, 
Tow j(apnarog tt riouajTroiQ 

Afilpl (TKVIpCQ l7Tl<l)0l'ri(;j 

Tote ^pivtov <pativr]v 
riorf/j ■^^joiTff aiiyT]v; 
Icov, TraptGrt tiktuo. 

TiTr' ovr Xpoj'og ye 4^afifi(i> 
T>]v K\iilii)Cfjav frrXijat 
'I'liv ay\<iiji' aiiicii; 
lit' utv yap oiSiv oivov 
Tn^vrtpov liappiw, 
^TiXTTviortpov re Xafnriiv 

AOQ OVP. SoQ r)[iiv aVTTjl', 
Ken£i(x)vrt(; oi/Tiog 
'Vr]v icXixlivSpav c^iaavTic, 
TloiijrTofliv ye filTrXni 
Pfti' y'jSoi')]!' p(t9pi(j 
E//— ,\}j(7c^fv o' traepoi 
Afifoi) Kvri} tg ajft. 

Take -nine like tliis, 

Let looks of bliss 
Aj-ound it -well be blended ; 

Then bring wit's beam 

To ■warm the stream — 
And there's your nectar splendid. 

Then wreathe the bowl, &c. &c. 

Say, why did Time 

His glass sublime 
rni up with sands unsightly, 

"\\lien wine, he knew, 

Euns brisker through, 
And sparkles far more brightly ? 

O lend it us, 

And, smihng, thus 
The glass in two we'd seyer, 

Make pleasure glide 

In double tide. 
And fill both ends for ever. 

Then wreathe the bowl, &c. &c. 

Such carefully finished translations as this from '2ray.xog, 
iu which not an idea or beauty of the Greek is lost in the 
English version, must necessarily do Tommy infinite credit ; 
and the only drawback on the abundant praise which I 
should otherwise feel inclined to bestow on the Anacreontic 
versifier, is the fatal neglect, or perhaps wilful treachery, 
Avliich has led him to deny or suppress the sources of his 
inspiration, and induced him to appear in the discreditable 
fasliion of an Irish jackdaw in the borrowed plumage of a 
Grecian peacock. The splendour of poesy, like " Malachy's 
collar of gold," is round his neck ; but he won it from a 
stranger : the green glories of the emerald adorn his glow- 
ing crest — or, as Phfedrus says, 

" Nitor smaragdi collo refulget tuo — " 

but if you rufile his feathers a little, you will find that his 
litcrnry toilette is composed of what the French coiffeurs 
call dcs ornemens postiches ; and that there was never a more 
called-for declaration than the avowal Avhich he himseli" 
malces in one of his IMelodies, Avhen, talldng of the wild 
strains of the Irish harp, he admits, he " vcas hut the wind 


passing heedlessly over " its cliords, and that tlie music was b^' 
no means his o^vn. 

A simple liint Avas sometimes enough to set his muse at 
work ; and he not only was, to my knowledge, an adept in 
translating accurately, hut he covdd also string together 
any number of lines in any given measure, in imitation of a 
song or ode which casually came in his way. This is not 
such arrant robbery as what I have previously stigmatised ; 
but it is a sort of ^j^asj-pilfering, a kind of pett}^ larceny, 
not to be encouraged. There is, for instance, his '• National 
Melody," or jingle, called, in the early edition of his poems, 
" Those Evening Bells," a " Petersburr/ air;" of which I could 
unfold the natural history. It is this : — In one of bis fre- 
quent visits to AYatergrasshill, Tommy and I spent the even- 
ing in talking of our continental travels, and more particu- 
larly of Paris and its inirabiUa ; of which he seemed quite 
enamoured. The view from the tower of the central church, 
Notre Dame, greatly struck his fancy ; and I drew the con- 
versation to the subject of the simultaneous ringing of all 
the bells in all the steeples of that vast metropolis on some 
feast-day, or public rejoicing. The effect, he agreed with 
me, is most enchanting, and the harmony most surprising. 
At that time Victor Hugo had not wi'itten his glorious ro- 
mance, the Hunchback Qitasimodo ; and, consequently, I 
could not have read his beautiful description : " In an ordi- 
nary way, the noise issuing fi-om Paris in the day-time is 
the talking of the city; at night, it is the breathing of the 
city ; in this case, it is the singing of the city. Lend your 
ear to this opera of steeples. Difiuse over the Avhole the 
buzzing of half a million of human beings, the eternal mur- 
mur of the river, the infiuite piping of the wind, the grave 
and distant quartette of the four forests, placed like im- 
mense organs on the four hills of the horizon ; soften down 
as with a demi-tint all that is too shrill and too harsh in the 
central mass of sound, — and say if you know anything in 
the world more rich, moi'e gladdening, more dazzling, than 
that tumult of bells — than that furnace of music — than 
those ten thousand brazen tones, breathed all at once from 
flutes of stone three hundred feet high — than that city which 
is but one orchestra — than that symphony, rushing and 
roaring like a tempest." All these matters, we agreed, 



were veiy fine ; but tliere is nothing, after all, like the asso- 
ciations which early iniancy attaches to the well-knoAvn and 
lono--remembered chimes of our own parish-steeple : and no 
magic can equal the effect on our ear when returning after 
long absence in foreign, and perhaps happier countries. As 
we perfectly coincided in the truth of this observation, I 
added, that long ago, while at Eome, I had thrown my ideas 
into the shape of a song, which I would sing him to the 
tune of the " Groves." 


^abbata pango, 
dTuncra plango, 
«olcmnta clango. 

Iiiscrip. on an old Bell. 

"vVitli deep affection 
And recollection 
I often think of 

Those Shandon bell?, 
Whose sounds so wild would, 
In the days of childhood, 
Fhng round my cradle 

Their magic spells. 
On this I ponder 
Where'er I wander, 
And thus grow fonder, 

Sweet Cork, of thee ; 
With thy beUs of Shandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

Tve heard bells chiming 
Full many a clime in, 
Tolling sublime in 
Cathedral shrine, 
While at a glibe rate 
Brass tongues would vibrate — 

But all their music 

Spoke naught like thine ; 
Eor memory dwelling 
On each proud swelling 
Of the belfry knelling 

Its bold notes free, 
Made the bells of Shandon 
Sound far more grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

I've heard bells tolling 
Old " Adrian's Mole" in, 
Their thunder rolling 

From tlie Vatican, 
And cymbals glorious 
Swinging uproarious 
In the gorgeous tm-rets 

Of Notre Dame ; 
But thy sounds were sweeter 
Than the dome of Peter 
Flings o'er the Tiber, 

Pealing solemnly ; — 

* The spire of Shandon, built on the niins of old Shandon Castlo 
(for which see the plates in "Pacata Hybernia"), is a prominent object, 
/'.-om whatever side the traveller approaches our beautiful city. In a 
vault at its foot sleep some generations of the writer's kith and kiu. 


! the bells of Shandoii From the tapering summit 
Sound far more grand on Of taU mmarets. 

The pleasant waters Such empty phantom 

Of the river Lee. I freely grant them ; 

But there is an anthem 

There's a bell in Moscott, More dear to me, — 

AVhile on tower and kiosk o ! 'Tis the bells of Shandon, 

In Saint Sophia That sound so grand on 

The Turkman gets, The pleasant waters 

And loud in air Of the river Lee. 
Calls men to praj-er 

Sbortly afterwards, Moore published his " Evening Bolls, 
a Pefersburff air." But any one can see that he only rings 
a few changes on my Roman ballad, cunningly shifting the 
scene as for north as he could, to avoid detection. He de- 
serves richly to be sent on a hurdle to Siberia. 

1 do not feel so much hurt at this nefarious " belle's 
stratagem" regarding me, as at his wickedness towards the 
man of the round towers ; and to this matter I turn in con- 

" blame not the bard !" some folks will no doubt ex- 
claim, and perhaps think that I have been over-severe on 
Tommy, in my vindication of O'B. ; I can only say, that if 
the jwet of all circles and the idol of his own, as soon as this 
posthumous rebuke shall meet l)is eye, begins to repent him 
of his Avicked attack on my young friend, and, turning him 
from his evil ways, betakes him to his proper trade of ballad- 
making, then shall he experience the comfort of living at 
peace with all mankind, and old Front's blessing shall fall 
as a precious ointment on his head. In that contingency 
if (as I understand it to be his intention) he should happeix 
to publish afresh number of his '" Melodies," may it be emi- 
nently successful ; and may Power of the Strand, by some 
more sterling sounds than the echoes of fame, be convinced 
of the power of song — 

For it is not the magic of streamlet or hill : 

O no ! it is something that sounds in the " till P' 

My humble patronage, it is true, camiot do much for him iu 
fashionable cii'cl'^s ; for I never mixed much in the beau 


ffionde (at .east lu Ireland) during my life-time, and can be of 
no service of course when I'm dead; nor will bis "Melodies," 
I fear, tliougla well adapted to mortal piano-fortes, answer 
the purposes of that celestial choir in which I shall then be 
an obscure but cheerful vocaUst. But as I have touched 
on this grave topic of mortality, let Moore recollect that hia 
course here below, however harmonious in the abstract, 
must have a finale ; and at his last hour let him not treasure 
up for himself the unpleasant retrospect of young genius 
nipped in the bud by the frost of his criticism, or glad en- 
thusiasm's early promise damped by inconsiderate sneers. 
O'Brien's book can, and will, no doubt, aflbrd much matter 
for witticism and merriment to the superficial, the unthink- 
ing, and the profane ; but to the eye of candour it ought to 
have presented a page richly fraught with wondrous research 
— redolent with all the perfumes of Hindostan ; its leaves, 
if they failed to convince, should, like those of the myste- 
rious lotus, have inculcated silence ; and if the finger cf me- 
ditation did not rest on every line, and pause on every pe- 
riod, the volume, at least, should not be indicated to the 
vulgar by the finger of scorn. Even granting that there 
were in the book some errors of fancy, of judgment, or of 
style, Avhich of us is without reproach in our juvenile produc- 
tions ? and though I myself am old, I am the more inclined 
to forgive the inaccuracies of youth. Again, when all is 
dark, Avho would object to a ray of light, merely because of 
the faulty or flickering medium by which it is transmitted ? 
And if these round towers have been hitherto a dark puzzle 
and a mystery, nuist we scare away O'Brien because he ap- 
proaches with a rude and unpolished but serviceable lantern ? 
Xo ; forbid it, Diogenes : and though Tommy may attempt 
to put his extinguisher on the toivers and their historian, 
there is enough of good sense in the British public to make 
common cause with O'Brien the enlightener. Moore should 
recollect, that knowledge conveyed in any shape will ever 
find a welcome among us ; and that, as he himself beautifully 
observes in his " Loves of the Angels" — 

" Sunshine broken in the rill, 
Though turned aside, is sunshine still." 

For my own pai-t, I protest to Heaven, that were I, while 


vranderiug in a gloomy forest, to meet on my dreaiy path 
tlie small, faint, glimmerinif light even of a glow-worm, ]. 
slionld shudder at the thought of crushing with my foot that 
dim speck of brilliancy ; and were it only for its being akin 
to brighter rays, honouring it for its relationship to the 
stars, I would not harm the little lamplighter as I passed 
along in the woodland shade. 

If Tommy is rabidly bent on satire, why does he not fall 
foul of Doctor Lardner, who has got the clumsy machinery 
of a whole Cyclopaedia at work, grinding that nonsense 
which he calls " Useful Knowledge ?" Let the poet mount 
his Pegasus, or his Eosinante, and go tilt a lance against 
the doctor's windmill. It was unworthy of him to turn on 
O'Brien, after the intimacy of private correspondence ; and 
if he was inclined for battle, he might have found a seemlier 
foe. Surely my young friend was not the quarry on which 
the vulture should delight to pounce, Avhen there are so 
many literary reptiles to tempt his beak and glut his maw ! 
Heaven knows, there is fair game and plentiful carrion ou 
the plains of Boeotia. In the poet's picture of the pursuits 
of a royal bird, we find such sports alluded to — 

•' In reluctantcs clracones 
Egit amor dapis atque pugua;." 

Let Moore, then, vent his indignation and satiate his vora- 
city on the proper objects of a volatile of prey ; but he will 
find in his own province of imaginative poetry a kindlier 
clement, a purer atmosphere, for his winged excursions. 
Long, long may Ave behold the gorgeous bird soaring through 
the regions of inspiration, distinguished in his loftier as in 
his gentler flights, and combining, by a singular miracle of 
ornithology, the voice of the turtle-dove, the eagle's eye and 
wing, with the plumage of the " bird of Paradise." 

Mem. — On the 2Sth of June, 1835, died, at the Hermitage, 
Jhtnwell, " Jlenrij O'Brien, author of the Round Toioers of 
Ireland.'''' His portrait was hung up in the gallery of 
Eegiua on the 1st of August following ; and the functionary 
who exhibits the " Literary Characters" dwelt thus on his 
merits : 



In tlie village gi'aveyartl of Ilanwell (ad viii. ab tirhe lapiderti) sleeps 
{he original of yonder sketch, and the rude forefathers of the Saxor. 
hamlet have consented to receive among them the clay of a Milesian 
scholar. That " original" was no stranger to us. Some time back we 
had our misgivmgs that the oil in his flickering lamp of life would soon 
dry up ; stdl, we were not prepared to hear of his light being thus 
abruptly extinguished. " One moi'n we missed him" from the accus- 
tomed table at tlie hbrary of the British Museum, where the page of 
antiquity awaited lus perusal ; " another came — nor yet " was he to be 
seen behind the pile of "Asiatic Eesearches," poring over his favourite 
Herodotus, or deep in the Zeudavesta. "The next" brought tidhigs 
of Ills death. 

" Au banquet de la vie, uifortune convive, 
J'appai-us im joiu", et je mem-s : 
Je mem's, et sur la tombe oil, jeune cncor, j 'arrive 
!Nid ne viendra verser des pleurs." 

His book on " the Round Towers " has thrown more liglifc on the early 
history of Ireland, and on the freemasonry of these gigantic puzzles, 
than will ever shine from the cracked pitchers of the " Royal Irish 
Academy," or the farthhig candle of Tommy Moore. And it was quite 
natm'al that he should have received from them, during his hfetimc, 
such tokens of malignant hostihty as might sufficiently '' tell how they 
hated his beams." The "Royal Irish" twaddlers must surely feel 
some compunction now, when they look back on their paltry trans- 
actions in the matter of the "prize-essay;" and though we do not ex- 
pect much from " Tom Brown the younger," or " Tom Little," the 
author of sundiy Tomfudgeries and Tomfooleries, stiU it would not 
surprise us if he now felt the necessity of atoning for his individual 
misconduct by doing appi-opriate penance in a white sheet, or a " blue 
and yeUow" blanket, when next he walks abroad in that rickety go- 
cart of drivelling dotage, the " Edinbm'gh Review." 

While Cicero was quffistor in Sicily, he discovered m the subui'bs of 
Syracuse the neglected grave of Arcliimedcs, from the circumstance of 
a symbolical cylinder indicating the pursuits and favom-ite theories of 
(he illustrious dead. Great was his joy at the recognition. No emblem 
will mark the sequestered spot where hes the Qidipus of the Round 
Tower riddle — no hieroglyphic, 

" Save daisies on the mould, 
AThere children spell, athwart the chui'chyard gate. 
His name and life's brief date." 

But ye who wish for monuments to his memory, go to liis native land, 
and there — circumspkite .' — Glondalough, Dcvcnish, Clondalkui, Iniiis- 
cutterj', rear Ihcir architectural cylinders ; and each, through those 
mystic apertures mat face the cardinal points, proclaims to the four 
winds of heaven, trumpet-tongued, the name of him who Eolved the 

M 2 


problem of 3000 years, and who first disclosed the drift of these 
erections ! 

Fame, in the Latin poet's celebrated personification, is described as 

" Sublimi culmine tecti, 
Tui-ribus aut altis." 

/Eneid IV. 

That of O'B. is pre-eminently so circumstanced. From these proud 
pinnacles nothing can dislodge liis renown. Moore, in the recent pitiful 
compilation meant for " a history," talks of these monuments as being 
80 many " astronomical indexes." He might as well have said they 
were tubes for the purposes of gastronomy. 'Tis plain he knew as httle 
about their origin as he may be supposed to know of the "Hanging 
Tower of Pisa," or the " Torre degh Asinelli," or how the nose of the 
beloved resembled the tower of Damascus. 

Concerning the subject of this memoir, suffice it to add that he was 
born in the kingdom of Iveragh, graduated in T.C.D. (having been 
classically "brought up at the feet of" the Eev. Charles Boyton) ; and 
fell a victim here to the intense ardom- with wliich he pm'sued the anti- 
quarian researches that he loved. 

" Kerria me genuit ; studia, heu ! rapuere ; tenet nunc 
AngUa : sed patriam turi'igeram cecini." 

Regent Street, Aiujuat 1, 1835. 

No. VI. 


" Alii spera gentis adultos 
Educunt foetus : ahi purissima mella 
Stipaut, et liquido distendunt ncctarc cellas." 

A'lEG. Gcorgic IT. 

" Through flowciy paths 
Skilled to guide youth, in haunts where learning dwells, 
They filled with honcy'd lore thcu* cloistered cells." 


The massacre this month by a brutal populace in Madrid 
of fourteeu Jesuits, in the hall of their college of St, 


Isidore, has drawn somewhat of notice, if not of sympathy, 
to this singular order of literati, whom we never fail, for 
the last three hundred years, to find mixed up with every 
political disturbance. There is a certain species of bird 
well known to ornithologists, but better still to mariners, 
which is sure to make its appearance in stormy weather — so 
constantly indeed, as to induce among the sailors (durum 
ffenus) a belief that it is the fowl that has raised the tem- 
pest. Leaving this knotty point to be settled by Dr. 
Lardner in his " Cyclopaedia," at the article of " Mother 
Carey's chickens," we cannot help observing, meantime, 
that since the days of the French League under Henri 
Trois, to the late fijial expulsion of the branche ainee (an 
event which has marked the commencement of Eegika's 
accession to the throne of literature), as well in the revo- 
lutions of Portugal as in the vicissitudes of Venice, in the 
revocation of the edict of Kantz, in the expulsion of James 
II., in the severance of the Low Countries from Spain, in 
the invasion of Africa by Don Sebastian, in the Scotch re- 
bellion of '45, in the conquest of China by the Tartars, in 
all the Irish rebellions, from Father Salmeron in 1561, and 
Father Archer (for whom see "Pacata Hibernia"), to that 
anonymous Jesuit who (according to Sir Harcourt Lees) 
threw the bottle at -the Lord Lieutenant in the Dublin 
theatre some years ago, — there is always one of this ill- 
fated society found in the thick of the confusion — 

"■And ■whether for good, or whether for ill, 
It is not mine to say ; 
But still to the house of Amundeville 
He abideth night and day ! 

When an heir is born, he is lieai-d to moui-n. 

And when ought is to befall 
That ancient line, in the pale moonshine 
He walks from hall to hall." 


However, notwithstanding the various and manifold com- 
motions which these Jesuits have confessedly kicked up m 
the kingdoms of Europe and the commonwealth of Christen- 
dom, we, Olitee Yoeice, must admit that they have not 
deserved HI of the Reimhlic of Letters ; and therefore do wo 

IGG TAxnEE peout's eeliquss. 

tlecidedly set our face against the Madi'id process of knock- 
ing out tlieir brains ; for, in our view of things, the ^j/»eff/ 
gland and the cerebellum are not kept in such a high state 
of cultivation iu Spain as to render superfluous a few col- 
leges and professors of the litera; hiunanioi-es. George Knapp, 
the vigilant mayor of Cork, was, no doubt, greatly to be 
applauded for demolishing with bis civic club the mad dogs 
which invested liis native town ; and he V7.'.-uld liave woii 
immortal laui'els if be had furthermore cleared that beautiful 
city of the idlers, gossips, and cynics, Avho therein abound ; 
but it was a great mistake of the Madrid folks to apply the 
club to the learned skulls of the few literati they possessed. 
We are inclined to think (though full of respect for Eobert 
Southey's opinion) that, after all, Eoderick was 7iot the last 
of the Goths in Spain. 

"When the Cossacks got into Paris in 1814, their first ex- 
ploit was to eat up all the tallow candles of the conquered 
metropolis, and to drink the train oil out of tlie lamps, so 
as to leave the "Boulevards" in Cimmerian darkness. By 
murdering the schoolmasters, it would seem that the parti- 
sans of Queen Christina would have no great objection to 
a similar municipal arrangement for jMadrid. But all this 
is a matter of national taste ; and as our gracious Eegixa is 
no party to " the quadruple alliance," she has determined to 
adhere ito ber fixed system of non-intervention. 

Meantime the public will peruse with some curiosity a 
paper from Father Prout, concerning his old masters in 
literature. AYe suspect that on this occasion sentimental 
gratitude has begotten a sort of "drop serene" iji his eye, 
for he only winks at the rogueries of the Jesuits ; nor does 
he redden for tliem the gridiron on which he gently roasts 
Dr. Larduer and Tom Moore. But the great merit of the 
essay is, that the composer evidently had opportunities of a 
thorougli knowledge of bis subject — a matter of rare occur- 
rence, and tlierefore quite refreshing. He appears, indeed, 
to be fully aware of his vantage-ground : hence the tone oi' 
confidence, and the firm, unhesitating tenour of his asser- 
tions. This is what we like to see. A chancellor of England 
who rarely got drunk, Sir Tliomas INfore, has left this bit of 
advice to folks in general : 


!S23isc men alhiaije anotljcr factiliic. 

aJfiimc antf say '^ simple ^aticr 

tl)at tts best for a man sf)oulti not go smattcr 
■Ciltgciitlo in pbilosop^ie ; 

for fo appln nor ouoljt a pctJtilar 

10 tlje business }): tan, bctomc'a nuOClar 
an"a in no to'jss in t!)cologic.* 

10 enterprise 

Acting on this principle, how gladly would we open cur 
columns to a treatise by our particular friend, Marie Taglioni, 
ou the philosophy of koj^s ! — how cheerfully would we wel- 
come an essay on heavy wet from the pen of Dr. AYade, or 
of Jack Eeeve, or any other similarly qualified Chevalier 
de Malte ! We should not object to a tract on gin from 
Charley Pearson ; nor would we exclude Lord Althorp's 
thick notions on '■'' jlummery " or Lord Brougham's XXX. 
ideas on that mild alcohol which, for the sake of peace and 
quietness, we shall call " teaP Who would not listen with 
attention to Irving on a matter of " unknown tongues," or 
to O' Brien on " Eound Towers ?" Yerily it belongeth to 
old Benjamin Branklin to write scientifically on the paraton- 
jiere ; and his contemporary, Talleyrand, has a paramount 
claim to lecture on the weather-cock. 

" Sumite materiam vestris qui scribitis oequani 

Turning finally to thee, Front ! truly great was thy 
love of frolic, but still more remarkable thy wisdom. Thou 
wert a most rare combination of Socrates and Sancho Panza, 
of Scarron and the venerable Bede ! What would we not 
have given to have cracked a bottle with thee in thy hut on 
AVatergrasshill, partaking of thy hospitable "herring," and 
imbibing thy deep flood of knowledge with the plenitude of 
thy "Medocr" Xothing gloomy, narrow, or pharisaical, 
ever entered into thy composition — " In wit, a man ; sim- 
plicity, a child." The wrinkled brow of antiquity softened 
into smiles for thee ; and the Muses must have marked thee 

* Sec this excellent didactic poem printed at length in the elaborate 
preface to Dr. Johnson's Dictionary. It is entitled, "A merrie Jest, 
bow a S.irjcant would learn to plav y* Frero ; by Maistcr Thomas More, 
in liys youthe." 


iu tliy cradle for their own. Sucli is the perfume that 
breathes from thy chest of posthumous elucubrations, con- 
veying a sweet fragrance to the keen nostrils of criticism, 
and recalling the funeral oration of the old woman in Phge- 
drus over her emptied flagon — 

*' O suavis anima ! quale te dicam bonum 
Antehac fuisse, tales cum sint reliquiae." 


Regent Street, 1st Sept. 1831.. 

Watergrassliill, Bee. 1833. 

About the middle of the sixteenth century, after the 
Tigorous arm of an Augustinian monk had sounded on the 
banks of the Rhine that loud tocsin of reform that found 
?uch responsive echo among the Gothic steeples of Germany, 
there arose in southern Europe, as if to meet the exigency 
of the time, a body of popish men, who have been called 
(assuredly by no friendly nomenclator) the Janissaries of 
the Vatican. Professor Eobertson, in his admirable " His- 
tory of Charles V.," introduces a special episode concerning 
che said "janissaries ;" and, sinking for a time the affairs of 
the belligerent continent, turns his grave attention to the 
operations of the children of Loyola. The essay forms an 
agreeable interlude in the melodrama of contemporary war- 
fare, and is exquisitely ada^ited to the purpose of the pro- 
fessor ; whose object was, I presume, to furnish his readers 
with a light divertimento. For sui'ely aud soberly {pace 
tunti viri dixeri))i) he did not expect that his theories on the 
origin, development, and mysterious organisation of that 
celebrated society, would pass cm-rent with any save the 
uninitiated and the profane ; nor did lie ever contemplate 
the adoption of his speculations by any but the careless and 
unreflecting portion of mankind. It was a capital peg ou 
which to hang the flimsy mantle of a superflcial philosophy ; 
it was a pleasant race-ground over whicii to canter on the 
gentle back of a metapliysical hobby-liorse : but what could 
a Presbyterian of Edinburgh, even though a pillar of the 
kirk, know about the inmost and most recondite workings 


of Catholic freemasonry ? What could he tell of Jerusalem, 
he being a Samaritan ? Truly, friend Eobertson, Father 
Prout would have taken the liberty, had he been in the his- 
torical worksliop where thou didst indite that ilk, of acting 
the iinceremonious part of " Cynthius" in the eclogue : 

" Aurem 
Vellit et admonmt, ' Pastorem, Tityre, pingues 
Pascere oportet oves, deductum dicere carmen.' " 

"What could have possessed the professor ? Did he ever 
go through the course of " spiritual exercises ?" Did lie ever 
eat a peck of salt with Loyola's intellectual and highly 
disciplined sons ? " Had he ever manifested his conscience ?" 
Did his venturous foot ever cross the threshold of the Jesui- 
tical sanctuary ? Was he deeply versed in the '•' ratio 
studiorum." Had his ear ever drank the mystic whisperings 
of the monita secreta ? No ! Then why the deuce did he 
sit down to write about the Jesuits ? Had he not the 
Brahmins of India at his service ? Could he not take up 
the dervishes of Persia ? or the bonzes of Japan ? or the 
illustrious brotherhood of Bohemian gipsies ? or the '■ ancient 
order of Druids r" or all of them together ? But, in the 
name of Cornelius a Lapide, why did he imdertake to write 
about the Jesuits ? 

I am the more surprised at the learned historian's thus 
indulging in the Homeric luxmy of a transient nap, as he 
generally is broad awake, and scans with scrutinising eye 
the doings of his fellow-men through several centuries of 
interest. To talk about matters of which he must necessa- 
rily be ignorant, never occurs (except in this case) to his 
comprehensive habit of thought : and it was reserved for 
modern days to produce that school of writers who indus- 
triously employ their pens on topics the most exalted above 
their range of mind, and the least adapted to their powers 
of illustration. The more ignorance, the more audacity. 
"Prince Puckler Muskaw" and "Lady Morgan" furnish 
the lean idSal of this class of scribblers. Let them get but 
a peep at the "toe of Hercules," and they will produce 
forthwith an accurate mezzotinto drawing of his entire 
godsliip. Let them get a footing in any country. in the 
habitable globe for twenty-four hours, and their volume of 


"France," "England," "Italy," or "Belgium" is read}- for 
the press. 

" Oh give but a glance, let a vista but gleam, 
Of any given countrij, and mai'k how they'll feel I" 

It is not necessary that they should know the common 
idiom of the natives, or even their o^^ti language grammati- 
cally ; for Lady Morgan (aforesaid) stands convicted, in her 
printed rhapsodies, of being very little acquainted with 
Erench, and not at all with Italian : while her Enylish, of 
which every one can judge, is poor enough. Tlie Austrian 
authorities shut the gates of Grermany against her impos- 
tures, not relishing the idea of such audacious humbug : ia 
truth, what could she have done at Yienna, not knowing 
German ; though perhaps her obstetric spouse, Sir Charles, 
can play on the German fltite ? 

" Lasciami por' nella tcri'a il pictle 
E vider' quesli mccnosciuti lidi, 
Tider' le gente, e il colto di lor fede, 
E tutto queUo oiide uom saggio m' invidi, 
Quando mi giorerii narrare altrui 
Le novita, vedute, e dire, ' iofiii !' " 

Tasso, Gems. Lib. cant. 15, st. 38. 

There is in the county of Ivildare a veritable Jesuits' 
college (of Avhose existence Sir Harcourt Lees is Avell satis- 
fied, having often denounced it) : it is called " Clongowes 
Wood;" and even the sacred " Groves of Blarney" do not 
so well deserve the honours of a pilgrimage as this hnunt of 
classic leisure and studious retirement. Xow Lady jNIorgan 
wanted to explore the learned cave of these literary coeno- 
bites, and no doubt would have written a book, entitled 
" Jesuitism in all its Brandies," on her return to Dublin ; 
but the sons of Loyola smelt a rat, and acted on the prin- 
ciple inculcated in the legend of St. Senanus (Colgan. Acta 
SS. Hyb.) : 

"Quid fceminis 
Commune est cum monachis ? 
Nee tc nee ullam aliam 
Adniittamus in insulam." 

For whicli Front's blessing on 'em ! Amen. 

In glaring contrast and striking opposition to this system 
cf forwardness and eftrontery practised by the "lady" and 


the " prince," stands the exemplary conduct of Denny I\Iui- 
lins. Denny is a patriot and a breecbes-maker in the town 
of Cork, the oracle of the " Chamber of Commerce," and 
looked up to with great reverence by the radicals and sans 
viiiuttes who swarm in that beautiful city. The excellence 
of his leatlier hunting unmentionables is admitted by the 
iMac-room fox-hunters ; while his leather gaiters and his othei* 
.straps are approved of by John Cotter of the branch bank 
of Ireland. But this is a mere parenthesis. Now wlien the 
bo^'s in the Morea were kicking against the Sublime Porte, 
to the great delight of Joe Hume and other Corinthians, 
a grand political dinner occurred in tlie beautiful capital of 
Munster ; at which, after the usual flummery about Mara- 
thon and the Peloponnesus, the health of Prince Ypsilanti ' 
and "Success to the Grreeks" was given from the chair. 
There was a general call for Mullins to speak on this toast ; 
though why he should be selected none could tell, unless for 
the reason which caused the Athenians to banish Aristides, 
viz. his being " too honest." Denny rose and rebuked their 
waggery by protesting, that, " though he was a plain man, 
he could always give a reason for what he was about. As 
to the modern Greeks, he vrould think twice before he either 
trusted them or refused them credit. He knew little about 
their forefathers, except what he had read in an author 
called Pope's ' Homer,' who says they were ' well-gaitered ;' 
and he had learned to respect them. But latterly, to call a 
man a ' Greek' was, in his experience of the Avorld, as bad 
as to call him ^ a Jcftidt ;' though, in both cases, few people 
had ever any personal knoAvledge of a real Jesuit or a lo/i/i' 
fide Grecian." Such was the wisdom of the Aristides of 

Nevertheless, it is not my intention to enter on the de- 
batable ground of "the order's" moral or political character. 
Cerutti, the secretary of Mirabeau (whose funeral oration 
lie was chosen to pronounce in the church of St. Eustaelio, 
April 4, 1791), has written most eloquently on that topic ; 
and in the whole range of French polemics I know nothing 
80 full of manly logic and genuine energy of style as his 
celebrated "Apologie des Jcsuites," (Svo, Soleure, 177S). 
He afterwards conducted, with Eabaud St. Etienue, that 
lirebrand newspaper, "La Feuille Yillageoise," in whicb 


tliere -was red-liot eutliusiasm euougli to get all the chateaux 
round Paris burnt : but the work of his youth remains an 
imperishable performance. My object is simply to consider 
"the Jesuits" in connexion with literature. Kdne would 
bn more opposed than I to the introduction of polemics into 
i.he domain of the " belles lettres" or to let angry disputation 
iind its way into the peaceful A-ale of Tempo, 

" Pour changer en champ-clos I'liarmonieux vallon !" 


The precincts of Parnassus form a " city of refuge," 
Avhere political and religious difierences can have no access, 
where the angry passions subside, and the wicked cease from 
troubling. AVherefore to the devil, its inventor, I bequeath 
the Gunpowder Plot ; and I shall not attempt to rake up the 
bones of Guy Paux, or disturb the ashes of Doctor Titus : — 
not that Titus, "the delight of the human race," who con- 
sidered a day as lost when not signalised by some bene- 
faction ; bub Titus Gates, who could not sleep quiet on 
bis pilloAV at night unless be had hanged a Jesuit in the 

I have often in the course of these papers introduced quo- 
tations from the works of the Jesuit Gresset, the kind and 
enlightened friend of my early years ; and to that pure foun- 
tain of the most limpid poetry of France I shall again have 
occasion to return : but nothing more evinces the sterling 
excellence of this illustrious poet's mind than his conduct 
towards the " order," of which he had been an ornament 
until matters connected with the press caused his withdrawal 
from that society. His " Adieux aux Jc'suites" are on re- 
cord, and deserve the admiration which they excited at that 
period. A single passage will indicate the spirit of this 
celebrated composition : 

" Je dois tons mes rcgi-ets aux sages que je quitte! 
J'en pcrds avcc douleur rcntreticn vcrtueux ; 
Et si dans leurs foyers desormais jc n'habite, 

Mon coeur me survit auprcs d'eux. 
Car ne Ics crois point tcls que la main de I'cuvie 

Les point Ji, des youx prevcnus : 
Si tu ne les connais quo sur ce qu'en publie 
La tenebreusc calomnio, 
lis te sont encore iucounus J" 


To the sages I leave here's a lieai'tfelt farewell ! 
'Twas a blessing within their loved cloisters to dwell, 

And vcy dearest affections shall cling round them still : 
Full gladly I mixed their blessed circles among. 
And oh ! heed not the whisper of Envy's foul tongue ; 
If you hst but to her, you must know them but ill. 

But to come at once to tbe pith and substance of the 
present inquiry, viz. the influence of the Jesuits on the 
belles lettres. It is one of the striking facts ^ve meet with 
in tracing the history of this "order," and which D'Israeli 
may do well to insert in the next edition of his " Curiosities 
of Literature," that the founder of the most learned, and 
by far the most distinguished literary corporation that ever 
arose in the world, was an old soldier who took up his " Latin 
Grammar" when past the age of thirty ; at which time of 
life Don Ignacio de Loyola had his leg shattered by an 
18-pounder, while defending the citadel of Pampeluna against 
the French. The Imowledge of this interesting truth may 
encourage the great captain of the age, whom I do not yet 
despair of beholding in a new capacity, covering his laurelled 
brow with a doctor's cap, and filling the chancellor's chair to 
the great joy of the public and the special delight of Oxford. 
I have seen more improbable events than this take place in 
my experience of the world. Be that as it may, this lieu- 
tenant in the Cacadores of his imperial majesty Charles V., 
called into existence by the vigour of his mind a race of 
highly educated followers. He was the parent-stock (or, if 
you will, the primitive block) from which so many illustrious 
chips were hewn during the XVIIth century. If he had 
not intellect for his own portion, he most undeniably created 
it aroimd him : he gathered to his standard men of genius 
and ardent spirits ; he knew how to turn their talents to the 
best advantage (no ordinary knowledge), and, like Archi- 
medes at Syracuse, by the juxtaposition of reflectors, and 
the skilful combination of mirrors, so as to converge into a 
focus and concentrate the borrowed rays of the sun, he con- 
trived to damage the enemy's fleet and fire the galleys ot 
IMarcellus. Other founders of monastic orders enlisted the 
prejudices, the outward senses, and not unfrequently the 
lauaticism of mankind : their appeal was to tliat love for the 
marvellous inherent to the human breast, and that latent 



pride Vi'liicli lurked long ago under tlae torn blanliet of Dio- 
genes, and wliich. would have tempted Alexander to set up 
a rival tub. But Loyola's quany Avas the cultivated mind ; 
and he scorned to work his purpose by any meaner instru- 
mentality. "When in the romantic hermitage of our Lady 
of Montserrat he suspended for ever over the altar his hel- 
met and his sword, and in the spirit of most exalted chivalry 
resolved to devote himself to holier pursuits — one eagle 
glance at the state of Europe, just fresh from the revival of 
letters under Leo X., taught him how and with what wea- 
pons to encounter the rebel Augustinian monk, and check 
the progress of disaffection. A short poem by an old school- 
fellow of mine, who entered the order in 1754, and died a 
missionary in Cochin China, may illustrate these views. The 
Latin shows excellent scholarship ; and my attempt at trans- 
lation can give but a feeble idea of the original.* 

i3crl)igtliuni Ecnolac 

In Maries Sacello, 1522. 

Cum bellicosus Cantaber e tliolo 

Suspendit ensem, " Non ego lu- 


Defuncta bello," dixit, " anna 

Degener aut timidus pcrire 

Miles resigno. ]\Ie nova buc- 

Z\re non profani tessera pntlii 
Dejioscit ; ct sacras secutvis 

Auspicio meliore partes, 

!S"on indecorus transfiiga, glorifc 
Signis relietis, nil cupientium 
tJucccdo castris, jam futm-us 
Spleudidior sine cladc victor, 

Domare mextes, stringerc fcr- 

Sacro catenis ixgexium tlirono, 
Et cuneta tcrrarum subaeta 
Corda Deo dare gcstit ardor : 

J3ou fgnacio Sonola'i? Vi^il 

In the Chapelofoxir Lady of Montserrat. 

When at thy shrine, most holy maid ! 
Tlie Spaniard hung his votive blade, 

And bared his lielmed brow — 
Not that he feared war's visage grim, 
Or that the battle-field for him 

Had aught to duunt, I trow ; 

" Glory !" he cried, " with thee I've 

done ! 
Tame ! thj bright theatres I shun, 

To tread fresli pathways now : 
To track ///// footsteps, Saviour God ! 
AVith throbbiiag heart, with feet un- 
sliod : 
Hear and record mj vow. 

Yes, Titotr shalt reign ! Chained to 

thy tlu'onc, 
The mind of man thy sway shall owa, 

And to its conqueror bow. 
Genius his lyre to Tliee shall Hft, 
And intellect its choicest gift 

Proudly on Thee bestow." 

Like most other "originals,'' this is Trout's own. — 0. Y. 


Fruudis magisiros avtibustemulis Straight on the marble floor he knelt, 

liopracliando sternere; sedmagis And in his breast exulting felt 

Loyola Lutheri tiiumphos A vivid furnace glow ; 

Orbe novo reparabit ultor!" Forth to his task the giant sped. 

Earth shook abroad beneath his tread, 

Tellus gigantis sentit iter; simul And idols were laid low. 
Idola iiutaiit, fana ruunt, micat 
Clu'isti triiimphantis trophse- 

Crnxque noTOs uumerat cli- India repaired half Europe's loss ; 

entes. O'er a new hemisphere the Cross 
Shone in the azure sky ; 

A'idcvc gentes Xaverii ^iihuv And, from the isles of far Japan 

Igiii corusco nubila dividens : To the broad Andes, won o'er man 

Ccepitque niirans Clu'istianos A bloodless Tictorj ! 
Per medios flmtare Ganges. 

Professor Eobertsou gravely opines that Ignatius was a 
more fanatic, who never contemplated the subsequent glories 
of his order ; and tliat, were he to have re-\T^sited the earth 
a century after his decease, Avlien his institute was making 
such a noise in the world, he would have started back, 

" Scai-cd at the soimd himself had made." 

>revcr did tl^.e historian adopt a niore egregious blunder. 
Had lie had leisure or patience to con over the original code, 
called IxsTiTUTVM Soc. Jest, he woidd have found in 
€very paragraph of that profound and crafty volume the 
germs of wondrous future development ; he would have dis- 
covered the long- hidden but most precious " soul of the 
licentiate Grarcias" under the inspection that adorns the 
1 itle-page. Yes, the mind of Loyola lies embalmed in tlie 
leaves of that mystic tome; and the ark of cedar-wood, 
liorne by the children of Israel along the sands of the 
desert, was not more essential to their happy progress unto 
Ihe laud of promise than that grand depository of the 
i' lunder's wisdom was to the march of intellect among the 

Before his death, this old veteran of Charles Y., this il- 
1 terate lieutenant, this crippled Spaniard from the "im- 
minent and deadly breach" of Pampeluua (for he too was 
lame, like Tyrtaius, Talleyrand, Lord B\ron, Sir "W". Scott, 
Tamerlane, and Appius Claialiiis), had the satisfaction of 


couuting twelve "provinces" of Iiis order establislied in 
Europe, Asia, Brazils, and Ethiopia. The membei's of ths 
society amounted at that epoch (31st Julj, 1556), sixteen 
years after its foundation, to seven thousand educated men. 
Upwards of one hundred colleges had been opened. Xavier 
had blown the trumpet of the Gospel over India; Bobadilla 
had made a noise in Germany ; Gaspar Xunes had gone to 
Egypt ; Alphonso Salmeron to Ireland. Meantime the 
schools of the new professors were attracting, in every part 
of Europe, crowds of eager pupils : industry and zeal were 
reaping their best reward in the Aisible progress of religion 
as well as literature : 

" Fervct opus, redolontquc tliymo fragi-antia mella !" 

At the suppression of the order, it numbered within a frac- 
tion of twenty thousand well-trained, well-disciplined, and 
well-taught members. 

There is an instinct in great minds that tells them of their 
sublime destinies, and gives them secret but certain warning 
of their ultimate grandeur : like Brutus, they have seen a 
spirit of prophetic import, whether for good or evil, who will 
meet them at Philippi : like Plato, they keep correspondence 
with a familiar bai'Loiv : like Napoleon, they read their me- 
ridian glories of successful warfare in the morning sun ; — 
sure as fate, Loyola saw the future laurels of his order, and 
placed full reliance on the anticipated energy of his followers 
yet unborn : the same reliance which that giant fowl of 
Arabia, the ostrich, entertain, when, depositing its 
monstrous egg on the sands, it departs for ever, leaving to 
the god of day the care of hatching into life its vigorous 

Industry, untiring ardoiir, immortal energy were the cha- 
racteristics of these learned enthusiasts. Some cleared away 
the accumulated rubbish of the friars, their ignorant prede- 
cessors ; and these were the pioneers of literature. Some 
gave editions of the Fathers or the Classics, hitherto pent 
up in the womb of MS. ; these were the accoucheurs of know- 
ledge. Others, for the use of schools, carefully expurgated 
tlie received authors of antiquity, and suppressed every pru- 
rient passage, performing, in usitm Delp/dni, a very mcrito- 
rioua task. I need not sav to what class of operators in 


surgery these worthy fathers belonged. Some wrote " com- 
mentariea" on Scripture, -which Junius undervalues; but, 
with all his acquirements, I would sooner take the guidance 
of Cornelius a Lapide in matters of theology. Finally, some 
wrote original works ; and the shelves of every European 
library groan under the folios of the Jesuits. 

There is not, perhaps, a more instructive and interesting 
subject of inquiiy in the history of the human mind than 
the origin, progress, and workings of what are called monas- 
tic institutions. It is a matter on which I have bestowed not 
a little thought, and I may one day plunge into the depths 
thereof in a special dissertation. But I cannot help advert- 
ing here to some causes that raised the order of the Jesuits 
so far above all the numerous and fantastical fraternities to 
Avhich the middle ages had previovisly given birth. Loyola 
saw the vile abuses which had crept into these institutions, 
and had the sagacity to eschew the blunders of his prede- 
cessors. Idleness was the most glaring evil under which 
monks and friars laboured in those days ; and hence inces- 
sant activity was the watchword of his sons. The riiles of 
other " orders" begot a grovelling and \Tilgar debasement of 
mind, and were calculated to mar and cripple the energies of 
genius, if it ever happened exceptionally to lurk under " the 
Aveeds of Francis or of Dominick :" but all the regulations 
of the Jesuits had a tendency to develop the aspirings of 
intellect, and to expand the scope and widen the career of 
talent. The system of mendicancy adopted by each holy 
brotherhood as the ground-work of its operations, did not 
strike Loyola as much calculated to give dignity or manli- 
ness to the human cliaracter ; hence he left his elder brethren 
in quiet possession of that interesting department. When 
cities, provinces, or kings founded a Jesuits' college, they 
were sure of getting value ia return : hence most of their 
collegiate halls were truly magnificent, and they ought to 
have been so. "When of old a prince wished to engage Zeno 
as tutor to his son, and sought to lower the terms of the 
philosopher by stating, that with such a sum he could pur- 
chase a slave, " Do so, by all means, and you will have a pair 
of them," was the pithy reply of the indignant stoic. 

I do not undervalue the real services of some " orders" of 
earlier institution. I have visited with feelings of deep 


respect the gorgeous cradle of the Benedictine institute at 
Monte Cassino ; and no traveller has explored Italy's proud 
monuments of Eoman grandeur with more awe than I did 
that splendid creation of laborious and persevering men. I 
have seen Avith less pleasiu'e the work of Bruno, la Grande 
Chartreuse, near Grenoble ; he excluded learning from the 
solitude to which he drew his followers : but I have hailed 
with enthusiasm the sons of Bernard on the Alps ministering 
to the wants of the pilgrim ; and I knew, that while thei/ 
prowled with their mountain-dogs in quest of wapvorn tra- 
vellers, their brethren were occupied lar off in the mines of 
Mexico and Peru, soothing the toils of the encaverned slave. 
But while I acknowledged these benefactions, I could not 
forget the croAvds of lazy drones whom the sj'stem has fos- 
tered in Europe : the humorous lines of Berchoux, in his 
clever poem " La Gastronomic," involuntarily crossed my 
mind : 

" Oui, j'avais uii bon oncle en votre orcb-e, elertS 
D'lui mei'ite eclataut, gastronome acheve ; 
Sonvent il m'etalait son brillant refectoire, 
C'etait la du couveiit la veritable gloii'C ! 
Ghirni des biens exquis qu'enfante I'univers, 
Vins d'un bouquet celeste, et mets d'un gout divers! 

"Cloitres majestueiix! fortunes monasteres! 
Ketraite du repos dcs vertus solitaires, 
Je vous ai vu tomber, le cceui- gros des soupii's ; 
Mais je vous ai garde d'eternels souvenirs! — 
Je s^ais qu'ou a prouve que vous aviez grand tort, 
Mais que ne prouve-t-oii pas quand on est Ic plus fort ?" 

This last verse is not a bad hit in its way. 

But to return to the Jesuits. Their method of study, or 
ratio studionim, compiled by a select quorum of the order, 
\mder the guidance of the profound and original Father 
Maldonatus,* totally broke up the old machinery of the 
schools, and deiiiolished for ever the monkish fooleries of 
contemporary pedagogues. Before the arrival of the Jesuits 
in the field of collegiate exercises, the only skill applauded 
or recognised in that department consisted in a minute and 
servile adherence to the deep-worn tracks left by the passage 

* See Bayle's Diet., art. Maldonat. 

litebatuhe a>"d the jrsrixs, 179 

of Aristotle's cumbrous waggon over the plains of learning. 
The -well-knoAvn fable of Gay, concerning 

" A Grecian youth of talents rare," 

vhom he describes as excelling in the hippodrome of Athens 
by the fidelity \vith -which he could drive his chariot-wheels 
Avithin an inch of the exact cii'cle left on the race-coiu'se by 
those who had preceded, was the type and model of scho- 
lastic excellence. The Jesuits, in every imiversity to 
which they covdd get access, broke new ground. Various 
and fierce were the struggles against those invaders of the 
territory and privileges of Boeotia ; dulness opposed his 
old bulwark, the vis inertiai, in vain. Indefatigable in their 
piu'suit, the new professors made incessant inroads into the 
domains of ignorance and sloth ; awfully ludicrous were the 
dying convulsions of the old universitarian system, that 
had squatted like an incubus for so many centm'ies on 
Paris, Prague, Alcala, Yalladolid, Padua, Cracow, and Coim- 
bra. But it was in the halls of their own private colleges 
that they unfolded all their excellence, and toiled unimpeded 
for the revival of classic studies. " Conside scholas Jesuita- 
rum," exclaims the Lord Chancellor Bacon, who was neither 
a qiiack nor a SAviper, but " spoke the words of sobriety and 
truth." (Vide Ojms de Dignit. Scient. lib. vii.) And Car- 
dinal Eichelieu has left on record, in that celebrated docu- 
ment* the " Testament Politique," part i. chap. 2, sect. 10, his 
admiration of the rivalry in the race of science which the 
order created in Prance. 

Porth from their new college of Lafleche came their pupil 
- Descartes, to disturb the existing theories of astronomy and 
metaphysics, and start new and unexampled inquiries. Science 
xmtil then had wandered a captive in the labyrinth of the 
schools ; but the Cartesian Daedalus fashioned wings for 
himself and for her, and boldly soared among the clouds. 
Tutored in their college of Payenza (near Eimini), the im- 
mortal Torricelli reflected honour on his intelligent instruc- 
tora by the invention of the barometer, a.d. 1G20. Of the 
education of Tasso they may well be proud. Justus Lipsius, 
trained in theii* earliest academies, did good serxTce to the 

* Prout knew very well that thie " testament " was a forgery by cue 
G de Coui'tilon, the author of " Colbert's testament" also. — O. Y. 

>- 2 


cause of criticism, and cleared off the cob"webs of the coiii- 
mentators and grammarians. Soon after, Cassini rose from 
the benches of their tuition to preside over the newly estab- 
lished Ohservatoire in the metropolis of Trance ; wliile the 
illustrious Tournefort issued from their halls to carry a 
searching scrutiny into the department of botanical science, 
then in its infancy. The Jesuit Ivircher* meantime as- 
tonished his contemporaries by his untiring energy and saga- 
cious mind, equally conspicuous in its most sublime as in its 
trifling efforts, whether he predicted with precision the erup- 
tion of a volcano, or invented that ingenious plaything the 
" Magic Lantern." Father Boscovichf shone subsequently 
with equal lustre : and it was a novel scene, in 1759, to find 
a London Eoyal Society preparing to send out a Jesiiit to 
observe the transit of Venus iu California. His panegyric, 
from the pen of the great Lalande, fiJls the Joinmal (h's 
Savans, February 1792. To Fathers Eiccioli and De Billj 
science is also deeply indebted. 

Forth from their college of Dijon, in Burgundy, came 
Bossuet to rear his mitred front at the com-t of a despot, and 
to fling the bolts of his tremendous oratory among a crowd 
of elegant voluptuaries. Meantime the tragic muse of Cor- 
neille was cradled in their college of Eouen ; and, xmder the 
classic guidance of the fathers who taught at the College de 
Clermont, in Paris, Moliere grew up to be the most exquisite 

* Mundus Subtorranciis, j4mst. 1661', 2 vols. fol. Cliiua Illusfrat., 
ibid. 1667, folio. Dc Usu Obeliscor. Roma, 1666, folio. Museum Kir- 
chci-, ibid. 1709, folio. 

f Born at Ragusa, on the Adriatic ; taught by the Jesuits, in their 
college in that town ; entered the order at the ago of sixteen ; -was sent 
to Eome, and forthwith was made professor of mathematics in the Ar- 
chigymn. Rom. ; was employed by the papal government in the measure- 
ment of the arc of meridian, which ho traced from Rome to Rimini, 
assisted by an English Jesuit, Mayer ; in 1750, employed by the repub- 
lic of Lucea in a matter relating to their marsiics ; subsequently by tlio 
Emperor of Austria ; and was elected, in 1760, a fellow of the London 
Royal Society, to whom he dedicated his poem on the " Eclipses," a 
clever manual of astronomy. His grand woi-k on the properties of 
matter (Lear Continnitatis) was printed at Rome, 4to., 1754. We havo 
also from his pen, Dioptrica, Fi/irf. 1767 ; Mathesis IJnivcrsa, Veneiiis, 
1757 ; Lens ct Telescop., Horn. 1755 ; Tlicoria Philos. Natur., Vienme, 
1758. The French government invited him to Paris, where he died iu 
1792, in the sentiments of imfcigncd piety which he ever displayed. 


of comic writers. The lyric poetry of Jean Baptiste Eousseau 
was nurtured by them in their college of Louis le Grand. 
And in that college the wondrous talent of young " Fran9oi8 
Arouet" was also cultivated by these holy men, who little 
dreamt to what purpose the subsequent "Voltaire" would 
convert his abilities— 

" Non hos qusesitum muiius in usus." 

JEneid. IV. 

D' Olivet, Fontenelle, Crebillon, Le Franc de Pompignan — • 
there is scarcely a name known to literature during the seven- 
teenth century which does not bear testimony to their prow- 
ess in the pro^ance of education — no profession for which they 
did not adapt their scholars. For the bar, they tutored the 
illustrious Lamoignou (the Maecenas of Eacine and Boileau). 
It was they who taught the vigorous ideas of D'Argenson 
how to shoot ; they who breathed into the young Montes- 
quieu liis " Esprit ;" they who I'eared those ornaments of 
French jurisprudence, Nicoliii, Mole, Seguier, and Amelot. 

Their disciples could wield the sword. Was the great 
Conde deficient in warlike spirit for having studied among 
them ? was Marechal Villars a discreditable pupil ? Xeed I 
give the list of their other belligerent scholars P — De Gram- 
mont, De Boufilers, De Eohan, De Brissac, De Etrees, De 
Soubise, De Crequi, De Luxembourg, — in France alone. 

Great names these, no doubt ; but literature is the title of 
this paper, and to that I would principally advert as the 
favourite and peculiar department of their excellence. True, 
tlie Society devoted itself most to church history and eccle- 
siastical learning, such being the proper pursuit of a sacer- 
dotal body ; and success in. this, as in every study, waited on 
tlieir industry. The archaiologist is familiar with the works 
of Father Petavius, Avhom Grotius calls his friend ; with the 
labours of Fathers Sirmond, Bolland, Hardouin, Labbe, 
Parennin, and Toumeminc. The admirer of polemics (if 
there be any such at this time of day) is acquainted Avith 
Eellarmin, jVIenochius, Suarez, Tolet, Becan, Sheffmaker, and 
(last, though not least) ! Cornelius a Lapide, with thee ? 
But in classic lore, as well as in legendary, the Jesuits ex- 
celled. AV' ho can pretend to the character of a literary mau 
that has not read l^raboschi and his " Storia della Lcttera- 


tura d' Italia," Boulioiirs outlie " !^[anrLiere de bien penser," 
Brumoy on tlae " Thtatre des Grrecs," Yavassom* '' de Ludicr^ 
Dictione," Eapin's poem on the " Art of Grardening" (the 
model of those by Dr. Danvin and Abbe Delille), Yaniere's 
" Prsedium Eusticum," Tiirsellin " de Particulis Latini Ser- 
monis," and Casimir Sarbievi's Latin Odes, the nearest 
approach to Horace in modei^n times ? "WTaat shall I say of 
Poree (Yoltaire's master), of Sanadon, of Desbillons, Sidro- 
nius, Jouvency, and the " journalistes de Trevoux?"' 

They have won in Prance, Italy, and Spain, the palm of 
pnlpit eloquence. Logic, reason, wisdom, and piety, dwelt 
in the soul of Bourdaloue, and flowed copiously from his 
lips. Lingendes, Cheminais, De la Pue, were at the head 
of their profession among the French ; while the pathetic 
and unrivalled Segneri took the lead among the eloquent 
orators of Italy. In Spain, a Jesuit has done more to pu- 
rify the pulpit of that fantastic country than Cervantes to 
clear the brains of its chivalry ; for the comic romance of 
"Pray Gerundio" (Priar Gerund), by the Jesuit Isla, ex- 
hibiting the ludicrous ranting of the cowled fraternity of 
that day, has had the eifect, if not of giving eloquence to 
clods of the valley, at least of putting down absurdity and 

They wooed and won the muse of history, sacred and 
profane. Strada* in Plandcrs, Mafteif at Genoa, Mariana;}: 
in Se-vdlle. In Prance, Maimbourg,§ Daniel,|| Boujeant,*,! 
Charlevoix,** Berruyer,tt D'Orleans.ij^J Ducerceau,§§ and 
Du Haldcllll shed light on the paths of historical inquiry 
which they severally trod. I purposely omit the ex-Jesuit 

They shone in art as well as in science. Father Pozzi was 

* Do Bello Eelgico. t I?ci"um Iiulicar. Hist. 

J Ilistor. cli Espana. De Eogis Tnstitulionc, Toledo, 1599. 

§ Histoire de rArianismc, des Iconoclastes, des Croisades, du Cal- 
Tinism, de la Ligue. 

II Hist, de France. De la Milice Fran^aise. 

^ Hist, du Traite de Westplialie. Ame des Betes, etc. 

** Hist, du Paraguay, du Jaiiou, de St. Domingue. 

+t Du Peuplc de Diou. JJ Eevoiutions d'Angleterre. 

§§ Conjuration de Kienzi, &e. &c. 

nil Description Geogr. Histor. Politic, et Physique do la Chiuc, 
Zand. 1742, 2 vols, folio. 


one cf Rome's best painters. A Jesuit was employed in the 
drainage of the Pontine marshes ; another to devise plans for 
sustaining the dome of St. Peter's, Avhen it threatened to 
crush its massive supports. In naval tactics (a subject es- 
tranged from sacerdotal researches) the earliest work on the 
strategy proper to ships of the line was written by Pere le 
Hoste, known to middies as " the Jesuits' book," its Prench 
title being " Traite des Evolutions Navales." The first hint 
of atrial navigation came from Padre Lana, in his work de Arte 
Prodromo, Milan. Newton acknowledges his debt to father 
Grimaldi, de Lumine Colorihus et Iride, Bononia), 1665, for his 
notions on the inflexion of light. The best edition of jS^ev.'- 
ton's Principia was brought out at Geneva, 1739-60, by the 
Jesuits Lesuenr and Jaquier, in 3 vols. In their missions 
through Greece, Asia ]\iinor, and the islands of the Archi- 
pelago, they were the best antiquaries, botanists, and mine- 
ralogists. They became watchmakers, as Avell as manda- 
rins, in China: they were astronomers on the "plateau" 
of Thibet : they taught husbandry and mechanics in 
Canada: while in their own celebrated and pecrdiar con- 
quest (since fallen into the hands of Doctor Franyia) on 
tlie plains of Paeaguat, they taught the theory and prac- 
tice of civil architecture, civil economy, farming, tailoring, 
and all the trades of civilised life. They played on the 
fiddle and on the flute, to draw the South American Indians 
from the forests into their villages : and the story of Thebes 
rising to the sound of Amphion's lyre ceased to be a fable. 

We find them in Europe and at the antipodes, in Siam 
and at St. Omer's, in 1540 and in 1830 — everywhere the 
same, Laincz preached before the Council of Trent in 
1560 : Eev. Peter Kenney was admired by the Xorth 
American Congress not many years ago. Tiraboschi was li- 
brarian of the Brera in 1750 : Angelo Mai (ex- Jesuit) is 
librarian of the Vatican in 1833. By the by, they were 
also capital apothecaries. Who has not heard of Jesuits' 
baidc, Jesuits' drops, Jesuits' powders, Jesuits' cephalic 

" Quoo I'Cgio in ten-is nostri non plena laboris ?" — ^neid. I. 

And, alas ! must I add, who has not heard of the cuffs and 


Duffetings, the kicks and halters, which they have met with 
in return : 

" Quoe cai'et ora cruore nostro ?" — Hot: lib. ii. ode 1. 

For, of course, no set of men on the f;ice of God's eai'th 
liave been more abused. 'Tis the fate of every mortal who 
raises himself by mother- wit above the common level of 
fools and dunces, to be hated by the whole tribe most cor- 
dially : 

" Urit cnim fiilgoi'e suo," &c. — Ilor. lib. ii. cp. 1. 

The friars were the first to raise a hue and cry againsb 
the Jesuits, with one Melchior Cano, a Dominican, for their 
trumpeter. Ignatius had been taken up by " the Inquisi- 
tion" three several times. Then came the pedants of the 
■university at Paris, whom these new professors threw into 
the shade. The " order" was next at loggerheads with that 
suspicious gang of intriguers, the council and doge of Ve- 
nice ; the Jesuits were expelled the republic* Twice they 
were expelled from France, but thrust out of the door they 
came back through the window. They encountered, like 
Paul, " stripes, perils, and prisons," in Poland, in Germany, 
in Portugal, and Hungary. They were hanged by dozens in 
England. Their march for two centuries through Europe 
was only to be compared to the retreat of the ten thousand 
Greeks under Xenophon. 

A remarkable energy, a constant discipline, a steady 
perseverance, and a dignified self-respect, were theii* charac- 
teristics from the beginning. They did not notice the 
pasquinades of crazy Pascal,t whose " Provincial Letters," 
made up of the raspings of antiquated theology and the 
scrapings of forgotten causistry, none who knew them ever 
thought much of. The sermons of Bourdaloue were 
the only answer such calumnies required ; and the order 
confined itself to giving a new edition of the "Lettres 
cdifiantes ct curicuses, ccrites par nos MissionaLrcs du Le- 

* In Baylivs Diclionavy, amoDg the notes appended to the article on 
Abelard, will be found the real cause of their expulsion ; they maj ba 
proud of it. 

t Prout's for genuine fim is here at fault. — O. T. 


vant, de la Chine, du Canada, et du Malabar." "WTien a 
flimsy accusation was preferred against him of Africa, 

" Eunc qui 
Duxit ab eversa meritxim Carthagine nomen," 

he acted in a similar manner, and silenced his Aiiserable 

If ever there was an occasion on which the comparative 
merits of the Jesuits and Jansenists could be brought to 
the test, it was at the outbreak of the pestilential visitation 
that smote the city of Marseilles ; and which history, poetry, 
and piety, will never allow to be forgotten : 

" Why drew Marseilles' good bishop purer breath, 
When nattire sickened, and each gale was death ?" 

Pope's Essay on Man, ep. 4. 

For while the Pharisees of that school fled from their cle- 
rical functions, and sneaked off under some paltry pretext, 
the Jesuits came from the neighbouring town of Aix to 
attend the sick and the dying ; and, under the orders of 
that gallant and disinterested bishop, worked, while life was 
spared them, in the cause of humanity. Seven of them 
perished in the exercise of this noblest duty, amid the 
b-lessings of their fellow-men. The bishop himself, De Bel- 
zunee, had not only studied under the Jesuits, but had been 
a member of the order during the early part of his ecclesias- 
tical career at Aix, in 1691. 

Long ago, that noblest emanation of Christian chivalry — 
an order in which valorous deeds were familiar as the 
'• matin song" or the " vesper hymn' — the Templars, fell 
the victims of calumny, and were immolated amid the shouts 
of a vulgar triumph ; but history, keen and scrutinising, 
lias revealed the true character of the conspiracy by which 
the vices of a few were made to swamp and overwhelm, in 
the public eye, the great mass of virtue and heroism which 
constituted that refined and gentlemanly association ; and a 
tardy justice has been rendered to Jacques Molay and his 
illustrious brethren. The day may yet come, when isolated 
instances and uuauthenticated misdeeds will cease to create 
au imfounded antipathy to a society which will be found, 


taking it all iu all, to have deserved well of mankind. This, 
at least, is Father Front's honest opinion ; and why should 
he hide it under a bushel ? 

The most comdneing proof of their sterling virtue is to be 
found in the docility and forbearance they evinced in 
promptly submitting "to the decree of their suppression, is- 
sued ex cathedra by one Ganganelli, a Franciscan friar, who 
had got enthroned, Heaven knows how ! on the pontific 
chair. In every part of Europe they had powerful friends, 
and could have "shewn fight" and '"died game," if their 
respect for the successor of " the fisherman " had not been 
all along a distinctive characteristic, even to the death. In 
Paraguay they could have decidedly spurned the mandate 
of the Escurial, backed by an army of 60,000 Indians, de- 
voted to their spiritual and temporal benefactors, taught the 
tactics of Europe, and possessing in 1750 a well-appointed 
train of artillery. That portion of South America has since 
relapsed into barbarism ; and the results of their withdrawal 
from the interior of that vast peninsula have fully justified 
the opinion of Muratori, in his celebrated work on Para- 
guay, " II Christianesimo felice." It was a dismal day for 
hteratm-e in Spain, Portugal, and Italy, when their colleges 
were shut up ; and iu France they alone could have stayed 
the avalanche of in-eligion ; for, by presenting Christianity 
to its enemies clad in the panoply of Science, they would 
have awed the scofter, and confounded the phihsophe. But 
the Vatican had spoken. They bowed; and quietly dis- 
persing through the cities of the continent, were Avelcomed 
and admired by every friend of science and of piety. The 
body did not cease to do good even after its dissolution in 
1763, and, like the bones of the prophet, worked miracles of 
usefulness even in the grave.* 

Contrast their exemplary submissiveness with the frenzy 
and violence of their old enemies the Jansenisls (of which 
sour and pharisaical sect Pascal was the mouth-pioce), when 
the celebrated bull i7///^prt«7«s was issued against //(??«. Never 
did those imfortuuate wights, whom the tyrant Phalaris used 

* " And it came to pas?, as thcv wci'o burvuig a man, behold they 
spied a band of robbers ; and tliey cast the man into the sepulchre of 
Elisha : and when the man touclied tlic bones of Elislia he came to lifcj 
and stood upon his feet." — 2 Kings, chap, xiii., ver. 21. 


to enclose iu liis brazen cow, roar so lustily as the clique of 
Port Eoyal on the occasion alluded to. It was, in fact, a 
most melancholy exhibition of the wildest fanaticism, com- 
bined, as usual, with the most pertinacious obstinacy. The 
followers of Pascal were also the votaries of a certain vaga- 
bond yclept le Diacre Paris, whose life was a tissue of ras- 
cality, and whose remains were said by the Jansenists to 
operate wondrous ciu-es in the churchyard of St. Medard, 
in one of the fauxbourgs of the capital. The devotees of 
Port Royal flocked to the tomb of the deacon, and became 
forthwith hysterical and inspired. The wags of Louis the 
Pifteenth's time called them "ies Convuhionnaires.'''' Things 
rose to such a height of dangerous absurdity at last, that the 
cemetery was shut up by the police ; and a ^vit had an op- 
portunity of wT-iting on the gates of the aforesaid church- 
yard this pointed epigram : 

" De pai' le roy, defense a, Dieu, 
De faii'e miracles en ee lieu." 

And I here conclude this very inadeqiiate tribute of long- 
remembered gratitude towards the men wlio took such pains 
to di'ill my infant mind, and who formed with plastic power 
whatever good or valuable quality it may possess. " Si quid est 
in me ingenii, judices (et sentio quam sit exiguum), si quse 
exercitatio ab optimarum artium disciplinis profecta, earum 
rerum fructum, sibi, suo jure, debeut repetere." — (Ciceeo 
pro Archid 2wet^ And as for the friend of my youth, the 
accomplished G-resset, whose sincerity and kindness will be 
ever embalmed in my memoiy, I cannot sliew my sense of 
his varied excellencies in a more substantial way than by 
making an effort — a feeble one, but the best I can command 
— to bring him before the English public in his most agree- 
able production, the best specimen of graceful and harmless 
humour in the Hteratui'e of Prance. I shall upset Vert-Vert 
into English verse, for the use of the intelligent inhabitants 
of these islands ; though I much fear, that to transplant so 
delicate an exotic into this frigid climate may prove an un- 
successful experiment. 


TtxUfnt, the i3aiT0U 


Bjjs original Ennorcncc. 

Alas ! what evils I discern in 

I'oo great an aptitude for learning ! 

And fain would aU the ills unravel 

That aye ensue from foreign travel ; 

Far happier is the man who tarries 

Quiet within his household " Lares :" 

Head, and you'll find how virtue vanishes, 

How foreign vice aU goodness banishes, 

And liow abroad young heads will grow dizzV; 

Proved in the iinderwritten Odyssey. 1Q 

In old Xevers, so famous for its 
Dark narrow streets and Grothic turrets, 
Close on the brink of Loire's young flood, 
Floiu'ished a convent sisterhood 
Of Ursulines. Now in this order 
A parrot lived as parlour-boarder ; 
Brought in his childhood from the Antilles, 
And sheltered under convent mantles : 
Green were liis feathers, green his pinions, 
And greener still were liis oi:)inions ; 20 

For vice had not yet souglit to pervert 
Tliis bird, who had been cln-istened Vert-Veri ; 
Nor could the wicked world defile liim, 
Safe from its snares in this asylum. 
Fresh, in his teens, frank, gay, and gracious. 
And, to crown all, somewhat loquacious j 
If we esamme close, not one, or he, 
Ilad a vocation for a nuinicry.* 

The convent's kindness need I mention ? 
Need I detail each fond attention, 30 

Or count tlie tit-bits which in Lent lie 
Swallowed remorseless and in plenty ? 
Plump was his carcass ; no, not higher 
Fed was their confessor the friar ; 
And some even say that our young Hector 
"Was far more loved than the " Director." f 
Dear to each novice and each nun — 
He was the life and soul of fun ; 

* " Par son caquet dignc d'utre en convent." 
t " Souveut I'oiscau Tcmporta sui* le Pere." 



Though, to be sui-c, some hags censorious 

Would sometimes find him too upi'oarious. 4q 

What did the parrot care for those old 

Dames, while he had for liim the household ? 

He had not yet made his " profession," 

Nor come to years called " of discretion ;" 

Therefore, unblamed, he ogled, flirted, 

And romped like any unconverted ; 

Nay sometimes, too, by the Lord HariT ! 

He'd pull their caps and " scapulary." 

But what in all his tricks seemed oddest, 

Was that at times he'd turn so modest, 50 

That to all bystanders the wight 

Appeared a finished hypocrite. 

In accent he did not resemble 

Kean, though he had the tones of Kemblc ; 

But fain to do the sisters' biddings, 

He left the stage to Mrs. Siddons. 

Poet, historian, judge, financier, 

ITour problems at a time he'd answer 

He had a facidty like Caesar's. 

Lord Althorp, baffling all his teazers, 60 

Coxdd not sm'pass Vert-Vert in puzzling ; 

" Goodrich" to him was but a gosUng.* 

Placed when at table near some vestal, 
His fare, be sm-e, was of tlie best all, — 
Por every sister would endeavom* 
To keep for him some sweet hors d'ceuvre. 
Kindly at heart, in spite of vows and 
Cloisters, a nun is worfii a thousand ! 
And aye, if Heaven wcidd only lend her, 
I'd have a nun for a curse tender ! \ 70 

Then, when the shades of night would come on. 
And to their cells the sisters summon, 
Happy the favoured one whose grotto 
This sidtan of a bird would trot to : 
Mostly the young ones' cells he toyed in, 
(The aged sisterhood avoiding), 
Sure among aU to find kind offices, — 
Still he was partial to the novices, 
And in their cells oiu" anchorite 
Mostly cast anchor for the night ; 80 

• At tliis remote period it is forgotten that " Prosperity Eobinson " 
was also known as "Goose Gooch-ich," when subsequently chancellor oi! 
the exchequer. — O. Y. 

+ " Lcs petits soins, les attentions fines, 
Sont ues, dit on, chcz lcs Ursulines." 

130 FATHER prion's eeliques. 

Perched on the box that held the relics, he 
Slept without notion of indelicacy. 
Rare was his luck ; nor did he spoil it 
By flying from the morning toilet ; 
I^'ot that I can admit the fitness 
Of (at tlie toilet) a male witness ; 
But that I scruple in this history 
To slu-oud a single fact in mysteiy. 

Quiet at all arts, our bhd was rich at 
That best accomplishment, called chit-chat ; 9Q 

For, though brought up within the cloistei", 
His beak was not closed like an oyster, 
But, trippingly, without a stutter, 
The longest sentences would utter ; 
Pious withal, and morahsing 
His conversation was siu'prising ; 
None of your equivoques, no slander — 
To such vile taster he scorned to pander ; 
But his tongue ran most smooth and nice on 
" Deo sit laus" and " Kp'ie eleison ;" 100 

The maxims he gave with best emphasis 
Were Suarez's or Thomas a Xempis's ; 
In Christmas carols he was famous, 
♦' Orate, fratres," and " Oremus ;" 
If in good humom", he was wont 
To give a stave from " Think xvdl on't ;' * 
Or, by particular desire, he 
Would chant the hymn of " Dies irre." 
Then in the choir he would amaze all 

By copying the tone so nasal 110 

In which the sainted sisters chanted, — 
(At least that pious nun my aunt did.) 

^jws fatall llcnotoiif. 

The public soon began to ferret 
The liiddcn nest of so much merit. 
And, spite of all tlic nuns' endeavours. 
The fame of Yert-Ycrt filled all Nevers ; 
Nay, from Sfoidines folks came to stare at 
The wondrous talent of this parrot ; 
And to frcsli visitors ad libitum 

Sister Sopliie liad to exhibit liim. 120 

Drest in her tidiest robes, tlie virgin, 
Forth from tlie convent cells emerging, 

* " Pcnsez-y-bien," or " Thixk well ohV," as translated by the titular 
bishop, Richard Ciiadoner, is tlie most generally adopted devotional 
tract among the Catholics of these islands. — Phout. 


Brings the bright bird, and for his plumanr-^ 

First challenges unstinted homage ; 

Then to his eloquence acTverts, — 

"What preacher's can surpass Yert-Tcrt's? 

Truly in oratoiy few men 

Equal this learned catechumen ; 

Praught with the convent's choicest lessons. 

And stuifed with piety's quintessence ; TgQ 

A bu'd most quick of apprehension, 

With gifts and graces hard to mention : 

Say in what pulj^it can you meet 

A Clu'ysostom half so discreet, 

WTio'd follow in his ghostly mission 

So close the ' fathers and tradition ?' " 

SQent meantime, the feathered hermit 

Waits for the sister's gracious permit, 

When, at a signal from his mentor, 

Quick on a course of speech he'U enter; 210 

Kot that he cares for human glory, 

IBent but to save his auditory ; 

Hence he pours forth ■nith so much imction 

That all liis hearers feel compimction. 

Thus for a time did Tert-Tert dwell 
Safe in liis holy citadelle ; 
Scliolarec\ like any well-bred abbe, 
And loved by many a cloistered Hebe ; 
You'd swear that he had crossed the same bridi-'o 
As any youth brought up in Cambridge.* 150 

Other monks starve themselves ; but his skin 
Was sleek like that of a Franciscan, 
And far more clean ; for this grave Solon 
Bathed eveiy day in emi de Cologne. 
Thus he indulged each guiltless gambol, 
Blest had he ne'er been doomed to ramble ! 

For in his life there came a crisis 
Such as for aU great men arises, — 
Such as what Kap to Eussia led, 

Such as the "ixiGni" of Mahomed ; JGO 

O town of Nantz ! yes, to tliy bosom 
We let liim go, alas ! to lose Iiim ! 
Edicts, O town famed for reioking, 
Still was Yert-Vert's loss more provoking ! 
Dark be the day when our bright Don -went 
From this to a far-distant convent ! 
TVo words comprised that awfvd era — 
Words \j\g with fate and woe — " II iha !" 

* Quaere — Pons Asinoi-uin P 

192 rATHEa peout's belique-- 

YcS; " he shall go ;" but, sisters ! mourn yo 

The dismal fi-uits of that sad jourucT, — i -q 

lUs on 'tvhich JNantz's nuns ne'er reckoned. 

When for the beauteous bii'd they beckoned. 

Fame, Tert-Vert ! in evil humoiir, 
One day to Nantz had brought the rumour 
Of thy accompUshments, — " acimien," 
" 'Novq," and " esprit," quite superhuman : 
All these reports but served to enhance 
Thy merits with the nims of Kantz. 
How did a matter so unsuited 

For convent ears get hither bruited ! 2S(> 

Some may inquii-e. But " nuns are knowing,** 
And first to hear what gossip''s going * 
Forthwith they taxed then- wits to elicit 
From the famed bu-d a friendly visit. 
Girls' wishes rim in a brisk current, 
But a nim's foncy is a torrent ;t 
To get tliis bird they'd pawn the missal ; 
Quick they indite a long epistle, 
Careful with softest things to fill it, 

And then with musk perfume the billet ; 190 

Thus, to obtain their darling purpose. 
They send a writ of habeas corpus. 

Off goes the post. Wlien will the answer 
Free them from doubt's corroding cancer ? 
Nothing can equal tlieir anxiety, 
Except, of com-se, their well-known piety. 
Tilings at Nevers meantime went harder 
Than well would suit such pious ardour ; 
It was no easy job to coax 

Tills parrot from the Kevers folks. 200 

Wliat, take their toy from convent belles ? 
Make Russia yield the Dardanelles ! 
Filch his good rifle fi-om a " Suliote," 
Or drag her "Romeo" from a "Juliet!" 
Make an attempt to take Gibraltar, 
Or try the old corn laws to alter ! 
This seemed to them, and ckc to us, 
" Most wasteful and ridieidous." 
Long did the " chapter" sit in state. 

And on this point dcUberate ; 210 

The junior members of the senate 
Set their fair faces quite again' it ; 

* " Lcs revereudes mferes 

A tout savoir iie sent pas les dernieres." 

•j- " Desir de fiUe est lui feu qui devore, 
Desii' de nonue est cent lois pis encore."* 


Kefuse to yield a point so tender, 

And urge the motto — No surrender. 

The elder nuns feel no great scruple 

In parting with the cliarming pupil ; 

And as each grave affair of state runs 

Most on the verdict of the matrons, 

Small odds, I ween, and jDoor the chancn 

Of keeping the dear bird from Nantz. 220 

Nor in my surmise am I far out, — 

For by their vote off goes the parrot. 

En ce (em.1 ?a, a small canal-boat, 
Called by most chroniclers the " Talbot," 
(Talbot, a name well known in France !) 
Travelled between Nevers and Nantz. 
Vert- Vert took shipping in this craft, 
'Tis not said whether fore or aft ; 
But in a book as old as Massinger's 

We find a statement of the passengers ; 230 

These were — two Gascons and a fiiper, 
A sexton (a notorious swiper), 
A brace of cliilch-en, and a nm'se j 
But what was infinitely worse, 
A dashing Cyprian ; while by her 
Sat a most jolly-looking friar.* 

For a poor bird brought up in purify 
'Twas a sad augur for futm-ity 
To meet, just free from hi-s indentures, 

And m the first of his adventures, 240 

Such company as fonned liis hansel, — 
Two rogues ! a friar ! ! and a damsel ! ! ! 
l?irds the above were of a feather ; 
Eut to Yert-Vert 't was altogether 
Such a strange aggregate of scandals 
As to be met but among Vandals ; 
Kude was their talk, bereft of polish, 
And calculated to demolish 
AU the fine notions and good-breedinp; 

Taught by the nuns in their sweet Edeu. 2L0 

No BilHngsgate surpassed the nurse's, 
^nd all the rest indulged in curses j 

'■■ '' Une nourricc, \\n moine, deux Gascons ; 
Puur un enfant qui sort du monastfere 
Cctait cchoii- en digues compaguons." 



Ear hath uot heard such vulgar gab hi 
The nautic cell of any cabm. 
Silent and ead, the pensive bird, 
Shocked at theu' guilt, said not a word.* 

Now he " of orders grey," accosting 
The parrot green, who seemed quite lost in 
The contemplation of man's wickednes-, 

And the bright river's gliding liquiduess, 260 

" Tip us a stave (quoth Tuck), my darling, 
Ayn't you a parrot or a starling ? 
If you don't talk, by the holy poker, 
I'll give that neck of yours a choker!" 
Scared by this threat from his proprietj'. 
Our pilgrim flunking with sobriety, 
That if he did not speak they'd make him, 
Answered the friar. Pax sit tecum ! 
Here our reporter marks down after 

Poll's maiden-siieeoh — " loud roars of laughter ;" 270 

And sure enougli the bird so affable 
Could hardly use a phrase more laughable. 

Talking of such, there are some nun ones 
That oft amiise the House of Commons : 
And since we lost '• Sir Joseph Yorke," 
We've got great '^ Fearffus" fresh from Cork, — 
A fellow honest, droll, and. funny, 
Who would not sell for love or money 
His native land : nor, like vile Daniel, 

Fawn on Lord Althorp like a spaniel ; 2S0 

Flatter the mob, while the old fox 
Keeps an eye to the begging-box. 
Now 'tis a shame that such brave fellows, 
When they blow " agi/alion's" bellows, 
Sliould only meet with heartless scoifers, 
While cunning Daniel fills his coffers. 
But Kerrymen will e'er be apter 
At the conclusion of the cl;apter, 
Wliile othei's bear the battle's brunt, 

To reap the si)oil and fob the blunt. ---O 

Tliis is an episode concerning 
The parrot's want of worldly learning, 
In squandering his tropes and figures 
On a vile crew of heartless niggers. 

* Tills canal-boat, it would seem, was not a very refined or fashion- 
able conveyance: it ratlier reniindetli of Horace's voyage to Brun- 
dusiuui, and of that line so applicable to the parrot's company — 
"Replctuni nautis, cauponibus, atque malignis." 

0. Y. 


The " house" heard once with more decorum 
Pliil. Howard on " the Koman forum."* 

Poll's brief address met lots of cavillers 
Badgered by all his fellow-travellers, 
He tried to mend a speech so ominous 

By strikmg up with "Dixit DoMiNus!" 300 

But louder shouts of laughter follow, — 
This last roar beats the former hollow. 
And shews that it was bad economy 
To give a stave fi-om Deuteronomy. 

Posed, not abashed, the bird refused to 
Indulge a scene he was not used to ; 
And, pondering on his strange reception, 
" There must," he thought, " be some deception 
In the nuns' views of things rhetorical, 

And sister Rose is not an oi-acle. , 310 , 

True wit, perhaps, lies not in ' mattbu^ ' i 

!Xor la their school a school of Athens." / 

Thus in this villanous receptacle 
The simple bu-d at once grew sceptical. 
Doubts lead to hell. The arch- deceiver 
Soon made of Poll an unbeliever j 
And mixing thus in bad society, 
He took French leave of all his piety. 

His austere maxims soon he moUifled, 
And all his old opinions quahfied ; 320 

For he had learned to substitute 
For pious lore things more astute ; 
Nor was his conduct unimpeachable, 
For youth, alas ! is but too teachable ; 
And in the progress of his madness 
Soon he had reached the depths of badness. 
Such were liis curses, such his evil 
Practices, that no ancient devil,t 

Plunged to the chin when burning hot ^„„ 

Into a holy water-pot, 
Coidd so blaspheme, or fii'e a volley 
Of oaths so di'ear and melancholy. 

* Sec " Mirror of Parliament" for this ingenious person's maiden 
speech on Joe Hume's motion to alter and enlarge the old House of 
Commons. " <S/r, iJie Romans (a laugh) — I saij the Momans (loud 
laughter) never altered their Forum " (roars of ditto). But Heaven soon 
granted what Joe Hume desired, and the old rookery was burnt shortly- 

t "Bicntot il scut jurer et mougreer 

Mictx qu'uu vieux diable au fond d'un benitirr. " 

o 2 


Must the bright blossoms, ripe and ruddy, 
And the fair fruits of early study, 
Thus in their summer season crossed, 
Meet a sad blight — a killing frost ? 
Must that vile demon, Moloch, oust 
Heaven from a yoimg heart's holocaust ?* 
And the glad hope of life's young promise 
Thus in the dawn of youth ebb from us r 340 

Such is, alas ! the sad and last trophy 
Of the young rake's supreme catastrophe ; 
For of what use arc learning's laurels 
When a young man is vrithout morals ? 
Bereft of virtue, and grown heinous, 
Wliat signifies a briUiant genius ? 
' Tis but a case for wail and mourning, — 
' Tis but a brand fit for the burning ! 

Meantime the river wafts the barge, 
Fraught with its miscellaneous charge, 350' 

Smoothly upon its broad expanse, 
Up to the very quay of Nantz ; 
Fondly within the convent bowers 
The sisters calculate the hours, 
Cliiding the breezes for theu' tardiness, 
And, in the height of tlieir fool-hardiness. 
Picturing the bird as fancy painted — 
Lovely, reserved, pohte, and sainted — 
Fit "Ursuline." And this, I trow, meant 

Enriched with every endowment ! 360 

Sadly, alas ! these nuns anointed 
Will find their fancy disappointed ; 
AVhen, to meet aU those hojies they drew on, 
They'll find a regular Don J uan ! " 

SCfte atDfuII JDtscobcrtf. 

Scarce in the port was this small craft 
On its arrival telegraphed, 
When, from the boat home to transfer him. 
Came the nuns' portress, " sister Jerome." 
Well did tlie parrot recognise 

The walk demure and downcast eyes ; 370 

'Nov aught such saintly guidance relished 
A bird by worldly arts embellished ; 
Sixch was his taste for profane gaiety, 
He'd rather much go with the laity. 

* " Faut-il qu'ainsi rexemjilc seducteur 

Dt ciel au diable cmporte un jeune coeui'?" 


Fast to tlie bark he clmig ; but plucked tlieuce, 

He shewed diro symjjtorus of reluctance, 

And, scandalising each beholder, 

Bit the nun's cheek, and eke her shoidder I * 

Thus a black eagle once, 'tis said. 

Bore off the struggUng Granymede.f ggg 

Thus was Vert- Vert, heart-sick and weary, 

Brought to the heavenly monastery- 

Tlie beU and tidings both were tolled, 

And the nuns crowded, young and old, 

To feast theu* eyes with joy uncommon on 

This wondrous talkative phenomenon. 

Round the bright stranger, so amazing 
And so renowned, the sisters gazing. 
Praised the green glow which a warm latitude 
■Crave to his neck, and hked his attitude. 390 

Some by his gorgeous tail are smitten, 
Some by his beak so beauteous bitten ! 
And none e'er dreamt of dole or harm in 
A bird so brilliant and so charming. 
Shade of Spurzheim ! and thou, Lavater, 
Or Gall, of " bumps" the great creator ! 
Can ye explain how oiu* young hero, 
With all the vices of a Nero, 
Seemed siich a model of good-breedhig, 

Tims quite astray the convent leading ? 400 

Wliere on his head appeared, I ask from ye, 
Tlie "nob" indicative of blasphemy ? 
jVIethinks 't woidd puzzle your ability 
To find his organ of scm'rility. 

Meantime the abbess, to " draw out" 
A bird so modest and devout. 
With soothing air and tongue caressing 
The " pilgrim of the Loire" addressing, 
Broached the most edifying topics. 

To " start" this native of the tropics ; 410 

When, to their scandal and amaze, he 
Broke forth — " Morl/leic! those nuns are crazy !" 
(Shewmg how well he learnt his task on 
The packet-boat from that vile Gascon !) 
" Fie ! brother poU !" with zeal outbiu'sling, 
Exclaimed the abbess, dame Augustin ; 

* " Les uns disent an con, 

D'autres au bras ; on no salt )Das bien oil." 
+ " Qnalera ministrum fuhninis ahtcm. 

Cid rex dcorum regnum in aves vagos 
Commisit, expertus fidclem 

Jupiter in Ganymede llavo." IIOK. 



13 ut all the lady's sagerebutes 

Brief answer got from poll — " Gadzooks !" 

!Nay, 'tis supposed, he muttered, too, 

A word folks write witli W. 

Scared at the sound, — " Sure as a gun, 

The bu'd's a demon !" cried the nun. 

" O the vile wretch ! the naughty dog ! 

He's siu'ely Lucifer incog. 

"What ! is the reprobate before us 

That bird so pious and decorous — 

So celebrated ?" — Here the pilgrim, 

Hearing sufficient to bewilder him, 

Woimd up the sermon of the beldame 

By a conclusion lieard but seldom — 

"Ventre Samt Gris!" "Parbleu'." and "Sacrc!" 

Thi-ee oaths ! and every one a whacker ! 

StiU did the nuns, whose conscience tender 
Was much shocked at the young offender, 
Hoping he'd change his tone, and alter, 
Hang breathless round the sad defaulter : 
When, wrathfid at their imjiortunity, 
And grown audacious from impunity. 
He fu-ed a broadside (holy Mary !) 
Drawn from HeU's own vocabiilary 1 
Forth like a Congreve rocket burst, 
And stormed and swore, flared vj) and cursed 
Stunned at these sounds of import stygian, 
The pious daughters of religion 
ried from a scene so dread, so horrid, 
But with a cross fh-st signed their forehead. 
The younger sisters, mild and meek, 
Thought tliat the culprit spoke in Greek ; 
But the old matrons and " the bench" 
Knew cvcrjr word was genuine French ; 
And ran in all lUrections, pell-mell, 
Fi'om a flood fit to overwhelm hell. 
'T was by a fall that Mother Kuth* 
Then lost her last remaining tootli. 

"Fine conduct this, and pretty guidance !" 
Cried one of the most mortihed ones ; 
" Pray, is such language and such ritual 
Among the Ncvers nuns habitual ? 
'T was in our sisters most improper 
To teach such curses — such a whopper ! 

* " Toutes pensent etre :\ la fm du mondc, 
Et sui" son nez la mere Cunegonde 
Se laissaut cheou", perd sa derniere dcut i' 






te^.'j^'iii'lliiiliiiul:v,ii'n„,.,' ,, ;s?^ ^_yf\'mM£i.\\\p'i^^^' 


He shan't by me, for one, be liimlered 

From being sent back to his kindred !" 

This prompt decree of Poll's proscription 

Was signed by general subscription. 

Straiglit in a cage the nuns insert 

The guilty person of Yert-Vert ; 

Some yoxmg ones wanted to detain him ; 

But the grim portress took " the payniiu" 

jBack to the boat, close iii his litter ; 

'Tis not said this time that he bit her. 170 

Back to the convent of his youth, 

Sojourn of innocence and truth, 

Sails the ffreeii monster, scorned and hated, 

His heart with vice contaminated. 

Must I tell how, on his return. 

He scandaUsed his old sojourn ? 

And how the guardians of his infancy 

Wept o'er then* quondam child's delinquency ? 

What coidd be done ? the elders often 

Met to consult how best to soften ISO 

This obdurate and hardened sinner, 

Finish'd in vice ere a beginner !* 

One mother counselled " to denomice 

And let the Inquisition pounce 

On the vile heretic ;" another 

Thought " it was best the bird to smother !" 

Or " send the convict for his felonies 

Back to his native land — the colonies." 

But milder views prevailed. His sentence 

Was, that, initil he shewed repentance, i^" 

" A solemn fast and frugal diet. 

Silence exact, and j^ensive quiet, 

Sliould be liis lot ;" and, for a blister, 

He got, as gaoler, a lay-sister, 

Dgly as sin, bad-tempered, jealous, 

And in her scruples over-zealous. 

A jug of water and a carrot 

Was all the prog she'd give the parrot : 

But every eve when vesper-bell 

Called sister Eosalie from her coll, "^^O 

She to Vert-Vert would gain admittance, 

And bring of " comfits" a sweet pittance. 
* TmpUcat in terminis. There must have been a bcginnmg, else how 
conceive Vifnish (see Kant), luiless the pi'oposition of Ocellus Lucanus 
be adopted, viz. avapxov Kai artXcvrcuou to ttoi'. Gresset simply 
has it — 

" II fut ini scelerat 
Profes d'abord, et sans novieiat." 


Comfits ! alas ! can sweet confections 

Alter sour slavery's imperfections ? 

What are "preserves" to you or me, 

When locked up in the Marshalsea ? 

The sternest virtue in the hulks, 

Though crammed with richest sweetmeats, sulks. 

Taught by liis gaoler and adversity, 
Poll saw the folly of pei-versity, 510 

And by degrees his heart relented : 
Duly, in fine, " the lad" repented. 
His Lent passed on, and sister Bridget 
Coaxed the old abbess to abridge it. 

The prodigal, reclaimed and free, 
Became agam a prodigy, 
And gave more joy, by works and words, 
Than ninety-nme canaiy-birds, 
Until his death. Which last disaster 

(Nothing on earth endures !) came faster 520 

Than they imagined. The tonsition 
From a stai-ved to a stulfed condition, 
[From penitence to jollification. 
Brought on a fit of constipation. 
Some think he would be Uving still, 
If given a " Yegetable Pill ;" 
But from a short life, and a merry, 
Poll sailed one day per Charon's ferry. 

By tears from nuns' sweet eyelids wept, 
Happy in death this parrot slept ; 530 

Por him Elysium oped its portals, 
And there he talks among immortals. 
But I have read, that since that happy day 
(So writes Cornelius i Lapide,* 

* This author appears to liave been a favomnte with Prout, who 
takes evei'v opportunity of recording his predilection (vide pages 6 and 
181). Had the Order, however, produced only such winters as Corne- 
lius, we fear there would have been little mention of the Jesuits ia 
connexion with literature. Cresset's opinion on the matter is contained 
in an epistle to liis crnfrtre P. Boujeant, author of the ingenious 
treatise Sur I'Amc des Betes (see p. 295) : — 

Moins reverend qu'aimable ])ere, Aflichent la severite; 

Yous dont I'espr.t, le caraclerc, Et ne sortant de leur taniore 

Et les airs, ne sont point montes Que sous la lugubrc banniero 

Sur lo ton sottemcnt austere De la grave formalite, 

De cent tristcs patcrnites, Ilrntiers de la triste enclumo 

Qui, manquant du talent de plaire. Do quelquo pedant ignore, 

Et de toute legerete, llcforgent quelqiie lourd volume, 

Pour dissimuler la misfere Aux antres Latins enterre. 

Dun esprit sans amenite, 



Proving, with commentary droll, 

The transmigration of the soul), 

That still Vert- Vert this earth doth haunt, 

Of convent bowers a visitant ; 

And that, gay novices among. 

He dwells, transformed into a tongue ! SIC 

No. VTI. 



Chapter I. — Wine and "War. 

" Favete Unguis ! Carmina non prius 
Audita, Musarum saccrdos, 
Virginibus puerisque canto." 

Hois. Carmen Sceculare. 

" With many a foreign author grappling, 
Thus have I, Prout, the Muses' chaplain, 
Traced on Eegina's virgin pages 
Songs for ' the boys ' of after-ages." 

That illustrious utilitarian, Dr. Bowring, tLe kniglit-errant 
of free trade, who is allowed to circulate just now without 
a keeper through the cities of France, will he in high glee 
at this Octoher manifestation of Prout's wisdom. The 
Doctor hath found a kindred soul in the Priest. To pro- 
mote tlie interchange of national commodities, to cause a 
•blending and a chemical fusion of their mutual produce, and 
establish an equilibrium between our negative and their 
positive electricity ; such appears to be the sublime aspira- 
tion of both these learned pundits. But the beneficial re- 
sults attendant on the efforts of each are widely dissimilar. 
Both Orcadians, they are not equally successful in the rivalry 
of song. We have to record nothing of Dr. Bowring in the 
way of acquirement to tliis country ; tee have gained nothing 


by liis labours : our cottons, our iron, our ivoollens, and our 
coals, are still without a passport to Erance ; while iu cer- 
tain home-trades, brought by his calculations into direct 
competition with the emancipated French, Ave have en- 
countered a loss on our side to the tune of a few millions. 
Not so with the exertions of Front : he has enriched Eng- 
land at the expense of her rival, and engrafted on our litera- 
ture the choicest productions of Gallic culture. Silently 
and unostentatiously, on the bleak top of "Watergrasshill, he 
has succeeded iu naturalising these foreign vegetables, asso- 
ciating himself in the gratitude of posterity with the planter 
of the potato. The inhabitants of these islands may now, 
thanks to Front ! sing or whistle the " Songs of France," 
duty free, in their vernacular language ; a vastly important 
acquisition ! The beautiful tunes of the '" Ck ira " and 
" Charmante Gabrielle " will become fiuniliarised to oiu'dull 
ears ; instead of the vulgar " Feas upon a trencher," we shall 
enjoy that barrel-organ luxury of France, " Fartaut pour la 
Syrie ;" and for " The Minstrel Boy to the wars is gone," 
we shall have the original, " Malbroock s'en va-t-en guerre." 
"What can be imagined more calculated to establish an har- 
monious understanding between the two nations, than this 
attempt of a benevolent clergyman to join them in a hearty 
chorus of common melody ? a grand " duo," composed of 
bass and tenor, the roaring of the bull and the croaking of 
the frog ? 

To return to Bowring. Commissions of inquiry are the 
order of the day ; but some travelling " notes of interroga- 
tion" are so misshapen and grotesque, that the response or 
result is but a roar of laughter. This doctor, we perceive, 
is now the hero of every dinner of every " Chambre de Com- 
merce ;" his toasts and his speeches in Norman French are, 
we are told, the ne plus nltra of comic performance, towards 
the close of each banquet. He is now in Burgundy, an in- 
dustrious labourer in the vineyard of his commission ; and 
enjoys such particular advantages, that Brougham from his 
woolsack is said to cast a jealous eye on his missionary's de- 
partment ; " invidia rumpantur ut ilia Codri." The whole 
affair exhibits that sad mixiure of imbecility and ostenta- 
tion too perceptible iu all the doings of Utilitarianism. 0/ 


whose commissioners Phcedrus has long ago given the pro- 
totype : 

" Est ai'delioniim quaedam Eomee natio 
Trepide concursans, occupata in otio, 
Gratis anhelans, multiiin agendo, nilul agens." 

The publication of this Paper on French Songs is in- 
tended, at this particular season, to counteract tlie preva- 
lent epidemic, which hiu'ries away our population in crowds 
to Paris. By furnishing them here at home with Gallic 
fricassee, we hope to induce some, at least, to remaui in the 
country, and forswear emigration. If our "preventive 
check " succeed, we shall have deserved well of our own 
watering-places, which naturally look up to us for protec- 
tion and patronage. But the girls will never Ksten to • 
good advice — 

"Each pretty miux in her conscience tliinks that nothing can improyo 
Unless she sees the TuUeries, and trips along the Louvre." 

Never in the memory of E-egina has Eegent Street 
suffered such complete depopulation. It hath emptied it- 
self into the " Boulevards." Our city friends will keep an 
eye on the Monument, or it may elope from Pudding Lane 
to the " Place Vendome :" but as to the Thames flowing 
into the Seine, we cannot yet anticipate so alarming a phe- 
nomenon, although Juvenal records a similar event as having 
occm-red in his time — - 

"Totus in Tyberlm defluxit Oroutes." 

Yet there is still balm in Gilead, there is still corn in 
Egypt. The " chest " in which old Prout hath left a legacy of 
hoarded wisdom to the children of men is open to us, for 
comfort and instruction. It is rich in consolation, and fraught 
with goodly maxims adapted to every state and stage of sub- 
lunary vicissitude. The treatise of Boethius, " de Consola- 
tione Philosophise," worked wonders in its day, and assuaged 
the tribulations of the folks of the dark ages. The sibyDino 
books were consulted in all cases of emergency. Front's 
strong box rather resembleth tlie oracular portfolio of tlie 
Sibyl, iuasmuch as it chiefly containeth matters written ia 
Terse ; and even in prose it appeareth poetical. Versified 

204i TATHEK I'llOrx's EELIQUES. 

apoplitbegms are always better attended to than mere pro- 
saic crumbs of comfort ; and "\ve trust tbat tbe " Songs of 
l^'rance," wbicb we are about to publisb for tbe patriotic 
purpose above mentioned, may bave tbe desired cftect. 

" Carmina Tel ccbIo possunt deducere liuiam ; 
Carmine Di superi placantur, carmine manes : 
Ducite ah urhe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim !" 

Wben Saul went mad, tbe songs of tbe poet David were 
tbe only eftectual sedatives ; and in one of tbat admirable 
series of bomilies on Job, St. Cbrysostom, to fix tbe atten- 
tion of bis auditory, breaks out in fine style : <biDi ow, aya- 
Tjjrs, rrig Aa[3id-/.'/}g zi&aoa; ava'/.Povffu//,sv to ■^uXiuxo'j ihiKoz^ ytai 
ry^v avdow:riv7jv yoovng raXaiTOJ^iav sirru/Miv, r. X. (^Serm. III. 
in Job.) Tbese Preneb Canticles are, in Front's manuscript, 
given "wdtb accompaniment of introductory and explanatory 
observations, in wbicb tbey swim like water-fowl on tbe 
bosom of a placid and pellucid lake ; and to eacb song tbere 
is underwritten an Englisb translation, like tbe liquid re- 
flection of tbe floating bird in tbe water beneatb, so as to 
recall tbe beautiful image of tbe swan, wbicli, according to 
tbe fatber of " lake poetry," 

" Floats double — swan and shadow." 

Yale et fruere ! 


Reffenl Slreet, Isi Oct. 1S3L 

IVatcrgrasshill, Oct. 1S33, 

I HATE lived among tbe Erencb : in tbe fresbest da-wn of 
early youtb, in tbe meridian liour of maniiood's maturity, 
my lot was cast and my lines fell on tbe pleasant places of 
tbat once-bappy land. Full gladly liave I strayed among 
ber gay bamlets and ber bospitable cbateaux, anon breaking 
the brown loaf of tbe peasant, and anon seated at tbe board 
of ber noblemen and ber pontilis. I bave mixed industri- 
ously witb every rank and every denomination of ber people, 
ti-acing as 1 went along tbe peculiar indications of tbe Celt 
and tbe" Frank, tbe Normand and tlie Breton, tbe haigue 
d'oui and tbe langue iVoc ; not at tbe same time overlooking ^ 

THE SOiS'GS or riJAXCE. 205 

the endemic features of unrivalled Gaseonj. Tlie manufac- 
turing industry of Lyons, the Gothic reminiscences of Tours, 
the historic associations of Orleans, the mercantile enter- 
prise and opulence of Bordeaux, Marseilles, the emporium 
of the Levant, each claimed my wonder in its turn. It was 
a goodly scene ! and, compared to the ignoble and debased 
generation that now iisurps the soil, my recollections of 
ante-revolutionary France are like dreams of an antediluvian 
world. And in those days arose the voice of song. The 
characteristic cheerfuluess of the country found a vent for 
its superabundant joy in jocund carols, and music Avas at 
once the offspring and the parent of gaiety. Sterne, in his 
" Sentimental Journey," had seen the peasantry whom he so 
graphically describes in that passage concerning a marriage- 
feast — a generous flagon, grace after meat, and a dance on 
the green tiirf under the canopy of approving Heaven. Nor 
did the Irish heart of Goldsmith (who, like myself, rambled 
on the banks of the Loire and the Garonne with true pedes- 
trian philosophy) fail to enter into the spirit of joyous 
exuberance which animated the inhabitants of each tillage 
through which we passed, poor and penniless, but a poet ; 
and he himself tells us that, Avith his flute in his pocket, he 
might not fear to quarter himself on any district in the 
south of France, — such was the charm of music to the ear 
of the natives in those happy days. It surely was not of 
France that the poetic tourist spoke when he opened his 
" Traveller " by those sweet verses that tell of a loneliness 
little expei'ienced on the banks of the Loire, however felt 
elsewhere — ■ 

" Eeniotc, uiifncndod, solitary, slow ; 
Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po," &c. 

For Goldy, the village maiden lit up her brightest smiles ; 
fur him the tidy houscAvife, " on hospitable cares intent," 
brought fortli the wheaten loaf and the well-seasoned sau- 
sage : to welcome the foreign troubadour, the master of the 
cottage and of tlie vineyard produced liis best can of wine, 
never loath for an excuse to di-ain a cheerful cup with au 
honest fellow ; for, 

" Si bene commcmini, causoc sunt quinque bibendi : 
Hospitis advcntus, prxsens sitis atque futura, 
Vel vini bouitas — vel qusclibet altera causa." 


All this buoyancy of spii-its. all this plentiful gladness, 
found expression and utterance in the national music and 
Bongs of that period ; which are animated and lively to ex- 
cess, and bear testimony to the brisk current of feeling and 
the exhilarating injiuenee from which they sj)rung. Each 
season of the happy year, each incident of primitive and 
rural life, each occui'rence in village history, was chronicled 
in uncouth rh}i;hm, and chanted with choral glee. The bap- 
tismal holyday, the marriage epoch, the soldier's return, the 
" patron saint," the harvest and the viutage, " le jour des 
X'ois," and " le jour de Noel," each was ushered in witli the 
merry chime of parish bells and the extemporaneous out- 
break of the rustic muse. And when mellow autumn gave 
place to hoary winter, the genial source of musical inspira- 
tion was not frozen up in the hearts of the young, nor was 
there any lack of traditionary ballads derived from the me- 
morj^ of the old. 

" Ici le clianvro loreparc 
Toxii'nc autour du fuseau Gothique, 
Et sur un banc mal assiu'e 
La bergei'e la plus antique 
Chaute la moi-t du ' Balafre' 
D'une Toix plaintive et tragiquc." 

" Wliile the meriT fireblocks kindle, 
While the gudewife twii-ls her spindle, 
Hark the song which, nigh the embers, 

Singeth yonder withered ci'one ; 
"Well I ween that hag remembers 
Many a war-tale past aud gone." 

This characteristic of the inhabitants of Gaul, this oon- 
etitutional attachment to music and melody, has been early- 
noticed by the writers of the middle ages, and remarked on 
by her historians and philosophers. The eloquent Salvian 
of IMarseilles (a.d. 440), in his book on Providence (" de 
Gubernatione Dei"), says that his fellow-countrymen had a 
habit of drowning care and banishing melancholy with songs : 
" Cantilenis infortunia sua solantur." In the old jurispru- 
dence of the Crallic code we are told, by lawyer de March- 
angy, in his work, " la Gaule Poetiquc," that all the goods 
and chattels of a debtor could be seized by the creditor, 
vrith the positive exception of any musical instrument, lyre, 


bagpipe, or flute, whicli nappened to he iu tlie lioiise of mis- 
fortune ; the lawgivers wisely and humanely providing a 
source of consolation for the poor devil -when all was gone. 
AVe have still some enactments of Charlemagne interwoven 
in the labyrinthine intricacies of the capitularian law, having 
reference to the minstrels of that period ; and the song of 
Eoland, who fell at Eoncesvaux with the flower of Gallic 
chivahy, is still sung by the grenadiers of France : 

" Soldats Fran9ois, chantons Eoland, 
L'lionneur de la clievaleric," ic, &c. 

Or, as Sir "Walter Scott will have it, 

" O ! for a blast of that ■wild horn, 
Ou Fontarabia's echoes borne," &c. 

During the crusades, the minstrelsy of France attained a 
high degree of refinement, delicacy, and \'igour. Never were 
love-adventures, broken hearts, and broken heads, so plenti- 
ful. The novelty of the scene, the excitement of departure, 
the lover's farewell, the rapture of return, the pilgrim's tale, 
the jumble of war and devotion, laurels and palm-trees — all 
these matters inflamed the imagination of the troubadovu', 
and ennobled the efiiisions of genius. Oriental landscape 
added a new charm to the creations of poetry, and the bard 
of chivalrous Europe, transported into the scenes of volup- 
tuous Asia, acquired a new stock of imagery ; an additional 
chord would vibrate on his lyre. Thiebault, comte de Cham- 
pagne, who swayed the destinies of the kingdom under Queen 
Blanclie, while St. Louis was in Palestine, distinguished 
himself not only by his patronage of the tuneful tribe, but 
by his o\vn original compositions ; many of which I have 
overliauled among the MSS. of the King's Library, when I 
was in Paris. Richard Co^ur de Lion, whose language, 
habits, and character, belonged to ^Xormandy, was almost as 
clever at a ballad as at the battle-axe : his iaithful trouba- 
dour, Blondel, acknowledges his master's competency in 
things poetical. But it was reserved for the immortal Eenc 
d'Anjou, called by the people of Provence le bon roy Ren^, 
to confer splendour and eclat on the gentle craft, during a 
reign of singular usefulness and popularity. He was, in 
truth, a rare personage, and well deserved to leave his 


inemoiy embalmed in the recollection of his fellow-country- 
men. After having fought in his 3'outh imder Joan of Are, 
in rescuing the territory of France from the grasp of her 
invaders, and subsequently in the wars of Scander Beg and 
Perdinand of Arragcn, he spent the latter part of his event- 
ful life in diflusing happiness among his subjects, and making 
his court the centre of refined and chassic enjo}"ment. Aix 
in Provence was then the seat of civilisation, and the haunt 
of the Muses. While to Rene is ascribed the introduction 
and culture of the mulberry, and the consequent develop- 
ment of the silk-trade along the Ehone, to his fostering care 
the poetry of Prance is indebted for many of her best and 
simplest productions, the rondeau, the madrigal, the triolet, 
the lay, the virelai, and other measures equally melodious. 
His own ditties (chiefly church hymns) are preserved in the 
Bibliotheque du Eoi, in his own hand-^Titiug, adorned by 
his royal pencil with sundry ciuious enluminations and alle- 
gorical emblems. 

A rival settlement for the " sacred sisters" was established 
at the neighbouring coiu-t of Avignon, where tbe temporary 
residence of the popes attracted the learning of Italy and of 
the ecclesiastical world. The combined talents of church- 
men and of poets shone "with concentrated eft'ulgence in that 
most picturesque and romantic of cities, fit cradle for tlie 
muse of Petrarca, and the appropriate resort of every con- 
temporary excellence. The pontific presence shed a lustre 
over this crowd of meritorious men, and excited a spirit of 
emulation in all the walks of science, unknoAMi in any other 
European capital : and to Avignon in those days might be 
applied the observation of a Latin poet concerning that small 
town of Italy which the residence of a single important per- 
sonage sulliced to illustrate : 

"Yeios liabitante Camillo, 
Illlc Roma fuit." LtrCAir. 

The immortal sonnets of Laura's lover, written in the polished 
and elegant idiom of Lombardy, had a perceptible effect in 
softening what was harsh, aiul refining what was uncouth, 
in the love- songs of the Troubadors, whose language (not 
altogether obsolete in Provence at the present time) beai's a 


close affinity to the Italian. But this " light of song," how- 
ever gratifying to the lover of early literature, was but a sort 
of crepuscular brightening, to herald in that full dawn 
of true taste and knowledge which broke forth at the appear- 
ance of Francis I. and Leo X. Then it was that Europe's 
modem minstrels, forming their lyric elFusions on the im- 
perishable models of classical antiquity, produced, for the 
bower and the banquet, for the court and the camp, strains 
of unparalleled sweetness and power. I have already en- 
riched my papers with a specimen of the love- ditties which 
tlie amour of Francis and the unfortunate Comtesse de 
Chateaubriand gave birth to. The royal lover has himself 
recorded his chivalrous attachment to that lady in a song 
which is preserved among the MSS. of the Duke of Bucking- 
ham, in the Biblioth^que du Eoi. It begins thus : 

" Ores que je la tiens sous ma loy, 
Plus je regno am ant que roy, 
Adieu, visages de coiir," &c. &c. 

Of the songs of Henri Quatre, addressed to Gabrielle 
d'Etrees, and of the ballads of Mary Stuart, it were almost 
superfluous to say a word ; but in a professed essay on so 
interesting a subject, it would be an unpardonable omission 
not to mention two such illustrious contributors to the 
minstrelsy of France. 

From cro'mied heads the transition to Maitre Adam (the 
poetic carpenter) is rather abrupt; but he deserves most 
honourable rank among the tuneful brotherhood. Without 
quitting his humble profession of a joiner, he published a 
volume of songs (Eheims, 1650) under the modest title of 
" Dry Chips and Oak Shavings from the "Workshop of Adam 
Billaud." Many of his staves are right well put out of 
hand. But he had been preceded by Clement Marot, a most 
ciiltivatcd poet, who had given the tone to French versifica- 
tion. IMalherbe was also a capital lyric writer in the gran- 
diose style, and at times pathetic. Then there was Eonsard 
and Panard. Jean de Meun, who, with Gruillaume de Lorris, 
concocted the " Eoman de la Eose :" Villon, Charles d'Or- 
k'ans, Gringoii'e, xMain Chartier, Bertaut, and sundry others 
of the old school, deservedly challenge the antiquary and 
critic's commendation. The subsequent glories of Voitxire, 



Scuderi, Dorat, Boufflers, riorian, Eacan, and Chalieu, would 
claim their due share of notice, if the modern lyrics of 
Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Andre Chenier, Chateaubriand, and 
Delavigne, like the rod of the prophet, had not swallowed 
up the inferior spells of the magicians who preceded them. 
But I cannot for a moment longer repress my enthusiastic 
admiration of one who has arisen in oiu- days, to sti'ike in 
Prance, with a master-hand, the lyre of the troubadoiu*, and 
to fling into the shade all the triumphs of bygone minstrelsy. 
Need I designate Bci'anger, who has created ior himself a 
style of transcendent vigour and originality, and who has 
Kung of war, love, and loine, in strains far excelHng those of 
Blondel, Tp'tsus, Pindar, or the Teian bard. He is now 
the genuine representative of Gallic poesy in her convivial, 
her amatory, her loarlike, and her philosophic mood : and the 
plenitude of the inspii'ation that dwelt successively in tlie 
souls of all the songsters of ancient Prance seems to have 
transmigrated into Beranger, and found a fit recipient in his 
capacious and liberal mind : 

" As some bright river, that, from fall to fall 
In many a maze descending, bright in all, 
Finds some fair region, where, each labp-inth past, 
In one full lake of liglit it rests at last." — Lalla Rookh. 

Let m^e open the small volume of his chansons, and take at 
venture the first that ofiers. Good ! it is about the grape. 
Wine is the grand topic with all poets (after the ladies) ; 
hear then his account of the introduction of the grape into 
Burgundy and Champagne, effected through the instrumen- 
tality of Brennus. 

33i*enttug, Wiyt ^ong of 33rcnmis, 

Ou la Vigne plantee datis les Or the Introducfion of the Grape 

Gaules. info France. 

Tune—" The Night before Larry." 

Brennns disait aiix bons Gaulois, "NMienBreunus came back here from 

"Celebrez un triomphe insigne! Rome, 

Les champs dc Eome ont paye mes These words he is said to have 

exploits, spoken : 

Et j'en rapporte un cep de vigne ; "We have conquered, my boys! 

Privesde son jus tout-puissant, and brought home 

A sprig of the vine for a tokeu I 

r/!ffS2!r .'P>/!.fiiij jtvj, &:r :/ j'lx V!trJ.£ Jjy (j;,- 



Nous avons yaincu pom' en 
boii'e ; 
Sur nos coteaux que le pampre na- 
Serve a couronner la victoire. 

U)i joui', par ce raisin venneil 

Des peuples vous serez I'envie ; 
Dans son nectar plein des feux du 
Tous les arts puiseront la vie. 

Quittant nos bords favorist'?, 
Mille vaisseaux ii-ont siir I'onde 
Charges de vius et de fleiu-s pa- 

Porter la joie autour du monde. 

Bacclms ! embellis nos destins ! 
Un people hospitaHer te prie, 
Fais qu'im proscrit, assis a nos 
Oublie vui moment sa pati-ie." 
Brennus alors bennit les Cieux, 
Creuse la teiTe avec sa lance, 
Plante la vigne ! et les Gaulois 
Uans I'avenir out va " La 
France !" 

Cheer, my hearties! and welcome 
to Gaul 
This plant, which we won from 
the foeman ; 
'Tis enough to repay \is for all 
Our trouble in beating the Ro- 
man ; 

Bless the gods ! and bad 
luck to the geese ! 

O ! take care to treat well the fan' 
From the blasts of the north to 
protect her ; 
Of your hillocks, the sunniest and 
Make them hers, for the sake of 
her nectar. 
She shall nm-se your yoimg Gauls 
with her juice ; 
Give hfe to ' the arts' in liba- 
tions ; 
While yoiu* sliips roimd the globe 
shall produce 
Her goblet of joy for all nations — 
E'en the foeman shall 
taste of oui" cup. 

The exile who flies to our hearth 
Slie shall soothe, all his sorrows 
redi-essing ; 
For the vine is the parent of mirth. 
And to sit in its shade is a bless- 
So the soil Brennus dug with liis 
'Mid the crowd of Gaul's war- 
riors and sages ; 
And our forefathers grim, of gay 
Got a glimpse through the vista 
of ages — 

And it gladdened the 
hearts of the Gauls ! 

Such is the classical and genial range of thought in which 
Berauger loves to indulge, amid the unpretending effusions 
of a professed drinking song ; embodying his noble and pa- 
triotic aspirations in the simple form of an historical auec- 
dote, or a light and fanciful allegory. He abounds 

V 2 




philanthropic sentiments and generous outbursts of pas- 
sionate eloquence, vrhich come on the feelings unexpectedly, 
and never fail to produce a corresponding excitement in the 
heart of the listener. I shall shortly return to his glorious 
canticles ; but meantime, as vre are on the chapter of wine, 
by way of contrast to the style of Bcranger, I may be al- 
lowed to introduce a drinking ode of a totally different cha- 
racter, and which, from its odd and original conceptions, 
and harmless jocularity, I think deserving of notice. It is. 
besides, of more ancient date ; and gives an idea of what 
songs preceded those of Beranger. 

%ti iSlogcS tJe I'iEau. 

II pleut ! il pleut enfin ! 

Et la vigiic alteree 

Va se voir restaureo 
Par un bienfait divin. 
Dc I'eau chantous la gloii'c, 

On la meprise en vain, 
C'est I'eau qvii nous fait boii-e 

Du vin ! du vin ! du vin ! 

C'est par I'eau, j'en convieu?, 

Que Dicu fit le deluge ; 

Mais ce souverain Juge 
Mit le mal pr&s du bieu ! 
Du deluge I'histoirc 

Fait naitrc le raisin ; 
C'est I'eau qui nous fait boirc 

Du vin ! du vin ! du vin ! 

Ah ! combien je jouis 
Quand la riviere ap'porte 
Des vins de toute sortc 

Et de tous Ics pays ! 

Ma cave est mon ai-moirc — 
A 1' instant tout est plcin ; 

C'est I'eau qiii nous fait boire 
Du vin ! du vin ! du vin ! 

Par un tems sec et beau 
Le meunier du village, 
Se morfond sans ouvrage, 

H ne boit que do I'cciu ; 

Wiim Bthtov to ^atcr. 

AiE — " Life let us cherish." 

Eain best doth nourish 

Earth's pride, the budding vine ! 
Grrapes best vriLl flourish 

On which the dewdrops slune. 
Then why should water meet with scorn, 

Or why its claim to praise resign ? 
"When from that bomiteous soui'ce is bora 

The vine ! the vine ! the vine ! 

Eain best disposes 

Eartli for each blossom and each bud ; 
True, we are told by Moses, 

Once it brought on " a flood :" 
But while tliat flood did all immerse, 

All save old Noah's holy line, 
Pray read the chapter and the verse — 

The vine is there ! the vme ! 

Wine by water-carnage 

Round the globe is best conveyed ; 
Then wliy disparage 

A path for old Bacchus made ? 
When in our docts the cargo lands 

"N^liicli fox'cign merchants hcreconsigUj 
The wine's red empire wide expands — 

The vine ! tlic vine ! the vine ! 

Rain malces the miller 

Work his glad wheel the livelong daj' ; 
Rain briHgs the siller. 

And drives dull cai'e away : 


H rentre dans sa gloire For without rain he lacks the stream, 

Quand I'eau rentre au And fain o'er watery cups must pine ; 

moulin ; But when it rains, he courts, I deem, 

C'est I'eau qui lui fait boire The vine ! the vine ! the vine !* 
Du via ! du vin ! du vin ! 

Faut-il un trait nouveau ? Though all good judges 

Mes amis, je le guette ; Water's worth now understand, 

Vojez a la guinguette Mark yon duel who di'udges 

Entrer ce porteur d'eau ! With buckets in each hand ; 

II y perd la memoire He tods with water through the town, 

Des travaux du matin ; Untd. he spies a certaia " sign," 

C'est I'eau qui lui fait bone Wliere entering, all his laboiir done, 

Du via ! du via ! du vin ! He di'aias thy juice, O viae ! 

Mais a vous chanter I'eau But }xire water smging 

Je sens que je m'altere ; Dries full soon the poet's tongue ; 

Donnez moi vite une verre So crown all by bringiag 
Du doux jus du tonneau — A draught drawn from the bung 

Ce vin vient de la Lone, Of yonder cask, that wine contains 

Oubien desbords duEhin; Of Loire's good vintage or the Ehine 

C'est I'eau qui nous fait boire Queen of whose teemiag margin reigns 

Du vin ! du vin ! du vin ! The vine ! the vine ! the vine ! 

A " water-poefc" is a poor creature in general, and though 
limpid and lucid enough, the foregoing runs at a very low 
level. Something more lofty in lyrics and more in the Pin- 
daric vein ought to follow ; for though the old Theban him- 
self opens by striking a key-note about the excellence of 
that element, he soon soars upward far above low-water 
mark, and is lost in the clouds — 

"•Multa Dirceum levat am-a cycniun ;" 

yet, in his highest flight, has he ever been wafted on more 
daring and vigorous pinions than Beranger ? This \\ill be 
at once seen. Search the racing calendar of the Olympic 
turf for as many olympiads as you please, and in the horse- 
poetry you will find nothing better than the " Cossack's 
Address to liis Charger." 

* Tliis idea, containing an apparent paradox, has been frequently 
worked up in the quaint wi-iting of the middle ages. There is an old 
Jesuits' riddle, which I learnt among other wise saws at their colleges, 
fj'oni which it will appear that this Miller is a regular Joe. 

1 " Suave bibo vinum quoties mihi suppetit -anda ; 
Undaque si dcsit, quid bibo ?" 

A'. " Tristis aquam !" 


He Ci)ant Bu Cosaque. 

Viens, mon coursier, noble ami du Cosaque, 

Vole au signal des trompettea du nord ; 
Prompt au pillage, intrepide a I'attaque, 

Prete sous moi des ailes a la mort. 
L'or n'enricliit ni ton freui ni ta selle, 

Mais attends tout du prix de mes exploits : 
Hennis d'orgueil, 6 mon coursier fidele, 

Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois. 

La paix qui fuit m'abandonne tes guides, 

La vieUle Europe a perdu ses ramparts ; 
Viens de tresors combler mes mains avides, 

Viens reposer dans 1' asile des arts, 
Hetom'ne boii-e a la Seine rebelle, 

Ou, tout sanglant, tu t'es lave deux fois ; 
Hennis d'orgueil, 6 mon coursier fidele, 

Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois. 

Comme en im fort, princes, nobles, et pretre-:-, 

Tons assieges par leurs sujets souffi'ans, 
Nous ont crie : Venez, soyez nos maitres — 

!Nous serons serfs pour demeurer tyrans I 
J'ai pris ma lance, et tous vont devant elle 

Humilier, et le sceptre et la croix : 
Hennis d'oi'gueil, 6 mon coursier fidele, 

Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois. 

J'ai d'un geant vu le fantome immense 

Sur nos bivouacs fixer un oeU ardent ; 
H s'eci'ia : Mon regne recommence ; 

Et de sa liache il moutrait I'Occident ; 
Du roi des Huns c'etait I'ombre immortelle j 

Fils d'Attila, j'obeis ;\ sa voix 
Hennis d'orgueil, 6 mon coursier fidele, 

Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois. 

Tout cet eclat dont I'Europe est si fi^re. 

Tout ce savoir qui ne la defend pas, 
S'engloutira dans les flots de poussiore 

Qu'autour de moi vont soulever tes pas 
Efface, efface, en la coiu'se nouvelle, 

Temples, palais, mceurs, souvenirs, et lois 
Hennis d'orgucU, 6 mon coursier fidele, 

Et foule aux pi 5d3 les peuples et les rois. 


Cf)e B»on5 of ti)e Co^^acfe. 

Come, arouse thee up, my gallant horse, and bear thy rider on ! 
The comrade thou, and the friend, I trow, of the dweller on the 

Pillage and Death have spread then* wings ! 'tis the hour to hie 

thee forth. 
And witli thy hoofs an echo wake to the trumpets of the North ! 
Nor gems nor gold do men behold upon thy saddle-tree ; 
But earth affords the wealth of lords for thy master and for thee. 
Then fiercely neigh, my charger grey ! — thy chest is proud and 

ample ; 
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and the pride of her 

heroes trample ! 

Surope is weak — she hath gi-own old — 'her bulwarks are laid low ; 
She is loath to hear the blast of war — she shrinketh from a foe ! 
Come, in oiu* tiu-u, let us sojourn m her goodly haimts of joy — 
In the pillar'd porch to wave the torch, and her palaces destroy ! 
Proud as when first thou slak'dst thy thii-st in the flow of conquer'd 

Aye shalt thou lave, within that wave, thy blood-red flanks again. 
Then fiercely neigh, my gallant grey ! — thy chest is strong and 

ample ! 
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and the pride of her 

heroes trample ! 

Kings are beleaguer'd on their tlirones by theu* own vassal crew ; 
And ill their den quake noblemen, and priests are bearded too ; 
And loud they yelp for the Cossacks' help to keep theu* bondsmen 

And they think it meet, wliile they kiss ottr feet, to wear a tyrant's 

crown ! 
The sceptre now to my lance shall bow, and the crosier and the cross 
Shall bend alike, when I lift my pike, and aloft that sceptse 

toss ! 
Then proudly neigh, my gallant grey ! — thy chest is broad and 

ample ; 
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and the pride of her 

heroes trample ! 

In a night of storm I have seen a form ! — and the figure was a GiAlfT, 

And his eye was bent on the Cossack's tent, and his look was aU de- 
fiant ; 

Kingly his crest — and towards the West with liis battle-axe he 
pomtcd ; 

And the "form" I saw u-as Attila! of this earth the scourge 


From the Cossack's camp let the horseman's tramp the coming crash 

annomice ; 
Let the nilture whet his beak sharp set, on the carrion field to pounce ; 
And proudly neigh, my charger grey ! — O ! thy chest is broad and 

ample ; 
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and the pride of her 

heroes trample ! 

What boots old Europe's boasted fame, on which she builds rehance, 
Wlien the K^orth shall lamich its avalanche on her works of art and 

science ? 
Hath she not wept her cities swept by oui* hordes of trampling 

staUions ? 
And tower and arch cmsh'd in the march of our barbarous battahons ? 
Can ive not wield oiu- fathers' shield ? the same war-hatchet handle ? 
Do our blades want length, or the reapers' strength, for the harvest 

of the Vandal ? 
Then proudly neigh, my gallant gi'cy, for thy chest is strong and 

ample ; 
And thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and the pride of 

her heroes trample ! 

In tlie foregoing glorious song of the Cossack to liis 
Horse, Berauger appears to me to have signally evinced that 
peculiar talent discoverable in most of his lyrical imperson- 
ations, which enables him so completely to ideutify himself 
with the character he imdertakes to portray, that the poet 
is lost sight of in the all-absorbing splendour of the theme. 
Here we have the mind hurried away with irresistible grasp, 
and flung down among the wild scenery of the river Don, 
amid the tents of the Scythians and an encampment of the 
North. If we are sufficientlj^ dull to resist the impulse that 
would transport our rapt soul to the region of the poet's 
inspiration, still, even on the quiet tympanum of our efie- 
miuate ear, there cometh the sound of a barbarian cavalry, 
heard most fearfully distinct, thundering along the rapid 
and sonorous march of the stanza : the terrific spectre of 
the King of tlie Huns fro^vns on our startled foncy : and 
we look on this sudden outpouring of Bcranger's tremendous 
poetry with the sensation of Virgil's shepherd, awed at the 
torrent that sweeps down fi'om the Apennines, — 

" Stupet inscius alto 
Accipicns sonitum saxi dc ycrtice pastor." 

There is more where that came from. And if, instead of 


•oriental imagery and " barbaric pearl and gold," camels, 
palm-trees, bulbuls, houris, frankincense, silver veils, and 
other gewgaws with which Tom Moore has glutted the 
market of literature in his " Lalla Eookh," we could pre- 
vail on our poetasters to use sterner stufi", to dig the iron 
mines of the North, and send their Pegasus to a ^Yeek's 
training among the Cossacks, rely on it we should have more 
vigour and energy in the bone and muscle of the winged 
animal. Drawing-room poets should partake of the rough 
diet aud masculine beverage of this hardy tribe, whose 
cookery has been described in " Hudibras," and of whom 
the swan of Mantua gently singeth with becoming admir- 
ation : 

" Efc lac concretum cum sauguiae potat eqvuno." 

Lord. Byron is never more spirited and vigorous than 
when he recounts the catastrophe of Mazeppa ; and in the 
whole of the sublime rhapsody of " Childe Harold," there 
is not a line (where all breathes the loftiest enthusiasm) to 
be compared to his northern slave, 

" Butchered to make a Roman holyday !" 

He is truly great, when, in the fulness of prophetic inspi- 
ration, he calls on the Goths to " arise and glut their ire !" 
However, let none woo the muse of the Korth, without 
solid capabilities : if Moore were to present himself to the 
nymph's notice, I fear he would catch a Tartar. 

The " Songs of France," properly so called, exhibit a fund 
of inexhaustible good-humour, at the same time that they 
are fraught with the most exalted philosophy. Addison 
has written a "commentary" on the ballad of " Chevj' 
Chase ;" and the public is indebted to him for having re- 
vealed the recondite value of that excellent old chant : but 
there is a Prencli lyrical composition coeval with the En- 
iglish ballad aforesaid, and containing at least an equal 
[quantity of contemporary wisdom. The opening verses may 
give a specimen of its wonderful range of thought. The^ 
rim thus : 

" Le bon roy Dagobcrt 
Avait mis sa culottc a TcnTers : 
Le bon Saint Eloy 


Lui dit, ' mou roy ! 

Votre majeste 

S'est uaal culotte !' 

' Eh bien,' dit ce bon roy, 

' Je vais la remettre li I'endroit.' "* 

I do not, as in other cases, follow up this French quota- 
tion by a literal version of its meaning in English, for several 
reasons ; of which the principal is, that I intend to revert 
to the song itself in my second chapter, when I shall come 
to treat of " frogs" and " wooden shoes." But it may be 
well to instruct the superficial reader, that in this apparently 
simple stanza there is a deep blow aimed at the imbecility 
of the then reigning monarch ; and that under the culotte 
there lieth much hidden mystery, explained by one Sartor 
Eesartus, Professor Teufelsdi'ockh, a German philosopher. 

Confining myself, therefore, for the present, to wine and 
war, I proceed to give a notable loar-song, of which the tune 

* Dagobert II., liing of Australisia, was conveyed away in liis infancy 
to Ireland, according to the historians of the couutiy, by orders of a 
designing maire du 2}alcns, who wished to get rid of him. (See Mezeray, 
Hist, de Fran. ; the Jesuit Daniel, Hist. Franc. ; and Abbe Mac Geoghe- 
han, Hist. d'Irlande.) He was educated at the school of Lismore, so 
celebrated by the venerable Bcde as a college of European reputation. 
His pecidiar manner of wearing liis trowsers woidd seem to have been 
learned in Cork. St. Eloi was a brassfoundor and a tinker. He is the 
patron of the Dublin corporation guild of smiths, who call him (igno- 
rantly) St. Loy. This saint was a good Latin poet. Tlie king, one day 
going into his chariot, a chunsy contrivance, described by Eoileau — 

" Quatre bceufs atteles, d'un pas tranquU et lent, 
Promenaicnt dans Paris le monarque indolent" — 

was, as usual, attended by his favoui'ite, Eloi, and jokingly asked him 
to make a couplet extempore before the drive. Eloi stipulated for the 
wages of song ; and having got a promise of the two oxen, launched out 
into the following — 

" Ascendit Dagobert, veniat bos unus ct alter 
In nostinim stabulum, carpere ibi pabidum !" 

Iving Dagobert was not a bad hand at Latin verses himself, for he is 
supposed to have written that exquisite elegy sung at tlic dirge for ths 
dead — 

"Dies irce, dies ilia 
Solvct sa;chun in favilla, 
Teste David cum sibylla," &c. 

THE S02fGS or FEA^CE. 


is well known througliout Europe, but the words and the 
poetry are on the point of being eiiaced from the superficial 
memory of this ilimsy generation. By my recording them 
in these papers, posterity will not be deprived of their racy 
humour and exquisite naivete : nor shaR a future age be re- 
duced to confess with the interlocutor in the " Eclogues," " nu- 
mei'os memini, si verba tenerem.''' Who has not hummed in his 
lifetime the immortal air of Male nor ck ? Still, if the best 
antiquary were called on to supply the original poetic com- 
position, such as it burst on the world in the decline of the 
classic era of Queen Anne and Louis XIV., I fear he would 
be unable to gratify the curiosity of an eager public in so 
interesting an inquiiy. Eor many reasons, therefore, it is 
highly meet and proper that I should consign it to the im- 
perishable tablets of these written memorials : and here, then, 
followeth the song of the lamentable death of the illustrious 
John Churchill, which did not take place, by some mistake, 
but Avas nevertheless celebrated as follows : 

Malbrouck s'en va-t-en guerre, 
lAi rou ton, ton ton, mi ron taiiie, 
Malbi'ouck s'en va-t-eu guerre, 
On u'scait quand il reviendra. \_ter. 

II reviendi-a a Paques, 

Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron tauie, 

II reviendra a Paques, 

Ou a la Trinite. \_ter. 

La Triuite se passe, 

Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine. 

La Trinite se passe, 

Malbrouck no revient pas. [ter. 

Madame a sa tour monte, 

Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 

Madame a sa tour monte, 

Le plus haut qu' on peut monter . [ter. 

EUe Toit venir un page, 

Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 

EUe voit venir lai page 

De noir tout babillc. [/er. 


Malbrouck, the prince of com- 
Is gone to the war iu Flanders ; 
His fame is like Alexander's ; 
But when will he come home ? [ier. 

Perhaps at Trinity Feast, or 
Perhaps he may come at Easter. 
Egad ! lie had better make haste, or 
We fear he may never come. [ter. 

For " Trinity Feast" is over, 
And has brought no news from 

Dover ; 
And Easter is past, moreover ; 
And Malbrouck still delays, [ter. 

Milady in her watch-tower 
Spends many a pensive hour, 
Not well knowing why or how her 
Dear lord from England stays, [ter. 

While sitting quite forlorn in 
That tower, she spies returning 
A page clad in deep mourning, 
With faintuig steps and slow. [ter. 



Mon page, 6 mon beau page, 
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 
Mon page, 6 mon beau page. 
Quelle nouvelle apportez ? ^ter. 

La nouvelle que j'apporte, 

Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 

La nouvelle que j'apporte 

Vos beaux yens vont pleui-er. [<er. 

Monsieur Malbrouek est mort, 
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 
Monsieui' Malbrouek est mort, 
Est mort et enterre.* yer. 

Je I'ai vu porter en terre. 

Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 

Je I'ai vu porter en terre 

Par quatrez' ofEciers. [<er. 

L'un portait son grand sabre. 
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 
L'un portait son grand sabre, 
L' autre son boucUer. [^ter. 

" O page, prithee, come faster 
Wlaat news do you bring of your 

master ? 
I fear thei'e is some disaster. 
Your looks are so full of woe." Iter. 

" The news I bring, fair lady," 
With sorro\vful accent said he, 
" Is one you are not ready 
So soon, alas ! to hear. \_fe)'. 

Lut since to speak I'm hm-ried," 
Added this page, quite flurried, 
"Malbrouek is deadandburied!" — 
(And here he shed a tear.) [_ier. 

"He's dead! he's dead as a herring! 
For I beheld liis ' herring^ 
And foiu- officers transferring 
His corpse away from the field. [<er. 

One officer carried his sabre. 
And he carried it not without la- 
Much envying his next neighbour, 
Who only bore a shield. \ter. 

The third was hehnet-bcarer — 
That helmet wliich on its weai'er 
Fnied all who saw with terror, 
And covered a hero's brains, [ter. 

Now, having got so far, I 
Find that (by the Lord Harry !) 
The fourth is left nothing to carry ; 
So there the thing remains." \_ter. 

Le troisieme son casque, 
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 
Lc troisieme son casque. 
Panache renverse. \jer. 

L'autre, jene s(;ais pas bien, 
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine, 
L'autre, je ne s^ais pas bien, 
Mais je crois qu'il ne portait rien. 

Sucli, plilegmatic inhabitants of these countries ! is the 
celebrated funeral soug of INlalbrouck. It is what we would 
in Ireland call a keen over the dead, witlt this dillerence, 
that the lamented deceased is, among us, generally dead 
outright, with a hole in his skull ; whereas the subject of 
■(,he pathetic elegy of " JMonsieur" was, at the time of its 
composition, both aUve and kicking all before him. It may 
not be vinintei'esting to learn, that both the time and the 
words were composed as a " lullaby" to set the infant Dau- 

* Kf trni ridrpo/cXoc' vekvoq Srj a[i<pifiaxovrai 

Fv^irov arap ra yt Ttv)(^t' t^ti KopvOaioXog 'Esrwp, 


pTun to sleep ; and tliat, having succeeded in the object of 
soporific efficacy, the poetess (for some make Madame de 
Sevigne the authoress of " Malbrouck," she being a sort of 
L. E. L, in her day) deemed historical accuracy a minor 
consideration. It is a fact, that this tune is the only one 
relished by the South Sea islanders, who find it " most 
musical, most melancholy." Chateaubriand, in his Itineraire 
de Jerusalem, says the air was brought from Palestine by 

As we have just given a war-song, or a lullaby, I shall 
introduce a different subject, to avoid monotony. I shall 
therefore give the poet Beranger's famous ode to Dr. Lard- 
ner, concerning his Cyclopaedia. The occasion which gave 
rise to this lyrical effusion was the recent trip of Dionysius 
Lardner to Paris, and his proposal (conveyed through Dr. 
Bowring) to Beranger, of a handsome remuneration, if the 
poet would sing or say a good word about his " Cabinet Cyclo- 
paedia," which Dr. Bowring translated as " son Encyclopedie 
des Cabinets" (d'aisance ?) Lardner gave the poet a dm Tier 
on the strength of the expected commendatory poem, when 
the following song was composed aft^r the thii'd bottle : 

IL*(!Bpee tit QamocIoS. Clje aSiniur of i3ioupsiit5. 

De Damocles I'epee est bien eonnue, ! ■n-lio hath not heard of the sword 

En songe a table il m'a semble la which old Dennis 

voir ; Hung over the head of a Stoic ? 

Sous cette epee et menacante et Aiid how the stern sage bore that 

nue, temble menace 

Denis I'ancien me forcait a m'as- With a fortitude not quite he- 

seou\ roic ? 

Je m'ecriais que mon destin s'a- There's a Dennis the "tyrant of 

cheve — Cecily"* hight, 

La coupe en maia, au doux bruit (Most sincerely I pity his lady, 

ces concerts, ah !) 

O vieux Denis, je me ris de ton Now this Dennis is doomed for Ids 

glaive, sins to indite 

Je bois, je chante, et je sifflc tes A "Cabii»«t Cyclopcedia." 

vers ! 

" Que du mcpris la liaine au moins lie pressed me to dine, and ha 
me sauve !" placed on my head 

Dit ce pedant, qui rompt un fd An appropriate orai-land of poppies; 
legci" ; 

* Dr. L. had then a bill before the Lords for divor?« from his first 
wife, Cecilia Flood, niece of the e«>kbrated Irish orator. 


Le fer pesant tombe sur ma tete Aiid, lo ! from the ceiling thcro 
chauve, hung by a tlu'ead 

J'entends ces mots, "Denis S9ait A bale of imsaleable copies. 

se venger !" " Puff my wi-itings," he cried, " or 
Me voila mort et poursuivant mon yom- skull sliall be crushed !" 

reve — " That I cannot," I answered, -with 
La coupe en main, je rt'pete aux honesty flushed. 

enfers, " Be your name Dionysius or 
O vieux Denis, je me ris de ton Thady, ah ! 

glaive, Old Dennis, my boy, though I were 
Je bois, je chante, et je siffle tes to enjoy 

vers ! But one glass and one song, still 

one laugh, loud and long, 
I should have at your Cyclopaedia.' ' 

So adieu, Dr. Lardner, for the present, ass in prasenti ; 
and turn we to other topics of song. 

The eye of the connoisseur has no doubt detected sundry 
latent indications of the poet's consummate drollery ; but 
it is in ennobling insignificant subjects by reference to his- 
torical anecdote and classic allegory, that the delicate tact 
and singular ability of Bcranger are to be admired. It will 
be in the recollection of those who have read the accom- 
plished fabulist of Eome, Phsedi'us, that he commends Si- 
monides of Cos for his stratagem, when hired to sing the 
praise of some obscure candidate for the honours of the 
Olympic race-course. The bard, finding no material for 
verse in the life of his vulgar hero, launched into an enco- 
mium on Castor and Pollux, twin-brothers of the olden turf. 
Be'ranger thus exemplifies his most homely subject by the 
admixture of Greek and Koman associations. The original 
is rather too long to be transcribed here ; and as my trans- 
lation is not, in this case, a literal version, the less it is con- 
fronted with its prototype the better. The last stanza I do 
not pretend to understand rightly, so I put it at the bottom 
of the page in a note,* supposing that my readers may not 
be so blind as I confess I am concerning this intricate and 
enigmatical passage of the ode. 

* " Diogenc ! sous ton mantcau, 

Libre et content, jo ris, jo bois, sans gene ; 

Libre et content, jc roulc mon tonneau! 
Lauterne en main, dans rAthencs modcrne 

Chercher uu homme est un dosscin fort beau ! 
Mais quand lo soir voit briller ma lanterne, 

C'est aux amoiu's qu'elle scrt de flambeau." 


According to Beranger, Songster. 

My dwelling is ample, 

And I've set an example 
For all lovers of wine to follow 

If my home you slioidd ask, 

I have di'ain'd out a cask, 
And I dwell in the fragrant hollow! 
A disciple am I of Diogenes — 
O ! his tub a most classical lodging is ! 
'Tis a beautiful alcove for thinking ; 
Tis, besides, a cool grotto for drinking: 
Moreover, the parish tlu'oughout 
You can readily roll it about. 
O! the berth 

For a lover of mu-th 
To revel in jokes, and to lodge in ease, 
Is the classical tub of Diogenes ! 

In pohtics I'm no adept. 
And into my tub when I've crept, 
They may canvass in vain for my vote. 
Por besides, after all the great cry and hubbub, 
Refoem gave no "ten pound franchise" to my tub 

So yoiu' " bill" I don't value a groat ! 
And as for that idol of filth and vulgarity. 
Adorned now-a-days, and yclept Popularity, 
To my home 
Should it come. 
And my hogshead's bright apertiu'e darken, 
Think not to such summons I'd heai'ken. 
No ! I'd say to that goide grim and gaunt, 
Vile phantom, avaimt ! 
Get thee out of my sight ! 
For thy clumsy opacity shuts out the hglit 
Of the gay glorious sun 
From my classical tun, 
Wliere a hater of cant and a lover of fun 
Fain woidd I'cvcl in mirtli, and would lo Ige in ease — 
The classical tub of Diogenes ! 

In the park of St. Cloud there stares at you 
A pillar or statue 
Of my liege, the piiilosoplier cynical : 
Tiiere he stands on a pinnacle,' 


And bis lantern is placed on the ground, 

While, -with both eyes fixed wholly on 

The favourite haiuit of Napoleon, 
" A MAif !" he exclaims, "by the powers, I have found!" 
33ut for me, when at eve I go sauatering 
On the boulevards of Athens, "Love" carries my lantern j 
And, egad ! though I walk most demiu'cly, 
For a man I'm not looking fuU sm-ely; 
Nay, I'm sometimes brouglit drunk home. 
Like honest Jack Reeve, or hke honest Tom Duncombc. 
O ! the nest 
For a lover of jest 

To revel in fun, and to lodge in ease, 

Is the classical tub of Diogenes ; 

So much for tlie poet's capability of embellisliiug what 
IS vulgar, by the magic wand of antique recollections : pro- 
prie communia dicere, is a secret as rare as ever. When 
Hercules took a distaff in hand, he made but a poor spinner, 
and broke all the threads, to the amusement of his mistress; 
B Granger would have gracefully gone througli even that 
minor accomplishment, at the same time that the war-club 
and the battle-axe lost nothmg of then* power when wielded 
by his hand. Such is the versatility of genius ! 

Can any thing compare with the follo\ving ode of this 
very songster of " the tub," who herein shews strikingly 
with what facility he can diversify his style, vary his tone, 
run " through each mood of the lyre, a master in all !" 

ICt iSicjcon iJHfs'j^agcr. CIjc Cnrn'fr--So&e of Sltljcns!. 

Chanson, 1822. A Dream, 1822. 

L'AibriUait, etma jeunemaitrcssc Helen sat by my side, and I held 

Chantait les dieux dans la Greco To her lip the gay cup in my 

oublies ; bower, 

Nous comparions notro France ii When a bird at our feet we beheld, 

la Gruee, As we talked of old Greece in 

Quand un pigeon vint s'abattrc that hour ; 

^ nos pieds. And his wing bore a burden of 

Nroris decouvi-e un billet sous son love, 

aile ; To some fair one the secret soul 

II le portait vers des foyers telling — 

cheris — O druik of my cup, carrier-dove ! 

Bois dans ma coupe, O messagcr And sleep on the bosona of 

fidele ! H«^liin. 
Et dors en palx sur le sein d*^ 

THE so:yas or teakce. 


II est tombe, las d'un trop-loiig 
voyage ; 
Eendons-lui vite et force et li- 
D'un trafEquant rcmplit-il le mes- 
Va-t-il d'amoiu' parler a la 
beaute ? 
Pcut-etre il porte au nid qiu Ic 
Les derniers rceiix d'infortuncs 
proscrits — 
Bois dans ma conpc, messaa-ci" 
fidele ! 
Et dors en paix snr le sein de 

Mais du billet qnelques mots mo 
font croii'c 
Qu'il est en France a, des Grecs 
appoi'te ; 
II vient d'Athenes ; il doit parler 
de gloii'e ; 
Lisons-le done par droit de pa- 
rente — 
" Athene est libre .'" Amis, quelle 
nouvelle ! 
Que de lauriers tout-a-coup ro- 
il euris — 
Bois dans ma coupe, O messagcr 
fidele ! 
Et dors en paix sur le sein do 

Athene est libre I Ah ! buvons a la 
Grecc ! 
Nseris, roici de nouvcairs demi- 
dieux ! 
L'Europe en vain, tremblante de 
Desheritait ces aines glorieux. 
lis sont vainqucurs ! Atheues, tou- 
jours belle, 
N'est plus vouee au cidte des 
debris ! — 
Bois dans ma coui^e, O messagcr 
fidele ! 
Et dors en paix sur le seiu do 

Thou art tired — rest awhile, and 
Thou shalt soar, -with new energy 
To the land of that far-off fair one, 
If such be tlie task thou'rt ful- 
filling ; 
But perhaps thou dost waft the 
last word 
Of despair, wrung from valour 
and duty — 
Then drink of mv cup, can-icr- 
bird ! 
And sleep on the bosom of 

Ha ! these lines are from Greece ! 
Well I knew 
The loved idiom ! Be mine the 
Son ofFrance,rmachild of Greece 
And a kinsman will brook no 
" Greece is/ree.'" aU the gods have 
To fdl up our joy's brimming 
measme — 
drink of my cup, carrier bird ! 
And sleep on the bosom of Plea- 

Greece is free ! Let us drink to that 
To our elders in fame ! Did ye 
Thus to striigglc alone, glorious 
band ! 
Erom whose sires we our free- 
dom inherit ? 
The old glories, which kings 
wo\dd destroy, 
Greece regahis, never, never to 
lose 'em ! 
O drink of my cup, bird of joy ! 
And sleep on my Helen's soft 



Athene est lihre ! O, muse des Pin- 
Hepreiids ton scepti'e, et ta lyre, 
et ta Toix ! 
Athene est libre, en depit des bar- 
bares ! 
Athene est libre, en depit denos 
rois ! 
Que I'univers toujoui's, instruit par 
Eetrouve encore Athenes dans 
Paris — 
Uois dans ma coupe. O messager 
fidele ! 
Et dors en pais sur le sein de K'iEris. 

Beau Toyagem* du pays des Hel- 
Eepose-toi ; puis role ^ tcs 
amours ! 
Yole, et bientot, reporte dans 
Eeviens braver et tyrans et rau- 
A tant des rois dout le trone chan- 
D'un peuple libre apporte en- 
core les oris — 
Bois dans ma coupe, O messager 
fidele ! 
Et dors en paix sur le sein dcNseris. 

After this specimen of Beraugev's poetic powers in the 
sentimental line, I shall take leave of him for the remainder 
of this chapter ; promisinpf, however, to draw largely on his 
inexhaustible exchequer when next I levy my contributions 
on the Frencli. But I cannot get out of this refined and 
delicate mood of quotations without indulging in the luxury 
of one more baHad, an exquisite one, from the pen of my 
favourite Millevoye. Poor young fellow ! lie died when full 
of promise, in early life ; and these are the last lines his pale 
hand tracedou paper,a few days before he expired in the pretty 
village of Neuilly, near Paris, whither he had been ordered 
by the physician, in hopes of prolonging, by country air, a 
life so dear to the Muses. Listen to the notes of the swan ! 

* It would be an insult to the classic scholar to remind him that 
Beranger has taken the hint of this song from Anacreon's Y.pacr^ni} 
T^tXiia^ TToOev, ■;ro6iv ■KtTaaani, ode 15, {Juxfa cod. Talic.) — Pjjout. 

iluse of Athens ! thy lyi-e quick 
resume ! 
None tliy anthem of freedom 
shall hinder : 
Give Anacrcon joy in his tomb, 

Audgladden the ashes of Pindar. 
Helen ! fold that bright bii-d to tliy 
Nor permit hiui henceforth to 
desert you — 
O drink of my cup, winged guest ! 
And sleep ou the bosom of 

But no, he must hie to his home. 
To the nest where his bride is 
awaitmg ; 
Soon again to oiu: climate he'll 
The yovmg glories of Athens re- 
The baseness of kings to reprove. 
To blush om* vile rulers com- 
pelling ! — 
Tlicn drink of my goblet, dove! 
And sleep ou the breast of my 



^n't| pour filoi. 3ilomanfc. 

Neuilly, Odobre, 1820. 

Dans la solitaire boiirgacle, 

Eevant a ses maux tristement, 
Languissait un pauvre malacle, 

])'un mal qui le va consumunt : 
II disait, " Grens de la chaumiere, 
"^'oici I'heure de la priere, 

Et le tintement du befroi ; 

Vous qui priez, priez pour moi ! 

J9rni) for iHc. ^ SSallntJ. 

Bij Millevoye, on his Death-bed at 
the Village of Neuilly. 

Silent, remote, tliis hamlet seems — 
How liush'd the breeze ! the eve 
how cahn ! 
Light through my dymg chamber 
But hope comes not, nor heal- 
ing balm. 
Kind villagers ! God bless joui' 
Hark ! 'tis for prayer — the even- 
ing beU — 
Oh, stay ! and near my dying bed, 
Maiden, for me yom- rosary tell ! 

When leaves shall strew the water- 
In the sad close of autumu drear. 
Say, " The sick youth is freed from 
Tlie pangs and wo he suffered 
Somayye speak ofhim that's gone; 
But when yom* belfry tolls my 
Pray for the soul of that lost one — 
Maiden, for mcyovu' rosary tell ! 

Oh ! pity her, in sable robe, 

Wlio to my grassy grave will come: 
ISiOv seekahidden wound to probe — 
She was my love ! — j^oint out my 
tomb ; 
Tell her my life should have been 
hers — 
'Twas but a day ! — God'swill ! — 
'tis well : 
Eut weep with her, kind villagers ! 
Maiden, for me yom* rosary tell ! 

Simple, uuaflected, tliis is true poetry, and goes to the 
heart. Oue ballad like the foregoing is worth a cart-load of 
soi-disant elegies, monodies, soliloquies, and " bards' lega- 
cies." Apropos of melodies, I just now recollect one in 
Tom's own style, which it would be a pity to keep from him 
i'o saye him the trouble of appropriating ife I have done the 


Mais quand vous verrez la cascade 
S'ombragerde sombres rameaui, 

Tons direz, ' Le jeime malade 
Est delivre de tous ses maux.' 

Alors revenez sur cette rive, 

Chanter la complamte na'ive, 
Et quand tintera le befroi, 
Vous qui priez, priez pour moi ! 

3Ia eompagne, ma seule amie, 

Digne objetd'im constant amoiu'! 
Jo lui avais consacre ma vie, 

Helas ! je ne vis qu'un jour ! 
riaignez-la, gens de la chaiunierc, 
Lorsque, a I'heure de la priere, 

EUe viendi-a sous le befroi ; 

Vous qui priez, priez pom* moi!" 


job ; and it may challenge competition with his best concetti 
and most far-fetched similes. It is from an old troubadour 
called Pierre Eousard, from whom he has picked up many a 
good thing ere now. 

La poudre qui dans ce cristal Dear Tom, d'ye see the rill 
Le com-s ties heui-es nous retrace. Of sand within this phial ? 

Lorsque dans un petit caual It nins like in a mill, 
Soiivent elle passe et repasse. And tells time like a dial. 

!Fut Eonsard, qui, unjour, morbleu! That sand was once Ronsard, 

Par les beaux yeuxdesa CI jtandi'e Till Bessy D*** look'd at Lim.* 

Soudain fut transforme en feu, Her eye burnt up the bard — 

Et il n'en reste que la cendre. He's pulverised ! an atom I 

Cendre ! qui ne t'aiTetes jamais, Now at tliis tale so homd, 

Tu temoigneras une chose. Pray learn to keep your smile liid, 

C'est qu'ayant vu de tels attraits, !For Bessy's zone is " torrid," 
Le coeur onques ne repose. And fh-e is in her eyelid.f 

"Who, after tlais sample of French gallantry, will refuse 
to that merry nation the sceptre of supremacy in the de- 
partment of love-songs ? Indeed, the language of polite 
courtship is so redolent among us of French origin, that the 
thing speaks for itself. The servant-maid in the coui't of 
Pilate found out Peter to be from Gralilee by his accent ; 
and so is the dialect of genuine Gaul ever recognized by 
tlie fair. Petits soins — air distingu6 — faite au tour — na'ivet(' 
— billet doKX — affaire de cccur — boudoir^ &.Q. &c., and a thou- 
sand other expressions, have crept, in spite of us, into our 

* A gipsy had cautioned M. de la Mothc Tayer against going too 
near a dyke ; but in defiance of the prophecy he married a demoiseile 
De la Fosse : 

" In fovea qui te moriturum dixit haruspex 
Non mentitus erat ; conjugis ilia fiiit !" O. Y. 

t Bonsard has no claim to this ingenious concetto : it is to bo found 
amoi.g the poems of Jerome Amalthi, who flourished in the 14th centuiy. 
" Perspicuo in vitro pidvis qui dividit boras, 
Et vagus angustum srcpc recurrit iter, 
Olim erat Ak-ippus, qui, G-alla> ut vidit occllc-, 

Ai'sit, ct est ctcco factus ab igne cinis. 
IiTequietc cinis ! miserum tcstabere amanteiu 
Moix) tuo nulla posse quictc frui." 


cvery-day usage.* It was so witli the Eoniaus in refereuce 
to Greek, the favourite conversational vehicle of gallantry 
among the loungers along the Via Sacra : at least we have 
(to say nothing of Juvenal) the authority of that excellent 
critic, Quintilian, who informs us that his contemporaries, 
in their sonnets to the lioman ladies, stuffed their verses 
with Grreek terms. I think his words are : " Tanto est 
sermo Grreeus Latino jucundior, ut nostri poette, quoties 
cai'men dulce esse voluerunt, illorum id nominibus exor- 
nent." (Quint, xii. cap. 10, sec. 33.) And again, in another 
passage, he says (lib. x. cap. 1), "Ita ut mihi sermo Eo- 
manus non recipere videatur illaui solis concessam Atticis 
Venerem." This is the Arr/xoi/ /3Xscro;, Aristophanes (Nubes, 
117G). Addison, in his "Spectator," complains of the 
great number of military terms imported, during the Marl- 
Ijorough campaigns, from the fighting dictionary of France : 
tlie influx of this slang he considered as a great disgrace to 
liis fellow-countrymen, a humiliating badge of foreign con- 
quest not to be tolerated. Nevertheless, clievaux de frise — 
hors de comhat — aide de camp— depot — etat majoi — Irigade — 
and a host of other locutions, have taken such root in our 
soil, that it were vain to murmur at the circumstance of 
their foreign growth. 

]3y way of reprisals, since we have inflicted on them our 
budget of steamboat and railway nomenclature, I think it but 
fair to make some compensation to the French for all the sen- 
timental matters derived from their vocabulary ; and I there- 
fore conclude this first essay on their Songs by giving them 
a specimen of our own love-ditties, translated as well as 
my old hand can render the young feelings of passionate 
endearment into appropriate Fi'ench expression : 

Meet me by moonlight alone, Yicns au bosquet, ce soil-, sans 

And then I will tell you a tale temoin, 

JIust be told by the light of the Dans le vallon, au clair de la 

moon, lune ; 

In the grove at the end of the Ce que Ton t'y dira n'a bcsoin 
vale. Ki de joiu* ni d'oreille impor- 

* In King James I.'s reign a Latin play, enacted at Westminster 
School, has in the prologue, ^ hie habeas frencham qua possis viuccra 



remember! be sure to be there ; 
Tor though dearly the mooii- 

Hght I prize, 

1 care not for all in the air, 

If I -vrant the sweet light of 
thine eyes. 
Then meet me by moonlight 

Mais surtout rends-toi \h sar» 
Car la lime a bien moins de lu- 
Que I'amour n'en scait faire jaillir 
De ta languissante paupiere. 
Sois au bosquet au claii* de la 

Daylight was made for the gay, 
For the thoughtless, the heart- 
less, the fi'ce ; 
But there's somethiug about the 
moon's ray 
That is dearer to you, lore, and 
Oh! be sm'e to be there ! for I said 
I would shew to the niglit- 
flowers their queen. 
Kay, tm-n not aside that sweet 
head — 
'Tis the fairest that ever was 
Then meet me by moonliglit 

Pour les eoeurs sans amour le jour 
Le solcil aux froids pensers pre- 
side ; 
Mais la pale clarte de la nuit 

Favorise I'amant et le guide- 
Les fleurs que son disque argentin 
Colore, en toi verront leur reine. 
Quoi ! tu baisses ce regard divin, 
Jeune beaute, vi*aiment souve- 
raiue ? 
Rends-toi la done au claii' de 
la Imie, 

If au English lore-song can be so easily rendered into the 

plastic language of France by one to whom that flexible and 
harmonious idiom was not native (tliough hospitable), what 
must be its capabilities in the hands of those masters of 
the Gallic lyre, Victor Hugo, Lamartine, Chateaubriand, 
Delavigne, and Bi'ranger ? To their effusions I shall gladly 
dedicate a few more papers ; nor can I imagine any literary 
pursuit better calculated to beguile, in a pleasant and pro« 
litable fashion, the winter- eveuiuga that are approaching. 


No. VIII. 



Chaptee II. — "Women and Wooden Shoes. 

" Nell' estate all' ombra, nel inremo al fuoeo, 
Piugcr' per gloria, e poetar' per giuoeo." 

Saluator Ro'ia. 

Cool shade is summer's haunt, fu'eside Kovember's; 
The red red rose tlieu yields to glowing embers : 
Etchings by Dan Maclise then place before us ! 
Drawings of Cork ! to aid Prout's GaUic chorus. 

O. Y. 

In this gloomy montli our brethren of the " broad sheet," 
resigned to the anticipated casualties of the season, keep 
by them, in stereotype, announcements which never fail to 
be piit in requisition ; viz. " Death by Drowning," " Ex- 
traordinary Tog," " Melancholy Suicide," " Felo de se," 
Avith doleful headings borrowed from Young's " jS^ight 
Thoughts," Ovid's " Tristia," Hervey on Tombs, and Zim- 
merman on Solitude. There is much punctuality in this 
recurrence of the national dismals. Loug ago, Gfuy Faux 
considerately selected the fifth of November for despatch- 
ing the stupid and nnreformed senators of Grreat Britain : 
60 cold and comfortless a month being the most acceptable, 
he thought, that could be chosen for warming their ho- 
nourable house with a few seasonable faggots and barrels 
of gunpowder. Philanthropic citizen! Neither he nor Sir 
William Cougreve, of rocket celebrity — nor Friar Bacon, 
the original coucocter of "villanous saltpetre" — nor Parson 
]\[althus, the patentee of the "preventive check" — nor 
Dean Swift, tlie author of " A Modest Proposal for turning 
into Salt Provisions the OiTspring of the Irish Poor" — nor 
Brougliam, the originator of the new reform in the poor 


Jaws — nor Mr. O'Connell, the Belisarius of the poor-box, 
uud tlie stanch opponent of any provision for liis half-starved 
tributaries — will ever meet their reward in this world, nor 
even be appreciated or understood by their blind and un- 
grateful fellow-couutrymeii. Happily, however, for some 
of the above-mentioned Avorthies, there is a warm corner 
reserved, if not in Westminster Abbey, most certainly in 
"another place;" v^-here alone (God forgive us!), we in- 
cline to think, their merits can be suitably acknowledged. 

Sorrowful, indeed, would be the condition of mankind, 
it!, in addition to other sources of sublunary desolation over 
which we have no control, Father Prout Avore, like the sun, 
to obnubilate his disk, and withdraw the light of his coun- 
tenance from a disconsolate world : 

" Caput obscura nitidum ferrugine texit, 

Impiaque seternam timuerunt Bsecula cocteni." 

Then, indeed, would unmitigated darkness thicken the al- 
ready " palpable" obscure ; dulness place another pad-" Lock 
on the human iinderstanding," and knowledge be at one 
grand entrance fairly shut out. But such " disastrous 
twilight " shall not befall our planet, as long as there is 
MS. in "the chest" or shot in the locker. Generations 
yet unborn shall walk in the blaze of Front's wisdom, and the 
learned of our own day shall still continue to light the pipe 
of knowledge at the "focus of this luminary. So essential 
do we deem the continuance of his essays to the happiness 
of our contemporaries, that were we (quod Beus avertat I) 
to put a stop to our accustomed issues of " Prout paper," 
forgeries would instantly get into circulation ; a ialse ])aper 
ouxTency would be attempted; there would arise -vj/rjoo- 
Prouts : but they would deceive no one, much less t/ie elect. 
Parina of Cologne is obliged to caution the public, in the 
envelope of his long bottles, against spurious distillations 
of his wonderful water : " ]{owlaud," of Hatton Garden, 
iinds more than one " Oliver" vending a counterfeit " Ma- 
cassar." "VVe give notice, that no " Prout paper" is the 
real thing unless with label signed " Oliyeu Yoeke." 
'J'liere is a Bridgewater Treatise in circulation, said to bo 
fi'om the pen of one Doctor Prout ; 'tis a sheer hoax. An 
artist has also taken up the name ; but he must be an iin- 


poster, not known on Watergrassliill. Owing to tne -aw 
of celil)ac_7, "the Father" can have left behind him no 
children, or posterity whatever : therefore, none but himself 
can hope to be his parallel. "We are perfectly aware that 
lie may have "nephews," and other collateral descendants; 
for we admit the truth of that celebrated placard, or 1am- 
l)oon, stuck on Pasquin's statue in the reign of Pope Bor- 
ghese (Paul IV.) : 

" Cum factor rerum privaret semine clenim, 
In Satange votum successit turba nepotum ! " — i. e. 
" Of bantlings when our clergymen were freed from liaving bevies, 
There next arose, a crowd of woes, a mnltitiide of nevies .'" 

But should any audacious thief attempt to palm himself 
as a son of this venerable pastor, let him look sharp ; for 
TeiTy Callaghan, who is now in the London police (through 
the patronage of Feargus O'Connox'), will quickly collar the 
ruflian in the most inaccessible garret of Grub Street : to 
]n'ofane so respectable a signature, the fellow must be what 
Terry calls " a bad mimber intirely ;" what we English call 
a "jail-bird ;" what the French denominate a " v7-ai gibier 
de grcve ;" termed in Latin, " corvus patibularius " and by 
the Greeks, zazo-j zo^azoc y.azov uov. 

We have to acknowledge the receipt of a communication, 
referring to our " Songs of France," from the pen of the faceti- 
ous knight. Sir Charles Wetherell. Great men's pecidiarities 
attract no small share of public attention : thus, ex. gr. Xa- 
poleon's method of plimging his fore-finger and thumb into 
his waistcoat pocket, in lieu of a snuff-box, was the subject 
of much Eiu"opean commentary ; and one of the twelve 
Cfcsars was nicknamed Caligula from a peculiar sort of AVel- 
lington boot which he happened to fancy. (Suef. in vita.) 
Some poet has not scrupled to notice a feature in oiu- learned 
correspondent's habiliment, stating him to be 

" Much famed for length of sound sagacious speeches, 
More still for brevity of braceless b s," 

— a matter not quite irrelevant to the topic on which Sir 
Charles has favoured us with a line. 

" Aix-la-Chapelle, Ociuler 7. 

" Dear Torke, 

" I've just been here paying my devotions to 
the tomb of Chiu-lemague, and on my return "to my hotel I 


find 3'our last number on my table. "VThat tbe deuce do 
you mean by gi'V'ing a new and unbeard-of version of tbe 
excellent song on " Le bon Eoy Dagobert," wbo, you say, 
" avait mis sa culotte a. Venvers ;" wbereas all. good editions 
read"de trovers ;" vihich is quite a difierent sense, leclio 
lon(jc emendatior ; for he wore tbe garment, not inside out, 
but lorong side foremost. Again, it was not of Australesia that 
be Avas king, but of " Gralba braccata." Pray avoid similar 
blunders. " Tours in haste, 

" C. W-" 

Wishing him a pleasant tour through the Germanic con- 
federation, and hoping it may be long ere he reach that goal 
of all liuman pilgrimage, the diet of TVorms, we bow to the 
baronet's opinion, and stand corrected. 


Nov. Isl, 1S34. 

Watergrasshill, Xot. 1833. 

" Ille ego qui quondam," is a formula, first used to con- 
nect the epic cantos of the ^neid with a far more irre- 
proachable poem, its agricultural predecessor. Virgil (lila- 
Lord Althorp when he thinks posterity will forgive his 
political blunders in consideration of his breed of cattle) 
sought to bolster up the imperfections of his heroic cha- 
racters by a reference to the unexceptionable Meliboeus, 
and to that excellent old Calabrian farmer whose bees 
hummed so tunefully under the " lofty towers of QLbalia." 
iJfow, ia referring to a previous paper on the "Songs of 
France," my object is not similar. Unknown to my con- 
temporaries, it is when I am mouldering in the quiet tomb 
where my rustic parishioners shall have laid me, that these 
papers will start into life, and bask in the blaze of publi- 
citv. Some paternal publisher — perchance some maternal 
magazine — will perhaps take charge of the deposit, and 
hatch my eggs with successful incubation. But let there bo 
care laken to keep each batch separate, and each brood dis- 
tinct. Tbe French hen's family should not be mixed up with 

TEE SO^'GS or rEA^s'CE. 26o 

the chickens of the Muscovy duck ; and each series shoiild 
be categorically arranged, "Series juneturaque poller" 
(Hor.) For instance : the present essay ought to coins 
after one bearing the date of " October," and containing 
songs about '■ wine ;" such topic being appropriate to that 
mellow month, which, from time immemorial (no doubt be- 
cause it rhymes with " sober"), has been set apari; for jolli- 
ficarion. The Germans call it " weinmonath." 

These effusions are the offspring of my leisure ; nor do I 
see any cause why such hours should be refused to the pur- 
suits of literature. The sonnets of Francis Petrarca were 
not deemed a high misdemeanour at the papal court of 
Arignon, though written by an archdeacon. Xor was Tida 
a worse bishop in his diocese of Albi, for having sung the 
silk-worm (" Bombyces," Bale, 1537), and the game of chess 
(" Schiaccia Ludus," Eomse, 1527). Yet I doubt not that 
there may be found, when I am dead, in some paltry pro- 
^•incial circle, creatures without brains, who will stigmatize 
my wrirings, as unbefitting the character of an aged priest. 
Their short-sightedness I deplore, their rancorous malevo- 
lence I contemplate not in anger, but in sorrow. I divest 
myself of all community of feeling with such people. I 
cast them off ! "When a snake in the island of ^lalta en- 
twined itself round the arm of Paul, with intent to sting 
the teacher of the Gentiles, he gently shook the viper from 
his wrist ; and was not to blame if the reptile fell into the 

To return to the interesting subject of literary researches. 
Full gladly do I resume the pleasant theme, and launch my 
simple skiff on the wide expanse of song — 

" Ouce more upon the waters ; yea, once more 1" 

The minstrelsy of France is happily inexhaustible. The 
admirers of what is delicate in thought, or polished in ex- 
pression, ^vill need no apology for drawing theu* attention 
to these exquisite trifles : and the student of general litera- 
ture will acknowledge the connecting-link wliich unites, 
though unseen, the most apparently remote and seemingly 
dissimilar departments of human knowledge. '• Omnes 
enim artes, quje ad humanitatem pertinent, habent quoddam, 
commune vinculum," says Cicero. B'jt in the present case 

236 xATHEE PKOrx's EI,LIQL"i:S. 

the Imk is one of positive cousanguinity. To what class of 
readers, since the conquest of this fair island and its unfor- 
tunate sister by the chivalrous JSTormans, can the songs of 
that gallant race of noble marauders and glorious pirates be 
vv'ithout thrilling interest ? Not to relish such specimens of 
spirit-stirring poesy, the besotted native must be only fit to 
lierd among swine, with the collar round his neck, like the 
Saxon serf of Cedric ; or else be a superficial idiot, like 
" Wamba, the sou of "Wit-less the jester." Selecting one 
■class of the educated public, by Avay of exemplification, 
where all are concerned, — the Bar, — the language of France 
and her troubadours cometh in the character of a profes- 
sional requirement. By submitting to their perusal these 
ballads, I shall, mayhap, reconcile them to the many tedious 
hovu's they are doomed to spend in comiing over what must 
otherwise appear the semi-barbarous tei-ms of jurisprudence 
bequeathed by William le Eoux with the very structure of 
his Hall, and coeval with its oak roof and its cobwebs. In 
reference to the Grallic origin of our law aud its idiom, it 
■was Jujenal who wrote {Sat. XV. v. 110) — 

" Gallia causiclicos docuit facimcTa Eritanuos :" 

furnishing an incontestable proof that poetry akin to pi"o- 
phecy, with " eye in a fine frenzy rolling," can discover the 
most improbable future event in the womb of time. 

A knowledge of the ancient vocabulary of France is ad- 
mitted to be of high importance in the perusal of our early 
writers on history, as well as on legislation : in poetry and 
prose, as well as in Chancery and Doctors' Commons. An 
old song has been found of consequence in elucidating a 
disputed construction ; and, in point of fact, the only title- 
deed the Genoese can put forward to claim the invention of 
the mariners' compass is the lay of a French troubadour.* 
Few are aware to what extent the volatile literature of our 
merry neighbours has pervaded the mass of British author- 
ship, and by what secret influences of imitation and of re- 
miniscence the spirit of jS^ornian song has flitted through the 
conquered island of Britain. From Geofl'rey Chaucer to Tom 

* A ballad, " La Eiblo," from the pen of Guyot do Provius, dated 
A.D. 1190, and comnicncivig, " De nostre p^re I'apostoilc." It is a pas* 
jqiiinade against the ccurt of llomc. 

THE SO^'GS or rKA2fC£. 

Moore (a vast interval !), there is not one, save the immortal 
Shakespeare perhaps, vi^hose writings do not betray the 
secret Avorking of this foreign essence, mixed up with the 
crude material of Saxon growth, and causing a sort of gentle 
fermentation. Take Oliver Goldsmith, whom every critio 
calls an eminently English -wTiter of undoubted originality ; 
now place in juxtaposition with an old Prench song his 
" Elegy on a Mad Dog," and the " Panegyric of Mrs. Mary 
Blaze," and judge for yoiu-self : 

Good people all, of eyery sort, 

Give ear unto my song, 
And if you find it wondrous short. 

It cannot hold you long. 

In Islington there lived a man, 
Of -whom the world might say. 

That still a godly race he ran 
Whene'er he went to pray. 

A Icind and gentle heart he had, 
To comfort friends and foes ; 

The naked every day he clad, 
When he put on his clothes. 

I3e la iHonnoge. 

llessires, vous plaist-il d'oiur, 
L'aii" du fameux La Pahsse ? 

II pom-ra vous rejouir, 

Pourvu qu'n vous divertisse. 

II etait affable et doux, 

De I'humeur de feu son pere; 
II n'etait guere en courrous, 

Si ce n'est dans sa colere. 

Eien instruit des le berceau, 
Onques, tant etait honnete, 

II ne mettait son chapeau, 
Qu'n ne se couvrit la tete. 

The final catastrophe, and the point Avhich forms the sting 
of the whole "Elegy," is but a literal version of a long- 
established Gallic epigram, viz. : 

Quand un serpent mordit Aurele, 
Que crois-tu qu'il en arriva ? 

Qu' Aurele mourut ? — bagafelle ! 
Ce fut le serpent qui creva. 

But soon a wonder came to h'ght. 
That shewed the rogues they lied ; 

The man recovered fi-om the bite, 
The dog it was that died. 

Then as to Mrs. Blaze ; I regret to say that her virtues and 
accomplishments are all second-hand ; the gaudy finery in 
•which her poet has dressed her out is but the cast-oil' 
frippery Erench. Ex. gr. : 


Tlic pubhc all, of one accord. 

Lament for Mrs. Blaze ; 
Who never wanted a good word 

From those wh ■) spoke her praise. 

II brillait comme un solcil, 
Sa chevelui'e ttait blonde ; 

II n'eut pas eu de jjareil, 
S'il eut ^tc soul an monde. 

238 PATHEB peovt's eeliquls 

At chiu'ch, in silks and satins new, Monte sur mi clieval noir, 

"With hoop of monstroiis size, Les dames le miuauderent • 

She never slumbered in her pew Et e'est la qu'd ce fit vou", 

But when she shut her eyes. A ceux qiu le regarderent. 

Her love was sought, I do aver, Dans im superbe toumoi. 
By twenty beaux and more ; Brest a fournir sa carriere, 

Tlie king liimself has followed her Quand il fut devant le roi. 
When she has walked before. Certes il ne fut pas derriere. 

Let us lament in sorrow sore ; II fut, par im triste sort. 

For Kent street well may say, Blesse d'une main erueUe ; 

That, had she Uved a twelvemonth On croit, puisqu'il en est mort, 
more, Que la playe etaite mortelle. 

She had not died to-day.* 

It is not witliout a certain degree of concern for the cha- 
racter of Goldsmith, that I haye brought to light this in- 
stance of petty larceny. Why did he not acquaint us Avith 
the source of his inspiration ? Why smuggle these French 
wares, when he might have imported them lawfully by pay- 
ing the customary duty of acknowledgment ? The Eoman 
fabulist, Phsedrus, honestly tells the world how he came by 
his wonderful stock-in-ti-ade : 

" ^sopus auctor quam materiam rcpcrit, 
Hanc ego pohvi versibus scnariis." 

Such is the sign-board he hangs out in the prologue to his 
book, and no one can complain of vmfair dealing. But to 
return to the connexion between our literature and that of 

Pope avov/edly modelled his style and expression on the 
Avritings of Boileau ; and there is perceptible in his didactic 
essays a most admirable imitation of the lucid, methodical, 
and elaboi'ate construction of his Gallic origin. Dryden 
appears to have read with predilection the works of Cor- 
neiUe and i\Ialherbe : like them, he is forcible, brilliant, but 
unequal, tiu-gid, and careless. Addison, it is apparent, 
^vas intimately conversant with the tasteful and critical 
writings of the Jesuit Bouhours ; and Sterne is but a rifa- 
cimento of the Vicar of Meudon, the reckless Eabelais. 

* This joke is as old as the days of St. Jerome, who applies it to 
his old foe, I\uffinu3. " Grunnius Corocotta, porccllus, visit anuos 
DCCCCXCis. : qut»d si semis visissct, ii. annos implesset." 


"Wlio Avill question the influence exercised by Moliere over our 
comic writers — Slieridan, Farquhar, and C ougreve ? Indeed, 
our theatre seems to have a prescriptive right to import 
its comedies from Trance, wholesale and duty free. At the 
brilliant and dazzling torch of La Fontaine, Gay humbly lit 
his slender taper ; and Fielding would be the first to admit 
his manifold obligations to Le Sage, having di\ank deep at 
the fountain of " Gil Bias." Hume the historian is notori- 
ous for his Gallicisms ; and perhaps it was owing to his 
ioug residence abroad that the pompous period of Gibbon 
was attuned to the melody of Massillon. If I do not men- 
tion Milton among our writers who have profited by the 
perusal of Galilean models, it is because the Italian 
school was that in which he formed his taste and harmon- 
ised his rhythmic period. 

Eut, to trace the vestiges of French phraseology to the 
very remotest paths of our literary domain, let us examine 
the chronicles of the Plantagenets, and explore the writings 
of the incomparable Froissart. His works form a sort of 
1,'onnecting link between the two countries during the wars 
of Cressy and Agincourt : he was alternately a page at the 
court of Blois, a minstrel at the court of "Winceslas in Bra- 
bant, a follower of the French King Charles, and a suivant 
of Queen Philippa of England. Though a clergyman, he 
was decidedly to be classified under the genus troubadour, 
partaking more of that character than of any ecclesiastical 
peculiarities. For, lest I shoidd do injustice to his life and 
opinions, I shall let him draw his own portrait : 

"All boire je prends grand plaisir, 
Aussi fais-je en beau di-aps veslii" : 
Oir de mcnestrel parolles, 
Ycoir danses et earolles ; 

Violettes en leur saison, 
Et roses blanches et venneillps ; 

Vovc volontiers, car c'est raison, 
.Icux, et danses, et longues veiUos, 
Et chambres pleines de candeilles ."' 

Xow this jolly dog Froissart was the boon comrade of our 
excellent Geoflrey Chaucer ; and no doubt the two worthy 
clercs cracked many a bottle together, if not in Cheapside, 
at least on this side of the Channel. How lar Geoffrey was 


indebted to tlie Prencbmaii for bis anecdotes and stories, 
for bis droll style of narrative, and tbe pungent salt with 
whicb be bas seasoned tbat primitive mess of porridge, tbe 
" Canterbury Tales," it ^ouid be curious to investigate. 
But it is singular to find tbe most distinguisbed of France, 
England, and Italy's contemporary autbors met sbortly 
after, as if by mutual appointment, in Provence, tbe land of 
song. It was on tbe occasion of a Duke of Clarence's visit 
to Milan to marry tbe daugbter of Galeas II. ; a ceremony 
graced by tbe presence of tbe Count of Savoy and tbe King 
of Cyprus, besides a best of literaiy celebrities. Tbitber 
came Cbaucer, Froissart, and Petrarca, by one of tbose 
cbance dispositions of fortune wbicb seem tbe result of a 
most provident foresigbt, and as if tbe triple genius of 
Frencb, Englisb, and Italian literature bad presided over 
tbeir reunion. It was a literary congress, of wbicb tbe con- 
sequences are felt to tbe present day, in tbe common agree- 
ment of international feeling in tbe grand federal republic 
of letters. Of tbat eventful colloquy between tbese most 
wortby representatives of tbe tbree leading literatures of 
Europe, notbing bas transpired but tbe simple fact of its 
occurrence. Still, one tbing is certain, viz., tbat tbere were 
then very few features of difference in even tlie languages 
of tbe three nations wbicb have branched ofl", since tbat pe- 
riod, in such wide divergency of idiom : 

" '\^1icn shall ■we tlirce meet again !" 

Cbaucer bas acknowledged tbat it was from Peti'arcb be 
learned, on tbat occasion, tbe story of Griselda ; wbicb 
story Petrarch bad picked up in Provence, as I shall shew 
by and by, on producing the original French ballad. But 
here is the receipt of Cbaucer, duly signed, and most cir« 
cumstantial : 

" I -n'ol jou f ol a (ale, the which that T 
Lerneil at Padowo, of a worthy elerc, 
As proved by his wordos and his werlc. 
He is now dead, and nailed in liis chest, 
I pray to God to geve liis sowle rest. 
Trauncis Petrark, tlic laureat poete, 
Hight was this clerk, whose rhetoriekc so awote 
Enhimined all Itaille of poetrie." 

prologue to Griselidist in " Cant, laics." 

THE SOXGS OF ^EA^-Ci;. 241 

"We learn from "William of Malmesburj (lib. id.), and 
from various contemporary sources, that the immediate suc- 
cessors of the Conqueror brought over from Normandy 
numbers of learned men, to fill the ecclesiastical and other 
beneficial employments of the country, to the excmsion of 
the native English, who were considered dunces and unfit 
for oflBce. Any one -who had the least pretension to be 
considered a s^avant clerc, spoke French. In the reign of 
Henry III. we have Eobert G-rossetete, the well-known 
bishop of Lincoln (who was born in Sufiblk), 'ivriting a 
work in French called " Le Chasteau d' Amour ;" and ano- 
ther, " Le Manuel des Pechees." Of this practice Chaucer 
complains, somewhat quaintly, in his " Testament of Love" 
(ed. 1542) : " Certes there ben some that speke thyr poysy 
mater in Ffrench, of whyche speche the Ffrenchmen have 
as gude a fantasye as we have in hearing of Ffrench niennes 
Englyshe." TaiDner, in his " Biblioth. Brit.," hath left us 
many curious testimonies of the feeling which then pre- 
vailed on this subject among the iealous natives of England. 
See also the Harleian MS. 3869. " 

But the language of the troubadours still remained com- 
mon to both countries, when, for all the purposes of do- 
mestic and public life, a new idiom had sprung up in eacli 
separate kingdom. Extraordinary men ! These songsters 
were the favourites of every court, and the patronised of 
every power. True, their life was generally dissolute, and 
their conduct unscrupulous ; but the mantle of poetic in- 
spiration seems to have covered a multitude of sins. I 
cannot better charactei'ise the men, and the times in which 
they lived, than bv introducing a ballad of Beranger — tho 

IL.i ^at^sancs "On SaupTjm. 

Du bon vieux tems soiiffrcz que je tous parle. 

Jaclis Richard, troubadour renomme, 
Avait poiu- Eoy Jean, Louis, Philippe, ou Charle, 

Ne s(^ais lequcl, mais il en fut aiinu. 
D'un gvos dauphin on fetait la naissance ; 

Richard h. Blois etait depuis un jour : 
II ap jrit la le bonhcur de la France. 

Pour votre roi chantez, gai troubadour ! 
Chantez, chautez, jeune et gai troubadour ; 



La harpe en main Richard vient sur la place : 

Chacun lui clit, " Chantez notre gar^on !" 
Devotement a la Tierge il rend grace, 

Puis au dauphin consacre uue chanson. 
On I'applaudit ; I'auteur ttait en veine : 
Mainte beaute le trouve fait au tour, 
Disant tout has, " // doit plaire a la rcino .'" 

Poiu" TOtre roi chantez, gai troubadoui"! 
Chantec, chantez, jeime et gai troubadour 

Le chant fini, Richard court a I'eghse ; 

Qu'y va-t-il fau-e? II cherche im confesseur. 
n en trouve un, gros moine a barbe grise, 
Des moeurs du terns inflexible censeur. 
"Ah, sauvez moi des flammes eternelles ! 

Mon pere helas ! c'est un vilain sejour." 
" (!|u'ab£?-bOUS fait ?" " J'ai trop aime les belles !" 
Pour votre roi chantez, gai troubadour ! 
Chantez, chantez, jeuuc et gai troubadour! 

"Le grand malhcur, mon pere, c'est qu'on m'aime !" 

"^L'ailc?, tnon fils; apUqu£?=Uous cnfin." 
"J'ai fait, helas ! narguant le diadfeme, 

Un gros peche ! car j'ai fait — un dauphin ! !" 
D'abord le moine a la nihie ebaliie : 

Mais il reprend, "Uous=Clcs bicil en COUr ? — 
^outfaoiic}=nous ti'uuc ridjc abbayc." 

Poui' votre roi chantez, gai troubadour ! 
Chantez, chantez, jeune et gai troubadour I 

Le moine ajoutc ; " Eut-on fait a la reine 
Un prince on deux, on pent etre sauve. 
Parlcz de nous a notre souveraine : 

AUcz, mon fils ! vous direz cinq Ave." 
Richard absous, gagnant la capitale, 

Au nouvcau-ne voit pi'odiguer I'amour ; 
Yive ;\ jamais notre race royale ! 

Pour voti'e roi chantez, gai troubadour! 
Chantez, chantez, jcime et gai troubadoui'l 

CIjc Saupl){u'5 33trtpai). 

Let me sing you a song of the good old times, 

About Richard the troubadour, 
Who was loved by the king and tlic queen for his rhymcc j 

But by u-kich of our kings I'm not sure. 


^Tow a daupliin was born while the court was at Blois, 

And all France felt a gladness pure ; 
llichard's heart leapt for joy when he heard 'twas a boy. 

Sing for jom* king, young and gay troubadom* ! 

Sing weU you may, ti'oubadour yoimg and gay ! 

So he went with liis harp, on his proud shoulder hung. 

To the court, the resort of the gay ; 
To the Vu'gin a hymn of thanksgiving he sung, 

For the dauphin a new " rondelay." 
And our nobles ilocked round at the heart-stirring sound. 

And theu- dames, dignified and demure, 
Praised his bold, gallant mien, and said " He'' II please the queen!* 
Sing for your king, young and gay troubadour ! 
Oh, sing weU you may, troubadour young and gay 1 

But the song is now hushed, and the crowd is dispersed : 

To the abbey, lo ! Hichard repaii-s, 
And he seeks an old monk, in tlie legend well versed, 

With a long flowing beard and grey hah-s. 
And " Oh, save me !" he cries, "holy father, from hell ; 

'Tis a 2)lace which the soul can't endure !" 
*'©f pour sf)rift itU tf)E tlxift;" "J'ai tropaimeles belles!'* 
Sing for your king, young and gay troubadoiu- J 
Sing well you may, troubadour, young and gay ! 

"But the wor?t is untold !" "l^astc, mil Sonne, antJ be 3{)rit)En ,• 

STeU pour guilt— its results— fjoto ijou sisinctj, anti l)Oto often." 
" Oh, my c/uilt it is great ! — can my sin be forgiven — 

Its result, holy monk ! is — alas, 'tis a Dauphix !" 
And the friar grew pale at so startling a tale, 

But he whispered, " jFor us, Sonne, procure 
(si^c tnill gtant it, E toetn) abbco lanti from ti^e queen." 

Sing for your kmg, young and gay troubadour"! 
Sing well you may, troubadour young and gay ! 

Then the monk said a prayer, and the sin, light as air. 

Flew away from the penitent's soid ; 
And to Paris went Richard to sing for the fair, 

" Virelai," sonnet gay, and " caroUe :" 
And he mingled with joy in the festival there. 

Oh ! wliile beauty and song can aUm-e, 
May our old royal race never want for an heir! 

Sing for your king, young and gay troubadour! 
Sing well you may, troubadour young and gay ! 

It does not enter into my plan to expatiate on the 
moral conclusion or political im/i.vdiov which this ballad 
suggests, and which with sarcastic ingenuity is so adroitly 
insinuated. It is, in fact, a lyrical epigram on the admirers 

21J! TATHEU peout's eeliques. 

of hereditary legislation. To tlie venerable owls wlio roost 
in Heralds' College, tliis is startling matter : in sooth, it 
sheds a quiet ray on the awful sublimities of genealogical 
investigation. It may serve as a commentary on the well- 
known_ passage of Boileau (pilfered rmceremoniously by 
Pope), in which the current of princely blood is said to flow 
" de Lucr^ce en Lucrece ;" but we do not expect an edition 
of the song to be published " in usum Delphini." Vive 
Henri Cinq ! concerning whose birth the song was written. 

On all matters in which the characters of the ladies may 
be involved, I recommend constant caution and the most 
scrupulous forbearance to both poets and historians. The 
model of this delicate attention may be found among the 
troubadours. I more particularly allude to the Kormau 
school of French poesie ; for I regret to state, that in Pro- 
vence there was not always the same veneration and myste- 
rious homage paid to the gentler sex, whose very frailties 
should be shrouded by the poet, and concealed from the 
vulgar gaze of the profane. In. jSTormandy and the adjacent 
])rovinces, the spirit of chivalry was truly such as described 
by our hot-headed Irish orator, when, speaking of IMarie 
Antoinette, he fancies ten thousand swords ready to leap 
from their scabbards at the very suspicion of an insult. 
The instinctive worship of beauty seems to have accompa- 
nied that gallant race of noble adventurers from their Scan- 
dinavian settlements beyond the Elbe and the lihine ; for 
w^e find the sentiment attributed to their ancestors by Taci- 
tus, in his admirable work " De Moribus Germanorum," 
where lie writes, as well as I can recollect, as follows : " Inesse 
<]uiuetiam foeminis sanctmn aliquid et providum putant." 
The ballad of " Griselidis," to which I have made allusion in 
talking of the " Canterbury Tales," and which I then pro- 
mised to give in its original old Norman simplicity, finely 
illustrates all that is noble and chivalrous in their respect 
tor female loveliness and purity. My version runs in the 
old ballad idiom, as nearly as that quaint style can be 




Sscoutez icy jouvencelles, 

Ecoutez aussy damoiseaux, 
Vault mieus estre bone que belle, 

Vault inieux estre loyal que 
beau ! 
Beaute passe, passe jeunesse, 

Bonte reste et gagne les ccbuts; 
Avec doulceui' et gentillesse 

Espines se cliangent en fleiu's. 

Belle, mais paurre et souffreteuse, 

Vivoit jadis Gi-iseledis ; 
^Vlloit aux champs, estoit glaneiise, 

Filoit beau lin, gavdoit bi'cbis ; 
If 'estoit fyUe de haidt parage, 

K'aToit oomte iiy joyaux d'or, 
Mais aroit plus, car estait sage — 

Mieulx vault sagesse que tresor ! 

Ung jour qu'aux champs estoit 

Vinst a passer Sire Gaultier, 
Las! sans chien estoit la paurrette. 

Sans page estoit le chevalier ; 
Mais en ce siecle, oil rinnocence 

Is'avoit a craiudreaucun danger, 
Vertu veUloit, dormoit prudence, 

Beaulx terns n'auricz pas du 
changer ! 

Tant que sommeiUe la bergere, 

Beau sireeust le tems d'admii-er, 
Mais des qu'eutr'ouvrist la pau- 

Fust force de s'en amoui-er ; 
•' BcUe," dit-il, " serez ma mie. 

Si voulez venir a ma cour ?" 
"Kenny, seigneur, vous remercie, 

Honnexir vault bien playsir 
d'amour ?" 

A Roniaunt. 

List to my baUad, for 'twas made cx- 
Damsels, for you ; 
Better to be (beyond all lovelinesse) 

Loyall and true ! 
Fadetli fau* face,brig]it beauty blooms 
Soon to departe ; 
Goodness abydetli aye ; and gentle 
Gaineth y* hearte. 

Tliere lived a maiden, beautifuU but 
Gleaning y« fields ; 
Poor pittaunce shepherd's crook upon 
y^ moor. 
Or distaff yields ! 
Yet tho' no castel hers had ever been, 

Jewells nor golde, 
Kindnesse she hadde and virtue; 
thyngs, I ween. 
Better fova- folde ! 

One day a cavalier. Sir Walter liight. 

Travelled that way ; 
Kor dogge y« shepherdesse, nor page 
y« knight 
Hadde on that day. 
But in those times of innocence and 
Virtue alone 
Kept vigil in oiu* land ; bright days, 
in sooth, 
Where are ye gone ? 

Long on y« maiden, as she slept, ho 
gazed — 
Coidd gaze for months ! 
But when awaking, two soft eyelids 
Loved her at once ! 
" Fair one, a knight's true love cans', 
thou despise. 
With golden store ?" 
" Sir Knight, true love I value, but 
I prize 
Honour far more !" 



" Vertu, dit-il, passe noblesse ! 

Serez ma femme des ce joui' — 
Serez dame, serez comtesse, 

Si me jurez, au nom d'amour, 
De m'obe'ir quand devrai, menie 

Bien durement, vous ordon- 
ner ?" 
" Sii-e, obeir a ce qu'on aime 

Est bien plus doux que com- 
mander ?" 

Ne jura poiu' estre comtesse, 

ilais avoit vu le chevalier ; 
A I'amour scul fist la promesse : 

Puis monta siu- son destrier. 
N'avoit besoin de bienseances 

Le terns hem-eux des bonnes 
moeurs ; 
Pausses etoient les apparances, 

Nobles ct vrays cstoient Ics 
cceurs ! 

" I too prize honour above high de- 
And all beside ; 
Maiden, be mine ! yea, if thou v;ilt; 
Be thou my bride ! 
Swear but to do y^ bidding of thy 
Faithful and fond." 
" Tell not of oaths, Sir Knight ; is 
not love's 2)ledge 
A better bond ?" 

ISot for his castel and his broad do- 
Spoke so ye maid, 
But that she loved y" handsome 
knight — Love fain 
Would be obeyed. 
On ye same charger with the knight 
she roddc, 
So passed along ; 
Nor blame feared she, for then all 
hearts were good ; 
None dreamed of wrong. 

Tant chevaucherent par la plaine 

Qu'arrivereut a la cite ; 
Griseledis fust soviveraine 

De ce richc et puissant comte ; 
Chascun I'ainia ; sous son empire 

Chascun ressentit ses bienfaits : 
Beaute previent, doulceur attire 

Bonte gagne et fixe a jamais ! 

And they rodde on imtiU rose on y* 
His castel towers ; 
And there that maiden Hvcd with 
that good knight 
In marriage bowers, 
Diflusing blessings among all who 
Within that vale : 
Goodness abydeth aye — her smile i3 
Tho' beauty fail ! 

Lives there one witli soul so dead as not to admii'e the 
genuine higli-miiidedness of these primitive times, expressed 
in this pleasing record of what was no romance, but matter 
of frequent occurrence in the days of chivalry ? The ballad 
has got into many languages, and is interwoven with t\w 
traditional recollections of many a noble house ; but tho 
original is undoubtedly the above. Moore lias t^visted it 
into a melody, " You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride ;" 
and lie seeks to connect the story with " an interesting tale 


iolcl cTa certain noble family in England."* Unfortunately 
for siicli attempts, the lays of the Norman troubadours, like 
the Government ropes in the dock-yard at Portsmouth, have 
in their texture a certain twist by "which they are recognised 
when they get into the possession of thieves. 

These Normans were a glorious race ! No, neither the 
sons of Greece in their palmiest days of warlike adventure 
{oyXcg A'/^aim), nor the children of the Tiber, that miscel- 
lany of bandits and outlaws {tiirha Remi), ever disjDlayed 
such daring energy as the tribe of enterprising jN'orthems 
who, in the seventh, eighth, and subsequent centuries, af- 
frighted and dazzled the world with the splendour of their 
achievements. From the peninsula of Jutland, their narrow- 
home on the Baltic, they went forth to select the choicest 
and the fairest provinces of the south for their portion : the 
banks of the Seiue,t the kingdom of Naples, the island of 
Sicily, the Morea, Palestine, Constantinople, England, Ire- 
land, — they conquered in succession. The proudest names 
in each land through which they passed glory in tracing up 
a Norman origin ; and while their descendants form the 
truest and most honourable aristocracy in Europe, their 
troubadours still reign paramount, and unsurpassed in every 
mode and form of the tuneful mystery. Their architectural 
remains are not more picturesque and beautiful than the 
fragments of their ballads and their war-songs ; and Be- 
ranger himself (by-the-by, a Norman patronymic, and an 
evidence of the poet's excellent lineage) has but inherited 
the lyre of that celebrated minstrel who is described in a 
contemporary poem on the conquest of this island : 

Taillefcr ki mult bien cantout, Dan Tallyfer, -who sang right ■well, 
Sur img chcval ki tost alloiit, Borne on a goodh' haridelle, 

* Meaning, of course, the marriage of Henry, Eai'l of Exeter, to 
Sarah Hoggins, of the village of Hoclnet, in Shropshu-e, Oct. 3, 1791. 
Queer materials for an Irish melody. 

t Such was tlie terror with wliich they inspired the natives of France 
before Duke EoUo's conversion to Christianity, that there is in tho 
oiEce of the Parisian Breviary a hymn, composed about that period, 
and containing a prayer agauist the Xormans — 

" Auferte gentem pcrfidam 
Credentium de iinibus," &c. kc. ; 

which remains to this day a memorial of consternation. 



Devant le host ailout cautant 
De Karlemaia e de Rollant. 

Pranced in the van and led tho trarj, 
With songs of Koland and Charle* 

But I venture to say, tliat never Avas Charlemagne sung by 
his ablest troubadour in loftier strains than those in which 
Beranger has chanted the great modern inheritor of his 
iron crown, anointed like him by a Pope, and like him the 
sole arbitrator of European kingdoms and destinies. 

%tS ^oubnurS Jju 3.3euplc. 


On. parlera de sa gloire 
Sons le chanme bieu long- 
temps ; 
L'hiimble toit, dans cmquante 
Neconnaitra plus d'autre histoire. 
Lh, viendront les villageois 
Dire alors a quelque vieille ; 
Par des recits d'antrefois, 
Mere, abregez notre vcillc : 
Bien, dit-on, qu'il nous ait iiui, 
lie peuple encor le revere, 

Oui, le revere. 
Parlez-nous de lui, grand'mere ! 
Parlcz-uoiis de lui ! 

" Mes enfans, dans cc village, 
Suivi de rois, il passa, 
Voila bien long-temps de 9a : 

Je venais d'entrer en menage. 
A pied grimpant le coteau, 
Ou i)our voir je ni'etais niisc ; 
II avait petit cliapcau, 
Avoc redingotc grisc. 
Pros de lui je nie troublai, 
II me dit, ' Bonjom*, ma chcre ! 

. Bonjour, ma chore !'" 
II vous a parli', grand'mere ! 
II vous a parlo ! 

^popular 3L^cfo^c£tton:S 01 

They'll talk of him for years to come, 

In cottage chronicle and tale ; 
Wlien for aught else reno-mi is dumb. 

His legend shall prevail ! 
Then in the hamlet's honom-ed chair 

Sliall sit some aged dame, 
Teaching to lowly clowii and villager 

That narrative of fame. 
'Tis true, they'll say, his gorgeous 
France bled to raise ; 
But he was all our own ! 
Mother! say something in his praise — 
O speak of liim always ! 

" I saw him pass : his was a host : 
Countless beyond your young ima- 
ginings — 
My children, he could boast 

A train of conquered kings ! 
And when he came this road, 

'Twas on my bridal day. 
He wore, for near to liim I stood. 

Cocked hat and surcoat grey. 
I blushed ; he said, ' Be of good cheer ! 
Courage, my dear !' 
Tliat was his very word." — 
Motlicr ! then this really occurred, 
And yo x his voice could hoar ! 



"L'an d'apres, moi pauvre 
A Paris etant un joiir, 
Je le vis arec sa cour ; 
II se rendait a Notre-Dame. 
Tous les ccei-u's etaient contens ; 
On admirait sou cortege, 
Chacun disait, 'Quel beau 

tems ! 
Le Ciel toujours le protege.' 
Son sovu'ire etait bien doux, 
D'un ills Dieu le reudait perc, 

Le rendait pere !" — 
Quel beau jour pom- vous, 
grand'inere I 
Quel beau joiu- pom* vous ! 

" Mais quand la pauvre Cham- 
Fut en proie aux etrangers, 
Lui, bravant tous les dangers, 
Semblait seul tenir la campagne. 
L'n soir, tout comme aujoiu-d- 

J'entcnds frapper a la porte ; 
J'ouvre, bon Dieu ! c'etait 

Suivi d'une faible escorte. 
II s'asscoit ou me voila, 
S'ccriant : ' Oh, qivelle guerre ! 

Oil, quelle guerre !' " — 
II s'cst assis la, grand'mere ! 
II s'est assis la I 

" ' J'ai faim,' dit-il ; ct bien vite 
Je sers jjiquette et pain bis. 
Puis il soche ses habits ; 

M6mc a dormir le feu I'invite. 
Au revcil, voyant mes pleurs, 
II me dit : " Bonne esperanee ! 
Je eours de tous ses malheui-s 
Sous Paris ven;;cr !a France ! 

" A year rolled on, when next ai 
Paris I, 

Lone woman that I am, 

Saw him jiass by. 

Girt with his peers, to kueel at Notre 

I knew by meri-y chime and signal gun, 
God granted hira a son. 
And O ! I wept for joy ! 
For why not weep when warrior-men 

Who gazed upon that sight so splen- 
And blest th' imperial boy ? 
Kever did noonday sun shine out so 
bright ! 

O what a sight !" — 
Mother ! for you that must have been 
A glorious scene ! 

"But when aU Ein-ope's gathered 

Bm'st o'er the French frontier at 
'Twill scarcely be believed 
What wonders, smgle-handed, he 
Such general ne'er lived ! 
One evening on my threshold stood 
A guest — 'twas he ! Of warriors 

He had a toil-worn retinue. 
He flung himself into this chau* of 
Mutteriiig, meantime, with fearful 

' Quelle (/icerrc .' oh, quelle guerreP" — 
Mother! and did our emperor sit there. 
Upon that very chau- ? 

" He said, ' Give me some food.' — 
Bi'own loaf I gave, and homely wine, 
And made the kindling fireblocka 
To dry liis cloak with wet bedewed. 
Soon by the bonny blaze he slept. 
Then waking chid mc (for I wept) ,; 
' Courage !' he cried, ' I'll strike for all 
Lender the sacred wall 
Of France's noble capit«,l !' 



II part ; et comme vm tresor 
J'ai depuis garde son verre, 

Garde son verre." — 
Vous I'avez encor, grand' 
Tahre ! 

Vous I'ayez encor ! 

" Le Toici. Mais a sa perte 
Le heros fut enti-aine. 
Lui, qu'UN Pape a couronne, 
Est mort dans un ile desertc. 
Long-temps aucun ne I'a eru ; 
On disait : II va parattre. 
Par mar il est accouru ; 
L'etranger \a voir son maitre. 
Quand d'erreur on nous tira, 
Ma douleur fut bien amere. 

Fut bien amere." — 
Dieu vous benira, grand'mere ; 

Dieu vous benira ! 

Tbose were his words : I've treasured 
With pride that same wine-cup ; 
And for its weight in gold 
It never shall be sold !" — 
Mother ! on that proud rehc let \\3 
O keep that cup always ! 

" But, through some fatal witchery, 
He, whom a Pope had cro^iied and 
Perished, my sons ! by foulest treach- 
ery : 
Cast on an isle far in tlie lonely 
Long time sad rumoui's were afloat — 

The fatal tidings we would spurn, 
Still hoping from that isle remote 

Once more our hero would return. 
But when the dark announcement 

Tears from the virtuous and the 
brave — 
Wlien the sad whisperproved too true, 
A Hood of grief I to his memory 
Peace to the glorious dead !" — 
Mother ! may God his fullest blessing 
Upon yoiu' aged head ! 

Such songs embalm the glories of a conqueror in the hearts 
of the people, and will do more to endear the memory of 
Napoleon to posterity than all the eflbrts of the historian. 
The government of the imbecile Charles X. had the folly to 
pick a personal quarrel with this powerful master of the lyre, 
and to provoke the wrath of genius, which no one yet aroused 
and got off unscathed by its lightning. Beranger was prose- 
cuted before the con?' d'assizes for a song ! And nothing, 
perhaps, contributed more to the catastrophe that soon over- 
took the persecutor of the Muses than the disgrace and ridi- 
cule which covered the royal faction, in consequence of this 
attack on the Ireedom of that freest of all trades, the craft 
of the troubadour. The prophecy contained in the ode was 
realised to the letter : even the allusion to that old Gallic: 



emblem the cock, which Louis Philippe made the ornament ol 
the restored tricolor, confirms the fact of inspiration. 

%t bieujr JBiapcau. 

C]^e Cijvec^CoIouvetl dflaa- 


{A prosecuted Song.) 

De mcs vieux compagnous de 
Je vieus de me voir entoure ; 
Nos souvenirs m'ont euivre, 
Le vin m'a rendu la m^moire. 
Tier de mes exploits et des 
J 'ai mon drapeau dans ma chau- 

miei-e — 
Qua>id sccoiirai-je la poiissiere 
Qui ternit ses nobles couleiirs I 

II est cache sous I'lmmble paille 
Oil je dors, jjauvre et mutile, 
Lui qm, sur de vaincre, a vole 

Vingt ans de bataille en bataille ; 
Charge de lauriers et de fleurs, 

II brilla sur I'Europe entiere — 

Quand secourai-je la poiissiire 
Qui ternit ses nohles cuuleurs ! 

Ce drapeau payait a la rrance 
Tout le sang qu'il nous a coute : 
Sur la sein de la liberie 

Nos ills jouaient avee sa lance ; 
Qu'il prouvo encor aux oppres- 

Combien la gloire est roturiere — 

Qnand tecourai-jc la poussiere 
Qui ternit ses tiuhks couleurs ! 

Comrades, around this humble board. 
Here's to our banner's by-gone 
There may be treason in that word — 
All Europe may the proof afford — 
All France be the offender ; 
But drink the toast 
That gladdens most, 
Eu-es the young heart and cheers the 
" May France once more 

Her tri-color 
Blest with new life behold!" 

List to my secret. That old flag 

Under my bed of straw is hidden, 
Sacred to glory ! War-worn rag ! 
Thee no informer thence shall drag, 
Nor dastard spy say 'tis forbidden. 

France, I can vouch, 

Will, fi"om its couch, 
The dormant symbol yet unfold. 

And wave once more 

Her tri-color 
Throuyh Europe, uncontrolled ! 

For every drop of blood we spent, 

Did not that flag give value plenty ? 
Were not our children as they went, 
Jocund, to join the warrior's tent, 
Soldiers at ten, heroes at twenty ? 
France ! who were then 
Your noblemen ? 
Not they of parchment-must and 
moidd ! 
But they who bore 
Your tri-color 
Throuyh Europe, uncontrolled I 



Son aigle est reste dans la ponclre, 

Fatigufe de lointains exploits ; 

Eendons-lui le coq des G-aulois, 
II s^ut aussi lancer la foudre. 

La France, oubliant ses dou- 
Le rebenii-a libra et fiere — 
Quand secourai-je la poussiere 

Qui teniit ses nobles couleurs ! 

Las d'errer avec la rictoire, 

Des LOIS il deviendi'a I'appiii ; 

Chaque soldat fut, grace a lui, 
ClTOTEX aux bords de la Loire. 

Seul il peut voiler nos nial- 
Deployons-le sur la frontiere — 
Quand secourai-je la jjoussiere 

Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs ! 

llais il est la pres de mes annes ! 

Un instant osons I'entrevoir ; 

Viens, mon di-apeau ! viens, 
men espoir ! 
C'est a toi d'essuyer mes larmes ! 

D'un guerrier qui Terse des 
Le Ciel entendra la priere — 
Qui, je secouerai la poussiere 

Qui ternit ses nobles couleia-s ! 

Leipsic hath seen oui' eagle fall, 
I)ruuk with renown, worn out with 
glory ; 
But, with the emblem of old Graul 
Crowning oiu* standard, we'll recall 
The brightest days of Valmy's story ! 
With terror pale 
Shall despots quaU, 
When in their ear the tale is told, 
Of France once more 
Her tri-color 
Preparing to unfold! 

Trust not the laxvless ruffian chiel, 

Worse than the vilest monarch he ! 
Down with the dungeon aud Bastille 1 
But let our country never kneel 
To that grim idol, Anarchy .' 
Strength shall appeal* 
On our frontier — 
France shall bo Liberty's strong- 
hold ! 
T/ten earth once more 
The tri-color 
With blessings shall behold ! 

O my old flag ! that liest hid, 

There where my sword and musket 
Banner, come forth ! for tears unhid 
Are filling fast a warrior's lid. 
Which thou alone canst dry. 
A solcUcr's grief 
Aveteran's lieart shaUbe consoled — 
France shall once more 
Her tri-color 
Triumphantly unfold ! 

After this glorious dithyramb, iivortliy of the clays when 
the chivalry of France took solemnly the oriflamc from the 
Abbey of St. Denis, to bear it foremost iu the fight, for the 
■defence of tlieir native land, or the conquest of the land of 
Palestine ; it may be gratifying to produce a specimen of 
llie earlier militar}- songs of that gallant country. I select 
for that purpose a very striking lyric cllusion from the pen 
of old Marot, which is particuhirly deserving of attention, 
from its marked coincidence in thought and expression with 


the celebrated Marseillaise Hymn, composed at the distance 
of three centuries ; but it would be hard to saj which pro- 
duced on the wooden-shoed men of France the greater im- 
pression in its day. 

S[u Sue Jj'^lencon, 

Commandant V Avant Garde de VArmee Frangaise, 1521. 

Di vers Hainault, siir les fius cle champagne. 

Est arrive le bon Due d'Alen9on, 
Aveque honnevir qiii toujours i'accompagne 

Comme le sien propre et vrai ecusson : 
La peut on Teoii* siir la gi-anda plaine unie 
Do bons soudars son enseigne munie, 
Pres d'employer leurs bi-as fidminatoire, 
A repousser dedans leurs territoire 

L'ours Hanvier, gent, rustique, et brutalle, 
Youlant marcher sans raison peremptoire 

Siu" les cliraats de France occidentale. 

Prenez haxdt coeur, donques, France et Bretagne ! 

Car si en ce camp tenez fiere fa9on, 
Fondre verrez devant vous TAllemagne, 

Comme au soleil blanche niege et gla^on : 
Fiffres ! tamboiu's ! sonnez en harmonie ; 
Aventuriers ! que la pique on manie 
Pour les chequer et mettre en accessoire, 
Car deja sont au royal possessoire : 

Mais comme je crois destinee fatalle 
Vcult miner leur outrageuse gloire 

Siu" les chmats de France occidentale. 

Donques pietons marchans siu" la eampagne, 

Foudroyez tout sans rien prendre a ran9on j 
Preux chevahers, pmsqn'honneur on y gagne, 

Vos ennemies poussez hors de I'arcon, 
Faites rougir du sang de Germanie 
Les clau's ruisseaux dont la terre est gamie ; 
Si seront mis vos hauts noms en histoire : 
Frappez done tous de main gladiatcire, 

Qu'apres leur mort et deffaicte totaUe 
Vous rapportiez la palme de victoire 

Sur les climats de France occidentale. 

Prince ! rempli de haut los meritoire, 
Faisons les tous, si vous me voulez croLre, 

AUcr humcr leur cervoise et godalle ; — {good d'e "/ 
Car de nos vins ont grand desu* de boire 

Sur les climats de France occidentale. 

25J< FATnER prottt's heliqttes. 

fltJUvtgg to (i)t 'FaiTguartr of tlje dfrfiic^ 

Under the Duke d'Alcnfon, 1521. 

Soldiers ! at length their gathered strength our might is doomed to 

Spain and Brabant comilitant — Bavaria and Castile. 
Idiots, they tliink that France will shrink from a foe that rushes on. 
And terror damp the gallant camp of tlie bold Duke d'Alen9on ! 
But wail and wo betide the foe that waits for our assault ! 
Back to his lair our pikes shall scare the wild boar of Hainault. 
La Meuse shall flood her banks with blood, ere the sons of France resign 
Their glorious fields — the land that yields the ohve and the vine ! 

Then draw the blade ! be our ranks arrayed to the sound of the martial 

In the foeman's ear let the trumpeter blow a blast of deadly strife ; 
And let each knight collect liis miglit, as if there hung this day 
The fate of France on his single lance in the hour of the coming iray : 
As melts the snow in summer's glow, so may our helmets' glare 
Consume their host ; so folly's boast vanish in empty air. 
Fools ! to beUeve the sword could give to the children of the Rhine 
Our G-aUic fields — the land that yields the olive and the vine ! 

Can Germans face our Norman race in the conflict's awfid shock — 
Brave the war-cry of "BRiTAN>Tr!" the shout of " Languedoc !" 
Dare they confront the battle's brunt — the fell encounter tiw 
"NYlien dread Bayard leads on his guard of stout gendai-mcrie ? 
Strength be the test — then breast to breast, ay, grapple man with man ; 
Strength in the ranks, strength on both flanks, and valour in the van. 
Let war cfi'ace each softer grace ; on stern BeUona's slu-inc 
We TOW to shield the plains that yield the olive and the vine ! 

Methinks I see bright Victory, in robe of glory drest, 

Joyfid appear on the French frontier to the chieftain she loves best ; 

While grim Defeat, in contrast meet, scowls o'er the foeman's tent, 

She on oitr duke smiles down witli look of blythe encoiu-agement. 

T5'en now, I ween, our foes have seen their hopes of conquest fail ; 

<jrlad to regain their liomcs again, and qnafl" their Saxon ale. 

So may it be while chivalry and loyal hearts combine 

To lift a brand for the bonnie land of the olive and the vine ! 

And uow let \is give truce to Avar, and, turning to calmer 
subjects, smoke for awbilo the calumet of peace with a poet 
of gentler disposition. Poor INIillevoye ! it is with a me- 
lancholy pleasure that again I turn to his pure and pathetic 
page ; but he was a favourite of the Muse, and, need I add 



of mine ? "Who can peruse this simple melody vidtliout feel- 
ing deeply interested in the fate of its author ? 

Ea Cijutc titi JftuillcS. 

Par Millevoije. 

De la depovdlle cle nos boi3 

L'automne arait jonche la terre, 
Le bocage etait sans mjstere, 

Le rossignol etait sans Yoix. 

Triste et mourant a sou am-ore, 
TJn jeune malade, a pas leuts, 

Parconrait line fois encore 

Le hois cher a ses premiers aus. 

"Bois que j'aime, adieu! je suc- 
combe — 

Ton deuil m'avcrtit de mou 
Et dans chaque feuille qui tombe 

Je vois un presage de mort. 
Fatal oracle d'EpidaiuT, 

Tum'as dit, '■ Les feuillcs des hois 
A tes yeux jauniront encore, 

Mais c^ est pour la derniere fois!" 

L'eternel cypres se balance ; 
Deja sur ma tete en silence 

II incline ses ramcaux : 
Ma jeunesse sera fletrie 
Avant riierbe de la prairie, 

Avant ie pampre des coteaux ! 

Cfjc ^iTall of tijc ^tafitS. 

By Millevoye. 

Autumn had stript the grove, and 

The vale with leafy carpet o'er — 
Shorn of its mystery the wood, 

And Philomel bade sing no more — 
Yet o«e still hither comes to feed 

His gaze on childhood's merry 
path ; 
For bun, sick youth ! poor invalid ! 

Lonely attraction stiU it hath. 

" I come to bid you farewell brief, 

Here, O my infancy's wild haunt! 
For death gives m each falling leaf 

Sad summons to your visitant. 
'Twas a stern oracle that told 

My dark decree, ' The woodland 
Once more 'tis given thee to behold, 

l^hcn comes tK inexorable tomb .'" 

Th' eternal cypress, balancing 

Its tall form like some funeral thing 

In silence o'er my head. 
Tells me my youth shall wither fast. 
Ere the grass fades — yea, ere the last 

Stalk from the vine is shed. 

Et je mcurs! de leur froide haleine I die ! Yes, with liis icy breath, 

M'ont touche les sombres au- Fixed Fate has frozen up my 

tans, blood ; 

Et j'ai vu comme une ombre vaine And by the chilly blast of Death 

S'cvanouir mon beau prmtems. Nipt is my life's spring in the bud. 

Tombe! tombe, feuille ephemera! Fall! fall, O transitoiy leaf! 

Couvrc, lielas ! cc triste chcmin ! 

Cache au dcscspoir de ma mfere 

La place ou je serai dcmain ! 

And cover well this path of sorrow; 
Hide from my mother's searchuig 
The spot where I'U be laid to- 

256 rATHEs rEOtrx's eeliques. 

Mais si mon amante voilee But sliould my loved one's fair, 

Vient dans la solitaire allee, tread 

Pleurer a I'lieure ou le jour fuit; Seek the sad dwelling of the dead, 
Eveille, par un leger bruit, SUent, alone, at eve j 

Mon ombre un instant consolee !" O then with rustling murmiu* meet 

The echo of her coming feet, 
And sign of welcome give !" 

Tl dit. S'eloigne et sans rctour ; Such was the sick youth's last sad 

La derniere feuille qui tombc thought : 

A signale son dernier jour ; Then slowly from the grove ho 

Sous le chene ou creusa sa moved; 

tombe. Next moon that way a corpse was 

Mais son amante ne vint pas ; — brought, 

Et la patre de la vallee And buried in the bower he loved. 

Troubla seid du bruit de ses pas But at his grave no form appeared, 
Le silence du mausolee. No faii-y mourner : through the 

The shepherd's tread alone was heard. 
In the sepulchi'al sohtude. 

Attuned to the sad harmony of that closmg stanza, and 
set to the same key-note of impassioned sorrovr, are the 
following lines of Chateauhriand, ■\Yhich I believe have never 
appeared in print, at least in this country. They were com- 
posed on the occasion of a young and beautiful girl's pre- 
inature death, the day her remains were, with the usual 
ceremony of placing a wreath of white roses on the bier, 
consigned to the earth. 


Siir la Fille de mon Ami, enterree hier dcvant moi ait Cimciiere de Fass^f, 
16 Jtiiii, 1832. 

II descend ce cercueil ! et Ics roses sans tache3 

Qu'un pere y deposa, tribut de sa douleur : 
TeiTe ! tu les portas ! et maintenaut tu caches 

Jeune fille et jeune fleur! 
Ah! ne les rends jamais a oc monde prophane, 

A ce monde de deuil, d'angoisso, et de malheui-! 
Le vent brisc et lletrit, lo soleil brule et fane 

Jeune fiUc et jeune fleur! 
Tu dors, pauvrc Elisa, si legure d'annecs! 

Tu ne crains plus du jour le poids et la chaleu" { 
El!c9 ont acheve leurs fraiches matinees, 

Jeuue fille et jeune fleiu-! 

THE so>'as or rEA^cE. 257 

Ere that cofEn goes down, let it bear on its lid 

The garland of roses 
Which the hand of a father, her moui'ners amid, 
In silence deposes — 
'Tis the joung maiden's funeral hour ! 
From thy bosom, O earth ! sprung that young budding ross 
And 'tis meet that together thy lap should enclose 
The young maid and the flower ! 

Nerer, never give back the two symbols so pure 

Which to thee we confide ; 
From the breath of this world and its plague-spot secure, 
Let them sleep side by side — 
They shall know not its pestilent power ! 
Soon tlie breath of contagion, the deadly mildew, 
Or the fierce scorcliing sun, might parch up as they grew 
The young maid and the flower ! 

Poor Eliza ! for thee life's enjoyments have fled. 

But its pangs too are flown ! 
Then go sleep in the grave ! in that cold bridal bed 

Death may call thee liis own — 
Take tliis handfiU of clay for thy dower I 
Of a texture wert thou far too gentle to last ; 
'Twas a morning thy life ! now the matins are past 
For the maid and the flower I 

No. IX. 


OiT vrnrE, "svae, wo:m:en, wooDE:^s■ shoes, philosophy, 


Chapter III. — Philosophy. 

"Quando Gallus cantat, Petrus QAJ'—Sixtus V. Pont. Max. 

"Si de nos coqs la voix altiere "If old St. Peter on his rock 

Ti-oubla I'htritier de St. Pierre, Wept when he heard the Gallic cock, 
Grace aux annates aujourd'hui, Has not the jjood French hen (God 
2? OS poulcs vont pondre pour iui." bless her !) 

Beea^-geb. Laid many an egg for his succes- 

Beeoee we plunge with Prout into the depths of French 
Philosophy", we must pluck a crow with the "Sun." ^ot 



often does it occur to us to notice a newspaper criticism ; 
nor, indeed, in this case, should we condescend to wax 
angry at the discharge of the penny-a-liner's popgun, were 
it not that an imputation has been cast on the good father's 
memory, which cannot be overlooked, and must be wiped 
away. The caitiff who writes in the " Sun" has, at the in- 
stigation of Satan, thrown out a hint that these songs, and 
specifically his brilliant translation of " Malbrouck," were 
"written "under vinous inspiration!" A false and atrocious 
libel. Great mental powers and superior cleverness are too 
often supposed to derive assistance from the bottle. Thus 
the virtue of the elder Cato {prisci Catonis) is most unjus- 
tifiably ascribed to potations by unreflecting Horace ; and 
a profane French sophist has attributed Noah's escape from 
the flood to similar partiality : 

" Noe le patriarche, " To have drovm'd au old cliap, 

Si celebre par I'arche, Such a fi-iend to 'the tap,' 

Aima fort le jus du tonneau ; The flood would have felt compunc- 

Puisqu'il planta la vigne, tion : 

Convenez qu'etait digue Noah owed his escape 

De ne point se noyer dans I'eau!" To his love for the grape ; 

And liis 'ark' was an empty pun- 

The illustrious Queen Anne, who, like our own Eegina, 
encouraged literature and patronised wit, was thus calum- 
niated after death, when her statue was put up where it 
now stands, with its bade to Paul's church and its face 
turned towards that celebrated corner of the churchyard 
which in those days Avas a brandy-shop. IS^ay, was not our 
late dignified Lord Chancellor equally lampooned, without 
the slightest colour of a pretext, excepting, perhaps, " be- 
cause his nose is red." Good reason has he to curse his evil 
eenius, and to exclaim with Ovid — 

" Ingenio perii Naso pocta mco !" 

"We were prepared, by our previous knowledge of history, 
for this outbreak of calumny in Prout's case ; we knew, by 
a reference to the biography of Christopher Columbus, of 
Galileo, and of Dr. Paustus (the great iuventor of the art 
of printing), that his intellectual superiority would raise up 
a host of adversaries prepared to malign him, nay, if necos- 


Barj, to accuse liiin of witchcraft. The wi'iter in the " Sun" 
has not yet gone quite so far, contenting himself for the 
present with the assertion, that the father penned " these 
(Songs of Prance " to the sound of a grurglins: iiasron — 

" Aux doux gloux gloux que fait la bouteiile." 
The idea is not new. AVhen Demosthenes shaved his head, 
and spent the winter in a cellar transcribing the works of 
Thucydides, 'twas said of him, on his emerging into the 
light of the y3-^,v.a, that " his speeches smelt of oil." It 
was stated of that locomotive knight. Sir Eichard Black- 
more, whose epic poem on King Arthur is now (like Bob 
Moatgomery's " Omnipresence ") present nowhere, that he 

" "Wrote to the rumbling of his coach-wheels." 
In allusion to Byron's lameness, it was hinted by some 
Zoilus that he penned not a few of his verses stans pede in 
uno. Even a man's genealogy is not safe from innuendo 
and inference ; for Sam Rogers having discovered, from 
Bcranger's song, " Le Tailleur et la Fee," that his fathe)- 
was a tailor, pronounced his parentage and eai'ly impressions 
to be the cause why he was such a capital hand at a hem- 
a-stich. If a similar analogy can hold good in Tom Moore's 
case (whose juvenile associations were of a grocer sort), it 
will no doubt become obvious why his compositions are so 
"highly spiced," his taste so "liquorish," and his muse so 
prodigal of " sugar-candy." 

But is it come to this ? must we needs, at this time of 
day, vindicate the holy man's character ? and are we driven 
to take up the cudgels for his sobriety ? — he, whose frugal life 
was proverbial, and wlaose zeal, hacked by personal example, 
was all-powerful to win his parishioners from the seduction 
of barleycorn, and reduce them to a habit of temperance, 
itd bonam frucjem reducere ! He, of whom it might be pre- 
dicated, that while a good conscience was \}lxq ju(je conviviuiti 
of his mind, his corporeal banquet was a perpetual red- 
herring ! Water-cresses, so abundant on that bleak hill, 
were his only luxury ; for he belonged to that class of 
Pythagorean philosophers of whom Virgil speaks, in hia 
description of the plague : 

" Non illis cpuLs nocuere rcpostsc : 
Frondibus et victu pascuntur simpUcis herbae." — Georg. Ill, 


Cicero tells us, in his Tnsculan Questions (what he might 
have read in Xenophon), that water-cresses were a favourite 
diet in Persia. His words are : " Persse nihil ad panem 
adhibebant pi'seter nasturtium." (Tusc. Qusest. v. 140). 
I only make this remark, eti passant, as, in comparing Ire- 
land with what Tom calls 

" that delightful province of the sun. 
The land his orient beam first shines upon," 

it would seem that " round towers'^ and ivater-cresses are 
distinctive characteristics of both countries ; a matter some- 
what singular, since the taste for water-grass is by no means 
generally diffused among Eui'opean nations. Pliny, indeed 
(lib. xix. cap. 8), goes so far as to state, that this herb 
creates an unpleasant titillation in the nose : " JS'asturtium 
nomen accepit a narium tormento." But Spenser says of 
the native Irish, that " wherever they found a plot of sham- 
rocks or water-cresses, there they flocked as to a feast." — 
State of Ireland, A.n. 1580. 

"When we assert that Prout was thus a model of abste- 
miousness, we by no means intend to convey the notion, 
that he was inhospitable. Is not his Carousal on record 
in the pages of Eegina ? and will it not be remembered 
when the feast of O'Eourke is forgotten ? If a friend 
chanced to drop into his hut on a frosty night, he felt no 
more scruple in cracking with his guest a few bottles of 
Medoc, than George Knapp, the redoubtable Mayor of 
Cork, in demolishing, with his municipal club, a mad-dog's 
pericranium. Nor were his brother-clergy in that diocese 
less remarkable for well-ordered conviviality. Horace, in 
his trip to Brundusium, says, that parish-priests are only 
bound (on account of their poverty) to supply a stranger 
mth a lire-side of bog- wood, and potatoes and salt — 

" Suppeditant paroclii quod debent ligna sdlemque ." 

Avhereas he foolislily imagines that nothing can surpass a 
bishop's hospitality — 

" Pontificum jiotiore coenis." 

"Were the poet now-a-days (a.d. 1830) to make a trip to- 
Corlc, he would find matters managed vice versd. 


Prom all -we have said on this subject, and stiU more from 
what we could add, if inclined to be Avrathful, Front's calum- 
niators may learn a lesson of forbearance and decorum. His 
paths are the paths of pleasantness and peace. But we are 
determined to protect liim from assault. Far be it from us 
to throw an apple of discord ; but Front is the apple of our 
eye. Let the man in " the Sun" read how Daniel O'Kourke 
fell from " the moon ;" let him recollect the Dutch ambassa- 
dor's remark when the grand monarque shewed hini his own. 
royal face painted in the disc of an emblematic " Sol :" " Je 
rois avec plaisir voire mujeste dans le plus gravid des astees." 

Dec. \st, 1834. 

Watergrasskin, Dec. 1833. 
The historian of Charles the Fifth, in that cliapter wherein 
he discourseth of the children of Loyola, takes the oppor- 
tunity of manifesting his astonishment that so learned a body 
of men should never have produced, among crowds of poets, 
critics, divines, metaphysicians, orators, and astronomers, 
" one single lyldlosopher .'" The remark is not original. The 
ingenious maggot was first generated in the brain of D'^Uem- 
bert, himself an undeniable "philosopher." Every one, I 
imagine, knows what guess-sort of wiseacre France gave 
birth to ia the person of that algebraic personage. I say 
France in general, a wholesale term, as none ever knew who 
liis parents were in detail, he, like myself, having graduated 
in a foundling hospital. In the noble seminary des Enfans 
Trouves, (that metropolitan magazine for anonjTnous contri- 
butions,) the future geometer was only known by the name 
of " Jean le Eond," which he exchanged in after-life for 
the more sonorous title of D'Alembert : not rendering him- 
self thereby a whit more capable of finding the quadrature 
of the circle. To be sure, in the fancy for a high-sounding 
name he only imitated his illustrious fellow-labourer in the 
vineyard, Francois Arouet, whom mortals have learnt to call 
"Voltaire" by his own particular desire. jSTow Eobcrtson, 
of the Kirk of Scotland, ought to have known, when he 
adopted, second-hand, this absurdity, that by philosopher 
the French infidel meant any thing but a ■\\'ell-regulated, 


sound, and sagacious mind, reposing in calm grandeur oa 
the rock of Eevelation, and looking on -with scornful pity 
while modern sophists go through all the drunken capers of 
emancipated scepticism. Does the historian, grave and 
thoughtful as he is, mean to countenance such vagaries of 
human reason ? does he deem the wild mazes of the philo- 
sophic dance, in which Hobbes, Spinoza, Bolingbroke, David 
Hume, and Monboddo, join with Diderot, Helvetius, and 
the D'Holbac revellers, worthy of applause and imitation ? 

" Saltantes satyros imitabitur Alphesiboeus ?" 

If such be the blissful vision of his philosophy, then, indeed, 
may we exclaim, with the poet of Eton College, " 'Tis folly 
to be wise !" But if to possess an iinrivalled knowledge of 
human nature — if to ken with intuitive glance all the 
secrets of men's hearts — if to control the passions — if to 
gain ascendancy by sheer intellect over mankind — if to 
civilise the savage — if to furnish zealous and intelligent 
missionaries to the Indian and American hemisphere, as 
well as professors to the Universities of Europe, and " con- 
fessors" to the court of kings, — be characteristics of ge- 
nuine ])hilosophy and mental greatness, allow me to put in a 
claim for the Societ}^ that is no more ; the downlal of which 
was the signal for every evil bird of bad omen to ilit abroad 
and pollute tlie world — 

" Obscopiiiquc caues, importunrcquc voluercs.'' 

And still, though it may sound strange to modern democrats, 
the first treatise on the grand dogma of the sovereignty of 
the people was written and published in Spain by a Jesuit. 
It was i\ather Mariana who first, in his book " De Institu- 
tioneEegis," taught the doctrine, that kings are but trustees 
for the benefit of the nation, freely developiug what was 
timidly hinted at by Thomas Aquinas. Baylo, whom the 
professor will admit to the full honours of a philosophic cliair 
of pestilence,* acknowledges, in sundry passages, the supe- 
rior sagacity of those pious men, under whom, by the way, 
he himself studied at Toulouse ; and if, by accumulating 

* " Ca/hcdra peslilentia" is tlie A^'ulgatc translation of what the au- 
thorised Cinirch-Tcrsion calls the " seat of the scornful," Psalm i. 1, 
— O. Y. 


doubts and darkneag on the truths of Christianity, he has 
merited to be called the cloud-compelling Jupiter among 
philosophers, cjijEXTiyeisra Zr>/;, surely some particle of philo- 
sophic praise, equivocal as it is, might be reserved for those 
able masters "who stimulated his early inquiries, — excited 
and fed his young appetite for erudition. But they sent 
forth from their schools, in Descartes, in Torricelli, and in 
Bossuet, much sounder specimens of reasoning and wisdom. 

I hesitate not to aver, as a general proposition, that the 
French character is essentially unphilosophical. Of the 
Grreeks it has been said, what I would rather apply to our 
merry neighbours, that they were " a nation of children," 
possessing all the frolicsome wildness, all the playful attrac- 
tiveness of that pleasant epoch in life ; but deficient in the 
graver faculties of dispassionate reflection : 'EXXjjvsg atu 
•rraihg, yisoyj h 'EXX-/]V ouos/j. — (Plato, " Timseus.") In the 
reign of Louis XIV., P^re Bouhours gravely discusses, in his 
" Cours de Belles Lettres," the question, " Avhether a native 
of Germany can possess wit r" The phlegmatic dwellers on 
the Danube might retort by proposing as a problem to the 
University of Gottingen, " An datiu' philosophus inter 
Gallos ?" Certain it is, and I know them well, that the 
calibre of their mind is better adapted to receive and dis- 
charge " small shot" than " heavy metal." That they are 
more calculated to shine in the imaginative, the ornamental, 
the refined and delicate departments of literature, than in the 
sober, sedate, and profound pursuits of philosophy ; and it 
is not without reason that history tells of their ancestors, 
when on the point of taking the capitol, that they were 
foiled and discomfited by the solemn steadiness of a goose. 

Cicero had a great contempt for the guidance of Greek 
philosophers in matters appertaining to religion, thinking, 
with reason, that there was in the Eoman gravity a more 
fitting disposition of mind for such important inquiries : 
" Cum de religione agitur, Titum Coruncanium aut Publium 
Scoovolam, pontijices maximos, non Zenonem, aut Cleanthum, 
aut Chrysippum sequor." {Be Katura Dear.) The terms 
of insulting depreciation, Gneadus and Grcecia mendax, are 
familiar to the readers of the Latin classics ; and from 
Aristophanes we can learn, that/rops, a talkative, saltatory, 
and unsubstantial noun of multitude, was then applied to 


Greeks, as now-a-days to Prenclimen. But of this more 
anon, when I come to treat of "frogs and free-trade." I 
am now on the chapter of philosophy. 

Yague generalities, and sweeping assertions relative to 
national character, are too much the fashion with writers of 
the Puckler Muskaw and Lady Morgan school : wherefore 
I select at once an individual illustration of my theory con- 
cerning the French ; and I hope I shall not be accused of 
dealing unfairly towards them when I put forward as a 
sample the Comte de Buffon. Of all the eloquent prose 
writers of France, none has surpassed in graceful and har- 
monious diction the great naturalist of Burgundy. His 
work combines two qualities rarely found in conjunction ou 
the same happy page, viz., accurate technical information 
and polished elegance of style ; indeed his maxim was " Le 
style c'est Vhoinme :" but when he goes beyond his depth — 
when, tired of exquisite delineations and graphic depictur- 
ings, he forsakes the " swan," the " Arabian horse," the 
" beaver," and the " ostrich," for " Sanconiathon, Berosus, 
and the cosmogony of the world," what a melancholy exhi- 
bition does he make of ingenious dotage ! Having prede- 
termined not to leave Moses a leg to stand on, he sweeps 
away at one stroke of his pen the foundations of Genesis, 
and reconstructs their terraqueous planet on a new patent 
principle. I have been at some pains to acquire a compre- 
liensive notion of his system, and, aided by an old Jesuit, I 
have succeeding in condensing the voluminous dissertation 
into a few lines, for the use of those who are dissatisfied 
with the Mosaic statement, including Dr. Buckland : 

1. $it the beginning was the siin, from which a splinter 
was shot off by chance, and that fragment was our globe. 

2. Slab the globe had for its nucleus melted glass, with 
an envelope of hot water. 

3. SlnlJ it began to twirl round, and became somewhat 
flattened at the polos. 

4. fJolu, when the water grew cool, insects began to ap- 
pear, and shell-fish. 

5. 9nb from the accumulation of shells, particularly 
oysters (torn, i., 4to. edit. p. 14), the earth was gradually 


formed, with, ridges of mountains, on tlie principle of the 
Monte Testacio at the gate of Eome. 

6. 33ut the melted glass kept warm for a long time, and 
the arctic climate was as hot in those days as the tropics 
now are : witness a frozen rhinoceros found in Siberia, &c. 
&c. &c. 

To all which discoveries no one vrHl be so illiberal as to 
refuse the appropriate acclamation of " Very fine oysters !"* 

As I have thus furnished here a compendious substitute 
for the obsolete book of Genesis, I think it right also to 
supply a few notions on astronomy ; wherefore I subjoin a 
Prench song on one of the most interesting phenomena of 
the solar system, in which effusion of some anonymous poet 
there is about as much wisdom as in Bufton's cosmogony. 

Ea Ojron'c Dc^ iEcltp^cS. 0n ^olar 3£clip5e£i. 

(a 2fEW THEOEY.) 

(^Jupiter loqidtur.) For the use of the London University. 

Je jure le Styx qui tounioie Ail heaven,! swear by Styx that rolls 

Dans le pays de Tartara, Its dark flood round the land of 

Qu'i"Colin-mailIard" on jouera souls! 

Or BUS ! tirez au sort, qu'on voie Shall play this day at " Bliud 

Lequel d'entre vous le sera. man's buff." 

Come, make arrangements on the 

spot ; 
Prepare the 'kerchief, draw the lot — 
So Jove commands ! Enough ! 

Le bon Soleil I'avait bien dit — Lot fell on Sol : the stars were struck 

Le sort lui echut en partage : At such an instance of ill luck. 

Chacun rit ; et suivant I'usagc, Then Luna forward came, 

Aussitot la Lune s'offrit And bound with gentle, modest 

Pour lui Toiler son beau visage. ^and, 

•J'cr liis bright brow the musHu 
baud : 
Hence mortals learaed the game. 

It would be scandalous indeed, if the palm of absurdity, 
the bronze medal of impudence in philosophic discovery, 
were to be awarded to Buffon, when Voltaire stands a can- 
didate in the same field of speculation. This great man, 
discoursing on a similar subject, in his profound " Questions 

* Prout felt that dislike of geological induction common to old- 
(tehioned churchmen — O.Y. 


Encyclopediques," labours to remove tlie vulgar presumptioii 
in favour of a general deluge, derived from certain marine 
remains and conchylia found on the Alps and Pyrenees. 
He does not hesitate to trace these shells to the frequency 
of pilgrims returning vrith scollops on their hats from St. 
Jago di Compostello across the mountains. Here are his 
words, q. e. (art. Coquil.) : " Si nous faisons reflexion a la 
foule innombrable de pclerins qui partent k pied de St. 
Jaques en Galice, et de toutes les pro-\dnces, pour aller a 
Kome par le Mont Cenis, charges de coquilles a leurs bon- 
nets," &c. &c. — a deep and original explanation of a very 
puzzling geological problem. 

But let the patriarch of Ferney hide his diminished head 
before a late French philosophic writer, citoyen Dupuis, author 
of 'that sublime work, " De I'Origine des Cultes." This 
performance is a manual of deism, and. deservedly has been 
commemorated by a poet from Gascony ; who concludes his 
complimentary stanzas to the author by telling him that he 
has at last drawn up Truth from the bottom of the well to 
which the ancients had consigned her : 

Vous avez bien merite Trvitli in a well was said to chrcU, 

De la patrie, Sire Dupuis : From whence no art could pluck it ; 

Vous avez tire la v<^vite But now 'tis known, raised by the loan 

Du puits ! Of thy philosophic bucket. 

Citizen Dupuis has imagined a simple method of explain- 
ing the rise and origin of Christianity, which he clearly 
shews to have been nothing at its commencement but an " as- 
tronomical allegory :" Christ standing for the Sun, the 
twelve apostles representing the twelve signs of the Zodiac, 
Peter standing for " Aquarius," and Didymus for one of 
"the twins," &c. ; just with as much ease as a future histo- 
rian of these countries may convert our grand "Whig cabinet 
into an allegorical fable, putting Lord Althorp for the sign 
of Tmirvs, Palmcrston for the Goaf, EUice for Ursa Major, 
and finding in Stanley an undeniable emblem of Scorpio.^ 

Volney, in his " Euines," seems to emulate the bold theo- 
ries of Dupuis ; and the conclusion at which all arrive, by 
the devious and labyrintliiue paths they severally tread, — 
whether, with Lamettrie, they adopt plain materialism ; or, 

* " Bear EUice" and " Scorpion Stanley" were household words iu 
1830, as well as Lord Althorpc's bucolic and Palmerston's erotic fume. 

I'a.^c 267. 



with CondDlac, hint at the possibility of matter being capa- 
ble of thought ; or, with Diderot, find no difference between 
man and a dog but the clothes ("Yie de Sen^que") — is, 
emancipation from all moral tie, and contempt for all exist- 
ing institutions. Their disciples fill the galleys in France, 
and cause our own Botany Bay to present all the agree- 
able varieties of a philosophical hortus siccus. But Ireland 
has produced a grander specimen of philosophy, exemplified 
in the calm composure, dignified tranqiiillity, and instructive 
self-possession, with which death may be encountered after 
a life of usefulness. For the benefit of the French, I have 
taken some pains to initiate them, through the medium of a 
translation, into the workings of an Irish mind unfettered 
by conscientious scruples on the threshold of eternity. 

Ci)c Scatlj of ^ocvatfiS. 

By the Rev. Robt. Burroxces, Dean of 
St. Finbar's Cathedral, Cork. 

The night before Larry was stretched, 

The boys they all paid liim a visit ; 

A bit in their sacks, too, they fetched — 

They sweated their duds tiU they 

riz it ; 

For Larry was always the lad, 

When a friend was condemned to 

the squeezer, 

But he'd pawn all the togs that he had. 

Just to help the poor boy to a 


And moisten his gob 'fore he died. 

" Pon my conscience, dear Larry," 
says I, 
" I'm sorry to see you in trouble. 
And your life's cheerful noggiu run 
And yourself going off like its bub- 
ble !" 
" Hould your tongvie in that matter," 
says he ; 
" For the neckcloth I don't care a 
And by this time to-morrow you'll see 
Your Larry will be dead as mutton : 
All for what ? 'kase his courage 
was jjood!" 

Ea iilovt tic ^ocratc. 

Tar V Ahhe deProut, CurcduMont- 
aux- Cressons, pres de Cork. 

A la veille d'etre pendu, 

Notr'Laurent r39ut dans son 
Honneur qui lui etait bien du, 
De nombreus amis la visite ; 
Car chacim scavait qvie Laurent 
A son tour rendrait la pareUle, 
Chapeau montre, et Teste en- 
Poitr que I'ami put boire bou- 
Ni fau'e, a gosicr sec, lo saut. 

" Helas, notrc gar9on !" lui dis-je* 
" Combien je regrette ton sort I 
Te Toila flcur, que sur sa tige 

Moissonne la crueUe mort !" — 
" Au diable," dit-il, " le roi 
George ! 
^a me fait la valeiu* d'lm boii- 
ton ; 
Devant le boucher qvd m'egorge, 
Je serai comma un doux mou- 
Et saurai moutrer du courage !'* 



The boys tliey came crowding in fast ; 
They drew theu* stools close round 
about liim, 
Six glims roimd his coffin they 

placed — 
He couldn't be well waked without 

I axed if he was fit to die, 

Without having duly repented ? 
Says Lariy, " That's all in my eye, 
And all by the clargy invented. 
To make a fat bit for themselves." 

Des amis deja la cohorte 

Remplissait son etroit feduit ; 
" Six chandelles, ho I qu'on ap- 
Donnons du lustre a cette nuit ! 
Alors je cherchai h connaitre 
S*lI s'etait dument repcnti ? 
" Bah ! c'est les foui-beries des 

pretres ; 
Les gredins, ils en ont menti, 
Et leurs contes d'enfer sont 
faux !" 

Then the cards being called for, they 
Tni Larry foimd one of them 
cheated ; 
Quick he made a hard rap at his head — 

The lad being easily heated. 
" So ye chates me bekase I'm in ginef ! 
O ! is that, by the Holy, the rason ? 
Soon I'U give you to know, you d — d 
That you're cracking yom- jokes out 
of sasou. 
An d scuttle your nob with my 

L'on demande les cartes. Au jeu 
Lam'cnt voit un larrou qui 
triche ; 
D'honnem* tout rempli, il prend 
Et d im bon coup de poign 
" Ha, coqiiin ! de mon dernier 
Tu croyais profiter, peut-etre ; 
Tu OSes me j oner ce tour ! 

Prends qa, pour ta peine, vil 
traitre ! 
Et appreuds a te bicu con- 

Then in came the priest with his book, 

He spoke laim so smooth and so 

civil ; 

Larry tipped him a Kilmainham look. 

And pitched his big wig to the divU. 

Then raising a little his head, 

To get a sweep drop of the bottle, 
-And pitiful sigliing he said, 

" ! (lie liem]5 will be soon roimd 
my throttle, 
And choke my poor windpipe to 
death !" 

Quand nous eumes cesse nos 
Laurent, en ce triste repaire 
Pour le disposer au trepas, 

Yoitentrer Monsieui" leVicaire. 
Apres im sinistre regard, 

Le front de sa main il se frotte, 

Disant tout haut, " Venez plus 

tard !" 

Et tout has, " Yilain' colotte !" 

Puis son verre il vida deux 


'So mournful these last words he spoke, Lors il parla de recliafaud, 

We all vented our tears in a shower; Et de sa deruiure cravatc ; 

.For my part, I thought my heart Grands dieux ! que9a paraissait 

broke beau 

To seo him cut down like a flower! De la voir mourir en Socrate i 



On his travels we watched him next Le tnajet en chantant il fit — 


O, the hangman I thought I coukl 
km him ! 
Not one word did our poor Larry say, 
Nor changed till he came to "King 
William :" 
Och, my dear! then his colour 
turned white ! 

When he came to the nubbling chit, 
He was tucked up so neat and so 
The rumbler jugged off from his feet, 
And he died with his face to the city. 
He kicked too, but that was all pride. 
For soon you might see 'twas all 
over ; 
And as soon as the noose was untied. 
Then at darkey we waked him in 
And sent him to take a ground- 

La chanson point ne fut un- 
pseaume ; 
Mais palit un peu quand il vit 
La statue du Eoy GuiUaume — 
Les pendards n'aiment pas 
ce roi ! 

Quand fut au bout de son voyage, 

Le gibet fut pret en un cKn ; 
Mourant il touma le visage 

Vers la bonne ville de Dublin. 
II dansa la carmagnole, 

Et mom'ut comme fit Mal- 
brouck ; 
Puis nous euterrames le drole 

Au cLmetiere de Donnybrook. 
Que son ame y soit en reposT 

There has been an attempt by Victor Hugo to embody 
into a book the principles of Stoic philosophy, which Larry 
herein propounds to his associates ; and the French poet 
has spun out into the shape of a long yarn, called " Le 
dernier Jour d'un Condamne," what my friend Dean Bur- 
rowes had so ably condensed in his immortal ballad. But 
I suspect that Addison's tragedy of " Cato" furnished the 
original hint, in the sublime soliloquy about suicide — 

" It must be so ! Plato, thou reasonest weU ;" 

unless we trace the matter as far back as Hamlet's conver- 
sation Avith the grave-digger. 

The care and attention Avith which " the boys" paid the 
last funeral honours to the illustrious dead, anxious to tes- 
tify their adhesion to the doctrines of the defunct philo- 
sopher by a glorious "wake," remind me of the pomp and 
ceremony with which the sa7is culottes of Paris conveyed 
the carcass of Voltaire and the ashes of Jean Jacques to the 
Pantheon in 1794. Tlie bones of the cut-throat Marat were 
•ubsequently added to the relics therein gathered ; and ac 


inscription bitterly ironical blazed on the front of the 
temple's gorgeous portico — 

" Aux gi'ands hommes la patric reconnaissante !" 

The " Confessions" of Eousseau had stamped him a vaga- 
bond ; the " Pucelle" of Voltaire, by combining an outrage 
on morals with a sneer at the most exalted instance of ro- 
mantic patriotism on record in his own or any other country, 
had eminently entitled the writer to be " waked" by the 
5nost ferocious ruffians that ever rose from the kenuel to 
trample on all the decencies of life, and riot in all the beati- 
tude of democracy. But when I denounce their doings of 
1793, there was a man in those days who deserved to live in 
better times ; tho' carried away by the frenzy of the season 
(for "madness ruled the hour"), he voted for the death of 
Louis XVI. That man was the painter David, then a 
member of the Convention ; subsequently the imperial ar- 
tist, whose glorious picturings of " The Passage of the Alps 
by Bonaparte," of " The Spartans at Thermopylae," and 
" The Emperor in his Coronation Eobes," shed such radiance 
on his native laud. The Bourbons had the bad taste not 
only to enforce the act of proscription in his case while he 
lived, but to prohibit his dead body from being interred in 
the French territory. His tomb is in Brussels ; but his 
paintings form the ornament of Louvi'e and Luxemburg ; 
while fortunate enough to be sung by Beranger. 

Ee Conboi "Ht Sabtti, 

Peinire de l' Emperenr, ex-Membre de la Convention. 
Air—" De Roland." 
" Non ! non'! voiis tie passevez pas 1" " Non ! non ! vous ne passerez pas !" 

Ciie un soldat sui- la fronti^re, Kedit plus bas la sentinelle. — 

A ceux qui de David, h^las ! " Le peintre de L^onidas 

Rappovtaient cliez iions lapoiissiSre. D.ans la liberie n'a vii qu'ella : 

"Soldat," diseni ils dans leiir deuil, On lui dut le noble appareil 

"Proscrit-nn aiissi sa m^moire? Des jours de joie et d'osperance, 

Quoi, vous repoMSsez son cercueil! Ou les beaux arts !i leur reveil 

Et vous h^ritcz de sa gloire !" petalent le reveil de la France." 

" Non ! non ! vous ne passerez pas !" " Non ! non I vous ne passerei pas I ' 

Dit le soldat avec furie. — Di le soldat; "c'est ma consigne." 

"Soldat, ses yeux jusqu'au trtpas "Du plus grand de tons les soldats 

So sont touru^s vers la patrie ; II fiit le peintre le plus digue 

11 en soutenait la splendeur A I'aspect dc Taigle si fier, 

Du fond d'uu exil qui I'honore : I'lein d'llomero, ct rime exaltie, 

C'e:it par lui que noti'e grandeur David crut peindre Jupiter — 

8ar la toile respire encore," llelas I ii peiguit ProuiL'th^e." 


" Non ! non ! vous ne passerez pas !'' " Nor. ! non ! vous ne passerez pas 1" 

Dit lo soldat, (levenu triste. — Dit la sentinelle attcndrte. — 

"Le lieros aprjs cent combats " Eh bien, retoumnns sur nos pas! 

Siiccombe. et Ton proscrit I'artiste ! Adieu, terre qu'il k ch^rie ! 

Chez I'etraiiger la mort I'atteint — Les arts ont perdu le flambeau 

Qu'il dut trouver sa coupe amjrel Qui fit palir I'^clat de Rome ! 

Aux cendres d'un g^nie ^teint, Aliens mendier un tombeau 

France ! tends les bras d'uue m Jre." Pour les testes de ce grand homme !" 

Ei}t (Qh^tqxiiti of 23abitt tlje iSainter, 

Ex-Member of the National Convention. 

The pass is barred! "Fall back!" cries the guard; "cross not the 

French frontier !" 
As with solemn tread, of the exUed dead the funeral drew near. 
For the sentinelle hath noticed well what no plume, no pall can hide, 
That yon hearse contains the sad remains of a banished regicide ! 
"But pity take, for his glory's sake," said lus children to the guard; 
" Let his noble art plead on lois part — let a grave be his reward ! 
France knew his name in her hour of fame, nor the aid of liis pencil 

scorned ; 
Let his passport be the memory of the triumphs he adorned !" 

" That corpse can't pass ! 'tis my duty, alas !" said the frontier sen- 
tinelle. — 
" But pity take, for his country's sake, and his clay do not repel 
From its kindred earth, from the land of his birth!" cried the mourners, 

in their turn. 
" Oh ! give to France the inheritance of her painter's funeral urn : 
His pencil traced, on the Alpine waste of the pathless Mont Bernard, 
Napoleon's course on the snow-white horse! — let a grave be his reward! 
For he loved this land — ay, his dying hand to paint her fame he'd lend 

her : 
Let his passport be the memory of his native country's splendour !" 

" Ye cannot pass," said the guard, " alas ! (for tears bedimmed his 

Though France may count to pass that mount a glorious entei-j^risc." — 
" Then pity take, for fair Freedom's sake," cried the mourners once 

again : 
" Her favourite was Leonidas, with his band of Spartan men ; 
Did not his art to them impart life's breath, that France might see 
What a patriot few in the gap could do at old Thermopylae ? 
Oft by that sight for the coming fight was the youthful bosom fired : 
Let hii passport be the memory of the valour he inspired !" 

" Ye cannot pass." — " Soldier, alas ! a dismal boon we crave — 
Say, is there not some lonely spot wliere his friends may dig a grave ? 
Oh ! pity take, for that hero's sake whom lie gloried to portray 
With crown and palm at Notre Dame on his coronation-day." 


Amid tliat band the -withered hand of an aged pontiff I'ose, 
And blessing shed on the conqueror's head, forgiving his own vroes : — 
He drew that scene — nor dreamt, I ween, that yet a httle while, 
And the hero's doom would be a tomb far off in a lonely isle ! 

" I am charged, alas ! not to let you pass," said the son-owing sentine-e ; 
" His destiny must also be a foreign grave !" — " 'Tis well ! — 
Hard is our fate to supphcate for his bones a place of rest. 
And to bear away his banished clay from the land that he loved bee* 
Uut let us hence ! — Sad recompense for the lustre that he cast, 
Blending the rays of modern days with the glories of the past 1 
Our sons will read with shame this deed (unless my mind doth err) ; 
And a future age make pilgi-image to the painter's sepulchre !" 

How poor and pitiful to visit on liis coffin the error of his 
jiolitieal career ! There is a sympathy in our nature that 
rises in arms against any act of persecution that vents itself 
upon the dead ; and genius in exile has ever excited interest 
and compassion. This feeling has been admirably worked 
upon by the author of the " Meditations Poetiques," a poet 
every way inferior to Berauger, but who, in the following 
effusion, has surpassed himself, and given utterance to some 
of the noblest lines in the French language. 

3ta #Iotrc. 

A un Poke Portugais exile, par AlpJionse de la Martine. 

Genereux, favoris des fiUes de m^moire! 
Deux senticrs differents devant vous vont s'ouvi-ir — 
L'un conduit au bouheur, I'autre mene a la gloire ; 
Mortels ! il faut choisir. 

Ton sort, O Manoel ! suivit la loi commune : 
La muse t'enivra de precoces favours ; 
Tes jours fui-ent tissus de gloire et d'infortune, 
Et tu vei'ses des pleurs ! 

Kougis, plutAt rougis, d'envier au vulgaire, 
Le sterile repos dont son coeur est jaloux ; 
Les dieux ont fait pour lui tous les bicns de la terrc, 
ilais la lyre est a nous. 

Leg siJclcs sont ;i toi, le monde est ta patrie ; 
Quand nous no soninies plus, notro ombre a des Hutcls, 
Gii le juste avenir prepare a ton genio 
Des liomieurs immortels. 


OuJ, la gloii-e t' attend ! mais arrete et contemplo 
A quel prix on penetre en ces pai'vis sacres ; 
Vols, rinfortiine,assise a la porte du temple, 
En garde les degres. 

Ici c'est CO vieillard que I'ingrate Ionic 
A vu de mers en mers promener ses malheurs ; 
Aveugle, il mendiait, au prix de son genie, 
Un pain mouille de pleurs. 

L^ le Tasse, biade d'une flamme fatale, 
Expiant dans les fers sa gloire et son amour, 
Quand il va recueillir la palnie triomphale, 
Descend au noir sejoiu-. 

Par-tout des mallieureux, des proscrits, des victimes, 
Luttant contre le sort, ou contre les bourreaux ; 
On dii-ait que le Ciel aiix ccem-s plus magnani:nc3 
Mesm'e plus de maux. 

Impose done silence aux plaintes de ta lyre — 
Des ccem's nes sans vertu I'infortune est I'ecueil ; 
Mais toi, roi detrone, que ton malheur t'inspire 
Un genereux orgueil. 

Que t'importe, apres tout, que cat ordre barbare 
T'enchaine loin des bords qui furent ton berceau ? 
Que t'importe en quel lieu le destin te prepare 
Un glorieux tombeau ? 

Ni I'exil ni le fer de ces tvi'ans du Tage 
N'encliaineront ta gloire aux bords oil tu mourras : 
Lisbonne la reclame, et voila I'heritage 
Que tu lui laisseras. 

Ceux qui I'ont mecomiu pleureront le grand homme : 
Athene a des proscrits ouvre son Pantheon ; 
Coriolan expii'c, et les enfans de Eome 
Kevendiquent son nom. 

Aux rivages des morts avant que de deseendre, 
Ovide leve au eicl ses suppliantes mains : 
Aux Sannates barbares il a leaue sa cendre, 
Et sa gloii'e aux Eomaius. 



Addressed lly Lamartine to his friend and brother-poet, Manoel, banished 
from Portugal. 

If yoiu' bosom beats high, if yoiir pulse quicker grows, 
When in visions ye fancy the %vi'eath of the Muse, 
There's the path to renown — there's the path to repose — 
Ye must choose ! ye must choose ! 

Manoel, thus the destmy rules thy career, 
And thy life's web is woven with glory and woe ; 
Thou wert nm-sed on the lap of the Muse, and thy tear 
Shall unceasingly flow. 

O, my friend ! do not envy the vulgar theu* joys, 
Nor the pleasures to which theu* low uature is proue ; 
For a nobler ambition our leisiu-e employs — 
Oh, the lyre is om- own ! 

And the future is ours ! for in ages to come, 
The admu'crs of genius an altar wLU raise 
To the poet ; and Fame, till her trmnpet is dumb. 
Will re-echo oiu' praise. 

Poet ! Glory awaits thee ; her temple is thine ; 
But there's one who keeps vigil, if entrance you claim 
'Tis MiSFOETFNE ! shc sits in the porch of the slirine, 
The pale portress of Fame ! 

Saw not Greece an old man, like a pilgrim arrayed, 
Witli his tale of old Troy, and a staif in liis hand, 
Beg his bread at the door of each hut, as he strayed 
Through liis own classic laud ? 

And because lie liad loved, though unwisely, yet weU ; 
Mark what was the boon by bright beauty bestowed— 
Blush, Italy, blush ! for yon maniac's cell 
It was Tasso's abode. 

Hand in hand Woe and Genius must walk hero below, 
And the chalice of bitterness, mixed for mankind, 
Must be quafled by us all ; but its waters o'erflow 
For the noble of mind. 

Then the heave of thy heart's indignation keep down j 
Be the voice of lament never wrung from thy pride ; 
Leave to others the weakness of grief; take reuowa 
With eudm'auce allied. 


Let them banish far oif and proscribe (for they can) 
Saddened Poi'tugal's son from his dear native plains ; 
But no tyrant can place the free sonl under ban, 
Or the spii'it in chains. 

Ko ! the fi-enzy of faction, though hatctui. though strong, 
From the banks of the Tagus can't banisii rny fame : 
Still the halls of old Lisbon shaU ring with thv ?ong 
And resound with tliy name. 

When Dante's attainder his townsmen repealed — 
When the sons stamped the deed of thefr sires with abJiorrence, 
They sununoned reluctant Eavenna to yield 
Back his fame to his Florence. 

And with both hands uplifted Love's bard ere he breathed 
His last sigh, far away from his kindred and home : 
To the Scythians liis ashes hath left, but bequeathed 
All his glory to Eome. 

K^ever does poetry assume a loftier tone than when it be- 
comes the vehicle of calm philosophy or generous condo- 
lence with human suflerings ; but when honest patriotism 
swells the note and exalts the melody, the eftect on a feeling 
heart is truly delightful. List to Beranger. 

Ec 17101011 bvke. 

Viens, mon chien ! viens, ma pauvre bt^te ! Combien, sous I'ombre ou dans la grange^ 
Mange, tualgre mon desespoir. Le Dimanche va sembler long ! 

11 mc reste im gateau de ftte — Dieu benira-t-il la vendange 
Demain nous aurons du pain noir! Qu'on ouvrira sans violon? 

Les etrangers, vainqueurs par ruse, 11 delassait des longs ouvrages, 

M'ont dit hier, dans ce vallon ! Du pauvre ^tourdissait les maux ; 

" Fais-nous danser !" moi je refuse ; Des grands, des impots, des orages, 

L'un d'eux brise mon violon. Lui seul consolait nos hameaux. 

C'^tait I'orchestre du village ! Les haines il les faisait taire, 
Plus de (Hes, plus d'heureux jours, Les pleu'-s araers il les secbait : 

Qui fera danser sous I'omhrage ? Jamais sce:jtre n'a fait sur terre 
Qui reveillera les amours? Autant de bien que mou arcbet. 

Si corde vivement presses, Mais I'ennenii, qu'il faut qu'on chasse, 
D#s I'aurore d'un jour bien doux, Jl'a rendu le courage aise; 

Annon<;ait ii la fianc<Se Qu en mes mains un mousquet remplace 
Le cortege du jeune ^poux. Le violon qu'il a brise ! 

Aux cures qui I'osaient entendre Tant d'amis dont je me separe 

Nos danses causaient moiiis d'effroi ; Diront un jour, si je pOris, 

La gaiete quil P9avait repandre " II n'a point voulu ou'un barbare 

Kut deride le Iront d'un roi. Dansiit gaiment sur nos debris !" 

S'il preli'la dans notre ploire Viens, mon cbien! viens, ma pauvre betel 

Aux cbants qu'elle nous inspirait. Mange, raalgre mon desespoir. 

Sur lui jamais pouvais-jo croire, 11 me reste un gateau de f^te — 

Que Tetranger se vcngerait? Demain nous aurons du paiu noir I 

T 2 


C^e jTrtnc]^ dTiBtJlcr'^ ICameixtatton. 

My poor dog ! here ! of yesterday's fe-stival-cake 

Eat the poor remams m sorrow ; 
!For when next a repast you and I shall make, 
It must be on brown bread, which, for charity's sake. 

Your master must beg or borrow. 

Of these strangers the presence and pride in France 

Is to me a perfect riddle ; 
They have conquered, no doubt, by some fatal chance— 
For they haughtdy said, " You must play us a dance !" 

I refused — and they broke my fiddle ! 

Of our village the orchestra, cnished at one stroke, 

By that savage insult perished ! 
'Twas t'hen that our pride felt the strangers' yoke, 
When the insolent hand of a foreigner broke 

Wliat our hearts so dearly cherished. 

For whenever our youth heard it merrily sound, 

A flood of gladness shedding, 
At the dance on the green they were sure to be foiuid ; 
Whde its music assembled the neighbours around 

To the vLUage maiden's wedding. 

By the priest of the parish its note was pronounced 

To be innocent " after service ;" 
And gaily the wooden-shoe' d peasantry bounced 
On the bright Sabbath-day, as they danced undenomioed 

By pope, or bonze, or dervis. 

How dismally slow will tlie Sabbath now run, 

Without fiddle, or flute, or tabor — 
How sad is the harvest when music there's none — 
How sad is the vintage sans fiddle begun ! — 
Dismal and tuneless labour ! 

In that fiddle a solace for grief we had got ; 

'Twas of peace the best preceptor ; 
For its sound made all quarrels subside on the spot. 
And its bow went much fartlier to soothe our hai'd lot 

Than the crosier or the sceptre. 

But a ti'uce to my grief! — for an insult so base 
A new pulse in my heart hath awoken ! 

That affront I'll revenge on their insolent race ; 

Ctird a sword on my thigh — let a musket replace 
The fiddle their hand has broken. 



My friends, if I fall, my old corpse in the crov/d 

Of slaughtered martyi-s viewing, 
Shall say, while they wi-ai^ my cold limbs in a shi'oud, 
'Twas not his fault if some a barbarian allowed 

To dance in our country's ruin !" 

It would be a pity, while we are in the patriotic strain of 
sentiment, to allow the feelings to cool ; so, to use a techni- 
cal phrase, we shall keejo the steam up, by fliaging into the 
already kindled furnace of generoits emotions a truly nati- 
onal ballad, by Casimir Delavigne, concerning a well-known 
anecdote of the late revolution, July 1830. 

Ec €\)\t\\ tJu Houbrc. CI)c Sog of tijc Cljifc Sa»«. 

Casimir Delavigne. A Ballad, Septemher 1831. 

Passant! que ton ii'ont se decouvre! With gentle tread, with uncover' d 

La plus d'un brave est endormi ! liead, 

Des fleui's pour le martyr du Louvi'e, Pass by the Louvre-gate, 

Un peu de pain poiu* son ami ! ^Vllere buried He the " men of 

July !" 
And flowers are flung by the 
And the dog howls desolate. 

C'etait le jour dc la bataille, 
n s'elanca sous la mitraUIe, 

Son chien suivit ; 
Le plomb tons deux vint les attein- 

dre — 
Est-ce le martyr qu'il faut plaindre? 

Le chien survit. 

Mome, vers le brave LI so penche, 
L'appeUe, et de sa tete blanche 

Le caressant ; 
Sur le corps de son frerc d'armes 
Laissc couler ses grosses larmes 

Avee son sang. 

Gardien du terte funeraire, 
Nul plaisir ne pent le distraire 

De son ennui ; 
Et fuyant la main qui I'attu'e, 
Avec tristesse il semble dire, 

" Ce n'cst pas lui !" 

Quand siu" ces toulTes d'immorteilee 
Brillent d'humides etincellet, 

That dog had fought, 

In the fierce onslaught 
Had rushed with his master on : 

And both fought weU; 

But the master fell — 
And behold the surviving one ! 

By his lifeless clay, 

Shaggy and grey,' 
His feUow-warrior stood : 

Nor moved beyond. 

But mingled, fond, 
Big tears with Ids mastei"'s blooJ 

Vigil he keeps 

By those green heaps. 
That teU where heroes be ; 

No passer-by 

Can attract liis rye, 
For he knows " it is not HE !" 

At the dawn, when dew 
V/ets the garlands nev 


Au pjint clu jour, 
Son ceil se ranime, il se dresse 
Pom' que son maitre le caressc 

A son retour. 

Aux vents ties uuits, quand la eoii- 

Sur la croix du tombeau frisonne, 

Perdant respoir, 
II vcut que son maitre I'entende — 
II gronde, il pleure, et lui demaude 

L'adieu du soir. 

Si la ueige arec violence 

De ses flocons couvre en silence 

Le lit de mort, 
II pousse un eri lugubre et tendre, 
On s'y couclie pour le defondrc 

Des vents du nord, 

Avant de fermer la paupiere, 
II fait pour soulever la pierre 

Un vain effort ; 
Puis il se dit, comrae la veillc 
" II m'appelera s'il s'oveille" — 

Puis il s'endort. 

La nuit il reve barricades — 
(Son maitre est sous la fusillade, 

Couvert de sang ; — 
II I'entend qui siffle dans I'ombrc, 
So leve, et saute apr&s sou cmbrc 

Eu gcmissant. 

C'est la qu'il attend d'hcurc en 

Qu'il aime, qu'il souffre, qu'il plcurc, 

Et qu'il mourra. 
Quel fut son nom ? C'cst lui niys- 

t&rc ; 
Jamais la voix qui lui fat chcrc 

Ne le dira ! 

Passant! que ton front se decouvrc! 

La plus d'uu brave est cndormi ; 

Pes fleurs pour le niartvr du 

Un pcu de paiu pour son ami ! 

That are hung in this place of 

He will start to meet 

The coming feet 
Of HIM whom he di'eamt rcturamg. 

On the grave's wood-cross 

AYlien the chaplets toss, 
By the blasts of midnight shaken, 

How he howleth ! hai'k ! 

From tiiat dwelling dark 
The slain, he would fain, awaken. 

When the snow comes fast 

On the chilly blast. 
Blanching the bleak churchyard. 

With lunbs outspread 

On the dismal bed 
Of his liege, he still keeps guard. 

Oft in the night. 

With main and might. 
He strives to raise the stone : 

Short respite takes — 

" If master wakes, 
He'll call me" — then sleeps on. 

Of bayonet-blades, 

Of barricades, 
And guns, he th*eameth most ; 

Starts from liis dream, 

And then would seem 
To eye a bleeding ghost. 

He'll linger there 

In sad despau". 
And die on his master's grave. 

His name ? 'Tis known 

To the dead alone — 
He's the dog of the nameless 
brave ! 

Grivc a tear to tlie dead, 
And give some bread 
To the dog of tho Louvre gale ! 
Where buried lie the men of July, 
And flowers are flung by the 
And the dosr howls desolate. 


"When Diderot wrote that celebrated sentence, that Tie 
saw no difference between hiaiself and a dog but the clothes, 
he, no doubt, imagined he had conferred a compliment on. 
the dumb animal. I rather suspect, knowing the nature of 
a thorough-bred French philosopher, that the balance of 
dignity inclines the other way. Certain I am, that any 
thing like honest, manly, or affectionate feeling never had 
j)lace in the breast of this contributor to the "Eneyclopedie," 
and writer of irreligious and indecent romances. 

There are sermons in stones, philosophy in a fiddle, and a 
deep undercurrent of ethical musing runs often beneath 
apparently shallow effusions. Yet I fear Beranger's are far 
from being sacred songs after the manner of Watts' hymns 
or Pompignan's Poesies Sacre'es at which Voltaire sneered. 
" Sacrees elles sent car personne n'y touche." Of this class 
Prance can show the odes of Jean Baptiste Rousseau, the 
chorus hymns in Esther by Eacine, and the old version of 
the Psalms with which Clement Marot comforted his brother 

The Noels, or carols for Christmas tide, are also found in 
the French provinces, charming in thought and sentiment ; 
in Brittany especially there are some current under the 
name of Abelard (who was a born Breton), the philosophic 
tone of which bespeaks a scholastic origin. As I write in 
December, and that solemn festivity is at hand, I do not 
hesitate to lay before my reader one of them. Druidical 
tradition had its stronghold in Bretagne, which accounts for 
Abelard's choice of subject in the following noel. 

CI;c fHiStlctot, a ti,)jjc of i\^t ?^£abciu-33orn. 

I. And a rod from his robe he drew — 
A prophet sat by the Temple gate, '^'^''^^ ^ withered bough torn 

And lie spake each passer by — _, , S ^8° 

In thrilling tone— with word of ^^°™ "f trunk on which it grew. 



But the brancli long torn show'd 

And ih-e in his rolling eye. ^, , ^}^^ ^"^^ ^o^'^^ 

" I'ause thee, believing Jew .' ^^^f ^ '^^^ blossomed there anew. 
Nor move one step beyond, 'Iwas Jesse 3 rod ! 

Until tluj heart halliponder'd And the bud wus tho fcirtli 

The myslcrij of this wand." ixOD. 



And sat at the silent lielm 
When ^neas, sire of Rome, would 
His bark e'er Hades' realm. 
And now she poured her vestal soul 
Thi'ough many a bright illumined 
scroll ; 
By priest and sage of an after-age 
Conned in the lofty capitol. 


A priest of Egypt sat meanwhUe 

Under a lofty pahn. 
And gazing on his native Nile, 

As in a mu-ror calm, 
He saw a lowly Lotus plant — 

Pale orphan of the flood. 
And well did th' aged hierophant 

Mark the mysterious bud : 
Por he fitly thought, as he saw it 

O'er the waste of waters wild, 
That the symbol told of the cradle 

Of the wondrous Hebrew child. 
Nor was that bark-like Lotus dumb 

Of a mightier infant yet to come, 
Wliose graven skifi" in hieroglyph 

Marks obeUsk and catacomb. 


A Greek sat on Colouna's cape, 

In liis lofty thoughts alone. 
And a volume lay on Plato's lap. 

For he was that lonely one. 
And oft as the sage gazed o'er the 

His forehead radiant grew ; 
Tor in Wisdom' s womb of the Word 
to come, 

The vision blest his view. 
He broached tliat theme in the 

In the teachfid olive grove ; 
And a chosen few that secret know 

In the Porch's dim alcove. 

A Sybil sat in Cumjc's cave — 

'Twas the hour of infant Rome — 
And vigil kept, aiul warning gave 

Of the holy one to come. 
'Twas she who had culled the hal- 
lowed brancli, 

'^^■cli was the imaginative theory of the great schoListic 
fTirith reference to symbolism and the mistletoe. The dust 

A Druid stood in the dark oak wood 

Of a distant northern land ; 
And he seemed to hold a sickle of 
In the grasp of his withered 
hand ; 
And slowly moved around the girth 

Of an aged oak, to see 
If a blessed plant of wondrous bu-th 

Had clung to the old oak tree. 
And anon he knelt, and from his 
Unloosened his golden blade. 
Then rose and culled the Mistle- 
Under the woodland shade. 


O, blessed bough ! meet emblem 

Of all dark Egypt knew, 
Of all foretold to flie wise of old. 

To Roman, Greek, and Jew. 
And long God grant, time-honoured 

May wc behold thee hung 
In cottage small, as in baron's hall, 

Banner and shield among. 
Thus fitly ride the mirth of Yulo 

Aloft in thy pLicc of pride ; 
Still usher forth in each land of the 

The solemn Christmas tide. 


of the schools is sometimes diamond dust, and fancy is often 
mixed up with metaphysics. That Abelard's orthodoxy should 
be damaged by his fantastic faculties ^Yas a natural result : 
as it also may prove in the case of a modern light of the 
Gallican church, likewise a native of Brittany, Abbe Lam- 
menais. I see in his eloquent "■Essai sur V indifference enReli- 
yion^' the germ of much future aberration, and predict for 
him a career like that of the Abbe Ea^Tial, whose " History 
of European Commerce in the two Indies," full of impas- 
sioned and brilliant passages, is as replete with anti- social 
and anti-christian sentiment as any contemporary declama- 
tion of D'Holbach or Diderot. 

AVhat though the pen of some among these sophists could 
occasionally trace eloquent words in the advocacy of their 
disastrous theories ? — what care I for the 

-" Tcrdant spots that bloom 

Around the crater's burning hps, 
Sweetening the very edge of doom," — 

if the result be an eruption of all the evil passions of man- 
kind to desolate the fair face of society. 

It is with unafiected sorrow I find the noble faculties of 
Berauger devoted now and then to simdar villanies ; but in 
the following he has clothed serene philosophy in appro- 
priate diction. 

3lc5 etoilt^ qtii filcnt. ^j^ooting ^tar5. 

" Bcrgcr ! tu dis que notre etoile " Shepherd ! they say that a star pre- 
Eegle nos jours, et brdle auy sides 

cicux ?" Over life ?" — "'Tis a truth, my son ! 

" Oui, mon enfant ! mais de son Its secrets from men the firmament 

voile hides, 

Lanuitladei'obeanosyeux." — But tells to some favoured one." — 

" Bergcr ! sur cet azm- tranquille " Shepherd ! they say that a link mi- 

De lire on te croit le secret ; broken 

Quelle est cette etoile qui file, Connects our fate vritJi some favou- 

Qui file, file, et disparait ?" rite star ; 

What may yon shooting hght be- 
That falls, falls, and is quenched 



" Mon enfant, un mortel expii-e ! 

Son etoile tombe a I'instant ; 
Entre amis que la joie LuspLre 

Celui-ci buvait en chantant. 
Ileureux, il s'endort immobile 

Aupres du vin qu'il celebrait." 
" Encore une etoile qvii file, 

Qioi file, file, et dieparait ?" 

" Mon enfant 1 qu'elle est pure 
et bcUe ! 
C'est celled'unobjetcharmant ; 
Eille heui'euse ! amantc fidele ! 
On I'accorde au plus tendre 
amant : 
Des fleiu's ceiguent son front 
Etdel'Hymen I'autel est pret." 
" Encore une etoile qui file, 
Qui file, file, et disparait ?" 

" Mens fils ! c'est I'etoile rapide 

D'un trcs-grand seigneui' nou- 
veau-ue ; 
Le berccau qu'il a laisse vide 

D'or et de pom-pre otait orne : 
Des poisons qu'uu flatteui* dis- 

C'etait a qui le nourrirait." 
•* Encore une etoile qui file, 

Qui file, file, et disparait ?" 

" The death of a mortal, my son, who 
In his banqueting-haU high revel ; 
And his music was sweet, and his wine 
Life's patli seemed long and level : 
No sign was given, no word was 
His pleasui'c death comes to mar." 
" But what does yon milder hght be- 
That falls, falls, and is quenched 
afar ?" 

" 'Tis the knell of beauty !— it marks 
the close 
Of a pure and gentle maiden ; 
And her cheek was warm with its 
bridal rose. 
And her brow with its bride-wreath 
laden : — 
The thousand hopes young love had 
Lie crushed, and her dream is past." 
"But what can yon rapid light be- 
That falls, falls, and is quenched so 
f^ist ?" 

" 'Tis the emblem, my son, of quick 
decay ! 
'Tis a rich lord's chUd newly born : 
The cradle that holds his inanimate 
Gold, jnu'plc, and silk adorn ; 
The panders prepai-ed through life to 
haunt him 
Must seek some one else in liis 
" Look, now ! what means yon dismal 
That faUs, falls, and is lost in 
sloom ?" 

*'Mon enfant, quel eclair si- 
nistre ! 

C'etait I'astre d'un f\ivori, 
Qtti se croyait un (jrand mi)iis/rc, 

Quand de nos maux il avail ri. 

"There, son ! I seethe guilty thought 
Of a haughty statesman fail, 

Who the poor man's coniforli .lenity 
To plunder or curtail. 



Ceux qui servaient ce dieii fra£;ile 
Ont dej^ cache son portrait." 

" Encore une etoile qui file, 
Qui file, file, et disparait." 

" Mon fils, quels pleui-s sont les 
notres ! 

D'un riche nous perdons I'ap- 
pui : 
L' indigence glane cbez les autres, 

Mais eUe moissonnait chez lui ! 
Ce soir meme, sur d'un asyle, 

A son toit le pauvre accourait." 
" Encore une etoile qui file, 

Qui file, file, et disparait ?" 

" C'est ceUe d'un pviissant mo- 
narque ! 

Ya, mon fils ! garde ta can- 
deur ; 
Et que ton Etoile ne marque 

Par I'eclat ni par la gi-andeur. 
Si tu brillais sans etre utile, 

A ton demier jour on dirait, 
' Ce n'est qu'une etoile qui file, 

Qui file, file, et disparait !'" 

His former sycophants have cursed 

Their idol's base endeavoui'." 
" But watch the light that now has 
Falls, falls, and is quenched for 
ever !" 

" Wliat a loss, O my son, was thci-e ! 

Where shall hunger now seek i-elief ? 
The poor, who are gleaners elsewhere. 

Could reap in his field full sheaf! 
On the evening he died, his door 

Was thronged with a weeping 
crowd." — 
" Look, shepherd! there's onestarmoro 

That falls, and is quenched in a 

" 'Tis a monarch's star ! Do thou pre- 

Thy innocence, my child ! 
Nor from thy covu'se appointed swerve. 

But there sliine calm and mild. 
Of thy star, if the sterile ray 

For no useful purpose shone. 
At tliy death, ' See that star,' they'd 

' It falls ! falls ! is past and gone !' " 

The philosophic humour of the next ballad is uot in so 
magnificent a vein ; but good sense and excellent wisdom it 
most assuredly containeth, being a commendatory poem on 
a much-abused and unjustly depreciated branch of the 
feathered family. 

2,cg <3itS (1810). 

Dc? chansonniers damoiseaux 

J'abandonnc les voies ; 
Quittant bosquets et reseaux, 
Je chante au lieu des oiseaux — 
Les oies ! 

Eossignol, en vain la bas 
'J.'on gosicr se deploie ; 
Jlaigre tcs brillants appas, 
Eu broche tu ne vaux pas 
Une oie 1 

^ 33ancgt)nc on <3ttie (1810). 

I hate to sing your hackney'd birds — 

So, doves and swans, a truce ! 
Your nests have been too often stirred; 
My hero shall be — in a word — 
A goose ! 

The nightingale, or else " bidbul," 

By Tommy Moore let loose, 
Is grown intolerably dull — 
/ from the the feathered nation cull 
A goose! 



Strasboui'g tire vanite 
De ses pates de foie ; 

Cette superbe cite 
Ne doit sa prosperiie 

Qu'aux oies ! 

On peut faire im bon rcpas 

D'ortolans, de lamproies — 
Mais Paris n'en produit pas ; 
II s'y trouve a cliaque pas 
Des oies ! 

iies Grecs, d'lrn commiui aveu, 

S'ennuyaient devant Troie ; 
Pour les amuser un pen, 
TJlysse inventa le jeu 

De I'oie. 

Sui" im aigle, an vol brutal, 

Jupiter nous foudroie : 
II nous ferait moins de nial 
S'il choisissait poiu' clieval 
Une oie. 

Can roasted Pnuomex a liver 

!Fit for a pie produce ? 
Fat pies that on tnc Iviiuie's sweet 

Fair Sti-asbiu-g bakes. Pi ay who's the 
giver ? 

A goose ! 

An ortolan is good to eat, 
A partridge is of use ; 
Biit tliej' are scarce — whereas you meet 
At Paris, ay, in every street, 
A goose ! 

When tired of war the Greeks became, 

They pitched Troy to the deuce, 
Ulysses, then, was not to blame 
For teaching them the noble " game 
Of goose !" 

May Jupiter and Buonaparte, 

Of thunder less profuse, 
Suffer their eagles to depart, 
Encoiu'age peace, and take to heart 
A goose ! 

Wisdom openetli her mouth iu parables ; so Berauger 
stigmatized the internal administration of Erance (1810) iu 
his song Le Itoi d' Yveiot. The oriental fashion of convey- 
ing a sober truth by allegorical narrative is occasionally (and 
gracefully) adopted by the poets of France, one of Avhom has 
left us this pretty line, containing in itself the precept and 
the exemplification : 

" L'aUegorie habite un palais diaphane !" 

Here is one concerning love and liis arch-enemy Time, by 
Count de Seciur. 

3,c €cmg ft rSlmottr. 

A voyager passant sa vie, 

Certain vioillard, nomme le Tems, 
Pres d'un fleuve arrive, et s'ecrie, 

" Prcnez pitie de mes vieux ans ! 
Eh, quoi ! sour ces bords Ton ni'oublio — 

Moi, qui com])te tons les iustans P 
Jevuies bergcrcs ! je vous prie 

Vencz, vencz, passer le Tems !" 


De I'autre cote, sur la plage, 

Plus d'une fille I'egai-dait, 
Et Toulait aider son passage 

Sur line barque qu' Amoiu* guidait $ 
Mais I'une d'elles, bien plus sage, 

Leur repetait ces mots prudens — 
" Ah, souvent on a fait naufrage 

En cherchant a passer le Terns !" 

Amour gaiment pousse au rivage — 

II aborde toiit pres du Terns ; 
II liii propose le voyage, 

L'embarque, et s'abandonne aux vents. 
Agitant ses rames legeres, 

II dit et redit en ses chants — 
" Vous Toyez, jeunes bergeres, 

Que I'Amom" fait passer le Terns !" 

Mais r Amour bientot se lasse 

Ce fut la toujours son defaut ; 
Le Tems prend la rame a sa place. 

Et dit, " Eh quoi ! quitter sitot ? 
Pauvre enfant, quelle est ta foiblesse I 

Tu dors, et je chante a mon tour 
Ce vieux refrain de la sagesse, 

Le Tems fait passer rAmour 1" 

Ctinc antJ Hobc. 

Old Time is a pilgrim — ■svith onward com'se 

He journeys for months, for years ; 
But tlie trav'ller to-day must halt perforce — 

Behold, a bi'oad river appears ! 
" Pass me over," Time cried ; " ! tarry not, 

Eor I count each horn" with my glass ; 
Te, whose skiff is moored to yon pleasant spot— i 

Young maidens, old Time come pass !" 

Many maids saw with pity, upon the bank, 

The old manwitii liis glass in grief; 
Then' khidness, he said, he would ever thank, 

If they'd row him across in their skiff. 
"VTliile some wanted Love to immoor the barn. 

One wiser in thought subHme : 
" Oft shipwrecks occur," was the maid's rcmart; 

" Wlien seeking to pass old Time !" 

From the strand the small skiff LoTE pushed euloai — 

lie crossed to the pilgrim's side, 
And taking old Time in his wcU-trit^imed boac, 

Dipt liis oars in the flowing tide. 



Sweetly he sung as he worked at the oar, 

And this was his merry song — 
" You see, young maidens who crowd the shore 

How with LoYE Time passes along ?" 

But soon the poor boy of his task grew thed. 

As he often had been before ; 
And faint from his toU, for mercy desired 

Pather TniE to take up the oar. 
In his tiu'u grown tunefid, the pilgrim old 

With the paddles resumed the lay ; 
But he changed it and sung, " Young maids, behold 

How ^vith Tlme Love passes away !" 

1 close tMs paper by an ode on tlie subject of "time," by 
a certain Mr. Thomas. Its author, a contemporary of the 
philosophic gang alluded to throughout, was frequently the 
object of their sarcasm, because he kept aloof from their 
coteries. He is author of a panegyric on Marcus Aurelius, 
once the talk of all Paris, now forgotten. These are the 
conclucUnfr stanzas of an 

(©Kc au ULtmS. 

Si je devais un jom* pom- de tUcs 

Vendi'e ma hberte, descendre a 

des bassesses — 
Si mon coenr par mes sens devait 

etre amoUi — 
O Terns, je te dh-ais, hate ma der- 

nilre heure, 
Hate-toi que je meure : 
J'aime mieux n'etre pas que de 

vivre avih. 

Mais si de la vertu les gene- 
reuses flammes 

Doivent de mes ocrits passer en 
qiielques amcs — 

Si je dois d'lm ami consoler les 
maUieurs — 

S'il est des maUiem-eux dont I'ob- 
Ecure indigence 
Languisse sans defense, 

Et dont ma faiblc main doit C8- 
suyer les pleurs : — 

©Be to Cimc. 

If my mind's independence one day 
I'm to sell, 

If with Yice in her pestilent haunts 
I'm to dwell — 
Then in mercy, I pray thee, O 

Ere tbat day of disgrace and disho- 
nour comes on. 

Let my life be cut short ! — better, 
better be gone 
Than live here on the wages of 
crime ! 

But if yet I'm to kindle a flame in the 

Of the noble and fi'ee — if my voice can 
Inthedayofdespondency,some — 

If I'm destined to plead in the poor 
man's defence — 

If mi/ writitirjs can force from the na- 
tional sense 
An enactment of joy for his home :* 

* Prout alludes to O'Conncll's conduct on the Poor Law for Ireland. 



O Terns ! suspends ton vol ! re- 
specte ma jeunesse ! 

Que ma mere long-terns, temoin 
de ma tendresse, 

Ee9oive mes tributs de respect et 
d' amour ! 

Et Tous, Gloiee! Veettj! de- 
esses immortelles, 
Que vos brillantes ailes 

Sur mes cheTeux blanchis se re- 
posent un jour ! 

Time ! retard thy departure ! and 

linger awlille — 
Let my "songs" stdl awake of my 

mother the smile — 
Of my sisterthe joy,as she sings. 
But, O Glory and Viettje! your 

care I engage ; 
Wlien I'm old — when my head shall 

be silvered with age, 
Come and shelter my brow with 

your wings ! 

No. X. 

the songs of feance. 

on wine, wae, women, wooden shoes, fhilosopht^ 
feogs, and feee teade. 

Chaptee IY. — Feogs and Fkee Teade. 

" Cantano gli Francesi — pagai'anno I" 

Caedixal Mazaeix. 

' Thev sing ? tax 'em I" 


" Ranre vagantes Ubei-is paludibus, 
Clamore magno regem petierunt a Jove, 
Qui dissilutos mores vi compesceret." 

Ph^dei, Fall. 2. 

England for fogs ! the sister-isle for bogs ! « 

Erance is the land for liberty and frogs ! ' 

Angels may weep o'er man's fantastic tricks ; 
Put Louis-PhUippe laughs at Charley Dix. 
France for King " Loggy " now has got " a stork ;" 
See Phccdnis — also ^sop. 

(Signed) O. Yoeke. 

The more we develop these MSS., and the deeper v^e 
plunge into the cavity of Proiit's woudrous colfer, tlie fonder 


we become of the old presbyter, and tbe more impressed 
with the variety and versatility of his powers. His was a 
tuneful sonl ! In his earthly envelop there dwelt a hidden 
host of melodious numbers ; he was a walking store-house of 
harmony. The followers of Huss, when they had lost in 
battle their commander Zisca, had the wit to strip him of 
his hide ; out of which (when duly tanned) they made unto 
themselves a drum, to stimulate by its magic sound their 
reminiscences of so much martial glory : our plan would 
have been to convert the epidermis of the defunct father 
into that engine of harmony which, among Celtic nations, 
is known by the name of the " bagpipe ;" and thus secure 
to the lovers of song and melody an invaluable relic, an in- 
strument of music which no Cremona fiddle could rival in 
execution. Eut we should not produce it on vulgar occa- 
sions : the ministeiial accession of the Duke (1835), should 
alone be solemnised by a blast from this musico-cutaneous 
phenomenon ; aware of the many accidents which might 
otherwise occur, such as, in the narrative of an Irish wed- 
ding, has been recorded by the poet, — 

" Then the piper, a dacent gossoon, 
Began to play ' Eileen Aroon ;' 
Until an arch wag 
Cut a hole in his bag, 
Which alas ! put an end to the tune 

Too soon ! 
The music blew up to the moon !" 

Lord Byron, who had the good taste to make a claret- 
cup out of a human skull, would no doubt highly applaud 
our idea of preser\dug a skinful of Front's immortal essence 
in the form of such an yEoliau bagpipe. 

In our last chapter we have given his opinions on the 
merit of the leading Frencli pliilosophers — a gang of theo- 
rists now happily swept off the face of the earth, or most 
miserably supplanted in France by St. Simonians and Doc- 
trinaires, and in tliis ccantry by the duller and more plodding 
generation of " Utilitarians." To Denis Diderot has suc- 
ceeded Dionysius Lardncr, both toiling interminable at their 
cyclopaedias, and, like wounded snakes, though trampled on 
by all who tread the paths of science, still rampant onwards 
in the dust and slime of elaborate authorship. Truly, since 
the days of the great St. Denis, who walked deliberately, 

THE S05-GS OF rBA>XE. 289 

with imperturbable composure, bearing liis bead in liis as- 
tonished grasp, from Montmartre to the fifth milestone on 
the northern road out of Paris ; nay, since the still earlier 
epoch of the Sicilian schoolmaster, Avho opened a "univer- 
sity" at Corinth, omitting Dionysius of Halicarnassus, and 
Dennis the critic Avho figures in the " Dunciad," never has 
the name been borne vrith greater ^clat than by its great 
modern proprietor. His theories, and those of Dr. Bowring, 
are glanced at in the following paper, Avhich concludes the 
Proutean series of the " Songs of France." 

Par be it from us to imagine that either of these learned 
doctors will turn from their crude speculations and listen to 
the voice of the charmer, charm he ever so wisely ; we know 
the self-opinionated tribe too well to fancy such a consum- 
mation as the result of old Prout's strictures : but, since 
the late downfal of Whiggery, Ave can afibrd to laugh at 
what must now only appear in the harmless shape of a 
solemn quiz. "VTe would no more quarrel "with them for 
hugging their cherished doctrines, than we would find fault 
wdth the Hussites above mentioned; who, when the Jesuit 
Peter Canisius came to Prague to argue them into concilia- 
tion, inscribed on their banner the following epigrammatic 
line : 

" Tu procul esto ' Canis,' pro nobis excubat ' ANSER !'" 

The term " IIuss" being, from the peculiarity of its guttural 
sound, among'^Teutonic nations indicative of what we call a 


Jen. 1st, ]S35. 

Watcrgrasshill, Jan. 1, 1S32. 
It is with nations as with individuals : the greater is man's 
intercourse with his fellow-man in the interchange of social 
companionship, the more enlightened he becomes ; and, in 
the keen encounter of wit, loses whatever awkwardness or 
indolence of mind may have been his original portion. If 
the aggregate wisdom of any country could be for a mo- 


290 rATiiEu rrvOUT's eeliques. 

ment supposed hermetically sealed from the iuterfusiou of 
foreign notions, rely on it there would be found a niost 
lamentable poverty of intellect in the land, a sad torpor in 
the public feelings, and a woful stagnation in the delicate 
" fluid" called thought. Peru, Mexico, and China — the two 
first at the period of Montezuma and tbe Incas, the last in 
our own day — have the degree of mental cultui'e which may 
be expected from a collective body of men, either studiously 
or accidentally sequestered from the rest of the species ; I 
suspect, the original stock of information derived from the 
first settlers constituted the entire intellectual wealth in 
these two secluded sections of the globe. On inquiry, it 
will perhaps be found, that Egypt (which has on all sides 
been admitted to have been our great-grandmother in art, 
science, and literature) was evidently but the dowager widow 
of atitediluviaii Knoivledge ; and that the numerous progeny 
which has since peopled the universe, all the offspring of 
intermarriage and frequent alliance, bears undoubted marks 
and features of a common origin. The litei-atiu'e of Greece 
and Home reflects back the image of Hebrew and Eastern 
composition ; the Scandinavian poets are not without traces 
of affinity to their Arabic bretlu'en ; the inspiration of Irish 
melody is akin to that of Persian song ; and the very diver- 
sit}^ of detail only strengthens the likeness on the whole : 

"Facics lion oiiiiiibus iiiia, 
Ncc divcrsa tamcn, qualis decot esse sororuni." 


This is shown by the Jesuit iVndj'es, in his " Storia di ogni 
Letteratura," Parma, 1782. 

St. Chrysostom, talking of the /ink wliicli connects tlie 
Mosaic writings witli the boolis of the New Testament, and 
the common agreement that is I'ound between the thoughts 
of the prophet of ISEount Carmcl and those of the sublime 
solitary of the island of Patmos, introduces a beautiful me- 
taphor ; as, indeed, he generally does, when he wishes to 
leave any strikiug idea impressed on his auditor}-, " Chris- 
tianity," quoth he, " struck its roots in the books of the Old 
Testament ; it blossomed in the Gospels of the New :" 
'^(5g/^w^?] jMiv iv roig j3ij3Xioig ruv TP0<pr]TOJv, iSXadTriei di sv r&/f 
SuayyaXX/o/j toic urrocroXuv. — Uondl. dc Nov. et Vet. Test. 


To apply the holy bishop's illustration, I would say, that 
taste and refinement among modern wTiters are traceable to 
a growing acquaintance with the ancient classics ; an inti- 
macy which, though not possessed by each individual member 
of the great family of authors, still influences the whole, 
and pervades the general mass of our literature. A certain 
antique bon ton is unconsciously contracted even by our 
•female contributors to the common fund of literary enjoy- 
ment ; and I could mention one (L. E, L.) whom I presume 
innocent of Grreek, but as purely Attic in style as if, instead 
of Cockney diet, she had fed in infancy on the honey of 
Mount Hpnettus. 

The eloquent French lawyer, De IMarchangy, in his 
" Graule Poctique," attributes — I know not how justly — the 
first rise of poetic excellence, in Provence, (where taste and 
scholarship m.ade tlicir first appearance with the trouba- 
dours,) to the circumstance of Marseilles having been a 
Orecian colony ; and he ascribes the readiness with which 
the Provencal genius caught the flame, and kindled it on the 
iragrant hills of that beautiful coast of the Mediterranean, 
to a certain predisposition in the blood and constitutional 
liabit of the people, derived from so illustrious a pedigree. 
"'Twas a glorious day !" exclaims the poetic attorney-ge- 
neral, going back in spirit to the epoch of that immigration 
of the Phocians into Gallia Narbonensis — " 'twas a noble 
spectacle to see those sons of civilisation and commerce land 
on our barbarous but picturesque and hospitable shore ! to 
see the gallant children of Attica shake from their buskins 
on our territory the dust of the hippodrome, and entwine the 
myrtle of Gnidus witli the mistletoe of Gaul ! When their 
fleet anchored in our gladdened gulf of Provence, when 
their voices uttered sounds of cultivated import, when the 
music of the Lesbian lute and Te'ian lyre came on the 
charmed senses of our rude ancestors, a shout of welcome 
was heard from our hills ; and our Druids hailed with the 
hand of fellowship the priests of Jove ami of Apollo. ]\Iar- 
fieilles arose to the sound of harmonious intercourse, and to 
the eternal triumph of international commingling ! You 
Avould have tliought that a floating island of Greece, that 
one of the Cyclades, or Delos the wanderer of the Archi 
pelago, had straved away and taken root upon our coast, 

U 2 


crowned with its temples, filled witli its inhabitants, its 
sacred groves, its arts, it laws, its perfume of refinement in 
love, and its spirit of freedom !" 

" Free trade" in aU the emanations of intellect has ever 
had a purely beneficial effect, blessing him who gave and him 
who received : it never can injure a nation or an individual 
to impart laiowledge, or exchange idef^. This is admitted. 
From the sun, Avho lights up the planets and the " silver 
moon," to the Greemvich pensioner, whose pipe is lit at the 
focus of a ueighboiU''s calumet, ^re, and fanie, and brightness, 
are of their nature communicable, without loss or diminution 
in the slightest way to the communicant. So it is with mind. 
But how stands the case with matter ? are the same princi- 
ples applicable, under existing circumstances, to the produc- 
tions of manual toil and the disti'ibution of employment 
through the diff'erent trades and ci'afts ? Is it for the interest 
of the matei'ial and grosser world, who eat, di'ink, are clothed, 
and suri'ounded with household necessities — who arc con- 
demned to look for support through the troublesome medium 
of daily labour — is it lit or judicious, in the complicated state 
of the social frame now established in Europe, to lay level 
all the barriers which climate, soil, situation, and industry, 
have raised for the protection of the productive classes in 
each country ; and, by the light of the new aurora borealis, 
which, has arisen on our school of political economy, to con- 
found all the elements of actual life, and try back on all the 
wisdom of antiquity ? As sagacious and consistent would be 
a proposal to abolish the quarantine laws, that " free trade" 
might be eujoyed by the plague ; to break down the dykes 
of Holland, that the ocean should be "free;" to abolish aU. 
the copyright and " patent-laws," that " piracy" may be free 
to the dull and the uninvcntive; the "game-laws," that all 
may shoot ; " tolls," that all may go where they list unim- 
peded ; " rent," that all may live scot-free ; and, finally, the 
laws of property, the laws of marriage, and the laws of God, 
which are more or less impediments in the way of " free 

Fully aware that the advantages of rendering each nation 
dependent on foreign supply for objects of prime necessity, 
by establishing a nicely balanced equipoise in the commercial 
relations of every spot in the globe, have been luminously 

THE soxas OF rEAXCi;. 


vindicated, in many a goodly tome, pamphlet, and lengthy 
oration ; I yet think the best practical treatise on the sub- 
ject, and the most forcible recommendation of its benefits to 
all concerned, have come from the philosophic pen of Be'ran- 
ger, who has embodied the maxims of " free trade," as well 
as many other current doctrines, in the 

iDoIitical Sconomn of (l)t 

ilfs' 33oI)cmifn5. 


Sorciers, bateleurs, ou filoux ! Sons of witchcraft ! tribe of thieves ! 

Reste immonde 'Whom the villager believes 

D'un ancien monde .' To deal with Satan, 

Sorciers, bateleurs, ou filoiix ! Tell us your customs and your rides : 

Gais Bohemiens! d'oii venez- Whence came ye to this land of fools, 

vous ? On whom ye fatten ? 

D'ou nous vcnons ? L'on n'en 
scjait rien. 
D'oii vous Tient-elle ? 
D'oii nous venous ? L'on n'en 

s^ait rien. 
Ou nous irons le s^ait on bicn. 

" Whence do we come ? Whence comes 

the swallow ? 
Where does our home lie ? Try to fol- 
The wild bird's flight, 
Speeding from winter's rude approach: 
Such home is om-s. Who dai'e en- 
Upon our right ? 

Sans pays, sans prince, et sans Prince we have none, nor gipsy throne, 
lois, Nor magistrate nor priest we own, 

Notre vie Nor tax nor claim ; 

Doit faire envie, Blithesome, we wander reckless, free, 

Sans pays, sans prince, sans lois, And liappy two days out of three ; 

L'homme est hem-eux un joiu* Wlio'll say tlie same ? 

sur trois. 

Tous independans nous naissons. Away with clun-ch-enactments dismal! 
Sans cglise We have no liturgy baptismal 

Qui nous baptise : When we are born ; 

Tous independans nous naissons. Save the dance under greenwood tree, 
All bruit du Hire et des chansons. And the glad sound of revehy 

With pipe and horn. 

Kos premiers pas sont degages 

Dans CO monde 

Oil rerrcur abonde ; 

Kos premiers pas sont degages 

Du vicux maillot dea prejuges. 

At our first entrance on this globe, 
Where Falsehood walks in varied robe. 

Caprice, and whims, 
— Sophist or bigot, heed ye this ! — 
The swathing-bands of prejudice 

Bound not our limbs. 



Au peuplc en but a iios lai'cins, 

Tout grimoii'e 

En peut faire accrolre ; 

Au peuple en but a nos larcins, 

II faut des sorciers et des saints. 

Well do we ken the vulgar mind, 
Ever to Truth and Candour blind. 

But led by Cunning ; 
Wliat rogvie can tolerate a brother ? 
Gipsies contend with priests, each 

In tricks outrunning. 

Pauvres oiseaux que Dieu benit, Your ' towered cities' please us not : 
De la vdle But give us some secluded spot, 

Qu'on nous exile ; Ear from the milhons : 

Pauvres oiscaux que Dieu benit, Far from the busy hamits of men, 
Au fond des bois pend notre nid. Rise for the night, in shady glen, 

Our dark paviUous. 

Ton osil ne peut se detacher, 


De mince etoffe — 

Ton ceil ne peut se detacher 

Du vieux coq de ton vieux 


Soon wo are off ; for we can see 
Nor pleasure nor pliilosophy 

In lixed dwelling. 
Ours is a life — the life of clowns, 
Or drones who vegetate in towns, 

Far, far excelling ! 

Voir, c'est avoir ! allons courir ! 
Vie errante 
Est chose enivrante ; 
Voir, c'est avoir ! aUons courir ! 
Car tout voir c'est toutconquerii*. 

Paddock and park, fence and enclo- 
Wc scale with case and with compo» 
sure : 
'Tis quite delightful ! 
Such is our empire's mystic charm, 
Wc are the owners of each farm, 
More than the rlLrhtfid. 

Mais h, I'hommc on eric en tout Great is tlie folly of the wise, 

lieu, If on relations lie relies, 
Qu'il s'agite, Or trusts in men ; 

Ou croupisse au gite ; 'Welcome!' they say, to babes bom 
Mais si riionnnc en crie en tout newly, 

lieu, But when your life is eked out duly, 
Tu nais, " bonjour !" tu meurs, ' Good evening !' then. 

" adieu !" 

Quand nous mourons, vieux ou None among us seeks to illudo 

bambin, By empty boast of brotherhood, 
Ilomrae ou femme, Or false affection ; 

A Dieu soit notre auie ; Give, when we die, our souls to God, 

Quand nous sommcsmorts, vieux Our body to the grassy sod, 

ou bambin. Or ' for dissection.' 

On vend le corps au carabia. 


Mais croyez en notre gaiete, Tour noblemen may talk of Tarsals, 

Noble on pretre, Proud of their trappings and their 

Yalet ou maitre ; tassels ; 

Mais croyez en notre gaiete. But nercr heed them t 

Le bonheur c'eat la liberte. Our's is the life of perfect bliss — 

Fi-eedom is man's besi joy, and this 


This gipsy code, iu wisdom far outsliining the " Pandects/* 
the " Digest," or the " Code Napoleon," is submitted to the 
disciples of Jeremy Bentham, as a guide whenever an experi- 
ment in anima vili is fairly to be made on the " vile body" of 
existing laws, by the doctors of destruction. 

To arrive at this millennium is not an easy matter, and 
the chances are becoming every day more unfavourable. The 
relish of mankind for experimental innovation is dull in these 
latter days ; and great are the trials, lamentable the dis- 
appointments that await the apostles of popular enlighten- 
ment. " Co-operative theories" in England have gone to the 
grave unwept, unsung ; while in America Bob Owen's music 
of " ]S'ew Harmony," instead of developing its notes 

" In many a bout 
Of linked sweetness long drawn out," 

has snapped off most abruptly. 

In France, after years of change, and the throes of con- 
stant convulsion, the early dream of young philosophy is still 
unrealised, and the shade of Anacharsis Clootz wanders 
through the " Elysian fields" dejected and dissatisfied. The 
son of Egalite fills her throne, and the monarchy has lost 
nothing of its controlling power, whatever it may have ac- 
quired of liomeliness and vulgarity. The vague and confused 
ravings of 1790, after three years' saturnalia, aptly termi- 
nated in the demoniac rule of, and became incarnate in, Eo- 
bespierre. The subsequent years condensed themselves into 
the substantive shape of military despotism, with the re- 
deeming feature of glory in arms, and " all the walks of war." 
That too passed away, a lull came o'er the spirit of the demo- 
cratic dream, while old Louis XVIII. nodded in that elbow- 
chair which answered all the purposes of a throne ; the im- 
becile Charles furnished too tempting an opportunity, and 
it was seized with the avidity of truant schoolbova who get 


lip a " barring out ;" but the triumpb of the barricades met 
dim eclipse and disastrous twiligbt, tbe citizen king's opaquf3 
form arose between tbe soleil de Juillet and tbe disappointed 
repubbcans casting an ominous sbade over tbe land of frogs. 
Still loud and incessant is tbe croaking of tbe dissatisfied 
tenants of tbe swamp, little knowing (jyauvres grenoxdUes .') 
tbat, did not some sucb dense body interpose between tl:e 
scorcbiug luminary of July and tbeir liquid dwelling, tlicy 
would be parcbed, burnt up, and aunibilated in tbe glow of 
republican fervour. Even so Aristopbanes pictures Charon 
and bis uni'uly mob, who refuse to cease tbeir queridous 
outcry, tbougii tbreatened witb tbe splasbing oai' of the 
ferryman : 

Al.'f.a iJi,riV y.£Xga^o,a£(r()a y" 
'Ovodov yj f afi^7^ «" J^Z-^wv,, xoa§, -/.oat,. 

BaTPu^. Act i. Scene 5. 

" In GUI' own quaijmire, 'tis provokmg 
That folks slionld think to stop our croaking ! 
Sons of the swamp, with lungs of leatlicr, 
Now is our time to screech together !" 

But I lose time in these extra-parocbial discussions ; and 
therefore, leaving them to cborixs it according to tbeir own 
view of tbe case, I return to tbe arbiter of song — Beranger. 
None of tbe beroes wbo accomplished this last revolution 
felt their discomfiture more than our poet, whose ideas are 
cast in tbe mould of Spartan republicanism. He resigns 
liimself witb philosophic patience to tbe melancholy result ; 
and, indeed, if I may judge from a splendid embodying of 
liis notions concerning Providence and tbe government of 
this sublunary world, in an ode, wbicli (though tinged some- 
what with lleism) contains impassioned poetic feeling, I 
should think tliat be still finds comfort in tlie retrospect of 
bis own individual sim-crity and disinterestedness. There 
is less of tbe Sybarite, however, in bis pbilosopby than may 
be found in another " bard" Avho in 

" pleasure's soft drenni 
Has tried to forget \^]iat be never could heal." 


II est un Dieu ; devant liii je m'inclinc, 
Pauvre et content, sans lui demander rieii. 

De I'lmivers observant la machine, 

J'y vois du mal, ct n'aime que le bien ; 

Mais le plaisir a ma pliilosopliie 
Revele assez de cieux intelligens. 

Le verre en main, gaiemeut je me confie 

Au Dieu des bonnes .i^cus ! 

Dans mon i-ediiit oii Ton roit I'indigence 

Sans m'eveiller assise a mon chevet, 
Grace aux amours berce par I'esperancc, 

D'un lit plus doux je reve le duvet ; 
Aux dieux des cours qu'un autre sacrifie — 

Moi, qui ne crois qu'a des dieux indulgens, 
Le verre en main, gaiement je me confie 

Au Dieu des bonnes pens ! 

Un conquerant, dans sa fortune altiere, 

Se fit un jeu des sceptres et des rois ; 
Et de ses pieds Ton pent voir la poussiere 

Empreinte encor sur le bandeau des rois : 
Vous rampicz tons, O rois ! qu'on deifie — 

Moi, pour braver des maitres exigeans, 
Le verre en main, gaiement je me confie 

Au Dieu des bonnes .ucns 1 

Dans nos palais, oil pres de la victoire 

Brillaient les arts, doux fruits des beaux climat?, 

J'ai vu du nord les peuplades sans gloLre 
Do leurs manteaux secoucr les frimats : 

Sur nos debris Albion nous defie ; 

Mais la fortune et les flots sont changeans— 

Le vei're en main, gaiement je me confie 

Au Dieu des bonnes gens ! 

Quelle menace im pretre fait entendre ? 

Nous touchons tons a nos derniers instans ; 
L'('tcrnite va se fairc comprcndre, 

Tout va finir Funivers ct le tems : 
Vous, clicrubins, a la face boufllc, 

Rcvcillez, done les morts pcu diligens — 
Lo verre en main, gaiement je me confie 

Au Dieu des bonnes nens ! 


Mais, quelle erreur ! non, Dieu n'est pas colurt ; 

S'il ci'ea tout, a tout il sert d'appui. 
Vins qu'il nous donne, amitie tutelau-c, 

Et vous, amoui's, qui erees aprls lui, 
Pretez un cliarme a ma philosoplue, 

Pour dissiper des reves affligeans ! — 
Le verre en main, gaiement je me conlio 

Au Dieu des bonnes geas . 

€i)c tl^oH of 33cinn3cr. 

There's a God whom the poet m silence adores, 

But molests not his throne with importunate prayer ; 
For he knows that the evil he sees and abhors, 

There is blessing to balance, and balm to repau'. 
But the plan of the Deity beams in the bowl, 

And the eyehd of beauty reveals his design : 
Oh ! the goblet in hand, I abandon my soul 

To the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wine ! 

At the door of my dwelling the cliildi-en of want 

Ever find the full welcome its roof can afford ! 
While the dreams of the rich pain and poverty haunt, 

Peace awaits on my piUow, and joy at my board. 
Let tlie god of the court other votaries seek — 

No ! the idol of sycophants never was mine ; 
But I worship the God of the lowly and meek, 

lu the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wijic ! 

I have seen die a captive, of courtiers bereft, 

Him, the sound of whose fame through our hemisphere ringa j 
I have marked both his rise and Ins fall : he has left 

The imprint of his lieel on the forehead of kings. 
Oh, ye monarchs of Europe ! ye crawled round his throne — 

Ye, who now claim our homage, then knelt at his shrine j 
But I never adored liini, but turned me alone 

To the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wine ! 

The Kussians have dwelt in the home of the Frank ; 

In our hails from their mantles they've shaken the fr03t ; 
Of their war-boots om* Louvre lias echoed tlie clank, 

As they passed, in barbarian astonishment lost. 
O'er tlie ruins of France, take, O England! take pride! 

Yet a. similar downfal, proud land ! may be thine; 
But the poet of freedom stiU, slill will confide. 

In the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wine ! 

This planet is doomed, by llic priesthood's decree, 
To deserved dissolution one day, O ! my friends ; 

Lo ! the hiu'ricane gathers ; the bolt is set free! 

And the thunder on wings of destruction descends. 

'Dans ur. ^or.ier i]u dr. est bien. a viugt ans 


Of thy tnimpet, archangel, delay not the blast ; 

Wake the dead in the graves where their ashes recline : 
While the poet, vmmoved, puts his trust to the last 

In the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wine ! 

But away with tlie night-mare of gloomy forethought I 

Let the goul Superstition creep back to its don ; 
Oh ! this fair goodly globe, filled with plenty, was wrought 

By a boimtiful hand, for tlie children of men. 
Let me take the full scope of my years as they roll, 

Let me bask in the sun's pleasant rays while they slmie ; 
Then, with goblet in hand, I'll abandon my soul 

To the Griver of genius, love, friendsliip, and wme ! 

"Wliatever may be tlie failings and errors of onr poet, due 
to the disastrous days on -vyliieh liis yontli has fallen, there 
is discernible in his writings the predominant character of 
his mind — frankness, single-heartedness, and candour. It 
is impossible not to entertain a friendly feeling towards 
such a man ; and I am not surprised to learn that he is 
cherished by the French people with a fervency akin to 
idolatry. He is no tuft-hunter, nor Whigling sycophant, 
nor trafficker in his merchandise of song. jS'either has he 
sought to convert his patriotism into an engine for picking 
the pockets of the poor. He has set up no pretensions to 
nobility ; although, he could no doubt trump up a story of 
Xorman ancestry, and convert some old farm-house on the 
sea-coast into au " abbey." It is not with the affectation 
of a swindling demagogue, but with the heartfelt cordiality 
of one of themselves, that he glories in belonging to the 
people. What poet but Beranger ever thought of comme- 
morating the garret where he spent his earlier days ? 

Ec ^rcnift Uc Jatrangtr, Cf)c (ilflnft of Scrangtr. 

Je reviens voir I'asyle ou ma jeunesse Oh! it was hei'e that Love 

De la misere a subi les lemons : gifts bestowed 

J'avais vingt ans, une folle maitresse, On youth's wild age ! 

Dc francs amis, et I'amour des chan- Gladly once more I seek my 
sons ; youth's abode, 

Bravant le monde, et les sots, et les In pilgrimage : 

sages, Here my young mistress with her 
Sans avenir, riclie de mon printems, poet dared 

LestectjoyeuXjjcmontaissix etages — • Eeckless to dwell : 

Dans un greuier qu'on est bien a ringt She was sixteen, I twcn'y, qi\\ 
au6 ! we shared 

This attic cell. 



Cest uTi grenicr, point ne veiix qu'on 
I'ignore : 
La fut mon lit, bien clietif et bien 
La fut ma table ; et jeretrouve encore 
Trois pieds d'un vers charbonnes 
sur le mur. 
Apparaissez, plaisirs de mon bel age, 
Que d'un coup d'ceil a fustige le 
terns ! 
Tingt fois pour vous j'ai mis ma mon- 

tre en gage — 
Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt 

Lisette ici doit surtout apparaitre, 

Yire, jolie, avec un frais chapeau ; 
Dejii sa main a I'etroite fenetre 

Suspend son schale en guise de ri- 
Sa robe aussi va parer ma couchette — 
Respecte, Amour ! ses plis longs et 
flottans : 
J'ai su depuis qui payait sa toilette — 
Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a 
vingt ans ! 

A table un jour, jour de grande rich- 
De mes amis les voix brillaient en 
Quand jusqu'ici monte un cri d'ale- 
Qu'a Marengo Bonaparte est vain- 
queur ! 
Le canon grondc — nn autre chant 
co:nmence — 
Nouscelebi'ons tant de faitseclatans ; 
Les rois jamais n'envahiront la 
France — 
Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a 
vingt ans ! 

^uittons ce toit, oil ma raison s'e- 
nivre — 
Oh, qu'ils sont loin ccs jours si re- 
grettes ! 
J'echangerai ce qu'il me reste a vivre 
Centre un des jours qu'ici Dicu nVa 

Yes, 'twas a garret ! be it known 
to all. 
Here was Love's shrme : 
Thers read, in charcoa traced 
along the wall, 
Th' unfinished line — 
Hei'e was the board where kin- 
dred hearts would blend. 
The Jew can teU 
How oft I pawned my watch, to 
feast a friend 
In attic cell ! 

! my Lisctte's fair form could 
I recall 
With fairy wand ! 
Tliere she would bUnd the win- 
dow with her shawl — 
Dashful, yet fond ! 
"S\1iat though from whom she got 
her dress I've since 
Learnt but too well, 
Still in those days I envied not 
a prmce 
In attic cell ! 

Here the glad tidings on our 
banquet burst. 
Mid the bright bowls : 
Yes, it was here Alarengo's tri- 
umph first 
Kindled our souls ! 
Bronze cannon roared ; Franca 
with redoubled miglit 
Felt her lieart swell ! 
Proudly we drank our consul's 
health that night 
In attic cell! 

Dreams of my joyful youth! I"d 
freely give. 
Ere my life's close, 
All the dull days I'm destiucl 
yet to live, 
For one of those! 


pDur rever gloire, amour, plaisir, folie, ^■\Tiere shall I noTv flncl i-aptui-es 
Pour clepenser sa vie en peu d'iu- that were felt, 

stans, Joys that befell, 

D'un long espou* pour la voir em- Andhopes thatdawnedattwenty, 
beUie — when I dwelt 

Dans un grcnier qu'on est bien k In attic cell ? 

vmgt ans ! 

Notliing call offer a more ludicrous image to the dispas- 
sionate observer of passing transactions, than the assump- 
tion of radical politics by some men Avhose essential nature 
is thoroughly imbued with contempt for the mob, Avhile 
they are straining every nerve to secui'e its sweet voices. I 
could name many who assume such sentiments respecting 
the distinctions of hereditary rank in this country, yet 
would feel very acutely the deprivation of the rank and 
name they bear, or an inquiry into the devious and questi- 
onable title by which they retain them. The efforts they 
make to conceal their private feelings before the multitude 
recall a hint addressed to some " republicans who paraded 
the streets of Paris in 1793 : 

" Mais enfoncez dans vos cxdottcs 
Le bout de linge qui pend ! 
On dira que les i:)atriote3 

Out deploye le ' drapeau blanc.'" 

Autobiography is the rage. John Gait, the Ettrick Hogg, 
the English Opium-eater, Sir Egerton Bxydges, Jack Ketch, 
Grant-Thorburn, and sundry other personages, have latety 
adorned this department of our literature. In his song, the 
'• Tailor and the Eairy," Beranger has acquitted himself of 
a task indispensable in modern authors. He was born the 
same year as T. Moore, 1780. 

He Catlleur tt Id dTce. 

Dans cc Paris, plein d'or et de misere, 

En I'an du Christ mil sept cent quatre-viugt, 
Cliez un tailleur, mon pauvre et vieux grand-pere, 

Moi nouveau-ne, sachcz cc qui m'advint. 
Rien ne prcdit la gloire d'un Orphee 

A mon berccau, qui n'etait pas de flcurs ; 

Mais mon grand-pere, accoiu-ant a mes pleurs, 
Me trouTC un join- dans les bras d'uno fee. 

Et cette fee, avcc de gais refrains, 
Calmait le cri de mcs premiers chajjnii*. 


" Lc boil viellard liii dit ; L'ame inquiete ! 

A cet enfant quel destin est promis ?" 
Elle repond : " Vois le sous ma baguette, 

Garden d'auberge, imprimeiu', et commis ; 
JJv. coup de foudi'e* ajoute a mes presages — 

Ton fils atteint, va p6rir consume ; 

Dieu le regarde, et Toiseau ranime 
Vole en chantant braver d'aufres orages." 

Et puis la fee, avec de gais refrains, 
Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagrins. 

" Tons les plaisii's, sylphes de la jeunesse, 

Eveilleront sa Ijrc au sein des nuits ; 
Au toit du pauvi-e il repand I'alegresse, 

A I'opulence il sauve des ennuis. 
IMais quel spectacle attriste son langage ? 

Tout s'engloutit et gloire et liberie ! 

Comme un pecheiu' qui rentre epouvante, 
II vient au port reconter leur naufrage." 

Et puis la fee, avec de gais refrains, 
Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagrins." 

Ojc ^utobfosvap!})) of ^. 3)- iJc JScvangei-. 

Paris ! gorgeous abode of the gay ! Paris ! haunt of despau" ! 

There befell in tliy bosom one day an occurrence most weiglity, 
At the house of a tailor, my grandfather, luider whose care 

I was nursed, in tlie year of our Lord seventeen hundred and ciglity. 
By no token, 'tis true, did my cradle announce a young Horace — 

And the omens were such as might well lead astray the unwary ; 
But with utter amazement one morning my grandfather, Maurice, 
Saw his grandchild reclining asleep in the arms of a fairy ! 
And tliis fauy so handsome 
Assumed an appearance so striking, 
And for me seemed to take such a liking, 
That he knew not what gift he should offer the dame for my ransom. 

Had he previously studied thy Legends, O rare Crofty Crokcr ! 

He'd have learnt how to act from thy pages — ('tis tliere that tl)0 
charm is !) 
But my guardian's first impiilse was rather to look for the poker, 

To rescue his beautiful boy from lier hands vi et armis. 

* Beranger tells us in a note, tliat in early life he had well nigh pe- 
rished by tlie electric lluid in a thunder-storm. The same is related of 
Luther, when at i\\c university. The Hash which, in Luther's case, 
elianged the student into a monk, in Berangcr's converted the tailor's 
goose into a swan. — Pkoct. 

TnE SONGS or rnAxcE. 303 

Tet he paused in liis plan, and adopted a milder suggestion, 

For her attitude, calm and unterrified, made him respect her 
Bo he thought it was best to be civil, and fairly to question, 
Concerning my prospects in life, the benevolent spectre. 
And the fairy, prophetical, 
Read my destiny's book in a minute, 
With all tlie particulars in it : 
And its outline she drew with exactitude most geometrical. 

" His career shall be mingled with pleasure, though chectered witli paia 

And some briglit sunny hours shall succeed to a rigorous winter : 
See him first a garcon at a hostelry — then, with disdain 

See him spurn that vile craft, and apprentice himself to a printer. 
As a poor university-clerk view him next at his desk ; — 

Mark that flash ! — he will have a most narrow escape from the light- 
ning : 
But behold after sundi-y adventures, some bold, some grotesque. 
The horizon clears up, and his prospects appear to be brightening." 
And tlie fairy, caressing 
The infant, foretold that, ere long. 
He would warble unrivalled in song ; 
All France in the homage wliich Paris had paid acquiescing. 

*' Yes, the muse has adopted the boy ! On his brow see the laurel ! 

In his hand 'tis Anacrcon's cup ! — with the Greek he has drank it. 
Hark the liigh-miuded tone of his songs, and their exquisite moral, 

Giving joy to the cottage, and heightening the blaze of the banquet. 
I\ow the I'uture grows dark — see the spectacle France has become ! 

Mid the wreck of his country, the poet, undaunted and proud, 
To the public complaints shall give vitterance : slaves may be dumb, 
But he'll ring in the hearing of despots defiance aloud !" 
And the fiury addressing 
My grandfather, somewhat astonished, 
So mildly my guardian admonished. 
That lie wept while he vanished away with a smile and a blessing. 

Sucli is the man whose works ■will form the most enduring 
monument of the literature of France during the first 
quarter of the nineteenth century. It is the pride of my 
old age to have recorded in these " papers" my admiration 
of this extraordinary writer ; and when, at a future period, 
rt)innientators and critics shall feed on his ever-verdant pages, 
uiid disport themselves in the leaves of his immortal poetry, 
it will be perhaps mentioned by some votary of recondite 
lore, that an obscure clergyman, on a barren Irish hill, 
made the first eftbrt to transplant hither some slips of tliat 
luxuriant tree ; thougli he fears that, like the " mulberry," 


it cannot be naturalized in tliese islands, and must stiU con- 
tinue to form the exclusive boast and pride of a happier 

Next to the songster-laureate of Erance, posterity will 
hail in Victor Hugo the undoubted excellence of original 
thought, and the gift of glowing expression. Before these 
two lofty minds the minor poets, Lamartine and Chateau- 
briand, will sink into comparative insignificance. Thus 
Burns and Byron will be remembered and read when Bob 
Montgomery and Hayues Bayly will be swept away with 
the coteries w^ho applauded them. " Opinionum commenta, 
delet dies," quoth the undying Tully ; '• natura; judicia cou- 
firmat." But, after all, what is fame ? It is a question 
that often recurs to me, dwelling frequently, in sober peu- 
siveness, on the hollow futility of human pux'suits, and pon- 
dering on the narrow extent of that circle which, in its 
widest possible diffusion, renown can hope to fill here below. 
Never has a Pagan writer penned a period more replete with 
Christian philosophy than the splendid passage which me- 
mory brings me here in the natural succession of serious 
reflections that crowd on my mind : — " Igitur alte spectare 
si voles, et reternam domum contueri, neque te sermonibus 
vulgi dederis, neque in praemiis humanis spcm posueris rerum 
tuarum. Quid de te alii loquantiu-, ipsi videant ; loquentur 
tamen. Sermo autem omnis ille et angustiis ciugitur iis 
regionum quas vides ; nee unquam de ullo percnnis fuifc ; et 
obruitur hominum interitu ; et oblivione posteritatis extin- 
guitur !" — Cic. Som. Scip. 

To return to Victor Hugo. It would be unpardonable in 
me to have written a series of papers on the " Songs of 
France," and not to have given some specimens of his re- 
fined and delicate compositions. Hugo does not address 
liimself so much to the popular capacity as liis energetic 
contemporary : he is a scholar, and seeks " fitting audience, 
though few." The lyrical pieces, however, which I sub- 
join, will be felt by all in their thrilling appeal to our sen- 

Though I do not regret the space I have devoted to the 
beauties of Bi'rangcr, it is still with a feeling of embarrass- 
ment that I bring forward thus late, and towards the close 
of my lucubrations on this interesting subject, so deserviug 

THE SOJS'l.S Oi' rilANCE. 


a claimant on tte notice of the public. Be that as it may, 
here goes ! and, gentle reader, thou hast before thee two 
gems of the purest water. The first is an Oriental emerald. 

tic VoiU. (n)vuntalc. 

Fie tor Hugo. 
" Avez-vous fait votre priCre ce soir, Desdemoaa?" — Shakespeare. 


Qu'avez-vons, qu'avez-vous, mes fibres? 

Vous baissez des fronts soucieux ; 
Comme des lampes fun^raires 

Vos regards brillent dans vos yens. 

Vos ceintures sont d^chir^es! 

Dejk trois fois hors de I'^tui, 
Sous vos doigta 5i demi tiroes, 

Les lames des poignards ont lui. 


N'avez-vous pas leve votre voile aujourd'- 


Je revenais du bain, mes fr^res ; 

Seigneurs, du bain je revenais, 
Caclie^ aux regards teraeraires 

Dus Giaours etdes Albanais. 

En passant pris de la mosquee, 
Dans raon palanquin recouvert, 

L'air de midi m'a suifoqude, 
Mon voile un instant s'est ouveit. 


Oui ? — peut-#tre — mais son andace 
N'a pas vu mes traits devoiles. — 

Mais vous vous parlez a voix basse ! 
A voLx basse vous vous parlez ! 

Vous faut-il du sang? sur votre anie, 

Mes fr^res, il n'a p& me voir. 
Grftce ! Tuerez-vous une femme, 

Foible et nue, en votre pouvoir ? 


Le soleil ftait rouge ^ son coucher ce r.oir', 


Gr&ce! qu'ai-je fait? Grace! grace! 

Dieu ! quatre poignards dans mon tlancc 
Ah ! par vos genoux que j'embrasse— 

Oh, mon voile ! oh, mon voile blanc ! 

tie fuyez pas mes mains qui saig^ient, 
Mes freres, soiitenez mes pas ! 

Car sur mes regards qui s'^teignent 
S'etend un voile de trepas. 


Un homme alors passait? un bommo en C'en est nn que du moins tu ne levcrsa 
caftan vert? pas! 

Ci)c Tnl. Sn (JDricntal Qialoguc. 

Victor Hugo. 

"Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?" — Suakespeai-.e. 


Wliat nas happened, my brothers ? Your spirit to day 

Some secret sorrow damps ; 
There's a cloud on your brow. What has happened? oh, say ! 
For your eyeballs glare out with a sinister ray, 

Like the Ught of funeral lamps. 

The blades of your poniards are half-unsheathed 

In your zone — and ye frown on me ! 
There's a woe vmtold, there's a pang unbreathcd, 

In your bosom, my brothers tliree I 

306 rATHEE peout's eeliques. 


Gulnai'a, mate answer ! ' Ilast thou, since the cTav.ii, 
To the eye of a stranger thj veil withdi'awn ? 


As I came, O mv brothers ! — at noon — from the bath — 

As 1 came — it was noon — my lords — 
And your sister had then, as she constantly hatli, 
Drawn her veil close aromid her, aware that the path 
Is beset by these foreign hordes. 

Kut the weight of the noonday's sultry hour 
Near the mosque was so oppressive, 

Ihat — forgetting a moment the eye of the Giaom* — 
I yielded to heat excessive. 


Gulnara, make answer ! Whom, then, hast thou seci:> 
In a tiu-ban of white, and a caftan of green ? 


Nay, he might have been there ; but I muffled me so, 
He could scarce have seen my figure. 

But why to your sister thus dark do you grow ? 

What words to yom'selves do you mutter thus low. 
Of " blood," and " an intriguer ?" 

Oh ! ye cannot of murder brmg down the red guilt 
On your soids, my brothers, surely ! 

Though I fear — from your hand that I see on tlic liilt, 
And the hints you give obscurely. 


Gulnara ! this evening when sank the red sun, 

Hast thou marked how like blood in descending it shone? 


Mercy ! AUah '. tlu-ee daggers ! liave pity ! oh, spare ! 

See ! 1 cling to your knees repenting ! 
Kind brotliers, forgive me ! for mercy, forbear ! 
Be appeased at the voice of a sister's despair, 

For your mother's sake relenting. 

O God ? must I die ? They are deaf to my cries ! 

Tlieir sistex''s life-blood shedding : 
They have stabbed me again — and I faint — o"er my eyes 

A Yeil of Death is spreading ! — 

ELDEST brother. 

Gulnara, iiirewcll ! take </(«< veil ; 'tis tlie gift 
Of thv brothers — a veil thou wilt never lilt I 



Hugo, in this Eastern scene, as well as in his glorious ro- 
mance of " Notre Dame de Paris," seems to take delight in 
harrowing np our feelings by the invariably sad catastrophe 
of all his love adventiu'cs. The chord of sympathy for 
broken affections and shattered hearts seems to be a favour- 
ite one with this mighty master of the Gallic lyre. Ex. gr. 

Ea dftancfc Uu Eimbaticr, 

Victor Hugo. 

llonseigneur, le Due de Bretagne, 

A poiir les combats meutriers, 
Convoque de Nante a Mortagne, 
Dans la jjlaine, et sur la campagne, 
L' arriere-ban de ses guerriers. 

Ce sont des barons, dont les armes 

Ornentdes forts ceints d'un fosse, 

Des preux Tieillis dans les alarmes, 

Des ecuyers, des hommes d'armes — 

L'lm d'entre eux est mou fiance. 

II est parti ponr I'Aquitaine 

Comme timbalier, et pourtant 
On le prend pour un capitaine, 
Kien qu'a voir sa mine hautaine, 
Et son pourpoint d'or eclatant. 

CIjc 23ritie of i\)t Cwmbalcfr. 

A Ballad. 

]\Iv liege, the Duke of Brittany, 
Has summon'd his vassals all, 

Tlie Kst is a lengthy litany ! 

Kor 'mong them shall ye meet any 
But lords of land and hall. 

Barons, who dwell in donjon-keep. 
And mail-clad count and peer, 

Whose fief is fenced with fosse 
deep ; 

But none excel in soldiership 
My own loved cymbaleer. 

Clashing liis cymbals forth he went. 
With a bold and gallant bearing ; 
Sure for a captain he was meant, 
To judge from liis accoutrement, 
And the cloth of gold he's wear- 

Depuis cc jour I'effroi m'agite ; 

J'aiditjjoignant sonsort aumicn, 
" Ma patronne, Sainte Brigittc, 
Pour que jamais il ne le quitte, 

Siu'veillez son ange gardieu !" 

J'ai dit 'k notre abb^, " Messirc, 

Priez bien pourtousnos soldats!" 
y.i comino on s(;ait qu'il le desu'c, 
J'ai brule trois cicrgcs de cirj 
Sui" la chasse de Saint Gi-5as. 

A Notre Dame de Lorette 

J'ai promis, dans mon noir s.ia- 
D'attacher sur ma gorgerette, 
Fermee il la vuc indiscrcttc, 

Les coquilles du p slerin. 

But in my soid since then I feel 

A fear, in secret creeping ; 
And to Saint Bridget oft I kneel, 
That she may recommend his weal 
To his guardian angel's keeping. 

I've begged our abbot, Bcmardinc, 

His prayers not to relax ; 
And, to procure him aid divine, 
I've burnt upon Saint Gilda's slu-ine 
Three pounds of vu-gui wax. 

Our Lady of Loretto knows 

The pilgrimage I vow'd : 
" To u-ear the scollop I jyi-opose, 
1/ health and safety from the foes 
My lover is aUou!''d." 



II n'a pu, par d'amoui'eiix gages, 

Absent, consoler mes foj-ers ; 
Pour porter les tendi^es messages 
La Tassale n'a point de ]iages, 
Le vassal u'a point d'ecuycrs. 

II doit aujourd'hui de la guerre 
Eerenii- avec monseigneui* — 

Ce n'est plus xm amant rulgaii'e ; 

Je lere un front baissfi nagu6i*e, 
Et mon orsueil est du bonheur. 

Le due triomphant, nous rapporte 
Son drapeau dans les camps 
froisse ; 
Yenez tous, sous la rieille porte, 

A'oir passer la brillante escortc, 
Et le prince et mon fiance ! 

Venez voir, pom* ce jour do fete, 

Son cheval caparafone ; 
Qui sous son poids liennit, s'arivtc, 
Et marehe en secouant la tete, 

De plumes rouges coiu-onnc. 

Mes soeurs, ivous parer trop lentes, 
Venez voir, pres, de men vain- 
Ces timbales etincclantes 
Qui, sous sa main toujom'S trem- 
Sonnent, et font bondir le cceur. 

Venez surtout le voir lui-mcmo. 
Sous le manteau quo jai brode ! 

Qu'il sera beau ! C'cst lui que 
j'aime ; 

II porte comme un rliademe 
Son casque do crins inondcs ! 

L'Egrptienno sacrilege, 

M'attirant derrifire \in pilier, 
M'a dit bien (Dieu me protege 

IS^o letter (fond affection's gago !) 

From him could I requii-e, 
The pain of absence to assuage — 
A vassal-maid can have no page, 
A Uegeman has no squu'e. 

This day will witness, with the 
My cymbaleer's return : 
Gladness and pride beam in my 

Delay my heart impatient brooks. 
All meaner thoughts I spui'u. 

Back fi'om the battle-field elate, 
His banner brmgs each peer ; 

Come, let us see, at the ancient 

The martial triumph pass in state, 
And the duke and my cymbaleer. 

^Ye'll see fijom the rampart -walls of 
What an air his horse assumes ; 
His proud neck swcUs, his glad 

hoofs prance. 
And ou his head unceasing dance. 
In a gorgeous tuft, red plumes ! 

Be quick, my sisters ! dress in 
haste ! 
Come, see him bear the bell, 
"With laurels deck'd, with true-love 

graced ; 
"Wliile in his bold hand, fitly placed. 
The bounding cymbals swell ! 

Mark well the mantle that he'll 
Embroider'd by his bride. 
Admire his bui-nish'd helmet's 

O'ershadow'd by the dark horse- 
That waves in jet folds wide ! 

The gipsy (spiteful wench !) foi-etokl 
■\Vith voice like a viper hissing, 
(Though I had cross'd her paiia 
with gold). 


Qu'a la faufare du cortege 
II manquerait iiii timbalier. 

Blais j'ai taut prie que j'espere. 

Quoique, me montrant de la main 
I'n sepulcre, son noir repaire, 
La vieille, aiix regards de vipere, 

M'ait dit je rattcnds la demaiu. 

Yolons ! plus de noii'es pensees J 
Ce sont les tamboiu's que j'eu- 
tends ! 
Yoici les dames entassees, 
Les tentes de poui-pre dress-ies, 
Les fleurs et les drapeaui flottans! 

Sur deux rangs le cortege ondoic : 
D'abord, les piquiers aux. pas 
loiu'ds ; 
Puis, sous I'etendard qu'on deploie, 
Les barons, en robes de soie, 
Avec leui's toques de veloui's. 

A'oici les chasubles des pretres ; 

Lesherauts sur un blanccoursier; 
Tous, en souvenir des ancetres, 
Portent I'ecusson de leurs maitres 

Peiat sm* leur corselet d'acier. 

Admirez I'armure Persanne 

Des Templiers, craints del'enfer; 
Et, sous la longue pei-tuisane, 
Les archers veins de Lausanne, 
Yctus de bufflc, armes de fer. 

Le due n'est pas loin : ses banniercs 

Flottcnt parmi les chevaliers ; 
Quclqucs cnseignes prisonnieres, 
llonteuses, passent les demiSres. 
Mes soeurs! voicilestimbaliers!" 

Elle dit, et sa vue errante 

Plonge, helas! dans les rangs 
presses ; 
Puis, dans la foule indifferente 
Elle tomba, froide et mourante ! — 

Les tiinhuliers ttuicnt passes. 


That from the ranks o spirit bold 
Would be to-day found missing. 

But I have pray'd so hard, I trust 

Her words may prove imtrue ; 
Though ill her cave the hag accui'st 
3Iutter'd " Frepare thee for ihf, 
worst !" 
Witli a face of ghastly hue. 

My joy her spells shall not prevent. 

Hark ! I can hear the cbums ! 
And ladies fair from silken tent 
Peep forth, and evei*y eye is bent 

On the cavalcade that comes ! 

Pikemen, dividuig on both flanks, 

Open the pageantry ; 
Loud, as they tread, then* armour 

And silk-robed barons lead the 
The puik of gallantly ! 

In scarfs of gold, the priests admire.- 

The Jierald on white steeds ; 
Ai-morial pride decks their attire. 
Worn in remembrance of a sire 
Famed for heroic deeds. 

Fear'd by the Paynim's dark divan. 
The Templars next advance ; 

Then the brave bowmen of Laii- 

Foremost to stand in battle's van, 
Against the foes of France. 

Ise^t comes the duke with radiant 
Girt witli his cavahers ; 
Round his triumphant banner bow 
Those of the foe. Look, sisters, 
now ! 
Kow come the cymbaleers !" 

She spoke — with searcliiug eye sur- 
vey' d 
Their ranks — then pale, aghast, 
Sunk in the crowd I Death came 

in aid — 
'Twas mercy to that gentle maid : 
The cymlaltcrs had pass'd!" 



By way of contrast to tlie Gothic reminiscences of the 
olden time, and the sentimental delicacy of the foregoing 
ballad, I subjoin a modern description of Gallic chivalry, — 
a poetical sketch of contemporary heroism. Nothing can be 
more striking than the change which seems to have come 
over the spirit of the military dreams of the French since 
the days of Lancelot and Bayard, if we are to adopt this 
as an authentic record of their present sentiments in mat- 
ters of gallantr}'. I cannot tell who the author or authoresn 
of the following dithyramb may be ; but I have taken it 
down as I have heard it sung by a lair girl who would some- 
times condescend to indulge an old cUibataire witli a snatch 
of merry music. 

S.I Carit'tic iHttttaiit 

Eh France. 

Ah, le bel etat ! 

Que I'etat de solclat '. 
Battre, aimer, chanter, et bou"e — 
Yoila toi;te noti-e histoh-e ! 

Et, ma foi, 

Moi je crois 
Que cet etat-la raut bicn 
Cehii de tant de gens qui ne font 

rien ! 

Tainquers, cntrons-uous dans une 
ville ? 
Les autorites et Jcs habitans 
Nous Tiennent, dhine i-Aqoii fort 
Ouvrir les portcs .\ deux bat tans : 
C'cst tout au plus s'ils scut con- 
tens ; 
Mais c'cst tout de memc — 
II faut qu'on nous aime — 
Kan, tan, plan ! 
Ou bicn qu'on cu fasse semblant. 
Puis quandvient Ic clairdc lune, 
Chacun choisit sa chacune. 
En qualite de conquerant. 

Kan, tan, plan I 
Ah, lo bcl etat, etc. 

Clje iBilttari) ^3i-ofr£isiou 

In France. 

Oil, the pleasant life a soldier leads ! 
Let the lawyer count his fees, 
Let old women tell their beads, 
Let each booby squii'e bi'ced cattle, 
if he please, 
Far better 'tis, I think, 
To make love, fijht, and drink. 
Odds boddekin ! 
Such life makes a man to a god 

Do we enter any town ? 
The portcullis is let down. 
And the joy-bells are rung by mu- 
nicipal authority ; 
The gates are opeu'd wide, 
And the city-keys presented us 
-Merely to recognize om* vast supe- 
The married citizens, 'tis ten to 

Wovdd wish us fau'ly gone ; 
But we stay while it suits our good 
Tlien each eve, at the rising of the 

Tlie fiddler strikes up amerry tune, 
We meet a buxom partner fullsooii. 
And we foot it to a military measure. 
\_Chorus of drums. 

THE SO>'GS or rEA>'CE. 


]Mai.s c'est quand nous quittons l;i 
Qu'il faut voir Teffet des adieiix ; 
Et toutes les femines a la file 
Se lamentei" aquimieux,mieux — 
C'est une riviere que leui's yeux. 
" Ecviens t'en bieu vitc 1" 
Oui da, ma petite ! 
Le plus souvent, 
Le plus souvent, 
Jc ne suis pas pour le sentiment. 
Ran, tan, j^lan ! 
Yive le regiment ! 

£t puis lorsqu'en maraudc, 

Chacun rode alentour ; 
On va, le sabre a la main, en 
Faire la chasse h la basse-coiu-. 
Faut bien que chaqiie victime ait 
son torn" — 
Poulles innocentes ! 
Interessantes ! 
Sans retour ! sans retour ! 
Ilelas ! voila votre dernier jour I 

Ean, tan, plan! 
Cot ! cot ! cot ! la sentinelle 
Vous appele ! 
Files passent la tute et eaquetant, 
Ft s'cn vont a la broclie du regi- 

Tin?, a notrc retour en France, 
Ciiaquo village, en goguctte, en 
Nous rc(joit, cocur ct tamboiu' bat- 
tans — 
Tic, tac, ran, tan, plan ! 
En riionneur du regiment. 
Ah, le bcl etat ! 
Que r6tat do soldat ! 

"When onr garrison at last gets " the 
Who can adequately tell 
Tlie regret of tlie fair all the city 
And the tone with ■which they bid 
us "farewell t" 
Tlicir tears would mate a flood — a 
perfect river : 
And, to soothe her despair. 
Each disconsolate maid entreats of 

us to give her. 
Ere we go, a single lock of om" hair. 
Alas ! it is not often 
That my heart can soften 
Responsive to the feelings of the fair ! 
l^C/iorus of drums. 

On a march, when our gallant divi 
In the country make a halt, 
Think not that we limit our provi- 
To Paddy's fare, " potatoes and 

Could such beggarly cheer 
Ever answer a French grenadier ? 
No ! we send a dragoon guard 
To each neighboui-uig farm- 
To collect the choicest pickings — 
Turkeys, sucking-pigs, and cliick- 
For why should mere rustic rapscal- 
Fatten on such tit-bits. 
Better suited to the spits 
Of oiir hungry and valorous bat- 
talions ? 

33ut, oh ! at our retui'n 
To our dear native France, 
Eacli village in its turn, 
"With music, and wine, and merry 
Forth on our joyful passage comes ; 
And the pulse of each heart beats 
time to the drums. 

[_Chorus of drums. 
Oil, the merry life a soldier leads I 

312 rATiiiiit peout's keliques, 

Tlie military songs of tbis merry nation are not all, how- 
ever, of the light texture of the foregoing, in proof of which 
I subjoin an elegy on Colonel de Beaumanoir, killed in the 
defence of Pondicherry, when that last stronghold of French 
power in India was beleagured by our forces under Coote. 
Beaumanoir belonged to an old family in Brittany, and had 
levied a regiment of his tenants and dependants to join the 
unfortunate Lally Tolendal when he sailed for India, in 
1749 : one of his retainers must have been the vaiter of the 
following lines descriptive of his hasty btirial in the north 
bastion of the fortress where he fell. Nor is it necessary to 
add any translation of mine, the Eev. Mr. AVolfe having re- 
produced them on the occasion of Sir John Moore's falling 
at Corunna under similar circumstances. 

ilciS dFuncratllc^ tic JJcaumanoir. 

Commonlj- known as " The Burial of Sir John Moore/' 

Ki le son du tamboiu- ni la marclie funebre 
Ui le feu des soldats iie niarqua son trepas, 

Mais du brare a la hate a travers les tenebres 
Mornes nous portames le eadavre au rampart. 

Be minuit c'etait I'Lem-e et solitaire et sombre 

La lune offrait a peine mi dubile rayon 
La lanterne luisait peniblement dans 1' ombre 

Quand de la bayonctte on creusa le gazon. 

D'inutUe cercueil ni do drap fimeraire, 

jS^ous ne daignames point entourer le heros, 

II trisait dans les plis du manteau militaii'c, 

Comme uu guerrier qui dort son lieure de repoz. 

La priere qu'on fit fut de courte duree, 

Isul ne parla de deiiil bieu que le coem* fut pleL'i, 

Mais on fixait du mort la figure adoree, 

Mais avec amertume on songcait au demain. 

Au demain quand ici oh sa fosse s' apprete 
Oil son humidc lit on dresse arec sanglots, 

L' ennemi orgucillcux ponrra fouler sa tete, 
Et nous scs veterans scrons loin sm* les flots. 

Us terniront sa gloire ! on pourra les entendre 
Nommer I'illustre mort d'nn ton amer on fol, 

H les laissera dive, chl qu' importe a sa ccndro, 
Que la main d'un Breton a confiee au sol. 

THE E05GS or r2.ASCE. 313 

L'cE-uTre GTirait encxire qnand reter:tit la docile, 

Au somniet dn Befrci et le cancn Icir^tain, 
Tire par intervalLe en sunoncant i',Toche, 

Signalait la fierte de rennemi iiaTCaiii. 
Zt r^Jt-T-a la fo=5e alors li rr.-'-nfs IgntemeTit 

Pres da. champ ou =a gloire a ete coiiscinznee, 
Ne nisznea a rendroit ni pierre ni monTrnient, 

Le lai-^-nr seril a seal arec sa reioiniEie. 

But mr page is filing fest. and icv appointed measure is 
nearly replenished- Adieiz, then, to the " Songs of Trance I*' 
Eeminiscences of my yoimger life ! traditions of poetic 
Gmul ! language of mipassioned feeling ! cultivated elegance 
of ideas and imagery ! bold- gay, fantastic picturinzs of so- 
cial existence ! — fareweE ! Ton have been to me the Bource 
of mnch enjoyment, much mental Inxiiry, much intellectual 
rerelry, — farewell ! Yet still, like Ovid quittiag Eome for 
Scythia — 

'• Saepe vale diczns, miiliam smn. locntiis, 
Et quasi disoedens oscnla snmina dsdi : 
Indulgeni animo, pes mini tardus eat" — 

J oath to depart, I hare once more opened the rolmne of the 
enchanter, and must indulge myseK in a last lingering look 
at one — perhaps the loftiest of Berangers lays. It is ad- 
dressed by him to a fsdi incognita ; but in my version I have 
taken the libei;^ of giving a more intelligible and, I fear 
not to add, more appropriate direction to the splendid 

E'Sfngt Unit. 

' A Cjrirjie de L******. 

Je Teiii pour tous prendre Bn to« mocES friratej 

Corinne ! il fiit des anges reToites : 
Dieu stir lenr front fait tomb^ sa parole, 

Et dans I'abinie lis sont preeipiies. 
Dotii, mais fragile, •cm senl dans hnxr mire, 

Contre ses ma-^ir . ' _ - -issaiit secoo-s, 
II rerte arme de s . — 

JLnge am tsth \ i, ^ . . icJez-moi tcn'o-zr? \ 

L'enfeT mnsit d'un efirorable rire, 

' "' ' route de Forgtieil des mecLrms, 

-eaTe en accordant sa ijre, 
- " . r ses remoris et ses c"-.a-.ts. 


Dieu d'un regard I'arraclie au gouffre immonde, 
ilais ici bas veut qu'il charme uos joui-s ; 

La Poesie euivrera le monde— 

Ange airs yeiix bleus, protegez-moi toujoiirs 1 

Yers nous il Tole, en secouant ses axles, 

Comma I'oiseau que I'orage a niouille ; 
Soudain la terre entend des voix nouvelles, 

Maint peuple errant s'arrete emeiTeillo. 
Tout cidte alors n'etait que rharmouie — 

Aux cieux jamais Dieu ne dit, " Sojez scurds '' 
L'autel s'epure aux parfiuns du genie I — 

Ange aux yeux bleus, protegez-moi toujours I 

En rain I'enfei*, des clameurs de Tenrie, 

Poursuit cet ange, eeliappe de ces raugs ; 
Pe I'homme incidte il adoueit la vie, 

Et sous le dais montre au doigt les tyrans. 
Tandis qu'a tout sa voix pretant des charnics. 

Court jusqu'au pole eveiUer les amoiu's : 
Dieu compte au ciel ce qu'il soche de lanncs ! — 

Ange aux yeux bleus, protegez-moi toujours ! 

Qui peut me dire ou luit son aureole ? 

De son exil Dieu I'a-t-il rappele ? 
Mais Tous chantez, mais votre voix console — 

Corinne, en vous I'ange s'est devode I 
Yotre printems rent des fleurs eternclies, 

Yotre beaute de celestes atours ; 
Poiu' un long vol vous deplorez vos ailes I — 

Ange axix yeux bleus, protegez-moi toujours ! 

C]^c ^iigel of l^ottri). 

To L. E. L. 

Lady ! for thcc a holier key shall hai'monise the cliord — • 
In Heaven's defence Omnipotence drew an avenging sword ; 
But when the bolt had crush'd revolt, one angel, fau* though frail, 
■Retain'd his lute, fond attribute ! to charm that gloomy vale. 
The lyre he kept his wikl hand swept ; tlic music he'd awaken 
Woidd sweetly thrill from the lonely hill where he sat apart forsaket 
There he'd lament his banishment, his thoughts to grief abandon, 
And weep his full. 'Twas pitifid to see liim weep, fair Laudou ! 

He wept his fau't ! Hell's gloomy vault grew vocal with his song ; 
But all throughout derision's shout burst from the guilty throng ; 
God pitying view'd his fortitude in that inihaUow'd den ; 
Free'd liim from hell, but bade hhu dwell amid the sous of men. 


Lady ! for us, an exile thus, immortal Poesy 
Came upon earth, and lutes gave birth to sweetest minstrelsy ; 
And poets wrought their spellwords, taught by that angehc mind, 
And music lent soft blandishment to fascinate mankind. 

Religion rose ! man sought repose in the shadow of her wings ; 

^Nlusic for her walked harbinger, and Genius touch'd the strings : 

Tears from the tree of Araby cast on her altar bm-n'd. 

But earth and wave most fragrance gave where Poetry sojourn'd. 

Vainly, with hate inveterate, heU laboui-'d in its rage. 

To persecute that angel's lute, and cross his pUgrimage ; 

Unmov'd and calm, liis songs poiu-'d balm on sorrow all the while ; 

Vice he unmask'd, but virtue bask'd in the radiance of his smile. 

O where, among the fair and young, or in what kingly court, 
In what gay path where Pleasm-e hath her favourite resort. 
Where hast thou gone, angehc one ? Back to thy native skies ? 
Or dost thou dwell in cloister'd cell, in pensive hermit's guise ? 
Methinks I ken a denizen of this our island — nay, 
Leave me to guess, fair poetess ! queen of the matchless lay ! 
The thrdling line, lady ! is tliine ; the spu'it pure and free ; 
And England views that angel muse, Landon ! reveal'd in thee I 

No. XL 


Chaptee I. 

" Latiiis opinione dissemmatum est hoc malum : manavit non solum 
per GaUiam, sed etiam transcendit Alpes, et obscure serpens multas 
jam provincias occupavit." Ciceeo in Catilinam, Or. IT. 

Starting from France, across Mount Cenis, 

Prout visits Mantua and Venice ; 

Througli mam- a tuneful province strolls, 

" Smit witli the love" of barcarolles. 

Petrarca's ghost he conjures vip, 

And with old Dante quaffs a cup ; 

Next, from her jar Etruscan, ho 

L^ncorks the muse of Tuscany. O. T. 

Teom the contents of " tbe chest" hitherto put forth by UB 
to the gaze of a discriminating public, the sagacious glanco 


of tlie critic, unless Lis eye happen to be somehow "by 
drop serene or dim suffusion veiled," must Lave scanned 
pretty accurately the peculiar cast and character of old 
Prout's genius. Though somewhat "Protean" and multi- 
form, delighting to make Lis posthumous appearance in a 
diversity of fanciful shapes, he is still discoverable by cer- 
tain immutable features ; and the identity of mind and pur- 
pose reveals itself throughout this vast variety of manifest- 
ation. An attentive perusal of his "Papers" (of which 
"we have now dra\vn forth eleven, hoping next month to crack 
the last bottle of the sparkling dozen) will enable the reader 
to detect the secret workings of his spirit, and discover the 
" bee's wing" in tbe transparent decanter of Lis soul. 
Prout's candour and frankness, his bold, fearless avowal of 
each inward conviction, his contempt for quacks and pe- 
dants, his warm admiration of disinterested patriotism and 
intellectual originality, cannot but be recognised throughout 
Lis writings : he is equally enthusiastic in his predilections, 
and stanch in his antipathies. Of his classical namesake, 
Proteus, it has been observed by Tirgil, that there was no 
catching him in any definite or tangible form ; as he con- 
stantly shifted his position, and, with the utmost violation 
of consistency, became at turns " a pig," " a tiger," or " a 
serpent," to suit the whim of the moment or the scheme of 
the hour : 

" Fiet enim 8ubit6 sns liorriclus, atrave ti^-is, 
Sqiiamosusre di-aco." Georyic. IV. 

But in all the impersonations of the deceased P. P. of 
Watergrasshill the man is never lost sight of; it is stiU he, 
Avhether he be viewed shewing his tusks to Tommy Moore, 
or springing like a tiger on Dr. Lardner's wig, or lurking 
like a bottle-imp in Brougham's brandy-flask, or coiled up 
like a rattle-snake in tbe begging-box of O'Connell. 

But still be dcligLts to tread the peaceful paths of lite- 
ratiu'e ; and it is then, indeed, that he appears in his proper 
element. Of all the departments of that interesting pro- 
vince, he Las selected the field of popular poetry for his 
favourite haunt. " Smitten," like old Milton, " tvith the 
love of sacred song" he lingers with " fond, reluctant, amo- 
rous delay," amid the tuneful "groves." BaUad-singiug 


was Lis predominant passion. In his youtli lie had visited 
almost every part of the continent ; and though not unob- 
servant of other matters, nor vmmindful of collateral inquiries, 
he made the so7igs of each country the object of a most di- 
ligent investigation. Among the tenets of his peripatetic 
philosophy, he had adopted a singular theory, viz. that the 
true character of a people must be collected from their 
" songs." Impressed with this notion, to use the vrords of 
the immortal Edmund Burke, " he has visited all Europe ; 
not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateli- 
ness of temples ; not to make accurate measurement of the 
remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the 
curiosities of modern art; not to collect medals, or to collate 
MSS. : but to pick up the popular tunes, and make a col- 
lection of song-books ; to cull from the minstrelsy of the 
cottage, and select from the bacchanalian jo\iality of the 
vintage ; to compare and collate the Tipperary bagpipe with 
the Cremona fiddle ; to remember the forgotten and attend 
to the neglected ballads of foreign nations ; and to blend in 
one harmonious system the traditionary songs of all men in 
all countries. It was a voyage of discovery, a circumnavi- 
gation of melody." 

Lauder and Mungo Park have traced the course of the 
IS'iger : Bruce and Belzoni the sources of the jS"ile ; Sterne 
journeyed in pursuit of the sentimental, S}Titax in search of 
the picturesque ; Eustace made a "classical" tour through 
Italy, Bowring an " utilitarian" excursion through France: 
but we greatly miscalculate if the public do not prefer, for 
all the practical purposes of life. Front's "tuneful" pil- 
grimage. Any accession to the general stock of harmony, 
anytliing to break the monotonous sameness of modern 
literature, must bo liailed with a shout of welcome ; and in 
the AVatergrasshill chest we possess an engine of melodious 
power, far preferable to the hackneyed barrel-organs that 
lull and stultify the present generation. The native Irish 
have at all times been remarkable for a keen perception of 
musical enjoyment, and it therefore is not astonishing that 
the charms of sweet sound sliould have so fascinated the 
youthful mind of our hero, as to lead him captive from land 
to land — a willing slave, chained to the triumphal chariot 


of Polyhymnia. His case has been graphically put by a 
modern writer (not Hogg) — 

" When I was a boy in my father's mud edifice, 
Tender and bai'c as a pig in a sty, 
Out of the door as 1 looked, with a steady ]ihiz. 
Who but Thade Murphy the piper went by ! 

'Arrah, Thady! the drone of yom* pipe so comes over vio, 

Naked I'll wander wherever you goes ; 
And if my poor parents should want to discoTer mc, 

Sm'e it wont be by describing my clothes !' ' 

" Journeying with this intent," our excellent divine (as 
may be seen in the last four numbers of Eegika) hatli not 
been idle in France ; having wreathed a garland of song, 
culled where those posies grew A\dld on the boidevards of 
Paris, the fields of jN'ormandy, and the fragrant hills of Pro- 
vence — land of troubadours. AVe have now to follow him 
through other scenes : to view him seated in a gondola, and 
gliding under the " Bridge of Sighs ;" or Avandering on the 
banks of the Po ; or treading, with pensive step, the Miltonic 
glen of Vallombrosa. Each guardian spirit of that hallowed 
soil, each tutelaiy genius loci, the dryades of the grove and 
the naiades of the flood, exult at the approach of so worthy 
a visitant, sent with a special mission on an errand of the 
loftiest consequences, and gifted with a soul equal to the 
mighty task ; a modern by birth, but an old Koman in 
sentiment — 

" Ecdonavit Quiritcm 
Dis patriis Italoque coelo!" — Hou. lib. ii. ode 7. 

It has been the misfortune of that beautiful peninsula, 
ever since the decline and fall of the Eoman empire, to have 
been invaded by a succession of barbarians from the N^orth. 
Longobards andOsti'ogoths, Alaric and Genseric, Sam Rogers 
and Frederick Parbarossa, Attila king of the Huns, and 
Leigli Hunt king of the Cockneys, have already spread havoc 
and consternation through that delightful country ; but the 
vilest and most luijustiflable invasion of Italy has been per- 
petrated by Lady Morgan. "We know not to what extent 
impunity may be claimed by " the sex," for running riot 
and playing the devU with ulaccs and thiugs consecrated by 


the recollections of all that is noble in our nature, and ex- 
alted in the history of mankind ; but we suppose that her 
Irish ladyship is privileged to carry on her literary orgies in 
the face of the public, like her fair countrywoman, Lady 
Barrymore, of smashing notoriety. Heaven knows, she has 
often enough been " pulled up " before the tribunals of criti- 
cism for her misdemeanours ; still, we find her repeating her 
old offences with incorrigible pertinacity, — and Belgium is 
now the scene of her pranks. She moreover continues to 
besprinkle her pages with Italian, of wliich she knows about 
as much as of the language of the Celestial Empire ; for, let 
her take our word for it, that, however acquainted she may 
possibly be with the " Cruiskeen la-mi," she has but a very 
slight intimacy with the " Vocabulario deUa Crusca." 


Feb. 1, 1835. 

Watcrr/rassJiill, Feb. 1S30. 
DuHiNG these long wintry nights, while the blast howls 
dismally outside this mountain-shed, and all the boisterous 
elements of destruction hold a " radical" meeting on yonder 
bog, — seated before a snug turf-fire, and having duly conned 
over the day's appointed portion of the Eoman breviary, I 
love to give free scope to my youthful recollections, and 
wander back in spirit to those sunny lands where I spent 
my early years. Memory is the comforter of old age, as 
Hope is the guardian-angel of youth. To me my past life 
seems a placid, a deKghtiul dream ; and I trust that when I 
shall, at no distant moment, hear the voice which will bid 
me " awake" to the consciousness of enduring realities, and 
the enjoyment of immortal existence, memory still may remain 
to enhance, if possible, the fruition of beatitude. 

But a truce to these solemn fancies, which, no doubt, have 
been suggested to my mind by those homilies of Chrysostorn 
and soliloquies of Augustin which I have just now been pe- 
rusing, in this day's oiSce of our ancient liturgy. And to 
resume the train of ideas with which I commenced, a few 
minutes ago, this paper of " night-thoughts," — gladly do I 
recur to the remembrance of that fresh and active ])eriodof my 

320 TATHER pnon's eeliques. 

long career, wlien, buoyant with juvenile energy, and fluslied 
with life's joyous anticipations, I passed from the south of 
^France into the luxuriant lap of Italy. Tull sixty years now 
have elapsed since I first crossed the Alpine frontier of that 
enchanting province of Europe ; but the image of all I saw, 
and the impression of all I felt, remains indelible in my 
soul. My recollections of gay Trance are lively and vavid, 
yet not so deeply imprinted, nor so glowingly distinct, as 
the picturings which an Italian sojourn has left on the 
" tablets of memory." I cherisli both; but each has its own 
peculiar attributes, features, and physiognomy. The spirihielle 
Madame de Sevignc and the impassioned Beatrice Cenci are 
two very opposite impersonations of female character, but 
they pretty accurately represent the notion I would wish to 
convey of my Italy and my Erauee. There is not more differ- 
ence between the " Allegro" and " II Penseroso" of Milton. 
Prance rises before me in the shape of a merry-andrew jing- 
ling his bells, and exhibiting wondrous feats of agility ; Italy 
assumes the awful shape of the spectre that stood before 
Brutus in the camp, and promised to meet him at Philippi. 

In those days a Eranciscan friar, called Ganganelli 
(Clement XIV.), sat in the pontific chair ; and, sorrowful 
to tell, being of a cringing, time-serving, and worldly-minded 
disposition, did considerable damage to the church over 
which, in evil hour, he was appointed to preside. The 
only good act of his I am disposed to recognise is the ad- 
dition to the Vatican gallery, called after him the " Museum 
Clementinum :" but that was but a poor compensation for the 
loss which literature and science sustained (through his in- 
effable folly) in the unwarrantable destruction of tliat un- 
rivalled "order" of literati, the Jesuits.* The sacriiice was 
avowedly meant to propitiate the demon of Irreligion, then 
first exhibiting his presence in Erance ; but, like all such 
concessions to an evil spirit, it only provoked further exi- 
gencies and more imperative demands, until Talleyrand, 
by proposing in the iS'ational Assembly the abolition of 
church property, effectually demolished the old Galilean 

* A book was in circulation called " Ganganelli's Letters ;" but it is 
an imposition on public credulity, to be classed in the annals of forgery 
alongside of Macpherson's " Ossian," Chattertou's " Rowley," and th6 
" Decretals" of Isidorus Mercator. — PiiouT. 

THE SONGS OF llAlii-. 321 

glories of Christianity, and extinguished toe lamp that had 
burnt for ages before the altar of our common God. It was, 
no doubt, an act of forgetfulness in the preceding pope, 
Prosper Lambertini (Benedict XIV.), to open a corres- 
pondence with Voltaire, to whom, in return for the dedi- 
cation of his tragedy of " Mahomet," he sent his " apostoli- 
cal blessing ;" but it was reserved for the friar-pope to 
inflict an irrecoverable wound on the cause of enlightened 
religion, by his bull of the 21st of July, 1773. 

I dwell on this topic con amove, because of my personal 
feelings of attachment to the instructors of my youth ; and 
also because the subject was often the cause of a friendly 
quarrel between myself and Barry the painter, whom I met 
at Eome, and knew intimately. He was a " wild fellow," and, 
by some chance, liad for me a sort of confiding fondness ; 
owing, no doubt, to our being both natives of Cork, or, at 
least, citizens thereof : for I was horn in Dublin, as duly set 
forth in that part of my autobiography called " Dean Swift's 
Madness ; a Tale of a Churn." Kow Barry was so taken mth 
GanganelU's addition to the Vatican collection, that he has 
placed him among the shades of the blessed in his picture of 
Elysium, at the hall of the Adelphi, London; giving a snug 
berth in "hell" to Pope Adrian IV., who bestowed Ireland 
on Henry II. I question not the propriety of this latter 
arrangement ; but I strongly object to the apotheosis of 

This digression, however unconnected with the " Songs of 
Italy," may serve as a chronological landmark, indicative of 
the period to which I refer in my observations on the poetry 
of that interesting country. Alfieri had not yet rekindled 
the fire of tragic thought ; Manzoni had not flung into tlie 
pages of romantic narrative a pathos and an eloquence un- 
known to, and undreamt of, by Boccaccio ; Silvio PeUico liad 
not appalled the world Avith realities far surpassing romance ; 
Pindemonte had not restrung the lyre of Filicaia. But 
Heaven knows there was enough of genius and exalted in- 
spiration in the very oldest ornaments of Italian compo- 
sition, in the ever-glorious founders of the Toscana favclla, 
to render unnecessary to its triumph the subsequent corps 
de reserve, whose achievements in the field of literature I do 
not seek to undervalue. 

1522 FATilEB prout's heliqtjes. 

Poets Iiave been the earliest writers iji every language, 
iiud the first elements of recognized speech have invariably 
been collected, arranged, and systematised by the Muse. 
The metrical narrative of the Arabian Job, the record of 
the world's creation as sung by Hesiod, the historical poetry 
of Ennius, the glorious vision of Dante, the songs of Marot 
and Malherbe, the tales of Chaucer, have each respectively 
been the earliest acknowledged forms and models on which 
the Hebrew, the Greek, the Latin, the Italian, the Fi-ench, 
and the English idioms were constructed. I have placed 
these six languages (the noblest and most perfect vehicles 
of human intercourse that have ever existed) in the rotation 
of their successive rise and establishment. Taking them 
chronologically, the Hebraic patent of precedency is un- 
doubted. The travels of Hesiod, Homei*, and Herodotus, 
through Egypt and Asia Minor, sufficiently explain the 
subsequent traces of that oriental idiom among the Greeks ; 
the transmission of ideas and language from Greece to Italy 
is recorded in set terms by the prince of Latin song, who 
adopts the Greek hexameter as well as the topics of He- 

" Asci'ECuinquo cano Eomana per oppida carmen." 

Georgic. II. 

The Italians, when Latin ceased to be the European me- 
dium of international communication, were the first to form 
out of the ruins of that glorious parlance an idiom, fixed as 
early as 1330, and perfect in all its modern elegance ; — so 
perfect, indeed, as to warrant the application to it of the 
exclamation of Horace : 

" O matro pulelmi filia pulclirior ■" 

Lib. i. ode 16. 

Prance followed next in the development of its hap])y 
vocabulary, under Erancis I. ; and England, under tlie 
reign of Queen Anne, finally adopted its modern system 
of plu'aseology. The literature of Germany is of too mo- 
dern a growtli for my notice. It is scarcely seventy j-ears 
old : I am older myself. 

It is a remarkable fact, but not the less true, that Dante 
(who had studied at the university of Paris, where he uiaui- 

THE so:;gs op itai-t. 323 

taiued witli applause a thesis, "DeouiniEe scibili"), on 
his return to Italy, meditating his grand work of the " Di- 
vina Commedia," was a long time undecided to what dialect 
lie should commit the offspring of his prolific mind. His 
own bias lay towards the Latin, and he even had commenced 
in that tongue the description of hell, the opening verse of 
which has been preserved : 

" Pallida regna canam, flxiido contermina mundo !" 

But the Irish monks of Bobbio, having seen a specimen of 
the poem in the popular version, strongly advised the young 
poet to continue it iu the vernacular tongue ; and that deci- 
sion influenced the fate of Italian literature. 

Petrarca is known to have considerably underrated the 
powers of Dante, whose style and manner he could never 
relish : indeed, no two writers could possibly have adopted 
a more opposite system of composition, and out of the 
same materials consti*ucted poetry of so distinct a charac- 
ter. Eude, massive, and somewhat uncouth, the terzu rima 
of the "infernal laureate" resembled the Doric temples 
of Paestum ; delicate, refined, and elegant, the sonnets of 
Petrarca assimilate in finish to the Ionic structure at 
Nismes dedicated to Diana. But the canzoni of Laura's 
lover are the most exquisite of his productions, and far sur- 
pass in harmony and poetic merit the sonetti. Such is the 
opinion of Muratori, and such also is the verdict of the 
ingenious author of the " Secchia Eapita." These canzoni 
are, in fact, the model and the perfection of that species of 
song of which the burden is love ; and though some modern 
poets have gon» farther in the expression of mere animal 
passion (such as Moore and Byron), never has woman been 
addressed in such accomplished strains of eloquence and 
sentiment as Donna Laura by the hermit of Vaucluse. 

There may be some partiality felt by me towards Pe- 
trarca. He belonged to "my order;" and though the 
imiou of the priest and the jjoei (combined in the term 
taxes) is an old association, the instances in the Eoman 
Catholic priesthood have been too rare not to prize the soli- 
tary example of sacerdotal minstrelsy in the archdeacon of 
Parma. Jerome Yida, the bishop of a small town in Italy, 
was distinguished as a Latin poet — 

T 2 

324 rATHEE peout's eeliqtjes. 

" Immortal Vida, on whose honour'd brow 
The critic's bays and poet's ivy grow;" 

(Pope, Essay on Criticism.) 

and several Jesuits have felt the inspiration of the Muse : 
but the excellence of Petrarca as a poet has caused hia 
theological acquirements, vrhich were of the highest order, 
to be quite forgotten. I was greatly amused some days ago, 
in turning over the volume of Bellarmin, " De Scriptoribus 
Ecclesiasticis," to find at page 227 (4to. Somse, 1613) the 
following notice of the sonnetteer : 

" Pranciscus Petrarca, archidiaconus Parmensis, lusit 
elegantissimis versibus amores suoa erga Lauram, ut haberet 
materiam exercendae musae ; sed tempus consumptum in illis 
cantiunculis deflevit, et midta opera gravia atque utilia 
scripsit. Pi(^ obiit 1374." 

The learned cardinal, no doubt, valued much more these 
grave and useful works, which are doomed to lurk amid 
cobwebs in the monastic libraries of the continent, than the 
exquisite outpourings of soul and harmony which have filled 
all Europe with rapture. 

Long before I had crossed the Alps I had been an admirer 
of Petrarca. My residence at Avignon ; my familiar ac- 
quaintance with the church of St. Clair, wliere, in his twenty- 
fifth year (Friday, April 6, 1337), he for the first time saw 
the Madonna Laura, then aged seventeen ; my frequent ex- 
cursions to the source of that limpid toi'rent, called by 
Pliny, Vallisclausa, and by the French, Yauclusc, liad drawn 
my attention to his writings and his character. An enthu- 
siastic love of both was the natural result ; and I some- 
times, in the perusal of his sentiments, would catch the 
contagion of liis exquisite Platonism. Tes ! Laura, after 
the lapse of five centuries, had made a second conquest ! 

" Je redemandais Laiu-e a Techo du vallon, 
Et I'ccho u'avait point oubhe ce doux nora." — Delixle. 

It has been said, that no poet's mistress ever attained 
such celebrity as the Platonic object of Petrarca's aflec- 
tions : she has, in fact, taken her place as a fourth maid of 
honour in the train of " graces" that wait on Venus ; and 
the romantic source of the Sorga has become the Castaliaa 
spring of all who would >vi'ite on love. 



^lla dTontaiia ni Vnldm^a. 

Canzone di Francesco Petrarca. 

Cliiai'e, fresehe, e dolci acque, 
Ove le belle membra 
Pose colei, che sola a me par 
Gentil ramo, ove piacque 
(Con sospir mi rimembra) 
A lei cli fare al bel fianco colonna ; 
Erba e fior, che la gonna 

Leggiadra ricoverse 
Con 1' angelico seno ; 
Aer sacro sereno, 
Ov' amor co' begli occlii il cor m' 
aperse ; — 
Date udienza insieme 
Alle dolenti mie parole estreme. 

S' cgli u pur mio destino, 
E '1 cielo in cio s' adopra, 
C'h' amor quest' occhi lagrimand 
cliiuda ; 
Qualclie grazia U mescliino 
Corpo Ira voi ricopra ; 
E torni 1' alma al proprio albcrgo 
La morte fia men cruda, 
Se questa speme porto 
A quel dubbioso jiasso : 
Clie lo spirito lasso 
?\on poria mai in piil riposato 
Ko 'n piu tranquiUa fossa 
Fuggir la came travagliata e 1' 

Tempo vorra ancor forse, 
Clic air usato soggionio 
Torni ia fera bcUa e mausueta ; 
E la, 'v' ella mi scorse 

3,3ftrarfa's' ^tiUngs 

To the Summer Haunt of Laura. 

Sweet fountain of Vaucluse ! 
The virgin freshness of whose crystal 

The ladye, idol of my soxil ! hatli led 
Within thy wave her fairy bath to 

choose ! 
And thou, O favourite tree ! 
Whose branches she loved best 
To shade her hoiu- of rest — 
Her own dear native land's green 
mulberry ! 
Eoses, whose earUest bud 
To her sweet bosom lent 
Fragrance and ornament ! 
Zephyrs, who fan tlie murmiu-iiig 
Cool gi'ove, sequestered grot ! 
Here in this lovely spot 
I pour my last sad lay, where Gi-st 
her love I wooed. 

If soon my eartlily woes 
Must slumber in the tomb. 
And if my life's sad doom 

Must so in sorrow close ! 
Where yonder wiUow grows, 

Close by the margin lay 

My cold and lifeless clay, 
That um-equited love may find repose! 
Seek thou thy native realm, 

My soul ! and when the fear 

Of dissolution near. 
And doubts shall overwhelm, 
A ray of comfort round 

My dying couch shall hover, 

If some kind hand wUl cover 
My miserable bones in yonder hal- 
lowed ground ! 

But still alive for her 
Oft may my ashes greet 
The sound of coming feet ! 
And Laui-a's tread gladden my so- 
pulclu'e ! 


Nel benedetto giorno, 
Volga la vista desiosa e lieta 
Cercandomi : ed, o pieta ! 
Gia terra in fra le pietre 
Vidcndo, amor 1' inspii'i 
In giiisa, clie sospu'i 
Si dolcemente, che mevce m' im- 
E faccia forzs al cielo, 
Asciugaudosi gli occbi col bcl 

Da' be' rami scendea, 
(Dolce nella memoria,) 
L'na pioggia di fior sorra '1 suo 
grembo ; 
Ed ella si sedea 
Umile in tanta gloria, 
Coverta gia dell' amoroso nem- 

Qnal fior cadea sul lembo, 
Qiial sidle treece bionde ; 
Ch' oro forbito, e perlc 
Eran quel di a vederle ; 
Qua! si posava in terra, e qual 
sull' onde ; 
Qual con tin vago errore 
Girando, parea dir, " Qui rogna 

Quante volte diss' io 
Allor pien di spavento, 
"Costei per fermo nacque in 
Paradiso ;" 
Cosi carco d' obblio, 
II divin portamento, 
E '1 volto, c le parole, e '1 dolcc 
M' aveano, e si diviso 

Dair immagine vera, 
Ch' io dicea sospirando, 
"Qm come venn' io, oquando?" 
Credendo esser in ciel, nou lil, 
dov' era : 

Kclentir.g, on my grave, 

ily mistress may, perchance, 
With one kind pityuig glance 
Ilonour the dust of her devoted slave. 
Then may she intercede. 

With prayer and sigh, for one 
Who, hence for ever gone. 
Of mercy stands in need ; 
And wliile for me her rosary she 
May her uphfted eyes 
Win pardon from the skies. 
While angels through her veil behold 
the tear that swells ! 

Visions of love ! ye dwcU 
In memory still enshrined. — 
Here, as she once recHned, 
A shower of blossoms on her bosom 
And while tli' enamoured tree 
From all its branches thus 
Eaiued odoriferous. 
She sat, luiconscious, all humility. 
Mixed -with her golden haii', those 
blossoms sweet 
Like pearls on amber seemed ; — 
Some then- allegiance deemed 
Due to her floating robe and lovely 
feet : 
Others, disporting, took 
Their com-sc adown the brook : 
Others aloft, wafted in airy sporr, 
Seemed to proclaim, "To-day Love 
holds his merry com-t !" 

I've gazed upon thee, jewel beyond 
price ! 
Till from my inmost soul 
This secret whisper stole — 
"Of Earth no chUd art thou, daughter 
of Paradise !" 
Such sway thy beauty held 
O'er the enraptured sense. 
And such the influence 
Of winninsj smile and form unparal- 
leled ! 
And I would marvel then 
"ilow came I here, and whoa. 


Da indi in qua mi piace Wafted by magie wand. 

Quest' crba si, cli' altrove nou ho Earth's narrow joys beyond?" 

pace. O, I shall ever count 

ily happiest days spent here by this 
romantic fount ! 

In this graceful effasion of tender feelings, to -wliicli a 
responsive chord must vibrate in every breast, and compared 
with which the most admitted of modern love-ditties will 
seem paltry and vulgar, the tenderness, the exalted passion, 
the fervid glow of a noble heart, and the mysterious work- 
ings of a most gifted mind, exhibit themselves in every 
stanza. What can be more beautifully descriptive than the 
opening lines, equalling in melodious cadence the sweetest 
of Horace, 

" O fons Bandusiee, splendidior vitro ;" 

but iniinitely superior in delicacy of sentiment and pathetic 
power ! The calm melancholy of the succeeding sti'ophe 
has been often admired, and has, of course, found great 
favour among the Tom Moores of every country. 

Tom has given us his last dying-speech in that rigmarole 

"When in death I shall calm recline;" 

but the legacy of this bard is a sad specimen of mock-turtle 
patlios, and, with the affectation of tenderest emotion, is, 
in style and thought, repugnant to all notions of real refine- 
ment and simplicity. In the last will of Petrarca — a most 
interesting document — there is a legacy which any one may 
be pardoned for coveting ; it is the poet's lute, which he 
bequeaths to a friend, with a most affecting and solemn re- 
commendation : " Magistro Thomas de Ferrara lego leutum 
meum honum, ut eum sonet non pro vanitate s»culi fugacis, 
scd ad laudem Dei a^terni." — (Testament, Petrar.) 

As the Hibernian melodist has bad liis name thus smuggled 
into my essay on the " Songs of Italy," it may not be irre- 
levant (as assuredly it will be edifying) to point out some 
of his "■ 7-of/u€)'ies" perpetrated in this quarter. Not con- 
tent with picking the pockets of the Prench, he has ex- 
tended his depredations to the very extremity of Calabria. 
Petrarca's case is one of peculiar hardship. Laura's lover. 

828 FATnEE PRon's eeliques. 

m the entliiisiasm of eloqueut passion, talies a wide range 
in one of bis songs, and ransacks the world, east and west, 
for images drawn from the several phenomena which nature 
exhibits in each country through which his muse wanders 
uncontrolled. Among other curious comparisons and happy 
flights of infancy, be introduces the foimtaiu of the fcJun, 
near the temple of Jupiter Ammon ; and, describing the 
occasional warmth and successive icy chill which be expe- 
riences in the presence or absence of his beloved, compares 
his heart to that mysterious water, which, cold at mid- day, 
grew warm towards eve. AVould the reader wish to see 
with what effrontery Moore appropriates, without the 
slightest acknowledgment, the happy idea of Petrarch ? 
Here are the parallel passages : 

33etvavfa. Com {Hoove. 

" Sorge ncl mezzo giorno. "Fly not yet! tlie fount that play'd, 

Una fontana, e tien nome del In days of old, tln-ough Amnion's 

Sole, shade, 

Che per natui-a snole Though icy cold by day it ran, 

Bollir la nolle, e'n sid giorno esser Yet still, like souls of mirth, began 
fredda. To burn when nicihl icas nean 

* * * * And thus shoidd woman's heart and 

Cosi avien a me stesso looks 

Clie mio sol s' allontana At noon be cold as wintry brooks, 

Ardo allor," &c. But kindle when the night's return- 
Canzuni di Pelr. 31, st. 4. ing 

Brings the genial lioiu* for burning." 

The learned priest had been at tlie trouble of perusing 
Quintus Curtius, lib. iv. cap. 7, wliere he liad found: "Est 
etiam Ammonis nemus ; in medio habet fontem ; aquam 
solis vocant; sub lucis ortum tepida niauat, medio die frigida 
eadem fluit, inclinato in vesperam calescit, media nocte fer- 
vida exfestuat." He had also, no doubt, read the Hues in 
Silius Italicus, " De Bello Punico," referring to this same 
Bource : 

" Qute nascente die, qua; deficiente tcpescit, 
Qusequc riget medium ciim sol ascendit Olympum." 

But his property, in the application of the simile, has been 
invaded by Tom,' who had read nothing of the sort — 

" Sic Tos non vobis melliflcatis apes !" 
Ailer all, I am wasting mv time on such minor matters. 


In the celebrated address above quoted of tbe hermit of 
Vaueluse to that immortal fountain, I have given what I 
consider a fair specimen of Italian amatory poesy : but 
though the poets of that genial climate are " all for love," 
still they are also " a little for the bottle." Hence it is 
that I consider it my duty, as an essayist, to bring forward 
a sample of their hacchunuliun songs. 

^onctto Qttiramtico. 

Claudio Tolomei. 

Kon mi far, O Yiilcan ! di questo argento 

Scolpiti iu vaga scliiera iiomini ed arini : 

Fammene una grau tazza, ove bagnarmi 
Possa i denti, la lingua, i labbri, e 1 mento. 

Xon mi ritrar in lei pioggia n^ rento, 
2^^e sole o stelle per vaghezza darmi : 
Non puo '1 Carro o Boote aUegro farmi — 

Ch' altrove e la mia gioia e '1 mio contento. 

Fa delle riti cd alle viti intomo 

Pendii"' dell' uve, e 1' uve stUUn vino, 
Cli' io bevo, e poi dagli occhi ebro distillo ; 

E 'n mezzo un vaso, ove in bel coro adorno. 

Core piii ch' altro lieto e piii divino, 
Pestiuo r uvc Amor, Bacco, e Batillo ! 

CIjc 'UMwtiCw^ bcspolteii. 

AiP. — " One bumper at parting." 

Great Vulcan ! your dark smoky palace, 

"With these ingots of silver, I seek ; 
And I beg you will make me a chalice. 

Like the cup you once forged for the Greek. 
Let no deeds of BeUona "the bloody" 

Emblazon this goblet of mine ; 
But a garland of grapes, ripe and ruddy, 

In scidptiu-e around it entwine. 

Tiie festoon (which you'll gracefully model) 
Is, remember, but pari of the wiiole ; 

Le.<t, perchance, it miglit enter your noddlo 
To diminisli tlie size of the bowl. 


For tliongh dearly what 's deem'd ornamental, 
And of art the bright symbols, I prize ; 

Still I cling with a fondness parental 
Eiound a cup of the true good old size. 

Let me have neither sun, moon, nor planet, 

Nor " the Bear," nor "the Twins," nor " the Goi,: 
Yet its use to each eye that may scan it, 

Let a glance at its emblems denote. 
Then away witli Mhierva and Venus ! 

Not a rush for them both do I care ; 
But let jolly old Father Sdenus, 

Astride on lus jackass, be there ! 

Let a dance of gay satyrs, in cadence 

Dispoi'tiug, be seen mid the fruit ; 
And let Pan to a gi-oup of young maidens 

Teach a new yintage-lay on his flute ; 
Cupid, too, hand in hand with Bathyllus, 

May pm'ple his feet in the foam : 
Long may last the red joys they distil us ! 

Tho' Lore spread his wmglets to roam ! 

The songsters of Italy have not confined tliemselvcs so 
exclusively to the charms of the ladies and the fascinations 
of the flask, as not to have felt the noble pulse of patriotic 
emotion, and sung the anthem of independence. There is 
a glorious ode of Petrarch to his native land : and here is a 
■well-known poetic outburst from a truly spirited champion 
of his country's rights, the enthusiastic but graceful and 
diofnificd Pilicaia. 

^lla 33ntvia. 

Italia ! Italia ! o tu cui feo la sorte 
Dono infelice di bellczza, ond' hai 
Funcsta dote d' infhiiti guai 

Che in fronte scritti per gran doglia porte ; 

Dch ! fossi tu men bella, o almcn piii forte 
Ondc assai piil ti paventasse, o assai 
T' amassc men chi del tuo bello a' rai 

Far die si strugga, c pur ti sfida a morto . 


Che gill dall' Alpi non vedrei torrenti 

Scender d' armati, ne di sangue tiuta 
Edver r onda del Po gallici armenti ; 

Ne te vedrei del non tuo ferro ciuta 
Pugnar col braccio di straniere genti 
Per servir sempre, o vincitrice o vinta ! 

Co proigtratc j[tali). 


Hast thoii not been tne nations' queen, fair Italy ! though now 
Chance gives to tliem the diadem that once adorned thy brow ? 
Too beautiful for tyrant's rule, too proud for handmaid's duty — 
Would thou liadst less of loveliness, or strength as well as beauty ! 

The fatal light of beauty bright with fell attraction shone, 
Fatal to thee, for tyrants be tlie lovers thou hast won ! 
Tliat forehead fail' is doom'd to wear its shame's degradiug proof, 
And slavery's print in damning tint stamp'd by a despot's hoof! 

Were strength and power, maiden! thy dower, soon should tiiaS 

Tliat prowls unbid thy vines amid, fly scoiirg'd from off that laud ; 
Nor wouldst thou fear yon foreigner, nor be condemned to see 
Drink in the flow of classic Po barbarian cavalry. 

Climate of art ! thy sons depart to gild a Yandal's throne ; 
To battle led, then* blood is shed in contests not their own ; — 
Mix'd with yon horde, go draw thy sword, nor ask what cause 'tis for : 
Thy lot is cast — slave to the last ! conquer'd or conqueror ! 

Truly is Italy the " climate of art," as I haA'e designated 
her in my version ; for even the peasantry, admitted as they 
constantly are, by the wise munificence of the reigning 
princes, to all public collections of sculpture and painting, 
evince an instinctive admiration of the capi cV opera of the 
most celebrated masters, easily distinguishing them from 
ilie multitude of inferior productions with which they are 
generally surrounded. This innate perception appears the 
birthright of every son of Italy ; and I have often listened 
with surprise to the observations of the artificers of Home, 
and the dwellers of the neighbouring hills, as they strolled 
through tlie Vatican gallery. There is one statue in rather 
an unfrequented, but vast magnificent church, of the Eter- 
nal City, round which I never failed to meet a group of 


enthusiastic admirers : it is the celebrated Moses ; in which 
Frenchmen have only found matter for yulgar jest, but 
which the ItaKans view with becoming veneration. One of 
the best odes in the language has been composed in honour 
of this glorious effort of Buonarotti's cliisel. 

H £Ko£e tit iHidjfl Slngtlo, 

Sonelto di Giambattista Zappi. 

Chi e costui, clie in si gran pietra scolto 

Siede, gigante, e le piu illustri e conte 

Opi'e dell' arte avanza, p lia vive e pronte 
Le labbra si che le parole ascolto ? 

Questi e Mose ; ten me '1 dicera il folto 

Onor del mento, e '1 doppio raggio in fronte : 
Questi e Mose, quando scendea dal monte, 

E gran parte del 2f ume avea nel volte. 

Tal era allor, che le sonante e vaste 

Acque ei sospese a se d' intomo ; e tale 
Quando il mar chiuse, e ne fe tomba altrui. 

E voi, sue turbe, un rio vitello alzaste ? 

Alzata areste imniago a questa eguale ; 
Ch' era men fallo 1' adorar costui. 

©fie to tlje ^tattu of {Hos'c5 

At the foot of the Mausoleum of Pope Julius II. in the Church of St. 
Feter ad Vinculo, Rome — the Masterpiece of Michael Angelo. 

Statue ! whose giant hmbs 
Old Euonarotti plann'd. 
And Genius carved with meditative hand, — 
Thy dazzhng radiance dims 
The best and brightest boasts of Sculpture's favourite land. 

What dignity adorns 
That beard's prodigious sweep ! 
Tliat forehead, awful with mysterious horns 
And cogitation deep, 
Of some uncommon mind the rapt beholder warns. 

In that proud semblance, well 
My sold can recognise 
The prophet fresh from converse with the skio5 ; 
Nor is it liard to tell 
The hberator's name, — the Guide of IsraeL 


Well might the deep respond 
Obedient to that voice, 
When on the Red Sea shore he waTed his wand. 
And bade the tribes rejoice, 
Saved from the yawning gulf and the Egyptian's bond ! 

Fools ! in the wilderness 
Ye raised a calf of gold ! 
Had ye then worshipped what I now behold, 
Your crime had been far less — 
For ye had bent the knee to one of godlike mould ! 

There is a striking boldness in the concluding stanza, war- 
ranted however by the awful majesty of the colossal figure 

Smollett has given us a delightful " Ode to Leven "Water," 
in which, witb enraptured complacency, he dwells on the 
varied beauties of the Scottish, stream, its flowery banks, and 
its scaly denizens. By way of contrast, it may not be un- 
pleasant to peruse an abusive and angry lyric addressed to 
the Tiber by an Italian poet, who appears to have been 
disappointed in the uncouth appearance of that turbid river ; 
having pictured it to his young imagination as an enchant- 
ing silvery flood. The wrath of the bard is amusing ; but 
he is sometimes eloquent in his ire. 

^l €ibtxt. 5Ltnt5 nUtJre^^SctJ to tije Cibcr. 

Alessandro Guidi. By Alessandro Guild!, 

10 credca che in queste sponde Tiber ! my early di-eam, 

Sempre 1' ondo My boyhood's vision of thy classic 

Gisser limpide ed amene ; stream, 

E chc qiu soavc e lento Had taught my mind to think 

Stesse il vento, That over sands of gold 

E che d' or fosser 1' arene. Thy Umpid waters rolled, 

And ever-verdant laurels grew upon 
thy brink. 

Ma vagti lungl dal vero But far in other guise 

II pcnsiero The rude reality hatli met mine eyes. 

In formar si bcllo il flume ; Here, seated on thy bank, 

Or che in riva a lui mi seggio All desolate and drear 

lo ben veggio Thy margin dotli appear, 

11 suo Tolto e il suo costume. With crecpnig weeds, and shrubs, and 

vegetation rank. 



Kon con oude liete c chiarc 

Corre al mare ; 
Passa torbido ed oscuro : 
I stioi lidi austx'o percuote 
E gli scuote 
Freddo tiu'bme d' Artm-o. 

Quanto e folle quella nave 

Che non pave 
I suoi Tortici sdegnosi, 

E non sa die dentro 1' aequo 

A lui piacque 
Di fondar' perigli ascosi. 

Suol trovarsi in suo cammluo 

Quivi il pino 
Tra pi'ofonde ample caverne ; 
D'improwiso ei giunge al lito 

Di Cocito 
A solcar quell' onde inferno. 

Quaudo in Sii'io il Sol riluce, 

E conduce 
L' ore fervide inquiete, 

Chi conforto al Tebro chiede 

Ben' s' avvede 
Di cercarlo in grcmbo a Letc. 

Ognun sa come spumoso, 

Sin con mar prendc contesa, 
Vuol talor passar veloce 

L' alta foce, 
Quaudo Teti e d' ii'a accessa. 

Quindi avvien cli' ei fa ritorno 

Pien di scorno, 
E s' arventa alle rapine : 
Si divora il bosco, c il solco, 

E il biiolco 
Nuota in cima alle ruinc. 

Fondly I fancied thine 
The v.-ave pellucid, and the Naiad's 
In ciystal grot below ; 
But thy tempestuous course 
Huns tm'bulent and hoarse, 
And, sweUing ■with wild wrath, thy 
wiutiy waters flow. 

Upon thy bosom dark 
Peril awaits the light confiduig barli, 
In eddying vortex swamp'd ; 
Eoid, treacherous, and deep, 
Thy wiuding waters sweep. 
Enveloping theu" prey in dismal rui:i 

East in thy bed is sunk 
The moimtain pine-tree's broken 
Aimed at the galley's keel ; 
And well thy wave can waft 
Upon that broken shaft 
The bai'gc, whose sunken wreck thy 
bosoni will conceal. 

The dog-star's sidtry power, 
The suromer heat, the noontide's 
fei-vid horn-, 
That fires the mantling blood, 
Yon cautious swam cau't urge 
To tempt thy dnngcrous surge, 
Or cool his limbs witliin thy dark in- 
sidious flood. 

I've marked thee in thy pride, 

"Wlien struggle fierce thy disem- 
boguing tide 
With Ocean's monai'cli held ; 
But, quickly overcome 
By !Ncptune's mastordom, 
Back tiiou hast fled as oft, ingloriously 

Often, athwart tlie fields 
A giant's sti-ength thy flood redund- 
ant wields, 
Bursting above its brims — 
Strength that no dyke can check: 
Dire is tlie liarvest-wreek ! 
Buoyant, with lofty horns, th' affriglit- 
ed bullock swims ! 

THE soxGs or halt. 


Quel frequenli illustri allori, 

Quegli onori 
Per cui tanto egli si noma 
Fregi son d' antichi eroi, 
E non suoi, 
E son doni alfln di Eoma. 

Liii fan cbiaro il gvan tragitto 

Dcir invitto 
Cor di Clelia al suol Komano, 
E il guerrier clie sopra il ponte 

L' alta fronte 
Tenne incontro al re Toscano. 

Fu di Romolo la geute 

Che il tridcnte 
Di Nettiino in man gli porse ; 
Ebbe aUor del mar 1' impcro, 

Ed altero 
Trionfando intorno corse. 

Ma il crude], che il tutto oblia, 

E desia 
Di spczzar mai sempre il fi-cno, 
Spesso a Roma insulti rende, 
Ed offendc 
L'orabro auguste aU' m'ue in 

Eut still tliy proudest boast, 
Tiber ! and what brings honoui" to 
thee most, 
Is, that thy Tvaters roU 
Fast by th' eternal home 
Of Glory's daughter, EoME ; 
And that thy bniows baths t3ie sacred 

Famed is thy stream for her, 
Clelia, thy current's vii-gin conqueror, 
And liim who stemmed the march 
Of Tuscany's proud host. 
When, firm at honom-'s 2;)0st, 
He waved his blood-stained blade 
above the broken arch ! 

Of Romulus the sons, 
To torrid Africans, to frozen Huns, 
Have taught thy name, O flood ! 
And to that utmost verge, 
Where radiantly emerge 
A])oIlo's car of flame and golden-footed 

For so much gloiy lent. 
Ever destructive of some monu- 
Thou makest foul return ; 
Insulting with thy wave 
Each Roman hero's ^rave, 
And Scipio's dust that fOs yon con- 
secrated urn I 

Tiu'll we now to Dante. I have always been of opinion, 
that the terza rhna in which he wrote was so peculiar a 
feature of the language, and a form of verse so exclusively 
adapted to the Italian idiom, as to render any attempt to 
translate him in the same rhymed measure a dangerous ex- 
periment. Even Byron, in his " Propliecy of Dante," has 
failed to render it acceptable to oiu* English ear. The 
'• sonnet" is also, in my humble judgment, an unnational 
poetic structiu-e, and as little suited "to our northern lan- 
guages as the Italian villa-style of Palladio to our climate. 
Eew English sonnets have ever gained celebrity among tlie 
masses. There is a lengthened but not unmusical sort 
of line, in which I think the old Florentine's numbers 
might sweep along ^nth something like native tbgnity. 


l,a i3orta tlcl fufrrno. 

Dante, Cant. III. 

" Pee me si va nella ciTTk doleitte, 

Per jie si ta nell' eteeno doloee, 

Per me si va tea la peeduta gente. 


Lasciate ogxi speeanza toi ch' intbatu; 

Qiicste parole, di colore oseuro, 

Yid' io soritte al sommo d' una porta 
Perch' io, "Maestro! il senso lor m' e diu'o." 

Ed egli a me come persona aecorta, 
" Qui si couvien lasciar ogni sospetto, 
Ogni rilta convieu clie qui sia morta. 

Noi sem venuti al luogo ov' i' t' o detto, 

Che tu vedrai le genti dolorose, 
Ch' hanno perduto '1 ben' dell' intelletto." 

E poichfe la sua mano alia mia pose, 
Con lieto yolto, ond io mi confortai, 
Mi mise deutro alle secrete cose ; 

Quivi sospiri, pianti, ed alti guai 

Risonavan per 1' acre senza steUe, 
Perch' io nel cominciar ne lagrimai. 

Diverse linguc, orribili favelle, 
Parole di dolore, acccnti d' ira, 

Voci alte o Cochc, e suon di man coa olio, 

Facevano un tumulto il qual s' aggira 

Semprc 'n quoll' ai-ia senza tempo tints. 
Come r arena quando '1 tm'bo spira. 

Ed io, eh' avea d' error la testa cinta, 
Dissi, " Maesti'o, die h quel' ch' i odo r 
E che gent' e che poi- ucl duol si vinta ?" 

Ed cgli a me : " Qucsto miscro modo 

Tongon P animc triste di coloro, 
Che visser senza iufamia e senza lodo, 

Misohiate sono a quel oattivo coro 
Degli angoli clio non luron ribelli, 
JSii fill' lidoli a Dio ma per s^ foro. 


C'acc-i'avli i ciel' per non csser men belli, 

Ne lo profondo inferno gli ricevc, 
Cli' alcuna gloria i rei avrebber d' elli." 

Ed io : " Maestro, che e tanto grcve 
A lor clie lamentar gli fa si forte ?" 
Kispose : " Dicerolti molto breve. 

Qiiesti non lianno speranza di mortc, 

E la lor cicca vita e tanto bassa 
Che 'nvidiosi son d' ogni altra sorte. 

Eama di lor il raondo esser non lassa ; 
Misericordia e giustizia gli sdegna, 


m)t iDovd; of ^.tlL 


*':5ccl; 1JC tl)c pail) tiatEU fiijc tijc luratf) of Ooti iox sinfuU mortals? 

©f tl)c reprobate tl)is is il)c catc, il)csc arc Hjc gloomi) portals ! 

:i^oi- siaiu anti crime from fi)c fcivtl) of tyme tiuggc toas lljis GuIpFj 

Guest ! let all l^opc on ti^is iI)r£Sl)oIt) stop : Ijcrc rrtgns Sespair 


I read with tears these chai'aeters — tears shed on man's behalf ; 
Each word seemed fraught with painful thought, the lost soid's epitaph. 
Tui'uing dismayed, " O mystic shade!" I cried, "my kindly Mentor, 
Of coniibrt, say, can no sweet ray these dark dondnions enter ?" 

" My son !" replied the ghostly guide, " this is the dark abode 

Of the guilty dead — alone they tread hell's melancholy road. 

iJraco up thy nerves ! this hour dcseiTes that ]\[ind should have control. 

And bid avaunt fears that would haunt the clay-imprisoned soul. 

3Iine be the task, when thou shall ask, each mystery to solve ; 
Anon for us dark Ei-cbus back si- all its gates revolve — 
Hell shall disclose its deepest woes, each punishment, each pang. 
Saint hath revealed, or eye beheld, or flame-tongued prophet sang." 

Gates were unrolled of iron mould — a dismal dungeon yawned ! 
Wc passed — we stood — 'twas hell we view'd ! — eternity had dawned I 
Space on orn* sight burst infinite — echoes were hoard remote ; 
Shrieks loud and drear startled om* ear, and stripes incessant smote. 

Onward wo went. The firmament was starless o'er our head, 
Spectres swept by inquirmgly — clapping theu' bands they fled ! 


338 rATHEE peotjt's eeliques. 

Iiorno on the blast strange whispers passed ; and ever and anoc 
Athwart tlie plain, like hurricane, God's vengeance would come on ! 

Tlien sounds, breathed low, of gentler woe soft on oiu" hearing stole ; 
Captives so meek fain would I seek to comfort and console : 
" O let us pause and learn the cause of so much grief, and why 
Saddens the au* of their despair the vmavailing sigh ! " 

"My son ! Heaven grants them utterance in plaintive notes of woe ; 
In tears their grief may find rehef, but hence tliey never go. 
Fools ! they beheved that if they lived blameless and vice eschewed, 
God would dispense with excellence, and give beatitude. 

Tliey died ! but naught of virtue brought to win their Maker's praise ; 
No deeds of wortli the page set forth that clironicled their days. 
Fixed is their doom — eternal gloom ! to mourn for wliat is jJast, 
And weep aloud amid that crowd with whom their lot is cast. 

One fate they share with spirits fan*, who, when rebellion shook 
God's holy roof, remained aloof, nor part whatever took ; 
Drew not the sword against their Lord, nor yet upheld his throne : 
Could God for this make pei-fect bhss theirs when tlie fight was won ? 

The world knows not their dreary lot, nor can assuage their pangs, 
Or cure the curse of fell remorse, or blunt the tiger's fangs. 
Mercy disdains to loose their chains — the hour of grace has been I 
Son ! let that class unheeded pass — unwept, though not imsccn." 

The very singular and striking moral inculcated by Dante 
in this episode, where he consigns to hopeless misery those 
'■' good easy souls" ^Yho lead a "worthless career of selfishness, 
though exempt from crime, is deserving of serious attention. 

From Dante's " llcll," the transition to the " Wig of 
Pather Eoger Boscovich" may appear abrupt ; but I never 
terminate a paper in gloomy or doleful humour. AVhereforo 
I wind up by a specimen of playful poetry, taken from a 
very scarce work printed at A'euice in 1801-, and entitled 
" Le Operc Poetiche dell' Abate Giulio Cesare Cordara," 
ex-Jesuit and ex-historiographer to the Society, connected 
by long friendship with his confrere, the scientific and accom- 
plished Boscovich, concerning whom there is a short notice 
elsewhere,* to which I refer the reader, should he seek to know 
more about the proprietor of the wig. Nor, perhaps, will a 
Latin translation of this yew d' esprit be unacceptable. 

• Sec Paper on Literature and the Jesuitic. 


O crine, o crin cbe un di fosti etromento 

Di folli amoi'i, e sol femminea cura, 
Or sci del mio Rugger strauo ornamento ; 

Conosci tu 1' eecelsa tua ventiira, 
E ti saresti mai immaginato 

Di fare al mondo una si gran figm-a ? 

Qual che si fosse il capo in cui sei nato, 
Fosse pur di leggiadro e nobil volto, 
Corto non fosti mai tanto onorato. 

Di vaga donna in fronte eri pili colto ; 
Ma i di passavi neghittosi e vili 
A un lucido cristallo ognor rivolto. 

Sol pensier vani, e astuzie femminili 

Coprivi allor, e insidiosa rate 
Co' tuoi formavi innanellati fill. 

Quando costretto Ic foUie consuete 
A sontir d' un' amante die delira, 

Quando smanie a veder d' ii-e ijiquiete. 

Forse talor ti si awento con ira 

A scapigliarti un' invida rivale, 
Come femmina suol quando s' adira ; 

Infin, nido di grilli originale, 
IVstimonio di frodi o di menzogne, 
T' a vera fatto il tuo destin fatale. 

No i fior vermigli e 1' odorate sogne, 

i^u la Candida polve, ond' eri asperso, 
Faecan compenso a taute tue Tci'gogne. 

iVfa come fatto sei da to diverse, 
Drscche reciso dalla vil cervice, 

Di non tuo capo in crin, fo sli courersc 

Fra tutte le perrucchc or sei felicc, 

Che sebben' torta, incolta, c mai con(c3ta, 
(Come pur troppo immaginar ne lice), 

Puoi pcr5 gloriarti, e farno fcsta 
Ciio altra non fu giammai dal ciel eJetto 
A ricoprir si vcneranda testa ! 


<Btit to tT;e Wiig^ of dfatljcr lao^cobic\}^ 


With awe I look on that peruke, 

Where Learnmg is a lodgei", 
And tlaiuk, whene'er I see that hair 
Which now you wear, some ladye fair 
Had worn it once, dear Eoger ! 

On empty skidl most beautiful 
Appeared, no doubt, those locks, 

Once the bright grace of pretty face ; 

^ow far more proud to be allowed 
To deck thy " knowledge-box." 

Condemned to pass before the glass 

'V\'T]ole hours each blessed morning, 
'Twas desperate long, with curUng-toiig- 
And tortoise-shell, to have a beUe 
Thee frizzing and adornmg. 

Bright ringlets set as in a net, 
To catch us men like fishes ! 
Yoiu' every lock concealed a stock 
Of female wares — love's pensive cares, 
Vain dreams, and futile wislies ! 

That chevelure has caused, I'm sui'e, 
Full many a lovei-'s quarrel; 

Then it was decked with flowers select; 

And myi'tlc-sprig : but now a WIG, 
'Tis cu'cled with a lam-el ! 

Where fresh and new at first Ihey grev/,. 

Of whims, and tricks, and fimcies, 
Those locks at best were but a nest : — 
Their being spread on learned head 

Vastly their worth enhances. 

From flowers exempt, uncouth, xuikempt — 

Matted, entangled, thick ! 
Mourn not the loss of ciu'l or gloss — 
'Tis infra dig. TnoiT aet the wia 

Of Eoger Boscovich ! 

©e fi'cta Coma 3dogcn 33o5robicI;tt. 


Cffisarics ! vanum vesani nupcr aiuoris 
Forsitiin illicium, curaipic foeminea, 


'Grande mei nuper gestamen facta Eogcri, 
Novisti an sortis fata secimda tuse ? 

Sperastine istud landis contingei'c culmen, 
Mortalesque inter tani fore conspicua ? 

Culta magis fueras intonsse in fronte pucllse, 
Sed toti suerimt turpiter ii-e dies ; 

Tunc coram speculo contorta, retorta gemebas 
Dum per mille modos futile pergit opus. 

2^unc meliore loco (magnum patris oniameutum; 
Esto sacerdotis, uon midiebris, honos ! 

O quoties ferro immiti vibrata dolebas, 
Ut lieres vafras cassis ad iusidias ! 

Audisti quoties fatui deliria amantis, 
Vidisti et caecus quidquid ineptit amor ! 

Porsan et experta es furias rivaUs amicae, 
Dum gravis in cu-ros insilit ira tuos. 

Quippe tuum fuerat lugubre ab origine fatimi. 
Esses ut tegmen fraudibus atque doUs, 

Utque fores nidus gerris male plcnus ineptip, 
Tale ministerium fata dederc tibi ; 

^co compensabant dira; mala sortis odorcs, 
Unguenta, et pulvis vel nive candidior. 

Nunc data tam docto munimcn forte cei'cbro, 
Sis impexa licet, sis licet horridula, 

Sume triumphatrix animos hinc jure superbos, 
Quod tantum foveas ambitiosa raput ! 

There is extant among the poems of Cordara a further la 
mentation on tlie sale of this wig, after Boscovich's death, 
to a Jew broker — 

" Vcnduta, o caso perfido e rco ! 
Per quindici bajocchi, ad uu Hebreo!" 

from whom it was purchased by a farmer, and ultimately 
iixed on a pole, in a cabbage-garden, to fright the birds, 
" per sparentur (/linccrlUy — But [ feel drowsy to-night, and 
cannot pursue the subject. Molly ! bring my night-cap ! 

342^ I-Al'HEK pkout's eeliques. 

No. XII. 



" Sed iieqiie Medorum, sylviB ditissima, terra, 
Nee pulcber Ganges, atque auro turbidus Hermus, 
LaucUbus Ttaliae certent ; non Bactra, neque Indi, 
Totaque tburiferis Pancbaia pinguis airenis." 

ViEG. Georg. II. 

We've met witb glees "from the Chinese .'" translations "from the 

Persian ;" 
Sanscrit we've bad, from Hydi-abad, Sb* William Jones's version. 
We've also seen (in a magazine) nice jawbreakers "from Schiller ;" 
And "tales" by folks, wbo gives na "jokes," omitting "from Joe 

Of plain broad Seotcb a neat liotcb-potcli Hogg sends us from tbe 

Higblands ; 
Tbere are songs too "from the Hindu," and " from the Sandwich 

'Tis deemed most wise to patronise Muncbausen, Goiitbe, Ossian ; 
To make a stand for "fatherland" or some otber land of Gosben. 
Since we must laud tilings from abroad, and smile on foreign capers, 
The land for me is Italy, witb her SONGS "from t/w I'roul Papers." 

O. Y. 

There lias arisen in England a remarkable predilection fur 
the literature of tbe continent. The great annual fair at 
Leipsic is drawing more and more the attention of our book- 
sellers ; to the detriment of " the Eow." Xor are our his- 
torians and poets, our artists intlie novel-making line (male 
and female), our bumble cobblers at the dramatic buskin, 
and our industrious hodmen from the sister island who con- 
tribute to build cyclopaedias, the only labouring poor thrown 
out of employment ; but even our brothers in poverty and 
genius, the old English ballad-singers, blind-fiddlers, and 
pipers, have been compelled to give place to the barrel- 
organ, a mere piece of machinery, which has superseded 

THE S0XG3 or ITALY. 343 

industry and talent. The old national claimants on public 
generosity, sailors "svitli ■n'ooden legs and broken-down 
" match-venders," have given way to Polish '" Counts''' and 
Bavarian " broom-girls."'^ Bulwer thought himself a lucky 
dog, a few weeks ago, to have got a day's work on a political 
pamphlet, — that being part of the craft which no foreigner 
has yet monopolised. The job was soon done ; though 'twas 
but a sorry hit, after all. He is now engaged on a pathetic 
romauut of real life, the " Last Days of Grub Street." 

Matters must have gone hard with Tom Moore, since we 
learn with deep feelings of compassion that he is driven to 
compile a '• History of Ireland." Theodore Hook, deter- 
mined to make hay while the sun shines, has taken the 
" Bull" by the horns : we are to have three vols. 8vo. of 
" rest bif."* Theodore ! hast thou never ruminated the 

" Un diner rechauffe ne valut jamais rien ?" 

Tom Campbell, hopeless of giving to public taste any 
other save a foreign direction, has gone to Algiers, deter- 
mined on exploring the recondite literature of the Bedouins. 
He has made surprising progress in the dialects of Fez, 
Tunis, and Mauritania ; and, like Ovid among the Scy- 
thians — 

" Jain didici Getice Sarmaticeque loqui.'* 

He may venture too far into the interior, and some barbarian 
prince may detain him as a laureate. A\'e may hear of his 
being " bound in Morocco." 

This taste for foreign belles lettres is subject to variation 
and vicissitude. The gorgeous imaginings of Oriental fancy, 
of which the " Arabian Xights," and the elegant Eclogues 
of Collins, were the dawn, have had their day : the sua of 
the East has gone down, in the western tale of the '* Eire- 
worshippers." A sm-feit is the most infallible cure ; we re- 
collect the voracity with which " Lalla Eookh" was at first 
devoured, and the subsequent disreUsh for that most lusci- 

* The projeeteil republication of these facetise has not taken place, 
thor.jjh announced at the time in two volumes post Svo. Albany 
Fonbhuioue subsequently reprinted liis articles from the " Examiner." 

344 JATHER pkotjt's reliques. 

ous volume. There is an end to the popularity once enjoyed 
by camels, houris, bulbuls, silver bells, silver veils, cinnamon 
gi'oves, variegated lamps, and sucli other stock items as made 
up the Oriental show-box. This leads to a melancholy train 
of thought : we detect ourselves " wandering in dreams " 
to that period of our school-days when Tom was in high 
feather, — 

" And oft when alone, at the close of the year, 
We think, — Is tlie nightingale singing there yet ? 
Are the roses still sweet by the calm Bendemeer ?" 

He has tried his hand at Upper Canada and Lower Egypt — 
and spent some '" Evenings in Grreece ;" but " disastrous twi- 
light" and the "chain of silence" (whatever that ornament 
may be) now hangs over him. 

"Hor^e Sinicse" found favour in the "barbarian eye;" 
Viscount Kingsborough has been smitten with the brunette 
muses of Mexico. Lord Byron once set up " Hebrew Melo- 
dies," and had a season of it ; but Murray was soon compelled 
to hang the noble poet's Jew's-harp on the willows of modern 
Babylon. We recollect when there was a rage for German 
and High Dutch poetry. The classics of Greece and Eome, 
with their legitimate descendants, those of Eranee, Italy, 
and England, were flung aside for the writers of Scandinavia 
and the poets of the Danube. Tired of nectar and ambrosia, 
my public sat down to a platter of fauer!vaut with Kant, 
Goethe, and Klopstock. The chimeras of transcendental 
and transrhenane philosophers found admirers ! — 'twas the 
reign of the nightmare — 

" Omnigenumquc Dedm monstra, ct latrator Annbi?, 
Contra Ncptunum et Venerem, contraque Minervani." 

jEneid 11! f. 

But latterly Teutonic authors are at a discount ; and, in 
spite of the German confederacy of quacks and dunces, 
common sense has resumed its empire. JSTot that we object 
to foreign literature, provided we get j^roductions of genius 
and taste. The Eomans in their palmiest days of conquest 
gave a place in the Pantlieon to the gods of each province 
they had added to tlieir empire ; but they took care to 
eelect the most graceful and godlike of these foreign deities, 
eschewing what was too ugly to figure in company with 


Apollo. Turn we now to Prout and his gleanings in the 
fertile field of his selection, " Hesperia in magna." 


MarcJi 1st, 1835. 

Watergrasshill, Feh. 1830. 

I EESUME to-night the topic of Italian minstrelsy. In 
couning over a paper penned by me a few evenings ago, I 
do not feel satisfied with the tenonr of my musings. The 
start from the fountain of Vaucluse was fair ; but after 
gliding along the classic Po and the majestic Tiber, it was 
an unseemly termination of the essay to engulf itself in the 
cavity of a bob-wig. An unlucky " cul de sac," into which 
I must h-ive strolled under sinister guidance. Did Mol>y 
put an extra glass into my vesper bowl ? 

When the frost is abroad and the moon is up, and naught 
disturbs the serenity of this mountain wilderness, and the 
bright cheerful burning of the fragrant turf-fire betokens 
the salubrity of the circumambient atmosphere, I experi- 
ence a buoyancy of spirit unknown to the grovelling sen- 
sualist or the votary of fasliion. To them it rarely occurs 
to know that highest state of enjoyment, expressed with 
curious felicity in the hemistich of Juvenal, '■'■ Mens sana in 
corpore sano.^' Could they relish with blind old Milton the 
nocturnal visitings of poesy ; or feel the deep enthusiasm 
of those ancient hermits who kept the desert awake with 
canticles of praise ; or, with the oldest of poets, the Ara- 
bian Job, commune with heaven, and raise their thoughts to 
the Being "who giveth songs in the night'" (Job xxxv. 10), 
they would acknowledge that mental luxuries are cheaply 
purchased by the relinquishment of grosser delights. A 
Greek (Eustathius) gives to Night the epithet of i-j(poovn, or 
"parent of happy thoughts:" and the " Noctes Attica)" of 
Aulus G-ellius are a noble prototype of numerous lucubra- 
tions rejoicing in a simihir title, — from the " Mille et una 
.Nuits" to tlie "Notti Eomane al Se|)ohn'o degli Scipioni," 
from Young's plaintive " Night Thouglits" to the " Auibro- 


siau" pei'noctations called amhrosiav(e, — all oeariiig testi- 
mony to the genial influence of the stilly liour. The bird of 
Minerva symbolized wisdom, from the circumstance of its 
contempt for the vulgarities of day ; and Horace sighs with 
becoming emotion when he calls to his recollection the 
glorious banquetings of thought and genius of which the 
^able goddess was the ministrant — O nocfes cceneeque Deura ! 
Tertullian tells us, in the second chapter of the immortal 
"Apology," that the early Christians spent the night in 
pious " melodies," that morning often dawned upon their 
"songs" — antelucanh horis canehant. He refers to the tes- 
timony of Pliny (the Proconsul" s letter to Trajan) for the 
truth of his statement. Tet, with all these matters staring 
him in the face, Tom Moore, led away by his usual levity, 
and addressing some foolish girl, thinks nothing of the pro- 
posal " to steal a few hours from the night, my dear !" — a 
sacrilege, Avhich, in his eye, no doubt, amounted only to a 
sort of petty larceny. But Tom Campbell, with that phi- 
losophic turn of mind for which he is so remarkable, con- 
nects the idea of inspii-ation with the period of " sunset :" 
the evening of life, never failing to bring " mystical lore." 
Impressed with these convictions, the fiithcr of Italian song, 
in the romantic dwelling which he had built unto himself 
on the sloping breast of the Euganeian hills, spent the de- 
cline of his days in the contemplation of loftiest theories, 
varying his nocturnal devotions with the sweet sound of the 
lute, and rapt in the alternate Elysium of piety and poetry. 
In these ennobling raptures he exhaled the sweet perfume 
of his mind's immortal essence, which gradually disengaged 
itself from its vase of clay. " Oblivion stole upon his vestal 
lamp :" and one morning he was foimd dead in his library, 
reclining in an arm-chair, his head resting on a book, 20th 
July, 1371. 

Whether the enviable fate of Petrarca will be mine, I 
know not. But, like him, I find in literatm-e and the 
congenial admixture of holier meditations a solace and a 
comfort in old age. In his writings, in his loves, in his sor- 
rows, in the sublime aspirations of his soul, I can freely 
sympathise. Laura is to me the same being of exalted ex- 
cellence and cherished purity ; and, in cclioing from this 
remote Irish hill the strains of his immortal lyre, I hope to 

M '£ ID) II fS T lin , t\ f\ IID II .S ( : ;i'l e .S IT IF. \\j . 


THE SO^^GS or ITALY. 347 

sliare the blessing wliicli he has bequeathed to all ubo 
should advance and extend the fame of his beloved : 

" Benedette sian' le voce taute ch' io 
Chiamando il nome di mia donna ho spartc, 
E benedette sian' tutte le charte 
Ore io fama ne acquisto." 

Isly ''^ jictpers''^ may promote his wishes in this respect. Dis- 
engaged from all the ties that bind othei's to existence, 
solitary, childless, what occupation more suitable to my 
remnant of life could I adopt than the exercise of memory 
and mind of Avhich they are the fruit ? "When I shall seek 
my lonely pillow to-night, after " outwatching the bear," I 
shall cheerfully consign, another document to " the chest," 
and bid it go join, in that miscellaneous aggregate, the 
mental progeny of my old age. This " chest" may be the 
coffin of my thoughts, or the cradle of my renown. In it 
my meditations may be matured by some kind editor into 
ultimate manhood, to walk the world and tell of their pa- 
rentage ; or else it may prove a silent sarcophagus, where 
they may moulder in decay. In either case I am resigned. 
I envy not the more fortunate candidates for public favour : 
I hold enmity to none. Por my readers, if I have any, all 
I expect on their part is, that they may exhibit towards a 
feeble garrulous old man the same disposition he feels for 
them. 'Ogy^v dia'^oiav iyot dianXu i-/jtiv rr^o; <ravr=5 v/jjug roffa-jTr,i 
O/ariXiffrai /moi rroog tovtohi tov ayuva, {A'/i/MGi). 'Xi^i crsjjav.) 

This exordium of that grand masterpiece, in which the 
Athenian vindicates his title to a crown of gold presented 
by his fellow-citizens, leads me, by a natural transition, to 
a memorable event in Petrarca's life, — that ebulKtiou 
of enthusiasm, Avhen the senators of Home, at the sugges- 
tion of Eobert, King of Naples, and with the applause and 
concurrence of all tlie free states of Italy, led the poet in 
triumph to the Capitol, and placed on his venerable head a 
wreath of laurel. The coronation of the laureate who first 
bore the title, is too important to be lightly glanced at. 
The ingenious Mad. de 8tael (who has done more by her 
'■ De I'Allemagne" to give vogue to Germanic literature 
than the whole schiittcry of Dutch authorship and tha 


lanbcgfolge of Teutonic ■uTiters), in her romance of " Corin- 
na." has seized with avidity on the incident. 

Concerning this solemn incoronation, we have from the 
pen of an eye-witness, Guido d' Arezzo, details, told in style 
most quaint, and with sundry characteristic comments. In 
those days of primeval simplicity, in the ahsence of every 
other topic of excitement (for the crusades had well nigh 
worn themselves out of popular favour), the eclat attendant 
on this occurrence possessed a sort of European interest. 
The name of the " Laureate" (now worn by the venerable 
dweller of the lakes, the patriarch Southey) was then first 
proclaimed, amid the shouts of applauding thousands, on 
the seven hills of the Eternal City, and echoed back with 
enthusiasm from the remotest corners of Christendom. In 
a subsequent age, when the same honour, with the same im- 
posing ceremonial, was to be conferred on Tasso, I doubt 
whether the event would have enlisted to the same extent 
tlie sympathies of Europe, or the feelings even of the Ita- 
lian public. It were bootless, however, to dwell on the pro- 
babilities of the case ; for Death interposed his veto, and 
stretched out his bony hand between the laurel wreath and 
the poor maniac's brow, who, on the very eve of the day 
fixed for his ovation, expired on the Janieulum hill, in the 
romantic hermitage of St. Onufrio. Oft have I sat under 
that same cloister- wall, where he loved to bask in the mild 
ray of the setting sun, and there, with Eome's awful volume 
spread out before me, pondered on the frivolity of fame. 
The ever-enduring vine, Avith its mellow freight dependent 
from the antique pillars, clustered above my head ; while at 
my feet lay the flagstone that once covered his remains ; and 
" bssA ToEQUATi Tasst," deep carved on the marble floor, 
abundantly fed the meditative mind. Petrarca's grave I 
had previously visited in the mountain hamlet of Arqua ' 
during my rambles through Lombardy ; and while I silently 
recalled the inscription thereon, I breathed for both the 
sprayer that it contains — 



• Tho Kev. La^vrcnce Sfcrno, in liis vei-v rejiiitablc work called 


Eut a truce to this inoralisiug train of thouglit, and turn 
we to the gay scene described by Guido d' Arezzo. Be it 
then understood, that on the morning of Easter Sunday, 
April 15, 1341, a period of the ecclesiastical year at which 
crowds of pilgrims visited the shrine of the apostles, and 
jRome was thronged with the representatives of every Chris- 
tian land, after the performance of a solemn high mass in 
the old Basilica of !St. Peter's (for religion in those days 
mixed itself up with every public act, and sanctified every 
undertaking), the decree of Eobert, King of iS'aples, was 
duly read, setting forth how, after a diligent examination 
and trial in all the departments of poetry and all the ac- 
complishments of elegant literature, in addition to a know- 
ledge most extensive of theology and history, Francis Pe- 
trarca had evinced unparalleled proficiency in all the recog- 
nised acquirements of scholarship, and given undoubted 
proofs of ability and genius ; wherefoi'e, in his favour, it 
seemed fit and becoming that the proudest mark of distmc- 
tion known among the ancient Eomans should be conferred 
on him, and that all the honours of the classic triumph 
should be revived on the occasion. It will be seen, how- 
ever, from the narrative of Guido, that some slight variations 
of costume and cncumstance were introduced in the course 
of the exhibition, and that the getting up of the aftair was 
not altogether in literal accordance with the rubrics which 
regulated such processions in the days of Paulus ^milius, 
when captive kings and the milk-white bulls of Clytumuus 
adorned the pageantry — 

" Komanos acl templa tluxcre triumpho?." 

Georg. II. 

" They put on his right foot (Guido loquihir) a sandal of 
red leather, cut in a queer shape, and fastened round the 
ankle with purple ligatures. Tliis is the way tragic poets^ 
are shod. His left foot they then inserted into a kind of 

"Tristram Sliandy," lias the effrontery to translate the curse of Enicl- 
phus, Ex autoritate Dei et Virffinis Dei genetricis Marice, *' By the autbo- 
ritv of God and of the Virgin, motlicr and patroness of our Saviour I" 
thus distorting the original, to insinuate prejudice against a class of 
fellow-Christians. Objection may be felt to the predominance of the 
feeling in question, — but fair play, Yorick I — Puovt. 

350 IWTHER peottt's eeliqtjes. 

Duskia of violet colour, made fast to the leg Avitli blue 
thongs. This is the emblem worn by ^n'iters in the comic 
line, and those Avho compose agreeable and pleasant matters. 
Violet is the proper colour of love. 

" Over his tunic, which was of grey silk, they placed a 
mantle of velvet, lined with green satin, to show that a 
poet's ideas should always be fresh and new. Bound his 
neck they hung a chain of diamonds, to signify that his 
thoughts should be brilliant and clear. There are many 
mysteries in poetrj'. 

" They then placed on liis head a mitre of gold cloth, 
tapering upwards in a conical shape, that the wreaths and 
garlands might be more easily worn thereon. It had two 
tails, or skirts, falling behind on the shoulders like the mitre 
of a bishop. There hung by his side a lyre (which is the 
poet's instrument), suspended from a gold chain of inter- 
woven figures of snakes, to give him to understand that his 
mind must figuratively change its skin, and constantly re- 
new its envelope, like the serpent. "When they had thus 
equipped him, they gave him a young maiden to hold up his 
train, her hair falling loose in ringlets, and her feet naked. 
She was dressed in the fur of a bear, and held a lighted 
torch. This is the emblem of folly, and is a constant at- 
tendant on poets !" 

When "the business of day" was over, the modern 
fashion of winding up such displays was perfectly well lui- 
derstood even at that remote period, and a dinner was givea 
to the lion of the hour in the still-sumptuous hall of the 
Palazzo Colonna. Ilia "feeding-time" being duly got 
tlu'ough, poetry and music closed the eventful evening •, and 
Petrarca delighted his noble host and the assembled rank 
and fashion of Eome by dancing a Moorish pas seitl with 
surprising grace and agility. 

Covered with honours, and flushed with the applause of 
his fellow-countrymen, tlie father of Italian song was not 
insensible to the fascinations of literary renown, nor deaf to 
the whisperings of glory ; but love, the most exalted and 
refined, was still tlic guiding star of his path and tlie arbiter 
of his destiny, lie has left us the avowal himself, in that 
beautiful record of his inmost feelings which he has entitled 
'' Secretum Praucisci PetrarchLe," where, in a fancied dia^ 


iogue Avith the kindred soul of St. Augustiu, lie pours forth 
the fulness of his heart with all the sincerity of nature and 
of genius. No two clerical characters seem to have been 
endowed by nature with more exquisite sensibilities tlian 
the African bishop and the priest of Provence. In the midsl 
of his triumph his thoughts wandered away to the far- 
distant object of his affection ; and his mind was at Yau- 
cluse while the giddy throng of his admirers showered 
garlands and burnt incense around his person. He fondly 
pictured to himself the secret pride which the ladye of his 
love would perhaps feel in hearing of his fame ; and the 
laurel Avas doubly dear to him, because it recalled her cher- 
ished name. The utter hopelessness of his passion seemed 
to shed an undefinable hallowedness over the sensations of 
his heart ; and it must have been in one of those momentn 
of tender melancholy that he penned the following graceful, 
but mysterious narrative of a supposed or real apparition. 


Una Candida ccrva sopra 1' erba 

Verde m' apparve con duo coma d' oro 
Fra due riviere all' ombra d' un alloro, 

Levando '1 sole alia stagion acerba. 

Era sua vista si dolce superba, 

Ch' i' lasciai per segiiirla ogni lavoro ; 
Come r avaro che 'n cercar tcsoro, 

Con dUetto 1' affanno disacerba. 

" NessijN mi tocchi," al bel collo d' intoriio 

Scritto aveva di diamanti, e di topazj ; 
" Libera faemi al mid Cesaee paiive." 

YA era '1 sol gia volto al mezzo giorno 

Gli occbi mici stanchi di mirar, non sasi 
Quand' io caddi nell' acqua, cd ella sparve. 

C]^e 'Ft^toit of i^ftiMVfa. 

A form I saw with secret awe — nor ken I wlial it warns ; 
]'ure as the snow, a gentle doe it seemed with silver horns, 
iu-ect she stood, close by a wood between two running streams; 
And brightly shone tlie morning sun upon that land of dreams ! 

The pictured liind fancy designed glowing with love and ho]io ; 
Graceful slie stcpt, but distant kept, like the timid antehipe ; 
I'layfid, yet coy — with secret joy lior image filled my soul; 
And o'er the sense soft influence of ewcct oblivion stole. 

352 FAxnEU peout's eeliques. 

Gold I beheld and emerald on the collar that she wore ; 
Words too — but theirs were characters of legendary lore : 
" Cttsai's tiEcrte i^ail) maDc mc Utt ; ant! Hjvo' ijis solemn tl'iargc, 
Jantoiuljct) bg men o'er I;iU anti glen E tuantiEr Ijcve at large." 

The sun had now with radiant brow climbed his meridian throne, 

Yet still mine eye untiringly gazed on that lovely one. 

A Toice was heard — quick disappeared my dream. The spell wac 

Then came distress — to the consciousness of life I had awoicn ! 

Still, the soul of Petrarca was at times accessible to 
sterner impressious. The call of patriotism never failed to 
find a responsiA'C echo in the breast of Italy's most distin- 
guished son; and when, at the death of Benedict XII., 
which occurred at this juncture, there arose a favourable 
chance of serving his country, by restoi'ing the papal re- 
sidence to the widowed city of Home, he eagerly offered 
himself as one of the deputies to proceed to Avignon for 
the accomplishment of this wished-for consummation. 
"Whether a secret anxiety to revisit the scene of his early 
affections, and to enjoy once more the presence of his mis- 
tress, may have mixed itself up with the aspirations of 
patriotism, it would not be easy to decide ; but he entered 
into the project with all the warmth of a devoted lover of 
Italy. His glorious dithyramb to that delightful, but con- 
quered and divided land, so often quoted, translated, and 
admired, is sufficient evidence of his sentiments : but he 
has taken care to put the matter beyond doubt in his vi- 
gorous pamphlet, " De Libertatc capessenda Exhortatio ad 
Nicolaum Laurentium." This " Nicholas" was no otlier than 
the famous tribune Cola llienzi, who, mainly excited by the 
prose as well as the poetry of Petrarca, raised the standard 
of independence against the petty tyrants of the Eternal 
City in 1345, and for a briei' s'oace rescued it from thraldom. 

Poetry is the nurse of freedom. Erom Tyrta;us to Be- 
ranger, the Muse has befriended through every age the cause 
of liberty. The pulse of ])atriotism never beats with bolder 
throb than when the sound of martial song swells in the full 
chorus of manly voices ; and it was in a great measure the 
rude energy of the "Marseillaise" that won for the ragged 
and shoeless grenadiers of the Convention the victories of 
A'almy and Jemmappe. In our own country, Dibdiu'e 



naval odes, full of inspiriting thought and sublime imagery, 
have not a little contributed to our maintaining in perilous 
times the disputed empire of the ocean against Napoleon. 
iS'ever v,-as a pension granted vnih more propriety than the 
tribute to genius voted in this case at the recommendation 
of Greorge III. ; and I suppose a similar reward has attended 
the authors of the "Mariners of England," and "The Battle 
of Copenhagen." As we have come insensibly to the topic 
of maritime minstrelsy, I imagine that a specimen of the 
stuff sung by the Venetian sailors, at the time when that 
Queen of the Adriatic reigned over the waters, may not be 
uninteresting. The subject is the naval victory which, at 
the close of the sixteenth century, broke the colossal power 
of the Sublime Porte ; for w"hich occurrence, by the by, 
Europe was mainly indebted to the exertions of Pope Pius V. 
and the prowess of one Miguel Cervantes, who had a limb 
shattered in the m^lee.^cllctta tfa cantar per la Uittovia *3i ilcpanto. 

Cantiam tutti allegramente, 
Orsu, putti ! attentamente 
Cantiam tutti la rovina 
Ch' alia gcnte Savacina 
Dato ha Dio si fortemente. 

Cantiam tutti allegramente, 
Che con straccio al tier dragone 
Squarcio il fronte si crudele, 
Che mai piii drizzera vele, 
Che nel mar sia si possente. 

Cantiam tutti allcgi'amentc, 
Cantiam, putti ! pur ognora, 
Ch' il ladron di Caracossa 
Fatt' ha 1' Aqua-salsa rossa 
Del suo sangue di sei-pentc. 

Cantiam, putti ! allegramente, 
Di tre sei d' otto e di vcnti 
Galpotte e altri legni 
"Fh il fracasso — o Turchi ! degni 
Del gi'an fuoeo cternamente ! 

Cantiam piu" allegramente, 
Come poi piu delle venti 
Ne fur prese cento ed ottanta, 
E dei morti poi sessanta 
Mila e piii di queUa gente. 

Cantiam tutti allegramente ; 
Ma ben duolmi a dir ch' i nostii 
Fur da settc mila ed otto 
Ivi morti (se '1 ver noto), 
Combattendo audacemente. 

Cantiam tutti allegramente, 
Dopo questi, altri guerrieri 
Vendicar coU' arme in mano 
Quelli e il nom Christiano, 
Per vu'tik d' Iddio clementc. 

Cantiam tutti allegramente ; 
Per cotal vittoria e tanta, 
Doveremmo ogni an far fcsta, 
Per che al mondo altra che questa 
Non fu mal d' alciuio in merit*. 

A A 

354 FATHEr. prout's eeliques. 

3.9opuIar JSaltatJ on tl)t 23attlc of Hcpanto. 

Let us sing how the boast of the Saracen host 

In the gulf of Lepanto was scattered, 
When each knight of St. Jolm's from his cannon of bronze 

With grape-shot their argosies battered. 
Oh ! we taught the Turks then that of Eiu-ope the men 

Could defy every infidel menace — 
And that still o'er the main float the galleys of Spain, 

And the red-Uon standard of Venice ! 

Quiet we made the foe skulk, as we blazed at each hulk, 

Wliile they left us a sphnter to fire at ; 
And the rest of them fled o'er the waters, blood red 

With the gore of the Ottoman pirate ; 
And our nary gave chase to the infidel race, 

Nor allowed them a moment to rally ; 
And we forced them at length to acknowledge our strength 

In the trench, in the field, in the galley ! 

Then our men gave a shout, and the ocean throughout 

Heard of Clrristendom's triumph with rapture. 
Galeottes eighty-nine of the enemy's line 

To our swift-sailing ships feU a captm*e : 
And I fu'mly maintain that the number of slain. 

To at least sixty thousand amomited ; — 
To be sure 'twas sad work — if the hfe of a Turk 

For a moment were worth being counted. 

We may well feel elate ; though I'm soriy to state, 

That albeit by the mjn'iad we've slain 'em. 
Still, the sons of the Cross have to weep for the loss 

Of six thousand who fell by the Paynim. 
TuU atonement was due for cacli man that they slewj 

And a liecatomb ]3aid for each hero ; 
But could all that we'd kill give a son to CastUe, 

Or to Malta a brave cavalliero ? 

St. Mark for the slain intercedes not in vain — 

There's a nuiss at each altar in Venice ; 
,\jid the saints we implore for the banner they bore 
Ai'e Our Lady, St. George, and St. Denis. 
For the bravo whUo we grieve, in our hearts they shall live — 

In our mouths shall their praise be incessant ; 
And agam and again wc will boast of the men 

\\lio have humbled the pride of the Crescent. 

The Venetians have been ever remarkable for poetic 
taste ; and the verv humblest classes of society amongst 



them exliibit a fondness for the great masters J)f their native 
language, and a familiarity with the glorious effusions of the 
national genius, quite unknown in the corresponding rank 
of tradesmen and artisans in England. Groldoni, who wrote 
in their own dialect, knew the sort of critics he had to deal 
with : and it is a fact that the most formidable judges of 
dramatic excellence at the theatres of Venice were the gon- 
doliers. Addison, or rather Isaac Bickerstaff, tells us a 
droU story about a certain trunkmaker, who stationed him- 
self in the gallery of Drury Lane, and with a whack of his 
oaken cudgel ratified the success or confirmed the downfal 
of each new tragic performance. I think the author of the 
" Spectator" must have had the original hint of that anec- 
dote during his stay at Yenice, where such a verdict from 
such a quarter was a matter of habitual occurrence. There 
is great delicacy of feeKng and polish of expression in the 
following ingenious popular barcarolle of Venetian origin: — 

"Prithee, young fisherman, coma 
over — 

Oh pescator dell' onda, 

A'ieni pescar in qua 
L'olla Sella sua barca. 
OoUa bclla se ne va, 

Fidelin, lin, la. 
Che cosa vuol eh' io pcsclu ? 

L'anel che m' e casca, 
CoUa bella sua barca. 
Colla bclla se ne va, Sec. 

Ti dar6 cento scudi, 

Sta borsa ricama, 
Colla bclla sua barca. 
CoUa bella se ne va, &c. 
Xon voirlio cento scudi, 

If e borsa ricama, 
Colla bella sua barca. 
Colla bella se ne va, &c. 
Io Vo un basin d' amore, 

Che quel mi paghera, 
CoUa bcUa sua bocca. 
CoUa beUa so ne va, &c. 

Hither thy Hght bark bring ; 
Eow to this bank, and try recover 
My treasiu-e — 'tis a ring !" 

The fisher-boy of Como's late 
His bonny boat soon brought her, 

And promised for her beauty's sake 
To search beneath the water. 

" I'U give thee," said the ladye fail-, 
" One hundred sequins bright, 

If to my viUa thou wilt bear, 
Fisher, that ring to-night." 

"A himdred sequins I'U refuse 

When I shaU come at eve : 
But there is something, if 
Lady, that you can give !" 
The ring was found beneath 
Xor need my lay record 
What was that lady's gi-atitude, 
What was that youth's reward. 
A A.2 





A Milanese poet, rejoicing in the intellectual patronymie 
of Nicodemo, has distinguished himself in a different species 
of composition, viz. the heroic. There is, however, I am 
free to confess, a rather ungenerous sort of exultation over 
a fallen foe perceptible in the lyrical poem which I am 
about to introduce for the first time to a British public. 
Dryden has very properly excited our commiseration for 
" Darius, great and good, deserted in his utmost need 
by those his former bounty fed ;" but far different are the 
sentiments of Signer Nicodemo, who does not hesitate to 
denounce the vanquished in no very measured terms of op- 
probrious invective. I suspect he has been equally profuse 
of lavish encomium during its prosperous days on that 
power which he seeks to cover with dei'ision in its fall : and 
I need not add that I totally dissent from the political 
opinions of the author. However, let the gentle reader 
form his own estimate of the poet's performance. 

di Napoleone Bonaparte senza 
spada, e senza bastone, e 
senza capello, e ferito in tes- 
ta; V acquisto fatto del Fms- 
siani de oro, argento, bril- 
lanti, e di sue manto impe- 
riale ; e finalmenfe it felice 
ritorno nella citta di Parif/i 
di sua maesta Luigi XVIII. 

Di Nicodemo Lermil. 
AuiA di "Malbrook." 
Giii viuto Napoleono 
Con fuga desperata, 
Fra la I'l'iissiana ai-mata 
Di trapassar teutc> ; 

Ma sgoinbro di tcsori, 
Dcluso iiei disegni — 
Privo d'impero o rcgni, 
Qua! nacque, ritorn6. 

AHlitto e delirante, 
Confuso e sbigottito, 
Col capo suo f'orito, 
II inisero fiiggl. 

^ Crtte 33alIaK, 

containing the Fliylit of Napoleon Biiona- 
parte, with the loss of his sword, his hat, 
and imperial baton, besides a wound in the 
head i the good luck of the Prussians in 
getting hold of his valuables, in diamonds 
and other proper tg ; and, lastlg, the happy 
entry of his Majesty, Louis Dixhuit, into 

li'i'om the Italian of Nicodeinus Lerniil. 
Tune — " On Linden when." 
"Wlien Bonaparte, overcome, 
Fled from the sound of Prussian drum, 
Aghast, discomfited, and dumb, 

Wrapt in his roquelaure, — 

To wealth and power he bade adieu — 
Affairs were looking Prussic blue : 
In emblematic tatters flew 

The glorious tricolor. 

"Wliat once had seemed fixt as a rock, 
Had now received a fatal sliock ; 
And he himself had got a knock 

From a Cossack on the head I 



Senza poter portarsi, 
Spada, baston, capello, 
Involto in iin mautello 
Da tutt' i suoi spari. 

Ai'gento, oro, brillanti, 
II manto suo imperiale, 
Con gioia universale 
Da' Prussi s' aequisto. 

Ma non pote acquistarsi 
(Ben che non v' e pam-a) 
L' autor d' ogni sventui'a, 
Che tutti rovino. 

Tugitto Buonaparte, 
Subito entro in Pai'igi 
II buon sovran Luigi, 
Che tutti raUegro. 

!Fii la citta di notte 
Da ognuno illuminata ; 
Piu vista amena e grata 
Giammai non si mii'u. 

Eimbombo di canoni, 
Acclamazion di "Evviva! ' 
Per tutto se sentiva 
Frequeute rephcar. 

La Candida bandiera, 
Coi giglj che tcneva, 
Per tutto si vedeva 
Pill spcsso ventdar. 

Spettacolo si vago, 
Eicordo si giocondo, 
Parigi, Italia, il mondo, 
Fe tutti consolar. 

Perche fuggl ramingo, 
E con suo desonore, 
L' indcgno usurpatore — 
E non puo pi regnar. 

Murat e Napoleone 
Tenete i cuori a freno 
Jfon vi avvilitc ahneno 
Che h cosa da schiattar. 

Cone was his hat, lost was his hope ; 
The hand, that once had smote the Pope, 
Had even dropped its telescope 
In the huny as he fled. 

Old Blucher's corps a capture made 
Of liis mantle, sabre, and cockade ; 
Which in "Eag Fair" woiild, " from the 

!N"o doubt a trifle fetch. 

But though the Prussians ('tis confest) 
Of all his -wardrobe got the best, • 
(Besides the military chest). 

Himself they could not catch. 

He's gone somewhere beyond the seas, 
To expiate his rogueries : 
King Louis in the Tuileries 

Has recommenced to reign. 

Gladness pervades the allied camps, 
And nought the public triumph damps ; 
But every house is lit with lamps. 
E'en in each broken pane. 

Paris is one vast scene of joy ; 
And aU her citizens employ 
Then- tlu-oats in shoiiting Vive le roi ■' 
Amid the roar of cannon. 

Oh ! when they saw the " Mane drapeau" 
Once more displayed, they shouted so 
You could have heard them from tlie Po, 
Or from the banks of Sliannon. 

Gadzooks ! it was, upon my fay, 
An Em'opean holyday ; 
And the land lauglied, and all were gay. 
Except the sa)is culottes. 

You'd SCO the people playing cards, 
And gay grisettes and dragoon guards 
Dancing along the boulevards — 

Of brandy there were lots ! 

Now, Bonaparte and Murat, 

My worthy heroes ! after that, 

I'd like to know what you'll be at — 

I tliink you must feel nL-rvous 


Ma se desperazione Perhaps you are not so besotted 

Mai vi togliesse il lunie As to be cutting the " carotid" — 

H pill vicino fiume But there's the horsepond ! — there, odd 

Potete ritrovar. rot it ! 

From such an end preserve us ! 

If this poet Nicodemo be in reality what I surmise be is, 
a literary renegade, and a wretcb wbose venal lyre gives 
fortb alternate eulogy and abuse, just as the political ther- 
mometer indicates rise or fall, I should deem him a much 
fitter candidate for the " horsepond" than either Bony or 
Joachim. But, alas ! how many sad instances have we not 
known of similar tergiversation in the conduct of gens de 
lettres ! I just mentioned Dryden, commonly denominated 
" glorious John," and what a sad example is there of poli- 
tical dishonesty ! After flattering in turns Cromwell and 
Charles II., King James and King "William, he died of a 
broken heart, deserted by all parties. In his panegyric on 
canting old Noll, it would seem that the poet was at a loss 
how to grapple with his mighty subject, could not discover 
a beginning to his praise : the perfect rotundity of the 
theme precluding the possibility of finding commencement 
or end : 

" Within a fame so truly circular .'" 

But turning from such conceits, and from courtly writers, 
to a simpler style of thought, may I think this trifling, but 
genuine rustic lay worthy of perusal ? — 

(SaiT^onctt.T. Spillage ^ong. 

Son povera ragazza, Husbands, they tell me, gold hath woii 

E cerco di marito ; More than aught else beside : 

Se trovo buon partite, Gold I have none ; can I find one 

Mi voglio maritar. To take mc for his bride ? 

Ma chi sa ? Yet who tnows 

Chi lo sa ? How the wind blows — 

To cerco di marito, Or who can say 

Sc lo posso ritrovar ? I'll not find one to-day ? 

To faccio la sartora, I can embroider, T can sew — 

Questo c il mio mestiero; A husband I could aid ; 

Vi dico si davvcro, T have no dowry to bestow — 

E so ben travagiiar. Must I remain a maid ? 

Ma chi sa ? Yet who knows 

Chi lo sa ? How the wind blows — 

To cerco di marito, Or who can say 

Se lo posso ritrovar? I'll not find one to-day? 


Gi^ d' anni venticinque A simple maid I've been too long— 

Mi trove cosi sola, A husband I would Hnd ; 

Vi giuro e do parola But then to ask — no ! — that were wrong; 

Mi sento al fin mancar. So I must be resigned. 

Ma chi sa ? Yet who knows 

Chi lo sa ? How the wind blows — 

lo cerco di marito, Or wlio can say 

Se lo posso ritrovar ? I'll not fijiid one to-day ? 

Simplicity is the inseparable comjjaiiiou of tlie graces ; 
and the extreme perfection of art is to conceal itself under 
the guise of iinstudied negligence. This excellence is only 
attainable by a few ; and among the ^\Titers of antiquity is 
most remarkable in the pages of Xenophon. Never will 
the " true ease in writing," which, according to that most 
elaborate, but still most fluent writer. Pope, " comes from 
art, not chance," be acquired otherwise than by a diligent 
study of the old classics, and in particular of what Horace 
calls the exemplaria Grceca. Flaccus himself, in his serino 
pedestris, as well as his inimitable lyrics, has given us beau- 
tiful specimens of what seems the spontaneous flow of un- 
studied fancy, but it is in reality the result of deep thought 
and of constant limce labor. Menzini, the author of the 
following sonnet on a very simple subject, must have drunk 
deeply at the source of Grecian elegance. 

il Capro. 


Quel capro maledetto ha preso in use 

G ir tra le vite, e sempre in lor s'impaccia : 
Deh ! per farlo scordar di simil traccia, 

DagU d' im sasso tra le corna o '1 muso. 

Sc Bacco il guata, ei scendera ben giuso 
Da q\icl suo carro, a eui le tigi-i allaccia ; 
Pill feroce lo sdcgno oltre si caccia 

Quand' o con quel suo vin' misto e confuso. 

Fa di scacciarlo, Elpin ; fa che non stenda 

Maliguo il dente ; e piil non roda in vetta 
L' uve nascenti, ed d lor nume ollenda. 

T)\. lui so ben cli' un di 1' altar 1' aspctta ; 

Ma Bacco c da tcmer che ancor non prenua 
Del capro iusieme e del pastor vendetta. 


There's a goat in the vineyarcl I an unbidden guest — 

He comes here to devour and to trample ; 
If he keep not aloof, I must make, I protest, 

Of the trespassing rogue an example. 
Let this stone, which I fling at his ignorant head, 

Deep imprest in his skull leave its moral, — 
That a four-footed beast 'mid the vines should not tread^ 

'Nov attempt with great Bacchus to quarrel. 

Sliould the god on his car, to which tigers are yoked, 

Chance to pass and espy such a scandal. 
Quick he'd mark his displeasure— most justly provoked 

At the sight of tliis four-footed Yaudal. 
To encoimter his wrath, or be found on his path. 

In the spring when his godship is sober. 
Silly goat ! would be rash ; — and you fear not the lash 

Of the god in the month of October ! 

In each bunch, thus profaned by an insolent tooth. 

There has perish'd a goblet of nectar ; 
Fitting vengeance will foUow those gambols uncoutli, 

For the grape has a jealous protector. 
On the altar of Bacchus a victim must bleed, 

To avert a more serious disaster ; 
Lest the ii-e of the deity visit the deed 

Of the goat on his negligent master. 

It is no part of my code of criticism to tolerate, imder 
the plea of simplicity, that maudlin, emasculate style super- 
induced among the Italians by thoir language's fotal fertility 
in canorous rhymes. The very sweetness and melody of their 
idiom is thus not unfrequeutly the bane of original thought 
and of forcible expression : 

Deh ! fosse tu men beUa, o almen piii forte ! 

" Nuga canor^" might form a sort of running marginal com- 
ment on almost every page of IVIetastasio ; and few indeed 
are the passages in the works of some of his more celebrated 
fellow-countrymen which can bear to be submitted to the 
test of translation. This experimental process will ever be 
destructive of Avhatever relies on mere euphouous phrase- 
ology for its effect ; and many a favourite Italian effusion 
has succumbed to the ordeal. I would instance the " Bacco 
in Toscana " of Eedi, Avhich the graceful pen of Leigh Hunt 


Bouglit in vain to popularise in English. So true it is ttat 
nothing can compensate for a lack of ideas — not even Delia 
Cruscan parlance issuing from a " bocca Romana." Lord 
Byron (" Childe Harold," iv. 38), in vindication of Tasso 
from the sarcasm of a French critic, denounces, perhaps 
justly, Gallia's 

" creaking lyre, 
That whetstone of the teeth, monotony in wire ;" 

for it is admitted that the metallic strings he thus attributes 
to the French instrument cannot vie in liquid harmony with 
the softer catgut of its rival. But were his lordship suffici- 
ently conversant with the poets of France, he would perhaps 
find that they rarely substitute for rational meaning mere 
empty sound. It cannot, on the other hand, be denied, that 
when a language is thoroughly pervaded with what the Greeks 
call ofj^oioTiXiUTov, running, in fact, spontaneously into rhyme, 
it offers manifold temptations to the inditing of what are 
called " nonsense verses." Like the beasts of old entering 
Noah's Ai'k two and two, the couplets of the Italian versifier 
pair themselves of their own accord without the least trouble. 
But, unfortunately, one of the great recommendations of 
rhjTiie, as of metrical numbers, to the intellect is, the con- 
sciousness involved of a difficultij overcome : and hence pre- 
cisely was the admiration excited by the inventive faculty of 
the poet early characterised ia the words " troiivere," " trouba- 
dour," from '' trouver," to ''find." If there be no research 
requisite — if the exploit be one of obvious facility — the mind 
takes no interest in the inglorious pursuit, which, under 
such circumstances, appears flat and unmeaning. A genuine 
poet, as well as his reader, enjoys the mental chase in pro- 
portion to the wild and untameable nature of the game. In 
a word, Italian " bouts rimes " are lar too easily bagged : the 
sportsman's occupation on Parnassus becomes an eti'eminate 
pastime ; 'tis, in fact, mere pigeon-sliooting : whereas " optat 
aprum " has been always predicated of the classic hunter ; 
and Jemmy Thomson very properly observes, that 

' Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare !" 

An ingenious Frenchman (the Chevalier de la Faye), in 
his "Apology" for the supposed difficulties of rhyme in our 


Cisalpine dialects, maintains tlie theory I here propound, in 
some very felicitous lines, Avhere, pointing the attention of 
his countrymen to the numerous jets d'ecm that ornament 
the gardens of the Tuileries, Versailles, and St. Cloud, he 
steps up a striking parallel, not less %vitty than true. The 
strophe runs thus : — 

De la contrainte I'igoureuse From the rliyme's restrictive rigoiir 
Ou I'esprit semble rescrre. Thought derives its impulse oft, 

II acquiert une force heurcuse Genius draws new strength and vigour, 
Qui I'eleve au plus haut degre; Fancy springs and shoots aloft. 

Telle dans des cauaux pressee So, ui leaden conduits pent, 

Avec plus de force elancee, Mounts the liquid element, 
L'onde s'eleve dans les au's, — By pressm-e foi'ced to climb : 

Et la regie qui semble austh-e And he who feared the ride's restraint 

N'est qu'un art plus certain de Finds but a friendly ministrant 

plaire. In Eeason's hcipmate, Rhyme. 

lusepai-able des beaux vers. 

I must add, that long previously the same doctrine had 
been included by the grammarian Vossius, in his tract " De 
Viribus CantCis et Eythmi," where he remarks, " hue ratiune 
non ornatui tantam, sed et verhorum consuUtur copice.^' Hence 
it -would follow, that for from being a bar to the birth of 
genuine poetry among the Northerns, the difficulties of a 
ruder idiom only give an impulse to the exertion of the 
faculty itself, and a relish to the enjoyment of its produc- 
tions. It becomes sufficiently obvious, from what we have 
laid down, that restrictions and shackles are the very essence 
of rhythmic writing ; by devoting himself to which, the poet 
assumes, of his oaati free will, the situation of " Prometheus 
vinctus ;" and, in a spirit akin to that of St. Paul, openly 
professes his predilection for " these bonds." Prose may 
rejoice in its Latin designation of sohttu oratio ; but a vo- 
luntary thraldom is the natural condition of poetry, as may 
be inferred from the converse term, oratio stricta. The Ita- 
lian poet is distinguishable among his fellow-captives by the 
light aerial nature of his fetters ; and versi sciolti may be 
applied to more tlian one species of his country's versifica- 
tion. This will strike any one who takes up the libretto of 
an opera. Nevertheless, let us envy not the smooth and 
Sybarite stanza, nor covet the facile and flowing vocabulary, 
nor complain of the wild and irregular^jprminations with 
which we have to struggle. There is inore dignity in tho 


march of a manly barbarian tban in tbe gait of an enervated 
fop ; and with all the cumbrous irons of a rude language, 
were it but for his very mode of bearing the chains, a Eriton 
wiU be still admired as he treads the paths of poetry : 

Intactus aut Britannus ut descenderet 
Sacra catenatus via. 

Epod, vii. 

I shall not be accused of travelling out of the record in 
touching incidentally on this matter, which, indeed, would 
properly require a special dissertation. But to return to 
my theme. From among those numerous compositions of 
which the " moon," a " nightingale," a " grove," and a 
" lady's balcony," form the old established ingredients in all 
languages, I shall select the following Italian specimen, 
which, if it present little novelty of invention, has, en re- 
vanche, decidedly the charm of sweetest melody of ex- 


Guarda clie bianca luna ! Ella clic il sente appena 

Ouarda che notte azzurra ; Gi^ vieu di fronda in fronda, 

Un' aiira non susiuTa, E par che gli responda 
Non tremola una stel. Non piangere, son qui. 

L' usignuoletto solo Clie dolci affetti, o Irene, 

Va dalla siepe all' omo Che gemiti son questi ! 

E sospirando iutorno Ah ! mal tu non sapesli 
Chiama la sua fidel. Rispondermi cosi. 

21 ^ercnatJc. 

Pale to-night is the disc of the moon, and of azure uninixt 

Is the bonny blue sky it lies on ; 
And sUcnt the streamlet, and hushed is the zephyr, and fixt 

Is cadi star in the calm liorizon ; 
And ihe Iiamlet is lulled to repose, and all natui'e is stiU— 

How soft, how mild her slumbers ! 
And naught but the nightingale's note is awake, and the tin-ill 

Of liis sweetly plaintive numbers. 

Ilis SDng wakes an echo ! it comes from the neighbouring grove 

Love's sweet responsive anthem I 
Lady ! list to the vocahst ! dost thou not envy his love! 

And the joys his male will grant him ?" 


Oh, smile on tliy lover to-night ! let a transient hope 

Ease the heart with sorrow laden : 
From yon balcony "vvaye the fond signal a moment — and ope 

Thy casement, fairest maiden ! 

The author of the above is a certam Yittorelli, celebrated 
amoug the more recent poets of Italy for the smooth ame- 
nity of his Anacreontics ; of which, however, I regret to 
say that many are of a very washy consistency, generally 
constituting, when submitted to critical analysis, that sort 
of chemical residuum which the Prench would call " de Veav. 
claire." An additional salnple of his style will convey a 
sufficient notion of his own and his brethren's capabilities 
in the sentimental line : but ere we give the Italian original 
with our " translation," it were advisable to attune our ear 
to the harmony of true "nonsense verse," of which Dean 
Swift has left mankind so famous a model in the memorable 

Fluttering, spread thy purple pinions, 

Gentle Cupid ! o'er my heart ; 
While a slave in thy dominions, 

Natm-e must give way to art. 

Mild Arcadians ! ever blooming, 

Nightly nodding o'er your flocks, 
See my weary days consuming, 

All beneath youi' flowery rocks. 

Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors ! 

Arm'd in adamantine chains, 
Lead me to the ciystai mirrors 

Watering soft Elysiau plains 

Mournful cypress, verdant willow, 

Gilding my Aurelia's brows ; 
Morpheus, hovering o'er my pilloWj 

Ilear me say my dying vows I 

Melancholy, smooth meander ? 

Sweetly purling in a round ; 
On tliy margin lovers wander. 

All witli flowery chaplets crowned — 

i. e. " all round mv hat." Now for Yittorelli. 

Ihe laiX of '.'cims 



il iDono Ki Etntit. Ci)e €>iU of WtnuS. 

Cinta le bionde cliiome With roses wreathed around his ringlets, 

Delia matema rosa Steeped in drops of matin dew, 

Sull' alba rugiadosa, Gliding soft on silken winglets, 

Venne il fanciuUo Amor. Cupid to my study flew ; 

On my table a decanter 

Stood — perhaps there might be two-— 
When I had with the enchanter 
(Happy bard !) this inten'iew. 

Sure it was the loveliest rision 

Ever poet gazed upon — 
Kapt in ecstasy Elysian, 

Or inspu'ed by cruiskeen laivn. 
"Poet," said the urchin, "few are 

So far favoiu-ed among men — 
Venus sends by me to you her 

Comphments and a new pen. 

" Take this quill — 'tis soft and slender, 

Fit for wi-iting billets doux. 
Fond avowals, breathings tender, 

Which Irene may peruse. 
'Tis no vulgar acquisition — 

'TAvas from no goose pinion di-awn ; 
But, by Leda's kind permission. 

Borrowed fi'om her favourite swan. 

" Sully not the virgin candoui" 

Of its doAATi so white and rare ; 
Let it ne'er be dipp'd in slander, 

'Gainst the witty or the fail'. 
Lend it not to that Patlander 

Denny Lardner ; nor to Watts 
(Hight 'Alaric Alexander^): 
Let some duU, congenial gander 

Furnish charlatans and sots." 

What a difference between the feeble and effeminate tone 
of these modern effusions, and the bold, manly, and fre- 
quently sublime conceptions of the bards who wrote in the 
golden age of Leo X., under the influence of that magic 
century which gave birtli to such a crowd of eminent per- 
sonages in all the walks of literature ! The name of Michel 
-Ajigelo is familiar to most readers in the character of an 
artist ; but few, perhaps, Avill be prepared to make his 
acquaintance in the capacity of a poet. Nevertheless, it 
gives me satisfaction to have it in my power to introduce 
the illustrious Buonarotti iu that unexpected character. 

E coUa dolce bocca 
Mi disse in aria heta : — 
" Clie fai gcntU poeta 

D' Irene lodator ?" 

Questa nevosa penna 
Di cigno immacolato, 
Sal desco fortunato 

lo lascio in dono a te. 

Serba la ognor, geloso 
E scriverai d' amore ; 
Non cede il suo candore 

Clie a quel della tua ft. 


Giunto e gia il corso della vita mia. 
Per temjDestoso mar con fragil barca, 
Al comun porto, ove a render se varca 
Conto e ragiou d' ogni opra triste e pia. 
Ma 1' alta affettuosa fantasia, 

Che 1' arte mi fece idolo e monarca, 

Conosco or ben quanto sia d' error carca, 
E quel che mal suo gi-ado ognun desia ; 
G-li amorosi pensier gia vani e lieti 

Che fien or s' a due morte m' avvicino ? 

D' uno so certo, e 1' aUra mi miuaccia. 
Ne pinger ne scolpir fia piil che queti 

L' anima volta a quel amor divino 

Che aperse in croce a prender noi le braccia. 

ilKidjtl Slngelo'^ dTarciufll to *ailpturt. 

I feel that I am growing old — 
Mj lamp of clay ! thy flame, behold ! 
'Gins to burn low : and I've unrolled 
My Hfe's eventfid volimie ! 

The sea has borne my fragile bark 
Close to the shore — now, rising dark, 
O'er tlie subsiding ware I mark 

This brief world's final column, 

'Tis time, my soul, for pensive mood, 
For holy calm and solitude ; 
Then cease henceforward to delude 

Thyself with fleeting vanity. 

The pride of art, the sculptured thought, 
Vain idols that my hand hath wrout'lit — 
To place my trust in such were nouglit 
But sheer insanity. 

AVliat can the pencil's power achieve ? 
What can the cliisel's triumph give? 
A name perhaps on earth may live. 
And travel to posterity. 

But can proud Eome's Pantheon tell, 

If for the soul of Eaffaelle* 

His glorious obsequies could quell 

The Judgment-Seat's severity ? 

Hii body was laid out in state in tlie church of St. Slaria RotDuda. 


Yet why slioiild Christ's believer fear, 
While gazing on yon image dear ? — 
Image adored, maugre the sneer 

Of miscreant blasphemer. 

Are not those arms for me outspread ? 
What mean those thorns upon thy head ? — 
And shall I, wreathed with lam-els, tread 

Far from thy paths, Eedeemer ? 

Sucli was the deeply religious tone of this eminent man's 
mind, and such the genuine iuaiiSna of Michel Angelo. An 
unfeigned devotedness to the doctrines of Christianity, and 
a proud consciousness of tlie dignity which the avowal of 
those feelings is calculated to confer in the view of every 
right-minded person, are traits of character which we never 
fail to meet in all the truly great men of that period. Dante, 
Leonardo da Yinci, Tasso, Eaftaelle, Sannazar, Bembo, Bru- 
nei] eschi, and a host of imperishable names, bear witness 
to the correctness of the remark. Nor is Petrarca defi- 
cient in this outward manifestation of inward piety. The 
death of Laura forms a marked epoch in his biography ; 
and the tendency of his thoughts, from that date to the 
hour of his death, appears to have been decidedly religious : 
And the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt 

Was one of that complexion which seemed made 
For one wlio his mortahty had felt, 

And sought a refuge from liis hopes decayed. 

C/iilde Harold, iv. 32. 

The recollection of the departed only gave additional inten- 
sity to the fervour of devotion : and those exquisite sonnets, 
into which he has breathed the pious sentiments of his soul, 
rank among the most finished productions of his muse ; — 
a striking exemplification of the incontestable truth, that 
the poet who would suppress all reference to Christian feel- 
ing has voluntarily broken the finest chord of his lyre. 
Laura, spiritualised into an angelic essence, still visits his 
nocturnal visions, to point the way to that heaven of which 
she is a dweller, and to excite him to deeds worthy of a 
blessed immortality. The opening stanza of one of these 

(the Pantheon), whither all Rome flocked to honour the illustrious dead. 
His last and most glorious work, "the Transfiguration," was placed 
iibove his bier ; while Leo's pontifical liand strewed flowers and burnt 
incense o'er the cold remains of departed genius. — Li/e of Raffaelle, 


songs, which form the second part of the collection, (thus 
distinguished from those written during the lifetime of his 
beloved,) will suffice as a specimen of the tone that per- 
vades them all. 

Canzone ftopo la ilHortc t(t Bonna ?tama. 

Quando il soave mio fldo conforto. 

Per dar riposo alia inia vita stanea, 

Ponsi del letto in su la sponda manca 
Con quel suo dolce ragionai'e accorto ; 
Tutto di pieta e di paura smorto 
Dico " Onde vien tu ora, o felice alma ?" — 

Un ramoscel di palma 
E un di lauro trae del suo bel seno ; 

E dice : — " Dal serene 
Ciel empireo, e di quelle sante parti, 
ili mossi ; e vengo sol per consolarti," &c. &c. 

3Petrarca'^ ©ream. 

{After the Death of Laura.) 

Ihe has not, quite forgotten me ; her shade 

My pillow still doth haimt, 
A nightly visitant, 
To soothe the sorrows that herself had made : 

And thus that spirit blest, 
Shedding sweet influence o'er my hour of rest, 
Hath healed my woe?, and all my lore repaid. 

Last night, with holy cahn, 

She stood before my view. 

And from her bosom drew 
A wi"eath of lam'cl and a branch of palm : 

And said, " To comfort thee, 
O child of Italy ! 
From my immortal home, 
Petrarca, I am come," &c. &c. 

Towards the close of his career, when the vanity of all 
<^arthly aifoction became still more palpable to his under- 
standing, there is something like regret expressed for having 
ever indulged in that most pardonable of all human weak- 
nesses, the hopeless and disinterested admiration of what 
was -virtuous aUvl lovely, unmixed with the grossness of 
sensual attaclunent, aiul uuprofaned by its vulgarities. Still, 
he felt that there was in the pursuit of that pleasing illusion 


Fometliing uuworthj of his profession ; and he has recorded 
/lis act of contrition in the following beautiful lines, ^vith 
which I close : — 

r vo ijiangendo i miei passati tempi, 

I quai posi in amar cosa mortale 

Scnza levarrai a toIo, avend' io 1' ale, 
Per dar forse di me non bassi esempi. 

Tu, che redi i miei mail indegni ed emoi, 

Ee del cielo invisibile, immortalc : 

Soccorri all' alma disviata e fi-ale, 
E '1 8U0 difetto di tua grazia adempi ; 

Si che, s' io vissi in gueiTa ed in tempcsta, 
Mori in pace ed in porto ; e se la stanza 
I"u vana, almen sia la partita onesta. 

A quel poco di yiver, che m' avanza 
Ed al morir degni esser tua man presta : 


Clje lUpcutancc of |3ttvarfn. 

Bi'ight days of sunny youth, irrcTOcable years 

Period of manhood's prime 
O'er thee I shed sad but unprofitable tears — 

Lapse of returnless time : 
Oh ! I have cast away, like so much ■wortliless dross, 

Horn's of most precious ore — 
IDlcst houi'3 I coidd have corned for heaven, youi" loss 

For ever I'll deplore ! 

Contrite I tneel, O God inscrutable, to thee. 

High heaven's immortal King! 
Thou gayest mc a soul that to tliy bosom free 

Might soar on seraph wing : 
My mind with gifts and grace thy bounty had endowed 

To cherish Thee alone — 
Tliose gifts I have abused, this heai't I have allowed 

Its Maker to disown. 

But from his wanderings reclaimed, with full, with throbbi'jg heart 

Thy truant has retm-ned : 
Oil ! be the idol and the hour that led him to depart 

From Thee, for ever moiu-ned. >. 

If I have dwelt remote, if I have loved the tents of guilt — 

To thy fond arms restored, 
Here let me die ! On wliom can my ctei'ual hopes be bull', 

Sate cpox Thee, Lokd 1 

B B 





EcEiPiD., Medsa. 

" Quis sub AKCTO 

Rex gelidse metuatiu- orse 
Quid Tu-idatem ten-eat, imiee 
Secm-us est qui iontibcs integeis 

Gaudet." — Lib. i. ode xxvi.* 

Deeming it vrasteful and ridiculous 

To watch Don Carlos or Czar K^ieholas — 

Sick of our statesmen idiotic — 

Sick of the knaves wlio (patriotic) 

Serve up to clowns, in want oi praties, 

" Eepale"' and " broken Limerick traties," 

With whom to gnidge their poor a crust is, 

To starring Ireland " doing justice" — ■ 

Sick of the moonshine called " municipal" 

Blarney and Rice, Spain and Mcndizabu), 

Shiel and shUolahs, "Dan" and " Mam'ice," 

Peout tui-ns liis thoughts toEomeandlloKACE.— O. Y. 

" Chassons loin dc chez nous tons ces rats du Parnassc, 
Jouissons, ecrivons, vivons avcc Horace." — Tolt., Eptirts. 

Peom the ignoble doings of modei'n AYbiggery, sneaking and 
dastardly at Lome, and not very dignified abroad — from 
Melbouruc,t vrbo lias flung such unwonted eclat round the 
premiership of G-rcat Uritam (addeiis co7-nita paupo-i), and 
Mulgrave, who lias made vulgarity and ruffianism the sup- 
porters of a vice-regal chair (^Rec/is liitjiiUjJiis aique venenuni),^ 

* Russia was already in for war thus early. 

+ Trial, Hon. George Chappie Norton versus Melbourne. 

% Lord Xormanb}' was, at this date (1S36), letting loose aU the jail- 
birds and ribbonraen in Ireland. He has since come out iu the cha- 
racter of Polonius at the courts of Florence aud Modena. 

THE so:<rGS of hoeace. 37i 

it is allowable to turn aside for a trausient glimpse at tlio 
Augustan age, when tlie premier was Maecenas, aud the pro- 
consul, Agrippa. The poetic sense, nauseated with the efiu- 
sions of Lord Lansdowne's family-piper, finds relief in com- 
muning with Horace, the refined and gentlemanly Laureate 
of Roman Toryism. In his abhorrence of the " profane 
Hadical mob" (lib. iii. ode i.) — in his commendation of virtue, 
" refulgent with uncontaminated honour, because derived 
from a steady refusal to take up or lay down the emblems of 
authority at popular dictation " (lib. iii. ode ii.) — in his por- 
traiture of the Just Man, tuidismayed by the frenzied ardour 
of those who would force on by clamour depraved measures 
(lib. iii. ode iii.) need we say how warmly we participate ? 
That the wits and sages who shed a lustre on that imperial 
court should have merged all their previous theories in a 
rooted horror of agitators and sansculottes, was a natural 
result of the intellectual progress made since the unlettered 
epoch of jMarius and the Gracchi. In the bard of Tivoli, who 
had fought under the insurrectionary banners of Brutus, up 
to the day when " the chins of the unshaven demagogues 
were brought to a level with the dust" (lib. ii. ode vii.) Tory 
principles obtained a distinguished convert ; nor is there any 
trace of mere subserviency to the men in power, or any evi- 
dence of insincerity in the record of his political opinions. 

The Georgian era has, in common with the age of Augus- 
tus, exhibited more than one striking example of salutary 
resipiscence among those who started in life with erroneous 
principles. Two eminent instances just now occur to us ; 
Southey among the poets, Burke among the illustrious in 
pi'ose ; though, perhaps, the divine gift of inspiration, ac- 
companied with true poetic feeling, was more largely vouch- 
safed to the antagonist of the French Eevolution than to the 
VL\\i\iOV 0^ Roderick, the last of the Goths. What can be more 
apposite to the train of thought in which we are indulg- 
ing, and to the actual posture of affairs, than the follow- 
ing exquisitely conceived passage, in whicli the sage of 
BeacousGeld contrasts the respective demeanour and re- 
sources of the two parties into which public opinion is 
elivided ? 

" "When I assert any thnig concerning the people of Eng- 
land, I speak irorn observation, and from the experience I 

TJ B 2 

372 rA.THEE PEOri'S eeliques. 

have Lad in a pretty extensive communicatiou with the in- 
habitants of this kingdom, begun in early life, and continued 
for near forty years. I j^ray you, form not your opinion, 
from certain publications. The vanity, restlessness, and 
petulance of those -who hide their intrinsic Avealmess in 
bustle, and uproar, and pufliug, and mutual quotation of 
each other, make you imagiue that the nation's contemptu- 
ous neglect is a mark of acquiescence in their opinions. No 
such thing, I assure you ! Because half-a-dozen grasshop- 
pers under a fern make the field ring with their importunate 
chink, Avhile thousands of great cattle, reposing under the 
shadow of the British oak, chevr the cud and are silent, pray 
do not imagine that those Avho make the noise are the only 
inhabitants of the field." 

It is right, however, in common fairness towards Horace, 
to remark, that while fighting in his juvenile days imder the 
banners of Brutus, even then he never for a moment con- 
templated Mob-ascendency in Eome as the ultimate result 
of his patriotic efforts. Like Cato and Tully, in the part he 
took he merely espoused the cause of the Senate in oppo- 
sition to that of a frensied rabble, rushing on, "with swinish 
desperation, to political suicide ; for in that, as in every age, 
the deluded multitude, in his view, was sure to become the 
dupe of some designing and knavish demagogue, imless 
rescued, in very despite of itself, by such interposition as 
the " Senatoes " could exercise in Eome ; or, we may add, 
the " Baeoks " in Eugland : both the hereditary guardians 
of liberty. When the adhesion of the conscript fathers had 
sanctioned the protectorate of Augustus, the transition to 
openly Conservative politics, on the poet's part, was as 
honourable as it was judicious. The contempt he felt, 
through his whole career, for the practice of propitiating the 
sweet voices of tlie populace by a surrender of principle, ia 
as plainly discoverable throughout the whole of his varied 
writings as his antipathy to garlic, or his abhorrence of 
" Canidiar 

His little volume contains the distilled quintessence of 
flomau life, when at its very acme of refinement. It is the 
most perfect portraiture (cabinet size) that remains of the 
social habits, domestic elegance, and cultivated intercourse 
of the capital; at the most interesting period of its Droa- 


pcrlty. But tlie pliilosopliy it inculcates, and the worldly 
wisdom it unfolds, is applicable to all times and all countries. 
Hence, roe cannot sympatliise with the somewhat childish 
(to say the least of it) distaste, or indisposition, evinced by 
the immortal pilgrim, Harold (canto iv. st. Ixxv.), for those 
ever- enduring lyrics that formed the nourishment of our 
intellect, "when George the Third was king." The very 
affectation of alluding to the '" drilled, dull lesson, forced 
down word for word, in his repugnant youth," proves the 
alumnus of Harrow on the Hill to have relished and recol- 
lected the almost identical lines of the author he feigns to 
disremember — Canniaa Livi memini plagosum inihi ^j«/-j;o 
Orbilium dictare (Epist. ii. 70.) ; and (i:hough Peel may have 
been a more assiduous scholar) we can hardly beheve the 
beauties of Horace to have been lost on Byron, even in his 
earliest hours of idleness. It is a-propos of Mount Soractc, 
on which he stumbles in the progress of his peregrination, 
that the noble poet vents his " fixed inveteracy" of hatred 
jigainst a book which, at the same time, he extols in terms 
not less eloquent than true : 

" Then farewell, HonACi: ! whom I hated so ; 

Kot for thy faults, but mine ! It is a cui'se 
To understand, -aotfeel, thy lyric flow, 

To comprehend, but never love, thy verse, 

Although no deeper morahst rehearse 
Our little life, nor bard prescribe his art, 

Nor livelier satirist the conscience pierce. 
Awakening without wounding the touched heart. 
Farewell ! upon Soracte's ridge \rE part !" 

We can readily imagine the comic nature of such a 
*• parting." "We picture in our mind's eye him of jS"ewstead 
Abbey bidding him of the Sabiae farm 

" Farewell ! — a word that has been, and shall be ;" 

while we fancy we can hear the pithy " Bon voyage, i/iilor," 
with which significant formida (in Latin) he is gently dis- 
missed by the weeping Flaccus — day.^vosv yi7'.ac>j,a. 

Protjt was not addicted to this aristocratic propensity for 
cutting all school-boy acquaintances. In him was strikingly 
exemplified the theory whicli attributes uncommon intensity 
and durableuess to first attai-hments : it is generally ap- 


plied to love ; lie carried tlie practice into the liaisons of 
literature. The odes of Horace -n-ere his earliest mistresses 
in poetry ; they took his fancy in youth, their fascinations 
haunted his memory in old age — 

"l'on eetiext toujoues 
a ses peemieees am0ue3." 

Most of the follo-\\'ing papers, forming a series of Hora- 
tian studies, were penned in Italy, often on the very spots 
tliat gave birth to the effusions of the witty Eoman ; but it 
appears to have afforded the Father considerable satisfaction 
to be able, in the quiet hermitage of his hill, to redigest and 
chewthe cud of whatever might havebeen crude and unmatui'ed 
inhis juvenile lucubrations. He seems to have taken an almost 
equal interest in the writers, the glories, and the monuments 
of PAaA:N' as of Papal Home : tliere Avas in his mental vi- 
sion a strange but not unpleasant confusion of both ; the 
Vnticani inontis imago (lib. i. 20) forming, in his idea, a sort 
of bifurcated Parnassus — St. Peter on the one peak, and 
.Tupiter on the other. Mr. Poynder has Avritten a tract on 
this siipposed " alliance bettoeen Popery and Heathenism,''' whicli 
Dr. "Wiseman, in these latter days, has thought worthy of 
a pamphlet in reply. The gravity of the question deters 
us from entering on it here ; but, to reconcile the matter, 
might we not adopt the etymological medins terminus of Deau 
Swift, and maintain that Jove — Zvjg 'rra-'/is, orSospiter — was 
nothing, after all, but tlie Jew Petee ? 

We are not without hopes of finding, among Prout's mis- 
cellanies, an elaborate treatise on this very topic. The Prench 
possess a work of infinite erudition, called L'Histoire verita- 
ble dcs Terns Fabideus, in which the Iliad is shewn to be an 
arrant plagiarism from tlie three last chapters of tlie Book 
of Judges; the Levitc's wife being the prototype of Helen, 
and the tribe of Eeujamin standing for the Trojans. A\''it, 
says Edmund liiirke, is usually displayed by finding points 
of contact and resemblance ; judgme^'T, or discrimination, 
generally manifests itself in the faculty of perceiving tho 
points of disagreement and disconnexion. 

But it is high time to resume our editorial seat, and lei 
the Pather catch the eve of the reader. 



" With faii'e discoui'se the evening so they passe, 
For that olde man of pleasaiinte wordes had store, 

And well could file his tongue as smoothe as glasse ; 
He tolde of saintes and popes, and evermore 
He strowed an Ave-Maey after and before." 

Fairy Q,ueene, canto i. stanza 35. 
Regent Street, June Ttth. 



I. Pi:OTjr. II. An Elzevir. 12ino. III. A Jug of Punch. 4to. 

Scene. — Watergrasshill. 

Here's a biirlth to Horace! "■ Vivi iuf" Songster of 
TivoLT, who alone of all the tuneful dead, alone of Greek 
and Eoman wits, may be said to lite. If to be quoted and 
requoted, until every superficial inch of thy toga has become 
(from quotation) threadbare, constitute perpetuity of poetical 
existence, according to the theory of Ennius (volito vivii' per 
ora viritm,) such liee has been pre-eminently vouchsafed to 
thee. In the circle of thy comprehensive philosophy, few 
things belonging to heaven or earth Avere undreamt of; nor 
did it escape thy instinctive penetration that in yonder brief 
tome, short, plump, and tidy, like its artificer, thou hadst 
erected a monument more durable than brass, more perma- 
nent than an Irish " eouxd tower," or a pyramid of King 
Cheops. It was plain to thy intuitive ken, that, whatever 
mischance might befall the heavier and more massive pro- 
ductions of ancient wisdom, thy lyrics were destined to out- 
live them all. That though the epics of Variits might be 
lost, or the decades of Livt desiderated, remotest posterity 
would possess thee (like the stout of Barclay and Perkins) 
" entire" — would enjoy tliy book, undocked of its due pro- 
portions, uncurtailed of a single page — would bask in the 
rays of thy gexitts, unshorn of a single beam. As often as 
the collected works of other classic worthies arc ushered 
into the world, the melancholy appendage on the title-page of 

" Omnia gueB extant " 

is sure to meet our eye, reminding us, m toe very announce- 
ment of the feast of intellect, tliat there is an omari aliquid s 
viz., that mucheutertaiuiug matter has irretrievably perished. 

376 rATnEK phout's eeliques. 

The torso of tlie Belvidere is, perhaps, as far as it goes, supe- 
riofto the Apollo; but the latter ia a complete statue: a Green- 
wich pensioner with a wooden leg is though a respectable 
only a truncated copy of humanity. Thy MSS. have come 
down to us unmutilated by the pumice-stone of palimpsestie 
monk, unsinged by the torch of Calif" Omar, ungnawed by 
the tooth of Time* The perfect preservation of thy writings 
is only equalled by the universality of their diffusion — a 
point especially dwelt on in that joyously geographic rhapsody 
of a prophetic soul (lib. ii. ode 20), wherein thou pourest 
forth thy full anticipation of oecumenic glory. If thou canst 
hardly be said still to haunt the " shores of the Bosphorus," 
take '' Oxfokd" as a literal substitute : though disappointed 
of fame among the " remote Geloni," thou hast an equiva- 
lent in the million schoolbo3"s of South America. Should 
the " learned Iberian" chance to neglect thee amid the 
disasters of his country, hanging up thy forsaken lyre on the 
willows of the Guadalquiver — should they " who drink the 
Ehone" divide their affections between (thy brother bard) 
B^ranger and thee, thou mayest still count among " the 
Dacians** of the Danube admirers and commentators. Thou 
hast unlooked-for votaries on the Hudson and the St. Law- 
rence ; and though Burns may triumph on the Tweed, Tom 
Moore can never prevent thee from being pai'amount on the 
Shannon, nor Tom D'Urfey evict thee from supremacy on the 
Thames. In accordance with thy fondest aspiration, thou 
hast been pointed out as the " prime performer on the l\o- 
man lyre," by successive centvu'ies as they passed away 
(dir/ito prcctereimfiuDi) : the dry skeleton of bygone criticism 
hung up in our libraries, so designates thee with its bony 
index : to thee, PmjS'ce oe Lyric Poets ! is still directed 
in these latter days, albeit with occasional aberrations (for 
even the magnetic needle varies under certain influences), 
the ever-reverting finger of Fame. 

Here, then, I say, is a health to Horace ! Though the 
last cheerful drop in my vesper-bowl to-night be Avell-nigli 
drained, and the increasing feebleness of age i-eminds me 
too plainly that the waters are ebbing fast in my Clepsydrii 
of life, still have I a blessing in reserve — abenisontobestow 
on the provider of such intellectual enjoyment as yon smali 
volume has ever afforded me ; nor to the last shall I dia- 


continue liolding sweet converse, tlu-ough its medium, with 
the Geaces and the jSTixe. 

Ou Tai/ffo/jia/ rag yj/.oi-ac, 
MovGaiGi G-jy-KaTWiyyoi 
Hdiffrav cvZ^vytuv. 

In the brief biographic memoir left us by Suetonius, we 
read that the emperor was in the habit of comparing tlie 
poet's book, and the poet himself, to a flagox — cum circui- 
tits voluminis sit oy/.'MhiG-arog, sicut est veiitriculi tui. "V arious 
and multiform are the -\-itrified vases and terracotta jars dug 
up at Pompeii, and elsewhere, with evidence of having served 
as depositories for Eoman sack ; but the peculiar Horatiau 
shape alluded to by Augustus has not been fixed on by an- 
tiquaries. The Florentine academy Delia Crusca, whose opin- 
ion on this point ought to obtain iiniversal attention, have 
considered themselves authoi-ised, from the passage in Sue- 
tonius, to trace (as they have done, in their valuable vo- 
cabulary) the modern words, /?«ccone,/asco (whence oMrflask) 
to Q. Horat. Feaccvs. The origin of the English term 
bumiier, it is fair to add, has been, with equal sagacity, brought 
home by Joe MUler to our " Ion ^jt/r," the pope. But 
commend me to tlie German commentators for transcendental 
ingenuity in classical criticism. Xeed I more than instance 
the judicious Milcherlick's liint, that the bii-th of our poet 
must have presented a clear case of liisus natures; since, in 
liis ode Ad Jmjjhoram (xxi. lib. iii.), we have, from his own 
lips, the portentous fact of his having come into the world 
" in company with a bottle," vmder the considship of Man- 
lius? Should the fact of his having had a twin-brother of 
tliat description be substantiated, on historical and obstetric 
]n'inciples, we shall cease, of course, to wonder at the simi- 
litude discovered by the emperor. Byron maintains, thougli 
without any data whatever to warrant his assertion, that 
"H vrpiXESS was born a twin" (Juan, canto ii. st. 172); 
the case was, perhaps, like that imagined by Mijcherlick. 

]\Iy own theory on the subject is not, as yet, sufHciently 
matiu'ed to lay it before the learned of Europe ; but from 
the natural juxtaposition of the two congenial objects now 
iefore me, and the more than chemical ailluity \Aith which 


I find tliG contents of the Elzevir to blend in liarmoniou? 
mixture with those of the jug, I should feel quite safe iu 
predicating (if sprightliness, vigour, and versatility consti- 
tute sufficiently fraternal features) that the '• spirit in the 
leaves" is brother to the "bottle imp." 

"jUterius sic, 
Altera poscit opcm res ct conjurat amice." 
ylrt. Poet. 410. 

The recondite philosophy of the common expression, 
" A>'niAL Spieits," has not, that I am aware of, been tho- 
roughly investigated, or its import fully developed, by mo- 
dern metaphysicians. How animal matter may become so 
impregnated, or, to use the school term, " compenetrated," 
by a spiritual essence, as to lose its substantive nature and 
become a mere adjective, or modification of the all-absorbing 
rrvi-jij.a, is a "rub" fit to puzzle Hamlet. In my Lord 
Brougham's Natural Theolofiy, Avhich gives the solution of 
every kno^vn question, this difiiculty is unaccountably ne- 
glected. There is not a single word about animated alcohol. 
An ingenious doubt was expressed by some great thinker 
— Jack Eeeve, or Doctor Person— after a protracted sitting, 
whether, legally, the landlord could remove him off the pre- 
mises without a " permit." That was genuine metaphysics, 
far above all Kant's rubbish. How are we, in fact, to draw 
the distinction ? Is there to be one law for a living vessel, 
and another for an inert jar ? May not the ingredients that 
go to fill theni be the same ? the quantity identical in both 
recipients ? AVhy, then, should not the Excise anxiously 
track the footsteps of so many walking gallons of X X X. 
with the same maternal solicitude she manifests in watching 
the progress and removal of spirit in earthenware ? This 
common-sense view of the matter was long ago taken up by 
Don Quixote, when, acting on the suggestion of calm logic, 
he gave battle to certain goat-skins, distended with the re- 
cent vintage of Yaldcpenas. Cervantes may sneer, but the 
onslaught does not aj^pear to me irrational. AVas the knight 
to wait till the same juice should offer itself under the form 
and colour of blood, to be shed from the bodies of bloated 
buffoons in buckram ? Clearly not ! 

But to return. If by animal snitiTS be meant that 


"state of buoyancy and elevation in wliicli the opaque cor- 
poreal essence is lost in the frolicsome play of the fancy, 
and evaporates in ethereal sallies, a collateral and parallel 
process takes place vrheu the imaginative and rarified facul- 
ties of mind are, as it were, condensed so as to give a preci- 
pitate, and form a distinct portion of visible and tangible 
matter. Yon Elzevir is a case in point. In the small com- 
pass of a duodecimo we hold and manipulate the concen- 
trated feelings and follies, the " quips and cranks," the wit 
and wisdom, of a period never equalled in the history of 
mankind : the current conversational tones and topics are 
made familiar to us, though the interlocutors have long since 
mouldered in the grave. The true rALEE?s'iA:N' wine ripens 
no more on the accustomed slope ; the roRMTA>'i cqlles 
are now barren and unprofitable ; but, owing to the above- 
mentioned process, we can still relish their bouquet in the 
odes of Horace : we can find the genuine smack of the Cajcu- 
ban grape in the efi'usions it inspired. 

I recollect Tom Moore once talking to me, after dinner, 
of Campbell's Exile of Erin, and remarking, in his ordinary 
concetto style, that the sorrows of Ireland were in that elegv 
CRYSTALLiSED and made immortal. Tommy was right ; and 
he may be proud of having done something in that way him- 
self: for when the fashion of drinking '' gooseberry cham- 
pagne" shall have passed away, future ages will be able to 
form a notion of that once celebrated beverage from the 
perusal of his poetry. There it is, crystallised for posterity. 

Horace presents us, in his person, Avith an accomplished 
specimen of the bon vivant ; such as that agreeable variety 
of the human species was understood by antiquity. Cheei'- 
fulness and wit, conjointly with worldly wisdom, generally 
insure a long, jolly, and prosperous career to their possessor. 

I just now advertf-d to the good luck which has secured 
his wrifiiif/s against accident : his pei'sonal preservation 
through what Mathews would tenn the " wicissitudes and 
waccinations" of life, a])pears to have been, from his own 
account, fully as miraculous. A somewhat profane Trencli 
proverb asserts, qiCil y a une Providence ponr (es ivrofjnes ; 
but whatever celestial surveillance watches over the ziszajr 

• Till o r» 

progi'css ot a drunkard — wliatever privilege may be pleaded 
by the plenipotentiary of Bacchus, poetry would seem, in 


his case, to Lave liad peculiar prerogatives. Sleeping in big 
cliildhood on some mountain-top of Apiilia, pigeons covered 
him with leaves, that no "bears" or "snakes" might get at 
him (lib. iii. ode iv.) ; a circumstance of some importance to 
infant genius, which, alas ! cannot ahva^'s escape the " hug" 
of the one or the " sting" of the other. Again, at the battle 
of Philippi, he tells us how he had well nigh perished, had 
uot Mercuey snatched him up from the very thick of the 
melee, fully aware of his value, and unwilling to let him run 
the risk to which vulgar chaii' u canon is exposed. Subse- 
quently, while walking over his groimds at the Sabine farm, 
the falling trunk of an old tree was within an ace of knock- 
ing out his brains, had not Fauk, whom he describes as the 
guardian-angel of mercurial men — mercurialium custos viro- 
rum — interposed at the critical moment. To Mercury he 
has dedicated many a graceful hymn : more than one modern 
poet might safely acknowledge certain obligations to the 
same quarter. But all are not so communicative as Horace 
of their personal adventures. 

"What he states in his bantering epistle to Jidius Florius 
cannot be true ; viz., that poverty made a poet of him : 

" Pauper/as impuUt andax 
Ut versus facerem." — Ep. ii. 2, 51. 

On the contrary, far from offering any symptoms of jejune 
inspiration or garret otigin, his clfusions bear testimony to 
the pleasant mood of mind in which they were poured forth, 
and are redolent of the joyousncss of happy and convivial 
hours. Boileaii, a capital judge, maintains, that the jovial 
exhilaration pervading all his poetry betrays the vinous 
influence imder which he wrote — 

" Horace a lu son saoul quand il voit les 3Ienades :" 

an observation previously made by a rival satirist of Eome — 

" Satur est cum elicit Iloratius OHE !" 

Hints of this kind are sometimes hazarded in rel'erence to 
very grave writers, but, in tlie present instance, will be more 
readily believed than the assertion made by Plutarch, in his 
Su/iToff/ov, that the gloomy iEschylus " Avas habitually drunk 
when he wrote his tragedies." 


In adopting the poetical profession Horace but followed the 
bent of his nature : thus, lteics were the spontaneous pro- 
duce of his mind, as fables were of a kindred soul, the naif 
Lafdntaiue. " Vo'da mi eiguiee," said the latter one day 
to Madame de la Sahliere, in the gardens of Versailles ; " et 
moi,je suis itn eabliee." Let us take the official manifesto 
with which Horace opens the volume of his odes, and we 
shall be at once put in possession of his ^dews of human life, 
through all its varied vanities ; of which poetry is, after all, 
but one, and not the most ridiculous. 

" Mcccenas ! atavis edite regibus," &e. 

My 3?iiiEND and pateon, in -whose veins rminetli right royal blood, 

Give but to some the niPPODEOiiE, the car, the prancing stud, 

Clouds of Olympic dust — then mark what ecstasy of sovil 

Their bosom feels, as the rapt wheels glowing have grazed the goal. 

Talk not to them of diadem or sceptre, save the whip — • 

A branch of palm can raise them to the gods' companionship.' 

And there be some, my friend, for whom the crowd's applause is food. 
Who pine without the hoUow shout of Rome's mad midtitude ; 
Others, whose giant greediness whole provinces would drain — 
Their sole pursuit to gorge and glut huge granaries with grain. 

Yon homely hind, calmly resigned his narrow farm to plod. 
Seek not with Asia's wealth to wean from his paternal sod : 
Ye can't prevail ! no varnished tale that simple swain will urge, 
In gaUey built of Cypeus oak, to plough th' Egean surge. 

Your merchant-mariner, who sighs for fields and quiet home, 
While o'er the main the hurricane liowls round his path of foam, 
Will make, I trow, full many a vow, the deep for aye t' eschew. 
He lands — what then ? Pelf prompts again — his ship 's afloat anew ' 

Soft Leisure hath its votaries, whose bhss it is to bask 
In summer's ray the live-long day, quafBiig a mellow flask 
Under the green-wood tree, or where, but newly born as yet, 
Eeligion guards the cradle of the infant rivulet. 

Some love the camp, the hoi'seman's tramp, the clarion's voice ; agliasi 
Pale mothers licar the trumpeter, and loathe the murderous blast. 

Lo! under wint'ry skies his game the Hunter still piu'sues ; 
And, while his bonny bride with tears her lonely bed bedews, 


He for his antler'd foe looks out, or tracks tlie forest whence 
Broke the wild boar, whose dai-ing tusk levelled the fi-agilc fenco. 

Thee the pursuits of learning claim — a claim the gods allow ; 
Thine is the ivy coronal that decks the scholar's brow : 

!Me m the woods' deep sohtudes the Nymplis a chent count, 
The dancing Faux on the green lawn, the Naiad of the fount. 
For me her lute (sweet attribute !) let PoLTHTiixiA sweep ; 
For me, oh ! let the flageolet breathe from Ecteepe's lip ; 
Give but to me of poesy the Ivi-ic wreath, and then 
Th' immortal haUs of bhss won't hold a prouder denizen. 

His political creed is embodied in tlie succeeding ode ; and 
never did patriotism, combined (as it not always is) with 
sound sense, find nobler utterance than in the poet's address 
to the head of the government. The delicate ingenuity em- 
ployed in -working out his ultimate conclusion, the appa- 
rently natural progression from so simple a topic as the 
" state of the weather," even coupled as it may have been 
with an inundation of the Tiber, to that magnificent denoue- 
onent — the apotheosis of the emperor — has ever been de- 
servedly admired. 

Ode II. 

"Jam satis terris nivis at que dira; Grandanis," &c. 

Since JoTE decreed in storms to And, by tlie deluge dispossest 

vent Of glade and grove 

The winter of his discontent, Deers down the tide, with antler'd 
Thundering o'er Rome unpenitent crest, 

Witli red right hand, Aftrightcd drove. 

The flood-gates of the firmament. 

Have drenched the laud ! ^,x^ saw the ycUow Tiber, sped 

TeiTorhath seized the mindsof men, J^f ^ to his TusCAif fountain-head 

AVho deemed the days had come O erwhelm the_sacred and the dead 
- •' In one fell doom,. 

Vnien'PnoTErs led, up mount and '^""'^ Vesta's pOe in ruins spread, 
1 , ^ And j\ UMA s tomb, 


And verdant lawn, 

Of teeming ocean's darksome dcu Divaming of days that once had 

The monstrous spawn. been, 

He deemed that wild disastrous 

^lien Pteeha saw the ringdove's scene 

nest Might soothe his Ilia, injm'ed 

Hoi'boxu" a strange ujibidden guest, quoeu ! 



And comfort give her, 
Ilcckless though JoTE should inter- 

Uxorious river ! 

Our sons will ask, why men of Eomo 
Drew against kindred, friends, aud 

Swords that a Persian hecatomb 

Might best imbue — ■ 
Sons, by their fathers' feuds become 
JTecble and few ! 

AVhonl can oui* countiy call in aid? 
Vvlicre must the patriot's tow be 

paid ? 
With orisons shall vestal maid 

Fatigue the skies ? 
Or will not Vesta's frown upbi-aid 
Her votaries ? 

Augiu- Apollo ! shall we kneel 
To TUEE, and for our commonweal 
"With humbled consciousness ap- 

Oh, quell the storm ! 
Come, though a silver vapour veil 

Thy radiant form ! 

Wni VENrs from Momit Eetx 

And to our succour liie, with troop 
Of laughing Graces, and a group 
Of Cupids round her ? 

Or comest THOU with wild war- 

Dread Maes! ourrouxDEE? 

Whose voice so long bade peace 

avaunt ; 
Wliose war-dogs still for slauglitcr 

pant ; 
The tented field thy chosen haunt, 

Thy child the EoMAX, 

Fierce legioner, whose visage gauut 

Scowls on the foeman. 

Or hath young Heeites, Mali's 

Tb.e graceful guise and form put on 
Of thee, AtTGUSxrs ? and begun 

(Celestial stranger !) 
To wear the name which THOtr hast 
won — 

" C^sae's Atexgee ?" 

Blest be the days of thy sojourn. 
Distant the horn- when Eome shall 

The fatal siglit of thy return 

To Heaven again. 
Forced by a guilty age to spurn 
The haimts of men. 

Rather remain, beloved, adored. 
Since Rome, reliant on thy sword. 
To thee of Julius hath restored 

The rich reversion ; 
Raffle Assteia's hovermg horde. 

And smite the Peesiax ! 

It was fitting tL at early iu the series of his lyrics there 
should appear a record of his warm iBtimacy with tlie 
only Eoman poet of them all, whose genius could justly 
claim equal rank with his. It is honourable to the author 
of the ^neid that he feared not, iu the first instance, to in- 
troduce at the court of Augustus, Avhere his o\va. reputation 
•was already established, one who alone of all his contempo- 
raries could eventually dispute the laureateship, and divide 
the applause of the imperial circle, with himself. Yirgil, 
however, though he has carefully embalmed in his pastorab 
the names of Gallus, Asinius Pollio, Yarius, and Cinna ; nay, 


thougli he has -wrapt up in the a,mber of his verse such grubs 
as Bavius and Msevius, has never once alluded to Horace — 
at least, in that portion of his poems which has come down 
to us — while the lyrist commemoi'ates his gifted friend in 
more than a dozen instances. I should feel loath to attri- 
bute this apparently studied omission to any discreditable 
jealousy on the part of the Mantuan ; but it would have 
been better had he acted otherwise. Concerning the general 
tenor of the following outburst on the shores of the Adriatic, 
Avhile Virgil's galley simk below the horizon, it ^vill be seen, 
that his passionate attachment leads him into an invective 
against the shipping interest, which I do not seek to justify 


" Sic te diva potcns," <tc. 

May Love's ovm planet guide thee o'er the wave '. 
Brightly aloft 
Helen's star-brother's twinkluig, 
And -lEoLrs chaui aU his childi'en, save 
A west-wind soft 
Thy liquid pathway wrinkling, 
Galley ! to whom w-e trust, on thy parole, 
Oiu" Virgil, — mark 
Thou bear him in thy bosom 
Safe to the land of Greece j for lialf niv so^xl, 
O gallant bark ! 
Were lost if I should lose him. 

A breast of bronze full sm'e, and ribs of oak, 
Where his who fii'st 
Defied the tempest-demon : 
Dared in a fragile skiff the blast provoke, 
And boldly biu'st 
Forth on the deep a Seaman ! 
Wliom no conflicting hurricanes could dauivt, 
Nor BOEEAS chill, 
Nor weeping IIyaus sadden, 
E'en on yon gulf, whose lord, the loud Levai>- 
Can calm at will. 
Or to wild frenzy madden. 

Wliat dismal form must Death put on for liirr 
Wliose cold eye mocks 
The dark deep's huge indwellers ! 
Who calm athwart the billows sees the griia 
Ceeauxian I'ocks, 
Of wail and woe tale-tellers ! — 


Though Providence poured out its ocean-flood, 
Whose bi'oad expanse 
Might land from land dissever, 
Caree.'iug o'er tlie waters, Man withstood 
Jove's ordinance 
"With impious endeavotu*. 

The human breast, with bold aspirings fraught. 
Throbs thus unawed, 
Untamed, and unquiescent, 
Fhe from the skies a son of Japhet brought, 
And, fatal fraud ! 
Made earth a guilty present. 
Scarcewas the spark snatch'd from the bright abode, 
When round us straight 
A ghastly phalanx thickened, 
Fever and Patsy ; and grim Death, who strode 
With tardy gait 
Par off, — his coming quickened ! 

Wafted on daring art's fictitious plume 
The Cretan rose, 
And waved his wizard pinions ; 
Downwards Alcides pierced the realms of gloom. 
Where darkly flows 
Styx, through the dead's dominions. 
Kaught is beyond our reach, beyond olu* scope, 
And heaven's high laws 
Still fail to keep us under ; 
How can our unreposing mahce hope 
Respite or pause 
From Jove's avenging thunder ? 

The tone of tender melanclioly whicli pervades all bis 
dreams of earthly happiness — the constant allusions to Death, 
Avhich startle ua in his gayest and apparently most careless 
strains, is a very distinguishing feature of the poet's mind. 
There is something here beyond what appears on the sur- 
face. The skull so ostentatiously displayed at the banquets 
of Egypt had its mystery. 

Ode IV. 

" Solvitur acris hyems." 

Ifow Winter melts beneath Solvitur acris hiems 

Spring's getiial breath, Grata vice 

And Zephyr Veris et Favoni ; 

C C 



Back to the water yields 
The stranded bark — back to the fields 
The stabled heifer — 
And tlie gay rural scene 
'I'lie shepherd's foot can wean, 
FortJi from his homely hearth, to tread 
the meadows green. 

Now Venus loves to group 
Her merry troop 
Of maidens, 
Wlio, while the moon peeps out, 
Dance with the Graces round about 
Their queen in cadence ; 
WJiile far, 'mid fire and noise, 
Vulcan his forge employs. 
Where Cyclops grim aloft thcu' ponderou£ 
sledges poise. 

jS'ow maids, with myrtle-bough, 
Garland their brow — 
Each forehead 
Shining with flow'rets deck'd ; 
"While the glad earth, by frost imchcck'd, 
Buds out all florid ; — 
ISTow let tlie knife devote, 
In some still grove remote, 
A victim-lamb to Faun ; or, should he 
list, a goat. 

Death, with impartial foot, 
Enocks at the hut ; 
The lowly 
As the most princely gate. 
O favoured friend ! on life's brief date 
To count were folly ; 
Soon sliall, in vapours dark. 
Quenched be thy vital spark, 
And thou, a silent ghost, for Pluto's land 
embai'k ? 

Wliere at no gay repast. 
By dice's east 
King chosen, 
AVine-laws shalt tliou enforce. 
But weep o'er joy and love's warm soiu'cc 
For ever frozen ; 
And tender Lydia lost. 
Of all the town the toast. 
Who then, when thou art gone, will lire 
all bosoms most ! 

Trahuntquo siccas 
Machinse carinas ; 

Ac necque jam stabuiis 
Gaudet pecus, 
Aut arator igni ; 

Xec prata canis 
Albicant pruinis. 

Jam Cj'therea chores 
Ducit Venus, 

Imminente Luna ; 
Juncta^que Nymphis 

Gratia; decentes 
Alterno terrain 

Quatiunt pede. 

Bum graves CyclopuiU 
Vulcanus ardens 

Urit otficinas. 

Tumc decet aut viridi 
Nitidr.T; caput 

Tmpedire myrto, 
Aut flore, terra; 

Qucm feri'.r.t soluta;. 
Xunc et in umbrosis 
Faiuio decet 

Tnimolare lucis, 
Sen poscat, agua, 

Sive maht, licedo. 

Pallida mors sequo 
Pulsat pede 

Paupcrum tabernas, 
Ecgumque tm-res. 

bcate Sesti, 
Vita; sunnna brevis 
Spcm nos vetat 

Inchoare longam. 
Jam (e premct nox, 

Fabulaeque Manes. 

Et domus exilis 
Plutonia : 

Quo simul mearis, 
Ifec rcgna vini 

Sortiere talis ; 
Nee teneram Lydiam 

Qua calet juventufl 
Xunc onmis, et tunc 

Mil ''is incalebit. 


In the following lines to Pyrrlia we have set before us a 
Tioman lady's boudoii', sketched a la Watteau. 3'^emale 
fickleness was, among the Greeks, a subject deemed inex- 
haustible. Horace has contrived to say much thereanent 
tliroughout his volume ; but the matter seems to be as fresh 
as ever among the moderns. — It has, no doubt, given great 
edification to Mr. Poynder to observe that the pagan practice 
alluded to, towards the closing verses, of hanging up what is 
called an " ex voto" in the temples, still prevails along the 
shores of the Mediterranean. For that matter, any Cock- 
ney, by proceeding only as far as Boulogne sur Mer, may 
find evidence of this classic heathenism in full vogue among 
the GaUic fishermen. 

Ode V. — ptkeha's incoksta:n'Cy. 

" Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosu." 

Pyrrha, who now, mayhap, Quis multa gracilis 

Pours on thy perfumed lap, To puor in rosa. 

Withi'osy wreatli, fairyouth,liisfondaddresses ! Pei-fusus liquidis 
Within thy charming grot, Urget odoribus 

For whom, in gay love-knot, Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro? 

Playfully dost thou bmd thy yellow tresses ? Cuifhivamreligas comani. 

So simple in thy neatness ! Simplex munditiis ? 

Alas ! tliat so much sweetness Heu ! quotios fidcm 

Should prelude prove to disillusion painful! Mutatosque Deos 

He shall bewaU too late Flebit, et aspera 

His sadly altered fate, Nigris fequora ventis 

Chilled by thy mien, repellent and disdainful, Emirabitur insolens, 

Who now, to fondness prone, Qui nunc te fi'uitur 

Deeming thee aU his own, Credulus am-etl ; 

Revels in golden dreams of favours boimdless ; Qui semper vacuam. 
So bright thy beauty glows, Semper amabilem 

Still fascinating those Sperat, nescius ain-oc 

Wlio've yet to learn all trust in thee is ground- Fallacis ! Miseri, qui bus. 

I the false light forswear, Intentata nites ! 

A shipwreck'd mariner, ]Mo tabida sacer 

Vvlio hangs the painted story of his suffering Yotiva paries 

Aloft o'er Neptune's slu'ine ; Indicat uvida 

There shall I hang up mine, Suspeudisse potent i 

And of my dripping robes the votive offering ! Yestimenta maris Deo. 

The naval rencontres off Actium, Lepanto, and Trafalgar, 

c c 2 


offer in European liistory three gigantic " water-marks," such 
as no three battle-plains asliore can readily fiu'nish : but the 
-/ery magnitude of each maritime event has probably de- 
terred shrewd poets from grappling with what they despaired 
to board successfully. Our Dibdin's dithyrauibiCj 

^"Twas in Trafajgnr bay 
We saw the Frenchman lay" <^-e., 

as well as the Venetian barcarola, 

" Cantiam tutti alleyramenie," £fc.,* 

were, no doubt, good enough for the watermen of the 
Thames, and the gondoliers of the Gulf. But wlien the 
lioman admiral begged from Horace an ode, emhlazouiug 
the defeat of the combiued fleets of Antony and Cleopatra, 
it- required much tact and ability to eschew the perilous 
attempt. Tlie following effort shows how he got out of 
rhe scrape. The only parallel instance of clever avoidance 
we remember, occurred when the great Conde offered a 
thousand ducats for the best poem on his campaign of 
llocroi. A Gascon carried the prize by this audaciona 
outburst : 

" Pour celebrer taut cle liauts faits, 
Tant de combats, et taut de gloirc, 
Mille ecus ! Parblcu ! Mille ecus ? 
Ce n'est qu'un sou par vit-toirc." 

Ode YI. 

" Scribcris Vario," &c. 

Agi'ippa ! seek a loftier bard ; nor ask 

llorace to twine in songs 
Tlie double wrcatii, due to a victor's casque 
JTrom land and ocean : such Homeric task 

To Varius belongs. 

Our lowly lyre no fitting music hath, 

And in despair dismisses 
The epic si)lendours of " Achilles' wrath," 
Or tiie "dread line of Pelops," or the "path 

Of billow-borne Ulysses." 

* See " Songs of Italy," apud nos. — O. Y 


The record of the deeds at Actium wrought 

So far transcends our talent — 
Vain were tlie wish ! wild the presumptuous thought ! 
To sing how Cresar, how Agrippa, fought — 

Both foremost 'mid the gallant ! 

The God of War in adamantine mail ; 

Merion, gamit and grim ; 
Pallas in aid ; while Troy's hattalions quail, 
Scared by the lance of Diomed . . . must fail 

To figure in oiu* hymn. 

Om"s is the banquet-song's light-hearted strain, 

Roses our only laui'cl, 
The progress of a love-suit om' campaign, 
Om" only scars the gashes that remain 

When romping lovers quarrel. 

Deprecating the mania for foreign residence, wliicli hur- 
ried off" then (as it does now) estimable citizens from a far 
more reputable sojourn in their native country-villas, the 
])oet exhorts Plancus to give up his project of retiring into 
Greece (from the displeasure of Augustus), to continue in 
the service of the state, and, above all, to stick to the 

Ode A^II. — to muxatius plancts. 

" Laudabunt ahi claram Rhodon." 

Eliodes, Ephesus, or Mitylene, Plancus ! do blasts for ever swce]> 

Or Thessaly's fan- valley, Athwart the welkin rancoured ? 

Or Corinth, placed two gulfs atween, Friend ! do the clouds for ever 

Delphi, or Thebes, suggest the scene weep ? — 

Where some would choose to Then cheer thee ! and thy sorro^rs 

dally ; deep 

Others in praise of Athens launch, Drown in a flowing taniard : 

And poets lyric Whether "the camp! the field ! tlia 

Grace, with Minerva's olive-branch sword !" 

Their panegyric. Be still thy motto, 

To Juno's city some would roam- ^'' ^-^'i^T u "'T '''1'° '^''""'^ 

Argos-of steeds productive ; ^ sheltered grotto. 

In rich MycenoD make theu- home, When Teucer from his fathers 

Or find Larissa plcasantsome, frown 

Or Sparta deem seductive ; For exile jKirli'd, 

Mo Tibm-'s grove charms moi'e Wreathing his brow with poplur- 

than all crown. 

The brook's bright bosom, In Mine he bade his comradco 

And o'er loud Aiiio's waterfall drowu 

Fruit-trees in blossom. Their woes h'ght-beartcd ; 


PAXnEK peotjt's eeliques. 

And thus he cl•ied,^Yllate'er betide, 
Hope shall not leave me : 

The homo a father hath denied 
Let Fortune give me ! 

Who doubts or dreads if Teacer 
lead ? 
Hath not Apollo 

A ne\r-found Salamis decree:!, 
Old Fatherland shall supersede? 

Then fearless follow. 
Ye who could bear ten years jo;> 
Of toil and slaughter, 
Drink ! for oiu* sail to-morrow'sgal? 
Wafts o'er the water. 

The old time of " Peas upon a treiiclicr" has been adapted 
to "The time I've lost in wooing," by Tom Moore. Mr. 
Cazales, of the Assemhiee Nutionale, lias given a French 
version of the immortal original. Ex yr. : 

" Gaicon, apportez moi, nioi, 

Des pois, dcs pet is pois, pois : 
Ah, quel plaisir ! quand je les vois 

Terts, siu' leur plat de bois, bois," &c. &c. 

I hope there is no profanation in arranging an ode of Horace 
to the same f;\scinating tune. — The diary of a Eoman man 
of fashion can be easily made np from the elements of daily 
occupation, supplied by the following : 

Ode YIII. 

■ Lydia, die per omnes," &c. 

Enclianthig Lydia ! prithee, 
By all the gods that see thee, 

Pray tell me this : Must Sybaris 
Perish, enamoured with thee ? 
Lo ! wrapt as in a trance, ho 
AVhosc liardy youtli could fancy 

Eacli manly feat, dreads dust and heat, 
All through tliy necromancy I 

Wliy rides he never, tell us, 

Accoutred like liis follows, 
For curb and whip, and horsemanship, 

And martial bearing zealous ? 

^Yhy hangs he back, demui-reut 

To breast the Tiber's current, 
From wrestlers' oil, as from tlie coil 

Of poisonous snake, abliorrent ? 

No more with iron rigour 
Rude armour-marks disfigure 
His jiliant limbs, but languor iliiiis 
JJis eye and wastes his vigoiu-. 

Lydia, die per omnes 
Te Deos ore, 
Cur propcras amando, 
Perdere ? cur apricuiu 
Oderit campum, 
Pui'veris atque Solis ? 

Cur neque militaris 
Inter requales 
Equitat ? 
Gallica nee lupafis 
Temperat oi-a frrcnis ? 
Cur timet flavmn 
Tangere ? cur olivum. 

Sanguine viperino 
Cautius vitat ? 
Is'cque ja\n 
Livida je tat armi* 



Gone is (ho youtli's ambition 
To give the lance emission, 
Or hurl adroit the circling quoit 
Tn gallant competition. 

And his embowered retreat is 

Like where the Son of Thetis 
Lurked undivulged, while he indulged 

A mother's soft entreaties, 

Robed as a Grecian gii'l. 

Lest soldier-like apparel 
Might raise a flame, and his kindling frame 

Thi'ough the rauks of slaughter whirl. 

Brachia, SEepe disco, 
Ssepe trans finem 
Nobilis expedite ? 

Quid latet, ut marinre 
Fdium dicunt 
Sub lachi-ymosa Trojso 
Funera, ne virilis 
Cultus in csedem, ct 
Proriperet catervas. 

To relish the ninth ode, the reader must figure to himself 
the hunting-box of a young Eoman, some miles from Eome, 
with a distant view of the Mediterranean in front ; Mount 
.Soracte far off on the right ; a tall cypress grove on the 
left, hacked "by the ridge of Apennines. 

Ode IX. 

Vides ut alta stet nive candidum 
Socrate," &c. 


See how the winter blanches 

Soracte's giant brow ! 
Hear how the forest-branches 

Groan for the weight of snow ! 
While the fix'd ice impanels 
Itivers witliin theu* channels. 

Out with the frost ! expel her ! 

Pile up the fuel- block, 
And from thy hoary ceUai' 

Produce a Sabine crock : 
O Thaliarck ! remember 
It coimt a foiu-tli December. 

Give to the gods the guidance 
Of earth's arrangements. List ! 

The blasts at tlieir high biddanco 
From the vex'd deep desist, 

Xor 'mid tlie cypress riot ; 

<Vnd the old elms are quiet. 


Vedi tu di neve in copia 

II Sorai/e omai canuto 
Vedi come crollan gli alberi 

Sotto al peso ; e '1 gelo acute 
Come ai fiumi tra le sponde 
Fa indiu'ar le hquid' onde. 

Sciogli '1 freddo con man prodiga 
Rifornendo, O Taharco ! 

Lcgni al foco ; e piu del solito 
A spiUar non esser parco 

Da orccchiuto orcio Sabiuo, 

Di quattr' anni '1 pretto vino. 

Sien del resto i numi gli arbitri 
Ch' ore avran d' Austro c di Borea 

Abnttuto il fervid inipeto 
Per la vasta arena cquorca 

Ne i cipressi urto neniico 

Scuotera, ne 1' crno antico. 


Enjoy, without foreboding, Cio indagar fuggi sollccito 

Life as the moments run ; Clie avvenii* domaii dovra ; 

Away with Care corroding, Guigni a lucro il dl che reduca 

Youth of my soul ! nor shun La Fortuna a te dara 

Love, for whose smile tliou'rt suited; Ne sprezzar ne' tuoi fresc' anni 

And 'mid the dancers foot it. Le carole e dolci aifanni. 

WhQe youth's hour lasts, beguile it ; Sin che lunga da te regeto 
Follow the field, the camp, Sta cauuta eta importuna 

Each manly sport, till twilight Campi e piazze ti riveggano ; 

Brings on the resper-lamp ; E fidcle quando imbruna 

Then let tby loved one hsp her T' abbia 1' ora che ti appella 

Fond feeluigs in a whisper. A ronzar con la tua bella. 

Or in a nook hide furtive. Or' e caro quel sorridere 
Till by her laugh betrayed, Scopritor della fanciulla 

And drawn, with struggle sportive, Che in un angolo internandosi 
Forth from her ambuscade ; A celarsi si irastidla, 

Bracelet or ring th' offender Ed al liuto suo ritegno 

In forfeit sweet surrender ! Trar d' armilla o anello il pegno. 

The subsequent morceau is not given in the usual printed 
editions of our poet : even the MSS. omit it, except the 
Vatican Codex. 1 myself have no hesitation as to its genu- 
ineness, though Bums has saved me the trouble of translation. 

Ode X. 

" Yirent arundines." — " Green grow the raslies, O !" 

There's naught but care on every ban', Cwx corrodunt Urbem, Rus, 

In every hour that passes, O ! Et sapientuni ceUulas, 

What signifies (lie life of man, Kce vita vcUem frui plus* 

An' 'twere not for the lasses, O ! !Xi forct ob pucllulas — ■ 

Green grow the raslies, O ! Virent arundines ! 

Green grow the rashes, O 1 At me tenellulas 

The sweetest hours that e'er I spent, Ttedet horarum nisi quels 

Were spent amang the lasses, O ! Inter f'u puellulas 1 

The warly race may riches chase, Divilias avaro dem, 

And riches still may fiee them, O ! Insudet auri cunuilo. 

And when at last they catcli them fast, Qua:'rat quocumque modo rem. 
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O ! Inops abibit tumulo. 
Green grow the rashes, O ! Vu-ent arundines ! 

Green grow the rashes, O ! At me tenellulas 

The sweetest hours that e'erl spent, Tredet horarum nisi queis 

Were spent amang the lasses, O ! Inter fui pucllulas ! 

* Another MS. reads, " Nee viverem diutius," but tlie emphasis and 
accent on the final rhyme is thus impaired, tliough the idiom is improvod. 


Give me a canny hour at e'en, Cum Sol obscurat spieula, 

My arms about my deary, O ! Striugente, fit, amicula, 

Then warly cares and warly men Mi, brachio tunc niveo, 

May all gang tapsalteery, O ! Eerum dulcis oblivio ! 

Grreen grow the rashes, O ! Virent arundines ! 

Green grow the rashes, O ! At me tenellulas 

The sweetest hours that e'er I spent, Ttcdet horarum nisi queis 

Were spent amang the lasses, O ! Inter fui puellulas ! 

For ye sae douce ye sneer at this, Nam dices contra ? canum gres. ! 

Ye're naught but senseless asses, O ! An fait vir sagacior 
Tlie wisest man the warld e'er saw, Quam Solomon? autunquamrcx 
lie dearly loved the lasses, O ! In virgines salacior ? 

Green grow the rashes, O ! Virent arundines ! 

Green grow the rashes, O ! At me tenellulas 

The sweetest hours that e'er I spent, Ttedet horarum nisi queis 

Were spent amang the lasses, O ! Inter fui puellulas ! 

Dame Natm-e swears the lovely dears Quas cum de teiTse vasculo 

Her noblest wark, she classes, O ! Natura finxit bellulas, 

Her prentice han' she tried on man, Tentavit manum masculo 
And then she made the lasses, O ! Tonnavit tunc puellulas. 

Green grow the rashes, O ! Virent arundines ! 

Green grow the rashes, O ! At me tenellulas, 

The sweetest hours that e'er I spent, Tsedet horaruiii nisi queis 

Were spent amang the lasses, O ! Inter fui puellulas ! 



"'Horatium in quibusdam nolim interprctari." — QuiNCT. Instit. Or., i. 8. 

" The lyrical part of Horace can never be perfectly translated." 

Sam. Johnson opud I3osvraLL, vol. vii. p. 219. 

" Horacio es de todos los poetas latinos el mas deficil de manejar." 

Don Jaa^er de Buegos, p. 11. Madrid, 1820, 

" Horace crochette et furette tout le magasin des mots." 

Montaigne, Essais. 

" Prout's translations from Horace are \oo free and easy." 

Alhenaum, 9tk July, 1S3G. 

J"einaTOf/at \tyiiv, Q ANAPE2 A0HNA1O1, ^niGnQ r^toiv ronavrov, 
S7rti£av TTav-a aKoi'ai]T(, KoiraTi, kch fii) Trportprv rrpoAafi/Jai'trf. 

D INMOST , 4>i,\t;r. ITpwr. 

The sage Montaigne, a grave Caslillian, 
Old Dr. Jolmson, and Qiuuctilhan, 


Would say, a task, hx no means facile, 

Had fallen to him of "WatergrasshiU. 

May he, then, claim indulgence for liis 

Renewed attempt to render Horace ?. . . . 

As for your critic o' tli' Asinreum, 

We (Yorke), unrancoured, hope to see him 

Smoking yet many a pipe, an't please ye, 

With us at old Prout's " TEEE and easy." — O. Y. 

It is fully admitted at this time of day, that endurable 
translations, in any modern idiom, of the Greek and Eomau 
capl d'opera, are lamentably few. But if there be a paucity 
of successful attempts in prose, it must not surprise us that 
the candidates for renown in the poetical department 
should be still less fortunate in the efforts they have made 
to climb the saci'ed hill by catching at the skirts of some 
classic songster. The established and canonised authors of 
antiquity seem to view with no favourable eye these sur- 
reptitious endeavours to get at the summit-level of their 
glorious pre-eminence, and Horace in particular (as Maw- 
worm, or Mathews, would say) has positively resolved on 
" ivearing a Spenser." To the luckless and presumptuous 
wight who would fain follow him, in the ho^ie of catching 
at a fold of his impracticable jaclcct, he turns round and 
addi'esses, in his own peculiar Latin, the maxim which wc 
will content ourselves with giving in the French of Vol- 
taire : 

" Le uombre des elus au Parnasse est complet!" 

'■' The places are all taken, on the double-peaked mountain 
of Greek and Eoman poesy the mansions are all tenanted ; 
the classic Pegasus won't carry double ; there is not the 
slightest chance here : go elsewhere, friend, and seek out iu 
the regions of the north a Parnassus of your own." 

Whereupon we arc reminded of an anecdote of the Irish 
i^cbellion of 179S, when the German horse-auxiliaries were 
routed at Ballyuacoppul, in the county Wexford, by the 
bare-footed heroes of the pike and pitchfork. A victorious 
Patlander was busily engaged in a held pulling off the boots 
from a dead trooper, when another repealer, coming up, 
suggested the propriety of dividing the spoil — half a-pair 
being, in his opinion, a reasonable allowance for both. " AVby, 
then, neighbour," quietly observed the operator in reply. 


" can't you be aisy, and go and kill a Hessian yb?- yourself?''' 
By what process of induction this story occurred to us just 
now we cannot imagine; u-propos des hottes, most probably. 

Certain it is, tliat, to succeed, a translation must possess 
more or less intrinsic originality. Among us. Pope's 
Homer is, beyond all comj^ai-ison, the most successful per- 
formance of its kind ; not that it textually reproduces the 
Uiud — a task far more accurately accomplished by the maniac 
Cowper, in his unreadable version — but because the richly 
endowed mind of Pope himself pours out its own opulence 
in every line, and works the mineral ores of Greece with the 
abundant resources of English capital. 

Dryden's forcible and vigorous, but more frequently 
rollicking and titubaut, progress through the JEneid, may 
awhile arrest attention ; nay, ever and anon some bold pas- 
sage will excite our wondei', at the felicitous hardihood of 
"glorious John:" but it would be as wrong to call it Viii- 
GiL, as to take the slapdash plungings of a " wild goose at 
play " for the graceful and majestic motion of the Swan of 
Mantua gliding on the smooth surface of his native jMincio, 
under a luxuriant canopy of reeds. The Taoitus of Arthur 
Murphy is ?ioi the terse, significant, condensed, and deep- 
searching contemporary of Pliny ; no one would feel more 
puzzled than the Eoman to recognise his own semi-oi'acular 
style in the sonorous phraseology, the y««s<-Gibboniau 
period, the " long-impedimented march of oratorio pomp " 
with which the Cork man has encumbered him. And 
yet Murphy tacitly passes for a fit Eugliish representative of 
the acute annalist, the scientific analyser of imperial 
Home. Our Junius alone could have done justice to the 
iron Latinity of Tacitus. To translate the letters of old 
" Niniiinis umbra " into French or Italian, would be as hope- 
less an experiment as to try and Anglicise the ??c/i/'Lafon- 
taine, or make Metastasio talk his soft nonsense through the 
medium of our rugged gutturals. Plutarch was lucky enough 
to have found long ago, among the French, a kindred mind 
in old Amyot : the only drawback to which good fortune is, 
that your modern Gaul requires somebody to translate the 
translator. Abbe Delille has enriched his country with an 
admirable version of the Geor(jics ; but the same ornamenta. 
touches Avhich he used so successfully in embellishing Vir- 


gil, have rendered his translation of our Milton a model of 

No one reads Ossian no\v-a-days in England ; his poems 
lie neglected among us — " desolate " as the very " walls of 
Balclutha ;" yet in Italy, thanks to Cesarotti, " Fiugal " still 
brandishes his spear " like an icicle," and the stars continue 
" dimly to twinkle through thy form, ghost of the gallant 
Oscar!" The affair presents, in truth, a far more ornate 
and elaborate specimen of the bombast in the toscanafavella 
than it doth in the original Macpliersonic ; and Buonaparte, 
who confessedly modelled the style of his "proclamations " 
on the speeches of these mad Highlanders, derived all his 
phil-Ossianism from the work of Cesarotti. Of the Paradise 
Lost there happen to be a couple of excellent Italian versions 
(with the author of one, the exiled Guido Sorelli, we now 
and then crack a bottle at Offley's) ; and VEneide of Annibal 
Caro is nearly unexceptionable. Kabelais has met, in our 
Sir Thomas Urquhart, a congenial spirit; but ])ox Quixote 
has never been enabled to cross the Pyreuees, much less the 
ocean-boundaries of the peninsula. Nevertheless, it must 
be admitted that Westminster has lately sent, in Evans, a 
rival of the Avoful kniglit's chivahy to St. Sebastian. To 
return to the classics : when we have named Dr. Giftord's 
Juvenal, with the praiseworthj'- labours of Sotheby and Chap- 
)nan, we think we have exhausted the subject ; for it requires 
no conjurer to tell us that Tom Moore's Anacreon is sad 
rubbish, and that, in hundreds of similar cases, the tradot- 
torc differs from a traditore only by a syllable. 

On the theory, as well as the practice of translation, old 
I'rout seems to have bestowed considerable attention; 
though it would appear, at first, somewhat strange, that 
so eccentric and self-opiniated a genius as he evidently 
was, could stoop to the common drudgery of merely trans- 
ferring the thoughts of another from one idiom into a 
second or third — nay, occasionally, a fourth one (as in the 
case of " Les Bois de Blarney "), instead of pouring out on 
the world liis own ideas in a copious flood of original compo- 
sition. Why did he not indite a " poem " of his own ? write 
a treatise on political economy ? figure as a natural theolo- 
gian ? turn history iuto romance for the ladies ? or into au 
<ld almanack for the AV^higs ? "We believe the matter has 


been ali-eady explained by us ; but, lest there should be any 
mistake, we do not care how often we repeat the lather's 
favourite assertion, that, in these latter days, " oeiginalitt 
there can be none." The thing is not to be had. Disguise 
thyself as thou wilt, Plagiarism ! thou art still perceptible 
to the eye of the true bookworm ; and the silent process of 
reproduction in the world of ideas is not more demonstrable 
to the scientific inquirer than the progressive metempsy- 
chosis of matter itself, through all its variform molecules. 
As Horace has it : 

" Multa rcnascmitur qure jam cecidere." — Ep. ad Pison., 70. 

Or, to quote the more dii'ect evidence of honest old Chau- 
cer, who discovered the incontrovertible fact at the very 
peep-o'-day of modern literature : 

— " ©lit of oltte felt)!£g, as man saiftf), 
CTonuif) all tfiiQ urtoc rorn? from jjcte to gcarn; 

Slut! out of oltir toUiG, in gootl fattlir. 
Coiiuif) all iljis iiftoc scicure tijat mcnnc Icarn." 

Scarce is an ancient writer sunk into oblivion, or his 
works withdrawn from general perusal, when some literary 
Beau Tibbs starts upon town with the identical cast-ofi' in- 
tellectual wardrobe, albeit properly "refreshed" so as to 
puzzle any mortal eye, save that of a regularly educated Jew 
old-clothesman. Addison has hinted, somewhat obscurely, 
his belief in the practice here described, when (x'ecording his 
judgment allegorically) he says — 

" Soon as the shades of niglit prevail. 
The moon takes iip the wondrous tale." 

Should any one wish to see this truth further developed, let 
him purchase a book called The IVondrmis Tale of Alroy, by 
Benjamin Disraeli the Younker; of which, no doubt, a few 
copies remain on hand. 

So long ago as the seventy-second Olympiad, an ingenious 
writer of Greek songs had already intimated his knowledge 
of lliese goings-on in the literary circles, and of tlie brain- 
sucking system generally, Avhen he most truly (though enig- 
matically) represents tlie "black earth" drinking the rain- 
water, the trees pumping up the moisture of the soil, the 


Eiin inbaling the ocean vapours and vegetaljle juices, tlie 
moon living equally on suction — 

and so on, through a loner series of compotations and mutual 
hobnobbings, to tlie '^nd of the chapter. Most modern 
readers are satisfied with moonshine. 

Prout had too high a sense of honesty to affect original 
writing ; hence lie openly gave himself out as a simple trans- 
lator. " Non tneus hie sermo'^ was his constant avowal, and 
he sincerely pibied the numerous pretenders to inventive 
genius with whom the times abound. Smitten with the love 
of antique excellence, and absorbed in the contemplation of 
classic beauty, he turned with disdain from books of minor 
attraction, and had no relish save for the ever-enduring per- 
fections of the Greek and Roman muse. He delighted iu 
transferring these ancient thoughts to a rccdern vocabulary, 
and found solace and enjoyment iu the renewed repercussion 
of remote and bygone "old familiar" sounds. 

There is not, in the whole range of pagan mythology, a 
more graceful impersonation than that of the uyniph Echo 
— the disconsolate maiden, who pined away until nothing 
remained but the faculty of giving back the voice of her 
beloved. To the veteran enthusiast of Watergrasshill, little 
else was left in the decline of his age but a corresponding 
tendency to translate what in his youth he had admired ; 
though it must be added, that his echoes were sometimes 
like the one at Killarney, which, if asked, "How Jo ynn do, 
Paddy Blake?" will answer, " Pretty toell, I thank you .'" 


Regent Street, Ju/;/ 2Gt/i. 

Watergrasshill, liatf-past eleven. 

In the natural progress of things, and following the strict 
order of succession, I alight ou the tenth ode of book the 
first, whereof the title is " An Mercurium." This per- 
sonage, called by the Greeks Hernfes, or the inter-" prcti i." 
deserves particular notice at my hands in this place; foi-an- 


rnucti as, among the crowd of attributes ascribed to bim by 
pagau divines, and the vast multiplicity of occupations to 
Avliich he is represented as giving his attention (such as per- 
forming heavenly messages, teaching eloquence, guiding 
ghosts, presidiug over highways, patronising commerce and 
robbers), he originated, and may be supposed to preserve a 
lingering regard for, the art of translation. Conveyancing 
is a science divisible into many departments, over all which 
his influence, no doubt, extends : nor is it the least trouble- 
some province of all aptly to convey the meaning of a diffi- 
cult writer. With Okpheus, then, may it be allowable to 
address him on the threshold of a task like mine — 

K^wUl?/ /AO'j TLo/Mia, Ato; ayysXi, ■/,, r. X. 

Indeed Dean Swift, in his advice to poets, seems to be fully 
aware of the importance to be attached to the assistance 
of so useful and midtiform an agent, when he knowingly 
penned the following recipe for " the machinery''^ of an epic : 
" Take of deities, male and female, as many as you can 
use ; separate them into two equal parts, and keep Jupiter 
in the middle : let Juno set him in a ferment, and Yenus 
mollify him. Eemembei', on all occasions, to make use of 


The quantity of business necessarily transacted by him 
in his innumerable capacities, has furnished that profane 
scofter at all established creeds, Lucian, with matter of con- 
siderable merriment ; he going so far, in one of his dialogues, 
as to hint that, though young in appearance (according to 
what sculpture and painting have made of his outward sem- 
blance), he mvist fain be as old as Japhet in malice. This 
degenerate Grreek would seem to look on the god of wit, 
eloquence, commerce, and di])lomacy as a sort of pagan com- 
]')ound of Figaro, Eothschild, Dick Turpin, and Talleyrand. 
11/ would be naturally expected that our neighbours, the 
I'Vench, should have evinced, from the earliest times, an in- 
stinctive partiality for so lively an impersonation of their 
own endemic peculiarities ; and we therefore feel no surprise 
in finding that fact recorded by a holy father of the second 
century (Tertull. adv. Gnostic, cap. vii.), the same obser- 
vation occurring to Ca;sar in his Connnentaries, viz. " Galli 
ileum maxbne Mercurium coluut" (lib. iv.). lIUETj the illus- 

400 rATHEU rnoux's eeliques. 

trious bishop of Avrancbes, lias brought coDsiderable abilit}' 
to the ideutification of Mercury, or Ha-mes Trismegistus, 
with the Hebrew shepherd Moses ; and this, I confess, has 
been my own system, long ago adopted by me on the perusal 
of Father Kircher's CEdipus. 

The twisted serpents round his magical rod are but slight 
indications of his connexion with Egypt, compared to the 
coincidences which might be alleged, were it ad\asable to 
enter ou the inquiry ; and I merely allude to it here because 
Horace himself thinl\s proper, in the following ode, to call 
bis celestial patron a " nephew of Mount Atlas :" setting thus 
at rest the question of his African pedigree. This odd ex- 
])ression has been re-echoed by an Italian poet of celebrity 
in some sonorous lines : 

" Scendea talor degli iiiaurati scanui 
E risaliva alle stellanti rote, 
Araldo dagli Dei battendo i vanni 
D'Atlante il facondissimo nipote." 

"We are told by Apollodorus how the god, walking one 
day on the banks of the Nile, after the annual inundation 
bad ceased, and the river had lalleu back into its accustomed 
channel, found a dead tortoise lying ou its back, all the 
lleshy parts of wliich had been dried up by the action of the 
sun's rays, so intensely powerful in Egypt : but a few of the 
tougher libres remained ; upon toucliing -which the light- 
fingered deity found them to emit an agreeable tone. Eorth- 
with was conceived in his inventive brain the idea of a lute. 
Thus the laws of gravitation are reported to have suggested 
themselves to Newton, while pondering in his orchard of an 
afternoon, on seeing a ripe apple fall from its parent branch. 
The Corinthian capital was the result of a Greek girl having 
left her clothes-basket, covered over with a tile, on a plant 
of acanthus. The stea.m-e>'GIKE originated in observing 
the motion of the lid on a barber's kettle. Whatever grace- 
fulness and beauty may be found in the three first state- 
ments (and, surely, they are highly calculated to charm the 
fancy), the last, 1 fear (though leading to far more import- 
ant consequences than all the rest), offers but a meagre 
subject for painting or ])oetry. 

The Latin name of Mercury is derived, according to a 
tradition religiously preserved among those hereditary guar- 


dians of primitive ignorance, the schoolmasters, from the 
word merx, merchandise. I beg leave to submit (and I am 
borne out by an old MS. in the King's Library, Paris, 
marked b. 4>.), that, though the name of commercial com- 
modities may have been aptly taken from the god supposed 
to preside over their prosperous interchange, he himself was 
so called from his functions of messenger between earth and 
heaven, quasi medius cueiie>'s ; an origin of far higher im- 
port, and an allusion to far more sacred doctrines than are 
to be gathered from the ordinary ravings of pagan theology. 
Among the Greeks, he rejoiced in the equally significant 
title of Hermes, or, the "expounder of hidden things." 
And it would appear that he was as constantly put in 
requisition by his classic devotees of old, as St. Antonio 
of Padua is at the present day among the vetturini, and 
the vulgar generally throughout Italy. It is, however, a 
somewhat strange contradiction in the Greek system of 
divinity, that the god of locomotion and rapidity should 
also be the protector of fixtures, milestones, land marks, 
monumental erections, and of matters conveying the idea 
of permanence and stability. The well-known signet of 
Erasmus, which gave rise to sundry malicious imputations 
against that eminent priest, was a statue of the god in the 
shape of a terminus, -with the motto, '• cedo nulli ;" and 
every one knows what odium attached itself to the youth 
Alcibiades, when, in a mad frolic, he removed certain figures 
of this description, during a night of jollity, in the streets 
of Athens. The author of the Book of Proverbs gives a 
caution, which it were well for modern destructives to take 
to themselves, entering into the spirit that dictated that 
most sensible admonition (Prov. xxii. 28), "Eemove not 
the ancient landmarks which thy fathers have set :" " Ne 
transgrediaris terminos antiquos quos posuerunt i^atres iui." 

Ode X.— hym?t to mehcurt. 

" Mebctjei facimde Nepos Atlaijtis." 

Persuasive HenBcs ! Afric's son! Mercuri, facundenepos Atlantis, 

Who — scarce had lumian hfe begun — Qui feros cultus hominum ro- 
Amid our rude forefatliers shone centum 

With arts instructive, Yoce formasti catus, et decorse 
And man to new refinement won More pala;strse ! 

With grace seductive. 

S S 



Herald of Jove, and of his coui-t, 
The lyre's inventor and support, 
Genius ! that can at wlU resort 

To glorious cunning ; 
Both gods and men in fvu-tive sport 

And wit outrunning ! 

yoTJ, when a cliild the woods amid, 
Apollo's kine di'ew off and hid ; 
And when the god with menace bid 

The spoU dehver, 
Forced liim to smile— for, whilehechid, 

You stole liis quiver ! 

The night old Priam sorrowing went, 
With gold through many a Grecian 

And many a foeman's watchfii-e, bent 

To ransom Hector, 
In YOTJ he found a provident 

Guide and protector. 

Where bloom Elysium's groves be» 

Death's portals and the Stygian pond, 
You gmde the ghosts with golden 

Whose special charm is 
That Jove and Pluto both are fond 
Alike of Hermes ! 

So miicli for Mercury. Turn we bow to another feature 
in the planetary system. The rage for astrological pur- 
suits, and the belief in a secret influence exercised by 
the stars over the life and fortune of individuals, seems, 
at certain epochs of the world's history, to have seized on 
mankind like an epidemic ; but never was the mania so preva- 
lent as after the death of Julius Caesar. The influx of Asiatic 
luxury had been accompanied by the arrival at Eome of a num- 
ber of " wise men from the east," and considerable curiosity 
had been excited among all classes by the strange novelty of 
oriental traditions. Among these remnants of original reve- 
lation, the announcement of a forthcoming Conqueror, to be 
harbingered and ushered into the possession of empire by a 
mysterious star,* had fixed the attention of political intri- 

* Tb3 expressions of Propertius arc very remarkable : 
" Quteritis ct coelo rncENicrii ixvexta serene 
Qua sit Stella," &c. &c.— Lib. ii. 20, 60. 

Te canam, magni Jovis et De- 

Kuntium, curvseque lyrse paren- 

CaUidum, quidquid placuit, jo- 


Condere furto. 

Te, boves olini nisi reddidisses 
Per dolvmi amotas, puerum mi- 

Voce dum terret, viduus pharetra 
Kisit Apollo. 

Quui et Atridas, duce te, super- 
Iho dives Priamus reUcto, 
Thessalosque ignes et iniqua 

Castra fefeUit. 

Tu pias Isetis animas reponis 
Sedibus, vu'gaque levem coerces 
Aiu-ea turbam, superis Deorum 
Gratus et imis. 


guers as a fit engine for working on popular credulity ; and 
hence the partisans of young Octavius were constantly ring- 
ing the changes on " CiESAEis Astetjm" and " JuLiuM 
Sinus," until they had actually forced the populace into a 
strong faith in the existence of ■some celestial phenomenon 
connected with the imperial house of Caesar. Those who 
recollect, as I do, how famously Pastorini's Prophecies as- 
sisted the interests of Captain Eock and the Dynasty of 
Derrynane, will understand the nature of this sort of hum- 
bug, and will readily imagine how the mob of Rome was 
tutored by the augurs into a firm reliance on the inter- 
ference of heaven in the business. Buonaparte was too 
shrewd a student of human weaknesses, and had read history 
too carefully to overlook the tendency of the vulgar towards 
this belief in supernatural apparitions ; hence he got up an 
ignis fatuus of his own, which he called the " Soleil d'Aus- 
TERLITZ," and out of which he took a particular shine on 
more than one brilliant occasion. Many an old infidel gre- 
nadier was firmly persuaded, that, better than Joshua the 
.Tew, their leader could command the glorious disc to do his 
bidding ; and every battle-field, consequently, became a 
" valley of Ajalon," where they smote the sourcrout childi-en 
of Germany to their hearts' content. But we are wander- 
ing from the era of Augustus. By a very natural process, 
the belief in a ruling star, in connexion with the imperial 
family, expanded itself from that narrow centre into the 
broad circumference of every family in the empire ; and each 
individual began to fancy he might discover a small twink- 
ling shiner, of personal importance to himself, in the wide 
canopy of heaven. Great, in consequence, was the profit 
accruing to any cunning seer from the east, who might hap- 
pen to set up an observatory on some one of the scACn hills 
for the purpose of allotting to each lady and gentleman their 
own particular planet. Nostradamus, Cagliostro, Dr, Spurz- 
lieim, aud St. John Long, had long been anticipated by Eo- 
man practitioners ; aud ni the annals of roguery, as well as 
of literature and politics, there is nothing new under the sun. 
In Mr. Ainsworth's romance of the Admirable Crichfon 
(which he wisely submitted in embryo to my perusal), 
I cannot but commend the use he has made of the 
astTological practices so prevalent under the reign of 



Henry de Valois, and in the days of Catherine de Medicis ; in- 
deed, I scarcely know any of the so-called historical novels 
of this frivolous generation, -u-hich has altogether so graphi- 
cally reproduced the spirit and character of the times, as 
this dashing and daring portraiture of the young Scotchman 
in Paris and his contemporaries. 

The mistress of Horace, it would seem, had taken it into 
her head to go and consult these soothsayers from Chaldea 
as to the probable duration of the poet's life and her own — of 
course, fancying it needless to inquire as to the probability 
of their amours being quite commensurate with their earthly 
career ; a matter which circumstances, nevertheless, shoixld 
render somewhat problematical — whereupon her lover chides 
the propensity, in the following strain of tender and affec- 
tiouate remonstrance : 

Ode XI. — AD LEucoxoEif. 

Love, mine ! seek not to grope 
Through the dai-k ■windings of Chaldean witch- 

To learn your horoscope, 
Or mine, from vile adepts in fraud and treach- 

My Leuconoe I shun 
Those sons of Babylon. 

Far better 'twere to wait, 
Calmly resigned, the destined hour's matm-ity, 

Wlicther our hfe's brief date 
This -whiter close, or, tlirough a long futm-ity, 
For us the sea still roar 
On yon Tyrrenean shore. 

Tu ne quffisieris, 

Scu'e nefas, 
Quem mihi, quern tibi, 
Finem Di dedei'iut, 

Nee Babylonios 
Tentaris nmneros.— 
Ut mehus. 

Quidquid erit, pati, 
Scu piiu'cs hiemes, 
Seu tribuit 

Jupiter ultimam, 
Quffi nunc oppositis 

Pumicibus mare 
Tyrrhenum ! 

Sapias, vina Uques, 
Et spatio brcvi 

Spem longcm reseces. 
Dum loquimur, 
Fugerit iuvida 

.Stas. Cai'pe diem, 
Quam minimum 

Credula postero. 

lEorace has been often accused of plundering the Greeks, 

Let Wisdom fill the cup ; — 
Yain hopes of lengthened days and years feli- 

Folly may treasure up ; 
Ours be the day that passeth — unsoUcitous 

Of what the next may bring. 

Time flieth as we sing ! 


and of transferrino: entire odes from tlieir lansfuacre into 
Latin metres. The cliarge is perfectly borne out hj conclu- 
sive facts, and I shall have perhaps an opportunity of re- 
curring to the evidences, as afforded in the subsequent 
decades of this series. The opening of the following glori- 
ous dithyramb is clearly borrowed from the Avat,ipos>xiyyig 
'T/jlvoi of Pindar ; but I venture to say that there is not 
among the Songs of Horace a more truly Eoman, a more 
intensely national effusion, than this invocation of di\dne 
protection on the head of the government. The art of 
lyrical progression, the ars celare ctrtem, is nowhere prac- 
tised with gi'eater effect ; and the blending up of all the 
liistorical recollections most dear to the country with the 
prospects of the newly-established dynasty, the hopes of 
the young Marcellus, and the preservation of the emperor's 
life, is a masterstroke of the politico-poetical tactician. The 
very introduction of a word in honour of the republican 
Cato, by throwing the public off its guard, and by giving 
an air of independent boldness to the composition, admii'ably 
favours the object he has in view. A more august associa- 
tion of ideas, a bolder selection of images, is not to be found 
within the compass of any ode, ancient or modern — save, 
perhaps, in the canticle of Habakkuk, or in the " Persian 
feast" of Dryden. 


" Quern Tiniin aut heroa." 

Aria — " Sublime was the warning." 

Name Clio, the man ! or the god. . — for whose sake 
The lyre, or the clarion, loud echoes shall wake 

On thy favourite hill, or in Hehcon's grove ? . . . . 
Wlience forests have followed the wizard of Thi'ace, 
When rivers enraptm'ed suspended their race, 
When the ears were vouchsafed to the obdurate oak. 
And the blasts of mount Hsemus bowed down to the yckc 

Of the magical minestrel, grandson of Jove. 

First to Him raise the scng ! whose parental control 
Men and gods feel alike ; whom the waves, as they roll — 

Wliom the earth, and the stai's, and the seasons obey, 
Uuapproached in his godhead ; majestic alone, 
Though PaUas may stand on the steps of liis tin-one, 


Though huntress Diana may challenge a shrine, 
And worship be due to the god of the vine, 
And to archer Apollo, bright giver of day ! 

Shall we next sing Alcides ? or Leda's twin-lights — 
Him the Horseman, or him whom the Cestus dehghts P 

Both shining aloft, by the seaman adored ; 
(For he kens that then* rising the clouds can dispel, 
Dash the foam from the rock, and the hurricane quell.)— 
Of Romulus next shall the claim be allowed ? 
Of Numa the peaceful ? of Tarqum the jjroud ? 

Of Cato, whose fall hath ennobled his sword ? 

Shall Scaurus, shall Regulus fiiiitlessly crave 
Honour due ? shall the Consid, who jjrodigal gave 

His life-blood on Canute's disastrous plain ? — 
Camillus ? or he whom a kmg coidd not tempt ? 
Stern Poverty's diildreu, unfashioned, imkempt. — 
The fame of Marcellus grows yet in the shade, 
But tlie meteor of Julius beams over liis head. 

Like the moon that outshines all the stars in her train 1 

Great Deity, guardian of men ! unto whom 

We commend, in Augustus, the fortunes of Rome, 

Reign for ever ! but guard fiis subordinate throne. 
Be it his — of the Parthian each inroad to check ; 
Of the Indian, in triumph, to trample the neck ; 
To rule all the nations of earth ; — be it Jove's 
To exterminate gudt from the god's hallowed groves. 

Be the bolt and the chariot of thunder thine o\vn ! 

Next comes an ode in imitation of Sappho. "Who has not 
read that wondrous woman's eloquent outburst of ecstatic 
passion ? In all antiquity, no love-song obtained such cele- 
brity as that which has come down to us in the form of a 
fragment ; but though mauy attempts have been made to 
divest it of its Grecian envelope, and robe it in modern 
costume, I am soiTy for the sake of the ladies to be obliged 
to say, that it never can be presented in any other shape 
tlian what it wears in the splendid original. That is the 
more to be regretted, as, in a recent volume of very exqui- 
site poetry, Letitia Laudon has devoted six glowing pages* 
to the development of Sappho's supposed feelings. If kindred 
eloquence could be taken as a substitute, and if the delicate 
instinct of a lively and fervent female soul may be ima- 

* Pp. 115 — 121 of the T OJP </ the Peacock, and other Poems, ij 
L. E. L. 1 vol. small 8vo. Saiuidcrs and Ottlcy. 


gined fully capable of catching the very spirit of Greek in- 
spiration, then may it be permitted to apply the words of 
Horace occurring in another place : 

" Spii'at adhuo amor 
Vivuntqiie commissi calores 
Lcelitics fidibus puelloe." — Lib. ir. ode ix, 

Eut, returning to the ode before us, it is not my province 
to decide ^Yhether the jealousy vv'hich our poet here de- 
scribes was really felt, or only aifected for poetic purposes. 
Erom the notorious unsteadiness of his attachments, and the 
multitudinous list of his loves, including in the catalogue 
Lalage, Grlycera, Leuconoe, Nesera, Cloris, Pyrrha, Nerine, 
Lycc, Phidyle, Cynaris, &c. &c. (by the way, all Greek girls), 
I should greatly doubt the sincerity of his ardour for Lydia. 
It is only necessary, for the explanation of " dente labris 
notam^'' terminating the third stanza, in reference to Roman 
ideas of proper behaviour towards the ladies, to record what 
Flora says of her friend Pompey, in Plutarch's life of that 
illustrious general : — Mvjj/xoi'si/s/i/ r>j5 t^oj tov TloiJ.itiiov ofj^iXiag 
ug ou^ jji/ £xs/fw duvava'Traugafjbivi^v, AAHKTnS aTiXhiv. Por 
the right understanding of that singular phrase in the fourth 
stanza, the " quintessence," or fifth part, of nectae, be it 
remembered that the sweetness of the celestial beverage so 
called was supposed to be divided into ten parts, the tenth 
or tythe whereof constituted what men call /loneij : To [Xi'ki, 
tvvarov rr^g a/x/Ssoff/ag i-i^ioo?, quoth Ibicus. Prom which it is 
as plain as Cocker, that Love, being the fifth part, or *, 
gives a fractional sweetness of much higher power and 

Ode XIII. — THE poet's jealousy. 

*' Quum til, Lydia, Telephi 
Ccrvicem roseam," &c. 

Lydia, when you taimtingly Quum tu, Lydia, Telephi 
Talk of Telephus, praising him Cervicem roseam, 

For his beauty, vauntingly Cerea Telephi 

Far beyond me raising him, Laudasbraclua,vcc! meum 
His rosy neck, and arms of alabaster, Fervens diflicili 

My rage I scarce can master ! Bile tumor jecur. 


Pale and faint with dizziness, Time nee mens mihi, neo 

All my features presently color 

Paint my soul's uneasiness ; Cert a sede manet ; 

Tears, big tears, incessantly Humor et in genas 
Steal down my cheeks, and tell in what fierce Furtim labitur, argiiens 

fashion Quam lentis ]3enitu8 

My bosom bums with passion. Macerer ignibus. 

'Sdeath ! to trace the evidence Uror, seu tibi candidos 
Of your gay deceitfulness, Turparunt humeros 

Mid the cup's improvidence, Immodicce mero 

Mid the feast's forgetfulness, Kixte ; sive puer furcns 
To trace, whei'e lips and ivory shoulders pay Imj^ressit memorcui 
for it, Deute labris notam. 

The kiss of your young favourite ! 

Deem not vainly credidous, Non, si me satis nudias. 

Such wild transports durable, Speres perpetuum 

Or that fond and sedulous Dulcia barbare 

Love is thus procurable : Lsedentem oscula, quae 
Though Venus drench the kiss with her quin- Yenus 

tessence, Qainti parte sui 

Its nectar Time soon lessens. Nectaris imbuit. 

But where meet (thrice fortunate !) Felices ter, et amplius, 

Kindred hearts and suitable, Quos irrupta tenet 

Strife comes ne'er importunate, Copida ; ncc malis 

Love remains immutable ; Divulsus querimoniis 

On to the close they glide, mid scenes Elysian, Suprcma citius 

Through life's dcUghtful vision ! Solvct Amor die ! 

Qviinctilian (lib. Aaii. 6) gives the following address to 
the vessel of the state as a specimen of Avell- sustained alle- 
gory. It appears to have been written at the outbreak of 
the civil war between Octavius and Marc Antony, and of 
course, as all such compositions ought to do, explains itself. 
There is, liowever, a naval maua?uvre hinted at in st. ii. ad- 
mii'ably illustrative of a passage in tlie Acts of the Apostles 
(cap. xxvii. v. 17), vrhere the mariners are described by 
St. Luke as '•'' iindercjirdunj the ship" that carried Paul. 
Hopes, it appears, Avere let down, and drawn mider the keel 
of the vessel to keep all tight : this is what Horace indi- 
cates by sine funibus carina. I recommend the point to 
Captain Marryat, should he make St. Paul's shipwreck on 
the isle of Malta the subject of his next nautico-historical 



Ode XIV. — to the vessel of the state, ax allegoey. 


What fresh perdition lu-ges, 
Galley ! thy darksome track, 

Once more upon the surges ? 
Hie to the haven back ! 

Doth not the lightning show thee 

Thou hast got none to row thee ? 

Is not thy mainmast shattered ? 

Hath not the boisterous soutli 
Thy yards and rigging scattered ? 

In dishabille uncouth, 
How canst thou hope to weather 
The storms that round thee gather ? 

Kent are the sails that deck'd thee ; 

Deaf are thy gods become. 
Though summoned to protect thee, 

Though sued to save thee from 
The fate thou most abhorrest, 
Proud daughter of the forest ! 

Thy vanity would vaunt us, 
Yon richly pictured poop 

Pine-timbers from the Pontus ; 
Fear lest, in one fell swoop. 

Paint, pride, and pine-trees hollow, 

The scoffing whuipool swallow ! 

I've watched thee, sad and pensive, 
Source of my recent cares ! 

Oh, wisely apprehensive, 
Venture not unawares 

Where Greece spreads out her seas, 

Begemmed with Cyclades ! 

O navis, referent 
In mare te novi 
Fluctus ? O quid agia ? 
Fortiter occupa 
Portum. Konne vides ut 
Nudum remigio latus 

Et malus celeri 
Saucius Africo 
Antennseque gemant, 
Ac sine funibus 
Yis dui'are carinse 
Possmt imperiosius 

JEquor ? Kon tibi sunt 
Integra hntea, 
Kon Di quos iterum 
Pressa voces malo ; 
Quamvis Pontica pinus, 
Silvse flha nobilis, 

Jactes et genus et 
Komen inutile. 
Jsil pictis timidus 
Kavita puppibus 
Fidit. Tu, nisi ventis 
Debes ludibrium, cave. 

Xuper solhcitum 
Quse mihi ttedium, 
Nunc desiderium, 
Curaque non levis 
Intcrfusa nitentes 
Vites aequora Gycladas. 

The same " interei de circo}isfonce'" -which may have given 
piquancy to the alk^gory, possibly attached itself also to the 
following spirited lines. Antony and Cleopatra must have 
looked on the allusion to Paris and Helen as libellous in 
the extreme. Considered merely in the light of a political 
squib, the ode is capital; but it has higher merit as a 
finished lyric ; and Tom Campbell evidently found it in the 
form as well as substance of his popular and spirited effu- 

"Lochicl! Locliiel! beware of the day 
When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle-array." 


Ode XV. — the sEA-aoD's AVAE^•I^'G to paius. 
" Pastor cum tralieret," &c. 

As the Shepherd of Troy, waftuig over the deep 

Sad Perfidy's freightage, bore Helen along, 
Old Nereus uprose, hushed the breezes to sleep, 

And the secrets of doom thus revealed in his song. 

Ah ! homeward thou bringest, with omen of dread, 

One whom Greece will reclaim ! — for her miUions have swora. 

Not to rest tUl they tear the false bride from thy bed, 
Or tni Priam's old throne their revenge overturn. 

See the struggle ! how foam covers horsemen and steeds ! 

See thy Ilion consigned to the bloodiest of sieges ! 
Mark, arrayed in her helmet, Minerva, who speeds 

To prepare for the battle her car and her aegis ! 

Too fondly thou deemest that Venus will vouch 

For a life which thou spendest in trimming thy ciurls, 

Or, in tuning, reclined on an indolent couch, 
An effeminate lyre to an audience of gh-ls. 

Though awhile in voluptuous pastimi.* employed. 

Far away from tlie contest, the truant of lust 
May baffle the bowmen, and Ajax avoid. 

Thy adulterous ruiglets are doomed to the dust ! 

See'st thou him of Ithaca, scourge of thy race ? 

Gallant Teucer of Salamis ? Kcstor the wise ? 
How, ui'ging his car on thy cowardly trace, 

Swift Sthenelus poises his lauee as he flies ? 

Swift Sthenelus, Diomed's brave chai-ioteer. 

Accomplished in combat like Merion tlie Ci'ctan, 

Fierce, towering alol't see liis master appear. 

Of a breed tliat in battle has never been beaten. 

Whom thou, like a fawn, when a wolf in the valley 

The deUcate pastiu-e compels him to leave, 
Wnt fly, faint and breathless — tliough flight may not tally 

With all tliy beloved heard thee boast to achieve. 

Achilles, retired in his angry pavilion, ■* 

ShaU cause a short respite to Troy aud her games ; 

Yet a few winters more, and tlie turrets of Ilion 
Must sink mid the roar of retributive flames ! 

Horace first burst ou the to^^T^ as a satirist, and more 



than one fair dame must have had eause, like Tyndaris, to 
fall out with him. There is a graceful mixture of plajrful- 
ness and remonstrance in the following amende honorable, in 
which he dwells on the unseemly appearance of resentment 
and anger in the features of beauty. With reference to 
Stanza V., it would appear that the tragedy of Thyestes, by 
Varus, was at that moment in a successful run on the Eo- 
man boards. 

Ode XVI. — the satieist's eecajttation. 


Blest with a cliarming mother, yet, 
Thou still more fascinating daugh- 
Piythee my vUe lampoons forget — 
Give to the flames the libel — let 
The satii'e sink in Ach-ia's water ! 

Kot Cybele's most solemn riics, 
Cymbals of brass and spells of 
magic ; 

Apollo's priest, 'mid Delphic flights ; 

Or Bacchanal, 'mid fierce dehghts, 
Presents a scene more tragic 

Than Anger, when it rides the soul. 
Nor fire nor sword can then sm*- 
mount her, 
Nor the vex'd elements control. 
Though Jove himself, from pole to 
Thundering rush down to the en- 

Prometheus — forced to graft, of old, 

Upon our stock a foreign scion, 
Mix'd up — if we be truly told — 
With some brute particles, our 
mould — 
Anger he gatlicred from the lion. 

Anger destroyed Thyestes' race, 
O'erwhelmed liis house in ruin 
And many a lofty city's trace 
Caused a proud I'oeman to efface, 
Plougliuig the site with hostile 

O ! matre pulchri filia pulchrior, 
Quern criminosis 
Cimque voles modum 
Pones iambis ; sive flamma, 
Sive mari Ubet Hadriano. 

Non Dindymene, non adytis quatifr 
Mentem sacerdotum 
Incola Pythius, 
Non Liber seque, non acuta 
Sic gemmant Corybantes aera. 

Tristes ut irce : quas neque Noricus 
Deterret ensis. 
Nee mare naufragum, 
Nee ssevus ignis, nee tremendo 
Jupiter ipse ruens tumultu. 

Fertur Prometheus addere principi 
Limo coactus 
Particidam undique 
Desectam, et iusani leonis 
Vim stomacho apposuissa 

Irce Thyesten exitio gravi 
Stravere, et altis 
Urbibus ultima; 
Stetere causae cur perirent 
Fiuiditus, imprimeretque mu- 



Oh, be appeased ! 'twas rage, in sooth, 

First woke my song's satiric tenor j 
In wild and unreflecting youth, 
Anger inspu'cd the deed uncouth ; 

But, pardon that foul misdemean- 

Lady ! I swear — my recreant lays 

Henceforth to rectify and alter — 
To change my tones fi-om blame to 

Should yom' rekindling friendship 
The spii'its of a sad defaulter ! 

Here follows a hillet-doux, conveying to the same offended 
lady (whose wrath we must suppose to liave vanished on 
perusal of the foregoing) a gallant invitation to the rural 
mansion of our author. To perceive the difference between 
a bond fide invite and a mere moonshine proposal, it is only 
necessary to collate this with Tom Moore's 

" Will you come to the bower I have shaded for you ? 
Our bed shaU be roses all spangled with dew !" 

Hostile aratrum exercitus insolena 
Compesce mentem ; 
Me quoque pectoris 
Tentavit in dulci juventa 
Fervor, et in celeres iambos 

Misit fiu'cntem : nunc ego mitibus 
Mutare qusero tristia 
Dum mihi 
Fias recantatis amica 

Opprobriis, animumque red- 

Ode. XVII. — an invitation to Horace's villa. 


Oft for the hill wliero ranges 

My Sabine flock, 
Swift-footed Faun exchanges 
Arcadia's rock. 
And, tempering summer's ray, forbids 
Untoward ram to harm my kids. 

And there in happy vagrance, 

Roams the she-goat, 
Liu'ed bj' marital fragrance. 
Through dolls remote ; 
Of each wild herb and shrub partakes, 
Nor fears the coil of lurking snakes. 

No prowling wolves alarm her ; 

Safe from tlioir gri]ie 
While Faun, immortal charmer! 
Attunes his pipe, 
Aad down the vale aiul o'er the lulls 
Ustica's every echo fills. 

Velox amo3nuia 
Sffijie Lucretilem 
Mutat Lvctco 
Faunus, et igneam 
Defendit cestatem capeUis 
Usque meis pulviosque ventoe. 

Impuno tutum 
Per nemus arbutos 
Quoei'unt latentes 
Et thyma devia; 
Olcntis vixores mariti : 
Ncc viridcs metuunt colubras, 

Kcc martiales 
Haiduleaj lupos ; 
Utcunque dulci, 
TjMulari, fistula 
Vallcs, et Ustica; cubantis 
Levia personuere sasa. 



The Gods, their bard caressing, 

With kindness treat : 
They've fill'd my house with blessing- 
My country-seat, 
Wliere Plenty voids her loaded horn, 
Fair Tyndaris, pray come adorn ! 

From Sirius in the zenith. 
From summer's glare. 
Come, where the valley screeneth, 
Come, warble there 
Songs of the hero, for whose love 
Penelope and Circe strove. 

Nor shaU the cup be wanting, 

So harmless then, 
To grace that hour enchanting 
In shady glen. 
Nor shall the juice our calm disturb, 
Nor auffht our sweet emotions curb ? 

Fear not, my fair one ! Cyrus 

Shall not intrude. 
Nor worry thee desirous 
Of sohtude. 
Nor rend thy innocent robe, nor tear 
The garland fi'om thy flowing hair. 

Di me tuentur ; 
Dis pietas mea 
Ft musa cordi est. 
Hie tibi copia 
Manabit ad plenum benigno 
Rui'is honorum opulenta comii. 

Hie in reducta 
Valle caniculee 
Vitabis sestus, 
Et fide Teia 
Dices laborantes in vtno 
Penelopen vitreamque Cu'cec^ 

Hie innocentis 
Pocula Lesbii 
Duces sub umbra 
Nee Semeleius 
CumMarte confundet Thyoneus 
Prcelia; nee metues proter- 

Suspecta Cyrum 
Ne male dispari 
Injiciat manus, 
Et scindat hscrentem coronam. 
Crinibus, immeritamque ves- 


This drinking song is a manifest translation from the 
Greek of Alcaeus. To the concluding words, " perlncidior 
vitro y'' I have ventured to attach a meaning which the recent 
discoveries at Pompeii, of drinking utensils made of a kind 
of silicious material, would seem fully to justify. 

" Nullam, Tare, sacrii vite prius severis arborem," &c. 

M);0£v ttWo (pvTEVffyQ Trportpoj/ SsvSpOi' afnrt\<ij k. r. \. 

Alc.^us apud Athenj^ttm. 

Nullam, Vare, sacre vite prius severis arborem 
Circa mite solum Tibm'is, et mcenia Catih : 
Siccis omnia nam dura Deus proposuit ; neque 
Mordaces ahter diffugiuut sollicitudmcs. 

Quis post vina gravcm militiam aut paupericm crepat ? 
Quis nou te potius, Bacchc pater, teque, decens Veniu ? 
At ne quis modici transiliat mimcra Libevi, 
Centaurca monet cum Lapithis rixa super mero 


Debellata ; monet Sithoiiiis non levis Evius, 
Quum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinum 
Discernunt avidi. Non ego te, candide Bassareu, 
Invitum quatiam ; uec variis obsita frondibus 

Sub divum rapiam, Saeva tene cum Berecyuthio 
Comu tympana, qute subsequitur coecus amor sui, 
Et tollens vacuum plus uimio gloria verticem, 
Arcanique fides prodiga, pei'lucidior vitro. 

Siace at Tivoli, Varus, you've fixed upon planting 

Bound your villa enchanting, 
Of all trees, O my friend ! let the Tine be the first. 

On no other condition -will Jove lend assistance 

To keep at a distance 
Ohagrin, and the cares that accompany thii'st. 

No one talks after -wine about " battles" or " famine ;" 

But, if you examine, 
The praises of love and good living are rife. 

Though once the Centaurs, 'mid potations too ample, 

Left a tragic example 
Of a banquet dishonom-cd by bloodshed and strife, 

Far removed be such domgs fi'om us ! Let the Tliracians, 

Amid their libations, 
"Confound all the limits of right and of wi-ong ; 

I never will join in their orgies imholy — 

I never will sully 
TJae rites that to ivy-crowned Bacchus belong. 

Let CybSle silence her priesthood, and calm her 
Brass cymbals and clamour ; 
with such outbm'sts, uproarious and vain ! 

Displays often followed by Insolence mulish, 

And Confidence foolish, 
To be seen tlu-ough and through, like this glass that I di'ain. 

In the first decade of Horatian songs, it became my duty 
to supply in tlie original Latin, from the A'atican Codex, a 
long-lost effusion of tlie Sabine larmer, cotnmencing " Virent 
arundines ;" or, as the Scotch have it, " Grrceu grow the rashes, 
O !" I am equally happy to be enabled, owing to the late 
Sir Humphry Davy's experiments on the calcined volumes 
found at llerculaneum, to supply, in concluding this second 
essay, another lost ode of Horace. Vihich has been iiuitated 



both in Prench and Englisli (unconsciously, no doubt) by 
two modern yersemongers. 

Ode XIX. 

La Chute d'Emma. 

Eveline's Fall. 

Ah! maudite soit I'lieure, Ah! weep for the Tiour, 

Quand de rhnmble demeure Wlien to Eveline's lioicer, 

D'Emma, le faux seigneur The lord of the valley 

eiit francbi le seuil. With false vows came. 

Pauvre fille ! la lune The mooii hid her light 

Pleura ton infortune, In the heavens tliat night, 

Et couvrlt son visage Aiid wept behind her clouds 

en signe de deuil. JTor the maiden^ s shame. 

Lapscs Emmjo. 

lieu laclirymor horam 
Cum, fraudibiis mails, 
Divx virgine corkm 
Apparuit vallis, 
Non tulit impunfe 
Congressum misella,... 
Cor doluit Lunse 
Pro lapsa puella ! 

Bientdt la lune dtale 
Sa clart^i de Vestale, 
Et de son chaste front 

les nuages s'en vout. — 
Alais la tache qui reste 
De cette nuit funeste. 
Qui poun'a leifacer ? 

ou r^parer raffront ? 

La neige virginale 
Couvrait tout rintervalle 
Du superbe manoir 

ail modeste reduit; 
Et la blanche surface 
Oarda plus d'une trace 
Des pas du faux seigneur 

cette fatale nult. 

Un rayon du soleil, 
A son premier r^veil, 
Effaca pour toujours 

les vestiges du parjurc ; 
JIais, Emma I 11 te faut 
La lunii^re d'en haut. 
Qui verse un doux oubli 

Bur ta mfisaventiire ! 

The clouds pass soon Qvias condidit frontem 

From the cold chaste moon, Sub nubium velo. 

And the heaven smiled again Mox vultum insontem 

inih her vestal Jiame; Explicuit coelo. 

Jilt vlio .■iliiijl see the day Sed utinam cast! 

117/./,'/.. r'' lid vnll pass away Sic nominis gemma, 

]r/,i<7, tl„it ivening left Quam tu inquinasti, 

Cpon Eveline's name? ClaresceretjEmmal 

The white snow'lay Tegebant rus nives. 

On the narrow pathv:ay, Cum meditans crimen, 

Where the lord of the manor Pedem tulit dives 

Crossed over the moor ; Ad pauperis liraen. 

And many a deep print, Et ager est fassus, 

On the while snow's tint, Vel indice calle, 
Shewed the track of hisfootsteps Qua tulerat passus 

To Eveline's door. In Candida valle. 

The first sun's ray 
Soon melted aivay 
Every trace of the passage 
Where the false lord came ; 
Tint there's a light above, 
M'hich alone can remove 
Tie stain vpon the S7ww 
Of Eveline's fame ! 

Exoriens mane 
Sol uti consuevit 
Vestigia pland 
Nivemque delevit ; 
Puella ! par lumen 
Quod sanet remorsum, 
Jlisericors Numen 
Det tibi deorsdm. 



" Tu Latium beas Horati 
Alcseo potior lyristcs ipso." — SiDOX. AroiLix., Ep. viiL 

*' Le sciil Horace en tons genres exccUe — 
De Citliarce exalte les favcurs, 
Chaute les dicux, les heros, les buveurs ; 


Des sots auteui's berne les vers iueptes, 
Nous instriiisant par gracieiix preceptes, 

Et par sermons, de joie antidotes." — J. B. EorsSEATJ, 

Horace, in one small volume, sliows us what it is 

To blend together eyeiT kind of talent ; — 
'Tis a bazaar for all sorts of commodities, 

To suit the grave, the sad, the gi'ave, the gallant : 
He deals in songs and " sermons," wliims and oddities, 

By tiu-ns is philosophic and pot-valiant. 
And not unfrequently with sarcasm slaughters 
!Ihe Tulgar insolence of coxcomb authors. — 0. Y. 

The "diffusion''^ of knowledge is, we suspect, somehow ir- 
reconcileable witla its condensation ; at least, we see no other 
way of explaining the notorious fact, that one old standard 
author contains (either in the germ or iu full development) 
more ideas than a whole modern " Cyclopa'dia ;" furnish- 
ing more materials for thought and feeling than are 
now acctunulated during a whole Ol^anpiad in the ware- 
houses of Paternoster Row. It is for this reason that we 
gladly revert with Prout to the small Elzevir which, towards 
the close of his earthly career, formed the subject of his 
vesper meditations, and cheerfully accompany him through 
another " decade" of his classic rosary. 

"We know not how it Avill be with us next month, or 
whether we shall be tempted to take up a newspaper after 
the fatal ides of September 1836. 

The removal of the stamp-duty on the 15th, bids fair to 
open the floodgates of " dift'usion," so as to swamp us alto- 
gether. Then will begin the grand millenium of cheap 
knowledge ;• from that auspicious day will be dated the 
liegira of Hetherington. The conquest of China by the 
Tartars will find its parallel in the simultaneous rush of 
writers over the great wall, which the sober wisdom of 
former reigns had erected to restrain such-like inroads of 
Calrauc vagrancy. The breaking down of the dykes of 
Holland, and the letting in of the Zuydersce, is to be re- 
hearsed iu the domains of literature. The Dutchmen were 
drowned by a rat — we are to be inundated by Eice.* Soap, 
't is true, will continue to be as dear as ever, but the 

• The Eight Hon. Spring R., chancellor of the Exchequer, 1836. 


"waters of instruction" are to be plentifully supplied to 
the unwashed. 

" Venit yilissima rerum 
Hie aqua." — Her Brundis. 

One cannot help imagining, that a concomitant reduction 
on the former most useful article would prove as beneficial 
to the Radicals as the cheapening of brimstone (for example) 
would be to the writers and readers of the Caledonian Mer- 
cury ; but the "VVhigs, probably, wish to monopolise yet 
awhile the staple manufacture of "Windsor, for the exclusive 
purpose of blowing bubbles to delude the rabble. We ob- 
serve, by a recently discovered process, i\\Q.t flints have been 
found less hard-hearted than the Chancellor, and actually 
yield soap from silica. 

To the press, as hitherto constituted, we acknowledge 
ourselves exceedingly indebted. On a late occasion,* the 
unanimous expression of cordial sympathy which burst from 
every organ of public opinion, in reprobation of a brutal 
assault, has been to us consolatory and gratifying. We 
shall hazard the charge of vanity, perhaps, but we cannot 
help replying to such testimonies of fellow-feeling to- 
Avards ourselves in the language of a gifted Eoman : — 
'''Est mihi jucunda in malis, et grata in dolore, vestra erga me 
voluntas ; sed ciiram de me queeso deponitey {CutiUnar. iv.) 
The interests of literature are still uppermost in our 
thoughts, and take precedency of any selfish considerations. 
AVe will be ever found at our post, intrepidly denouncing 
1 he vulgar arrogance of booby scribblers, unsparingly censiu'- 
ing the obtrusion into literary circles of silly pretenders 
ignorant horse-jockies, and brainless bullies. 

AVe took up a number of the " Carlton Chronicle " for last 
month, in which we read with some astonishment the asser- 
tion that Marc Antony " was justified " in causing M. T. 
Cicero to be waylaid and butchered in cold blood, as some 
atonement for his " wounded feelings " on reading that 
glorious oration called the Second Philippic. The Carlton 
C/ironicle is conducted by a young barrister of eminent at- 
tainments, and we therefore experience some surprise at the 
views of Eoman law, or the laws of civilized society (as 

• The brutal assault of Grantlcy Berkeley on the piiblislier Fraser. 

E E 

41S Fathee peout's reliqtjes. 

contradistinguislied from the laws of " Ltkch," the Ameri- 
can Lycurgus) put forth in this startling announcement. 
Our illustrious namesake, Oliver, was not very scrupulous 
in his respect for the " baubles " of legal arrangement ; yet 
even he took alarm at the title of a pamphlet, called, " Kill- 
ing no Murder." "We are not exactly members of the Inner 
Temple, but we beg to question the propriety of the above 
decision, which we cannot otherwise qualify than as 

" A sentiment exceedingly atrocious, 
I^ot to be found (we trust) in Puiiendorfi' or Grotius." 

We rejoice, however, at the introduction of Tully's immor- 
tal speech, and are thankful for being thus reminded of a 
classic precedent for intrepidly exposing to the scorn of all 
rightly thinking men those blunders and follies which force 
themselves into public notice, and, baboon-like, exhibit their 
shameful side by a false position of their own choosing. 

Cicero had to reply to an elaborate composition of his 
stupid adversary, published by Marc Antony himself, at his 
own expense, at the bookshop of the Boman Bentley of the 
day ; need we add, miserably deficient in literary value, and 
rich only in absurdities — " hoc nt colligeres homo amentissinie 
tot dies in alierid villa scriptitasfi ?" {Philip, ii.) In that pro- 
duction the booby had touched upon points whicli he should 
have been, of all otlicr men, careful to avoid. j\Iark, we 
pray you, gentle reader, the words of Tully : " Maxime miror 
mentionem te hccrediiafum ausion esse facere cum ipse hceredi- 
tatein patris non adisses." — It. ibidem.* 

We need not point out the passage, of which this is the 
exact prototype ; neither is it necessary to indicate Avhere 
may be found a fac-simile for the subsequent exclamation of 
the indignant orator — " O misera; mulieris fcccunditatem ca- 
lamitosam .'" (if. ibidem) ; nor the allusion contained in the 
words by which he roi)roachcs his opponent for the con- 
firmed stupidity evinced in his literary production, albeit he 
had enjoyed certain advantages of family wit — " aliquid enim 
salis ah vxore mimd fnihcre poiidsti" (it. ibid.). The follow- 
ing picture of his adversary's personal appearance, and tho 

• This refers to the lawsuits of the Berkeley family. 

THE sojiTGS or nORACE. 419 

admission of his signal accomplisliments in all the graces of 
a prize-fighter, ought not to be forgotten : 

" Tu istis faucibus, istis lateribus, ista. gladiatoria totius 
corporis firmitate." — It. ibidem. 

We recommend the whole discourse (beyond comparison the 
first model of classic eloquence in existence, and the most 
powerful expose that folly and brutality ever received) to the 
attentive meditation of those concerned. 

" Niillo luet hoc Antonius sevo !" 

In the course of Front's youthful rambles through Italy, 
we find that he has recorded the circumstances of a devout 
pilgrimage, undertaken by him, to the very spot where the 
illustrious orator — the terror of all Eoman ruffians, from 
Clodius to Catiline, from Antony to A^erres — was cowardly 
assassinated by the hero of the Second Philippic* It is a 
green lane, leading off" the via Appia down to the shores of 
the Mediterranean ; and close by the scene of the disgi-ace- 
ful event stands to the present day, on the ruins of the For- 
mian villa which had belonged to the murdered statesman, 
an hotel, known by the classic designation of " Albergo di 
Cicerone." The details of that visit, with sundry delectable 
matters appertaining thereunto, remain in our " chest" for 
further use, when we shall have to entertain our readers 
with other (and collateral) subjects ; when from Horace we 
shall pass to some of his contemporaries. 

To Horace we now return. In him the dunces and 
bullies of Rome found an uncompromising foe — equally for- 
midable to " Maevius the blockhead " and to " Gorgonius 
the he-goat," to " the debauchee l^J^omentanus," and to 
" Pautolabus the buffoon." It is, liowever, as a lyric poet 
that Prout chooses to dwell on his merits ; and in this, as 
in most matters, we recognise the professional tendency of 
the father to peaceful topics and inoffensive disquisitions. 


* AVho appears fo have been in his day tlic "lady's man" — kut' 
i^o\i)v. We know not, liowever, whether he was fool enough 1o talk of 
bringing llie matrons of Komc into the senate-house, like Grautlcy 


Waiergrassliill, ad 1"'" noclis vigUiom. 
"Whe^^ first I took up tlie Songs of Horace, with a view io 
record my imaginings tliereaneut (for the benefit of my pa- 
rishioners), it occurred to me that something in the shape 
of methodical arrangement would not be amiss, and thac 
these miscellaneous odes would come more acceptable if an 
attempt were made at classification. In this department, 
the modems have a decided advantage over the wi*iters of 
antiquity ; the bump of " order," as it relates to section and 
subdivision, being of comparatively late developement. 
Pagan antiquity had been content, ever since the goddess 
Flora enamelled the earth with so many charming varieties 
of form and colour, to admire them for then' very confusion, 
and to revel in the delightfid contrasts they afforded ; nor 
do we learn, from the author of Genesis, that there was any 
regular system of botanical science understood by Eve, in 
her state of horticultural innocence : it was reserved for the 
great Dutchman, Linntpus, to methodise the beauty and to 
classify the fragrance of flowers. My old friend and school- 
fellow, I'Abbe Moutardier, who, since the French emigra- 
tion, resides at Lulworth Castle, Dorsetshire (where the 
AVeld family have gathered round him a small congre- 
gation), carries the practice of regular classification to a 
great extent in his Anglo-Gallic addresses from tlie modest 
pulpit of the castle-chapel ; ex. gr. " My friuds, the sermong 
of twoday vill be in four jnnfs ; after vich, I vill draw for 
you a little mor-ale," &c. In pursuance of this praiseworthy 
system of orderly arrangement, I had set out by dividing 
these songs under sixcomprehensive heads': 1° political squibs; 
2'" convivial and bacchanalian ; 3" love songs ; 4° philo- 
sophical effusions ; 5° theological hymns ; and 6° lastly, 
certain odes addressed to Virgil, Maecenas, etc., dictated by 
the -purest frie7ids/i ip, and beai'ing, more tlian all the rest, the 
impress of earnestness and sincerity. The catalogue raisonn^, 
made out after this fashion, took \i±, I found, the whole 
range of his lyrics ; and, instead of the wild luxuriancy of 
imeoiitrolled productiveucss — the very wilderness of thought 
and sentiment which the book now presents — reduced the 
collection to all the symmetry of a civilized parterre laid out 
by Evelyn or Len6trc. 


Mucli meditating, however, on tlie peculiar genius of the 
poet, and fully aware that, with reference to the " series 
pinctitraque," he practised what he preached, I concluded 
that, in publishing his fovir books of occasional minstrelsy 
in their actual order of succession, totally regardless of 
the date of each particular composition, he must have 
been guided by some hidden principle of refined taste, appK- 
cable to the precise consecutive position assigned to every 
song. Of himself, as well as of the father of poetry, it may 
be safely predicated, that )iU molitur inepte. Hence, on ma- 
turer consideration, I shrunk from interrupting the present 
law of precedence, established by recognised authority ; and 
I resolved to maintain it as steadfastly as if I had taken a 
regular oath not to " weaken or disturb the line of success- 
ion" in the harmony of Horace I have not yet got 

through the first book. If I recollect right, a drinking bout 
" to Vakus " (numbered ode xviii.) wound up the last 
paper ; a love-song " to Gltcesa" (ode xix.) shall, therefore, 
usher in the essay of to-night. 

Horace was not very lucky in liis loves. In spite of all 
the fervour with which he exhalts the fascinations and chants 
the merits of the fair sex — notwithstanding the delicacy with 
which he could flatter, and the sprightly ingenuity with which 
he could amuse the ladies of Kome, he appears, from the 
desponding tenor of his amatoiy compositions, to have made 
but small havoc among the hearts of patrician matrons. 
These ditties are mostly attuned to the most plaintive strain, 
and are generally indicative of unrequited attachment and 
disappointed hopes. He has made Posterity the confidante 
of his jealousy regai'ding " Pyeeha ;" " Ltdia" forsakes 
him for " Telephus," who was probably a stupid life-guards- 
man, measuring five feet eleven ; " Chloe" runs away from 
his addresses, begging her mother to say she is " yet too 
young to form an engagement ;" he records the perjured 
conduct of " Baeine" towards him ; laments the inconstancy 
of "K'EJiEA," the hauteur of " Lyce ;" makes an abject 
apology to " Tyxdaeis," whose pardon we do not find that 
he obtains ; he invites her to his villa ; wc don't learn that 
she accepted the invitation. 

The fact is, he was in stature a dwarf, with a huge head, 


u la Quasimodo ; further endowed witli an ungainly promi- 
nence of abdomen ; eyes ^Yhicll required the constant appli- 
cation of unguents and colhjria ; was prematurely bald, like 
Beranger — 

" Moi, a qui la sagesse 
A fait tomber tou3 les clievciix ;" 

and, like liim, lie might break forth into that affecting out- 
burst of 7icuf despondency derived from the consciousness of 
a deformed figure : 

" Elle est SI BELLE, 

Et moi — et moi — je suis si laid !" 

By the way, to Be'ranger's immortal credit be it remarked, 

that he is the only Frenchman who ever, under any circum- 
stances of personal ugliness, made a similar admission. 
" Mons. Mayeux" fancied himself an Adonis ; so does jNI. 
Thiers, though his portraits prove him to be what Theodore 
Hook has imagined, as the exact symbol, or vera r/.wj, of 
Tom Moore : viz. " something between a toad and a Cupid." 
Still, nothing could keep Horace from trying his fortune 
among the girls. " His only books were Avoman's looks ;" 
though ''' folly" (as in Moore's case) was positively all ho 
gathered from the perusal. Tliough his addresses are repeat- 
edly rejected, he still perseveres ; and, in spite of his noto- 
rious scepticism in religious matters, he actually offers up a 
propitiatory sacrifice to Venus, in the hope of forwarding, 
by supernatural agency, the object of his desires. His case, 
in truth, appears one of peculiar hardship ; and so graphic 
is tlic picture he draws of his hopeless passion, that Eaciue 
has found nothing more poweriul wherewith to represent 
the frensied feelings of Phaedra, in his wonderful tragedy of 
that name, than two lines borrowed from the following ode : 

" Ce n'cst plus \me ardeur dans mes veines caelice, 
C'est Venus toute cntiere a sa proie altachcc." 

Ode XIX. 


Love's unrelenting Quccmi, Mater sseva Cupidiniim 

With Bacchus — Thebaniuaid! thy wayward Thebana;que jubi't 



Whene'er I try to wean, 
My heart, from vain amours and folhes ■wild, 
Is sure to intervene, 
Kindling within my breast some passion un- 

Glyeera's dazzling glance. 
That with voluptuous hght my vision dims — 

The graces that enhance 
The Parian marble of her snow-white limb?, 
Have left my heart no chance 
Against her winning wiles and playful petulance. 

Say not that Yenus dwells 
In distant Cyprus, for she fills my breast, 

And from that shrine expels 
All other themes : my lyre, by love possest, 
No more with war-notes swells, 
isor sings of Parthian shaft, nor Scythian 
slaughter tells. 

Come hither, slaves ! and pile 
An altar of green turf, and incense bum ; 

Strew magic vei-vain, while 
I pour libations from a golden irni : 
These rites may reconcile 
Tlie goddess of fierce love, who yet may deign 
to smile. 

How different from tliis melanc-lioly love-ljric, '■'made 
to his mistress's eye-brow," is the jovial style which he 
assumes when Mcecenas has promised to look in on his 
rustic dwelling, on his road to some sea-port. "A friend 
and pitcher" seem to constitute the native and proper ele- 
ment of Horace. Mark how he disports himself in the 
contemplation of the prime-minister of Augustus seated bv 
his cheerful hearth, and partaking of such homely fare as 
the Sabiue farm could furnish ; insinuating at the same 
time, without the least appearance of cajolery or toadyism, 
one of the most ingenious compliments that ever statesman 
received from dedicatory poet in ancient or modern times. 
ITiider pretext of specifying the exact age of some bottled 
liquor, wliich he promises shall be forthcoming, he brings up 
the mention of a fact most gratifying to the feelings of his 
Cialted patron. As Tasso has it, 

" E quel che crcsce sommo pregio all' opre 
L' arte clie tutto fa, nulla si sciiopre." 

Me Semeles puer, 
Et lasciva Licentia, 
Emit is animum 
Eeddere amoribus. 

TJrit me Glycerje nitor 
Splendentis Pario 
Marmore purius : 

Urit grata pi-otervitas, 
Et vultus nim.ium 
Lubricus aspici. 

In me tota ruens Tenus 
Cypriun deseruit : 
Is ec patitur Scythas, 

Et versis animosum 
Parthum dicere ; nee 
Quae nihil attinent. 

Hie vivum mihi cespi- 
tem, hie 

Yerbenas, pueri 

Ponite, tluu'aque, 
Bimi cum patera men : 

Mactata veniet 

Lenior hostia. 

4241 TATHEE peotjt's heliques. 

Ode XX. — " pot-ltjck" -^itii noRACE. 
AD m^cexatem:. 

Since thou, Mseeenas, nothing loth, Yile potabis modicis Sabinum 

Uuclei" the bard's roof-tree, Cantharis, Graeca quod ego 
Canst drink rough wine of Sabine growth, ipse testa 

Here stands a jar for thee! — Conditumlevi,datusintheatro 
The Grecian delf I sealed myself, Quum tibi plausus, 

That year the theatre broke forth, 

In tribute to thy sterling worth, 

When Rome's glad shout the welkm rent, Care Maecenas cques,utpatcrni 

Along the Tiber ran, Fluminis ripse, sinud ct jocosa 

And rose again, by Echo sent, Eedderet laudcs tibi Vaticani 

Back from Moimt Vatican ; — , Montis imago. 

When with dehght, O Eoman knight ! 

Etruria heard her oldest flood 

Do homage to her noblest blood. 

Wines of Ealemian vintage, friend, Caecubum et pra4o domitam 
Thy princely cellar stock ; Caleno 

Bethink thee, should'st thou condescend Tu bibes uvam ; mca nee Fa- 
To share a poet's crock, lernae 

Its modest shape, Cajeta's grape Temperant vites, ncque For- 
Hath never tmged, nor Forinia's hill miani 

Deigned with a purple flood to fill. Pocida colics. 

PoUowetli, in clue consecutive order, one of those per- 
formances wbicli, in my catalogue above alluded to, I had 
set down as one of the "hj'uins theological." Our poet, 
besides filling at the court of Augustus an office similar to 
the laureateship of old Xahum Tate, of birthday-ode me- 
mory, seems to have <:ombined with that responsible situa- 
ation the more sacred functions of Sternhold and Hopkins. 
The Carmen ScEcuhire was like Southey's T'ision of Jxidc/ment 
— an official eftusion of devout loyalty to church and state. 
This hymn, recommending (very properly) the worship of 
Diana to the maidens of Kome, while he exhorts the Eoman 
youth to reverence Apollo, must have been composed about 
the year tj.c. 731, when scarcity, combined with the pros- 
pect of war, threatened the country. That Persia and 
Great Britain should be made the scapegoats on the occa- 
sion seems natural enough ; the Jews had similar uncharit- 
able ideas, as may be gathered from the Psalms of David. 
(Ixxix. 6, and jL)fl54t/«). 


Ode XXI. — ad pubem bomakam. 

JDianam tenerce dicite vii'gines, Vos Tempe toticlem toUite laudibus, 

IntonsumpiieridieiteCyntliium, Nataleinque, mares, Delou Apollonis, 

Latonamque supreme Insignemque pliaretra, 

Dilectam penitiis Jovi. Fraternaque humerum hra. 

Vos Isetam fluviis et nemorum Hie belliim laclii-ymosum, hxc mise- 

coma, ram famem, 

Qnoecumque aut gelido prominet Pestemque a popiilo et principe Cse- 

AJgido, sare, 

Nigi'is aut Erymantlii, In Persas atque Britannos, 

Silvis aut viridis Cragi. Vestrd motus aget prece. 


Worship Diana, young daughters of Italy ! 

Youths ! sing Apollo — both childi'cn of Jove : 
Honour Latona, their mother, who mightily 

Triumphed of old in the Thunderer's love. 

Maids ! sing the Huntress, whose haunts are the higldands, 

Who treads, in a buskin of silvery sheen, 
Each foi'cst-crowned summit through Greece and her islands. 

From dark Erymanthus to Cragus the green. 

From Tempe's fair valley, by Phoebus frequented, 
To Delos his bhthplace — the light quiver hung 

From liis shoulders — the lyre that his brother uavented — 
Be each slmue by om- youth and each attribute sung. 

May your prayers to the regions of light find admittance 

On Ca!sar's behalf; — and the Deity urge 
To drive fi-om oui* land to the Persians and Britons, 

Of Famine the cm-sc ! of Bellona the scourge ! 

That lie considered bimself the object of special solicitude 
to the gods, is very perceptible in his writings ; that he ac- 
tually believed in the existence of these celestial personages 
is, nevertheless, as nice an historical problem as the pedigree 
of Perkin Warbeck or the j)iety of O'Connell. Like Bo- 
niface, however, he " thrived on his ale." 

" Di me tuentiu" : dis pietas raca," &c. 

He kept bis skin intact (bene cnratd cute), his neighboiirc 
in good humour, and the table in a roar. One day, 
having extended bis ramble* beyond the boundary of his 



farm, liiimming as lie "\vent an ode " to Lalage," which we 
have unfortunately lost (unless it be the fifth of the second 
book), behold ! an enormous wolf suddenly stares him in 
the face, and as precipitately takes to flight, without any 
apparently efficient catise. The dogs, according to Shak- 
speare, barked at Eichard ; this wolf may have been, pro- 
bably, frightened by the poet's ugliness : for, according to 
his own description, he was a regular scarecrow. ISTever- 
theless, mark, reader, how he chooses to account for the 
miracle. The ode, in a literary point of view, has always 
been (and most deservedly) admired: "Aristius fuscus" 
was, however, a sort of wag, as may be gathered from the 
satire '■'■Iham via sacra" &c. &c. 

Ode XXIT. 

AD AEISTIII3I Ptrscuir. 

Aristius ! if tlioii canst secure 

A conscience calm, with morals pure, 

Look lip wards for defence ! abjure 

AU meaner craft — 
The bow and quiver of the Moor, 

And poisoned shaft. 

^A^aat though thy perilous path lie 

O'er bm-niug Afric's boundless 

waste .... 
Of rugged Caucasus the guest, 

Or doom'd to travel 
Where fabulous rivers of the East 
Then- com-se luu-avel ! . . . 

Under my Sabine woodland sliadc, 
Musing upon my Grecian maid, 
Unconsciously of late I strayed 

Tlu'ough glen and meadow, 
"VVhcu, lo ! a ravenous wolf, afraid, 

Fled from my sliadow. 

No monster of such magniludo Quale portcntum nequc militarii 

Lurks in the deptli of Daunia'swood, Daunia in latis alit esculctis ; 

Or roams through Ljbia unsubdued Nee Jubnc tellus genei'at, leonuin 

The land to curse — Ai'ida nutrix. 

Land of a fearful lion-brood 

Tiic withered nui'se. 

Integer ritre scelerisque punis 
Non eget Mauri jacidis,neque arcu, 
Nee venenatis gravida sagittis, 
Fusee, pharctra ; 

Sive per Syi-tcs iter a??tuosas, 
Sive facturus per inhospitalem 
Caucasum, vel quae loca fabulosus 
Lambit Hydaspes. 

Kamqne me sllva lupus in Sabina 
Duni mcam canto Lalagen, et ultra 
Terminum curis vagor cxpeditis, 
Fugit inermem : 



Waft me away to deserts wild, 
Where vegetation never smiled, 
Where sunshine never once beguiled 

Tlie di'eary day, 
But winters upon winters piled 

For aye delay. 

Place me beneath the torrid zone, 
Where man to dwell was never known, 
I'd cherish still one thought alone, 

Maid of my choice ! 
Tlie smile of thy sweet hp — the tone 

Of thy sweet voice ! 

Pone me pigrls ubi nulla campis 
Arbor cestiva recreatur aura, 
Quod latus mundi nebulis ma- 

Jupiter m-get ; 

Pone sub ciutu nimium propin- 

Solis, in terra domibus negata : 
Dulce ridenteni Lalagen amabo, 
Didce loqueutem. 

Here is another love ditty ; and, as usual, it places on 
record some discomfiture of the poet in his attempt to play 
Vhomme d, bonnes fortunes. 

Ode XXIII. — a eemoksteance to chloe the BASHrrii. 

Why wilt thou, Cliloe, fly me tluu ? 

The yeai'hng kid 
Is not moi'e shy and timorous, 
Our woods amid, 
Seeking her dam o'er glen and bill. 
While all her fi."ame vain terrors tlu'ill. 

Should a green lizard chance to stir 

Beneath the bush — 
Should Zephyr through the mountaiu- 

Disporting gush — 
With sudden fright behold her stai't, 
With trembling knees and tlu"obbing 

Vitas hinnuleo 
Me similis, Chloe, 
Qucerenti pavidani 
Montibus aviis 
!XIatrem, non sine vano 
Aurarum et silvse metu ; 

Kam, seu mobilibus 
Vepris inhorruit 
Ad ventum foliis 
Seu virides rubum 
Dimovere lacertse, 

Et corde et genibus tremit. 

And canst thou think me, maiden fair I Atqui non ego to, 

A tiger grim ? Tigris ut aspei'a, 

A Lybian lion, bent to tear Getidusve leo, 

Thee hmb by limb ? Frangere persequor. 

Still canst thou haunt tliy mother's shade, Tandem desine matrein 

Eipe for a husband, blooming maid ? Tempestiva sequi vu-o. 

No " elegy," in all antiquity, appears to have given such 
general satisfaction as that which followed Quinctilius to 
the tomb. History would have taken no notice of his 
name, but Horace has secured him immortal celebrity. All 
we know of him is contained in the chronicle of EusebiuS; 


quoted by St. Jerome, and merely refers to the date of his 
death ; nor would the holy father probably have mentioned 
him at all, but for the eloquent requiem chanted over his 
grave. It possesses ineffable sweetness iu the original ; the 
tender melancholy diffused throughout the composition 
is still more saddened by the absence of anything like hope 
or belief in a future state of existence, which Avas totally 
undreamt of in the Horatian system of philosophy. DaAdd's 
elegy over Saul and Jonathan is clouded by the same 
gloomy misgiving as to the chances of a blessed futurity : 
yet, what can be more beautiful than the Hebrew poet's 
■exclamation — 

" Let the dew never fall on the liills where the pride 
Of thy warriors, O Israel ! lies slain : 
Tliey were lovely in hfe ; and, oh mai'k ! how the tide 
Of theii' hearts' blood hath mingled again 1" 

Milton's Lycidas; Burns's splendid effusion over Captain 
Henderson : IMalherbe's 

" Rose elle a vecu ce qne vivent les roses 
L'espace d'un matin !" 

Pope's " Unfortunate Lady," and Wolf's " Funeral of Sir 
John Moore," all deserve to be commemorated in connexion 
with this ode of Horace. Xor should I omit to notice 
(Jionoris causa) Gray's elaborately mournfid Elegy, iu 
which he has gathered into one sepulchral urn the ashes 
of the human race, and mingled the tears of all mankind in 
one grand " lachrymatory." 

Ode XXIV.— ad tiegilium. deflet quixctilii moetem. 

Quia dcsiderio sit pudor aut modus tarn cari capitis ? Prfecipc lugubrcs 
Cantus, Melpomene, ciii liquidam pater vocem cimi cithai-a dedit. 

Ergo Qninctilium perpetuus sopor urget ! cui Pudor, et Justitia; soror, 
Incorrupta Fides, nudaque Veritas, quando ullum invenient parem ? 

Mnltis ille bonis flehilis occidit ; nuUi flebilior qnam tibi, Virgili ! 
Tu frustra pius, lieu ! non ita ercditum poseis Quinctilium Deos. 

Quid ! si Threicio blandius Or]ihco audit am moderere arboribus fideio, 
Nuni vance redeat sanguis imagini, quam virga scmel horrida, 

ISon lenis precibus fata recludcre nigro compulerit Mercurius gregi ? 
Durum! sed icvius fit patientia quidqnid corrigcre est nefas. 



Wlij check the full outburst of sorrow ? Whj blush 

To weep for the friend we adored ? 
Raise the voice of lament ! let tlio swollen tear gusli ! 
Bemoan thee, Melpomene, loudly ! nor hush 

The sound of thy lute's Hquid chord ! 

For low lies Quinctilius, tranced in that sleep 

That issue hath none, nor sequel. 
Let Candour, with all her white sisterhood, weep — 
Truth, Meekuesa, and Justice, his memory keep — 

For when shall they find his equal ? 

Though the wise and the good may bewail him, yet nona 

O'er his clay sheds the tear more ti'uly you, beloved Virgil ! You deemed him your own ; 
You mom-n his companionsliip. — 'Twas but a loan, 

Which the gods have withdi-awn unduly. 

Yet not though Eurydice's lover had left 

Thee a legacy, friend, of his song ! 
Coidd'st thou warm the cold image of life-blood bereft, 
Or force death, who robbed thee, to render the theft, 

Or bring back his shade from the throng, 

W'liich Mercury guides with imperative wand. 

To tlie banks of the fatal feriy. — 
'Tis hard to endure ; — but 'tis wrong to despond : 
For patience may deaden the blow, though beyond 

Thy power, my fi'iend, to pany. 

riowers have, at all times, suggested hints for metaphor 
and allegory. Poets cannot get on at all without constant 
reference to botanical matters ; and Flora, by right, should 
have been one of the Muses. A crazy German writer 
(one Ludwig Tieck) maintains, that " the man who has no 
taste for posies cannot have God's grace :" a sort of parody 
on something about music in Shakespeare. Another mad 
sentimentalist, from the same district, defines woman to be 
" something between a flower and an angel." In fact, the 
" florid style " cannot be well got up without a due admix- 
ture of such fancies, any more than a plum-puddnig without 
plums. Ask Tom Moore, for example, how he could manage, 
if deprived of these gay and gaudy materials for his con- 
cetti ? He might, perhaps, tell you that he still would have 
rainhowSy stars, crystals, j^earls, bntterfies, and such other 



" glittering glories," but, witliovit Covent Garden jMarket, 
lie would soon be at a loss to carry on his business. Even 
in tlie flower department he is obliged to borrow. Aji- 
acreon and Horace had, long ago, both hit on an idea, 
which he has appropriated, without the slightest scruple or 
acknowledgment, in a well-kno\Tn melody, of which he has 
stolen the tune from the " Groves of Blarney," and, I am 
sorry to say, spoiled it by some outlandish variations of his 

Ode XXV. 

Vodov Avaapeovro^. 



Movov Oepovt poJuv ^oi 'Tis the last rose of summijr Tlieu rosaram floruit ultima! 

Tout' vmaTov fiev avDec Left blooming alone— Vel miller.i'.percinctascroribus, 

Waaai re Kai eraipai All her lovely companions At nunc amicanim cohorti 

AiraiKeaavro' Are faded and gone ! Floribus et sociis siiperstes ! 

Oi; Ti 
Tuiv o'i'77€»'a)i' Trapeo- 
VoidiVy ofiov 7 at]vai 
Ofiov re Kai tpei/yeu' 

Ou \ci\!/ofiai ce x*JPn' 
iLiret Ka\ai OavovTO 
ATT(\0e- am KaXaio-. 
\&ov ae xp'l liCLdcv&tiv' 

Xo flower of her Idndrcd, 
No rose-bud, is nigh, 

To reflect back her blushes, 
Or give sigh for sigh. 

Nee una niansit conscia qi'ra 

Snspiriorum suave olentium, 
Suspiret ultro — qiiaj rubenti 
Enibeat, pia frons, vicissim. 

I'll notlenve tliee,t7iotiloneoiie., Xoii te relinquam stemmate 
To pine on the stem ; Ingubre. 

Since the lov!;/ are sleeping, Qn.'C singular! fers caput imica ! 
Go sleep thou with them. lere dorniitiini sodales, 

Tiireliquiscomesito— dornii ! 

lat eu0poi(or creOev to? Thus kindly I scatter Sparsis amicS sic foliis manu. 

Kofia^ £70) (TKedafo)" Thy leaves o'er the bed, Finiie tristes pergo tibl moras ; 

Ottou tcKpai T6 Koffjuoi n'h' re thy mates of the garden Siccis odoratas per liortum 

K tiTToio trai eruipai Lie scentless and dead. Frondibus i superadds 

EidouCTi Ka\\i(pv\\oi. frondes. 

OvTcoc T€ Hat ntpcX'Kcv 
Taxvv <pi\t) eneaOai 
Orav napaivCTai 0u\« 
Xa cjitXirit cpMTof 
KvkXou t' ano (paeivou 
niTTTOVciv oi anapayioiw 

«^(\at OTt wXetrai'TO 
At Kapdtat, Tiv Oioc 
TouToi CKwi' OeXoiTo 
Kotr/JW viiieiv cprijiiw; 

So soon may Z follow Ef misitolim sorseadem.precor! 

]yhen friendships decay Quando Kodales, qua?que mi- 
Andfrom love's shining circle cantia, 

Tlie gems drop away. Ornant amicorum coronam 

Gemmata, depereunt — pc- 

fllien trueheartslie withered, Abrppta fato dissociabili 
And fond ones ore flown, Quando tot elieu ! corda jaccnt 

Oh, who icould inhabit luuni 

This bleak world alone t Quis poscat annos? vita talis 

Xonne foret mera solitude? 

How much more creditable and gentlemanly has been 
the conduct of an old English song-writer, George Herbert, 
who hanng occasion to Avork out the same thought, scorns 
to copy with servile fidelity the Greek or Eoman lyric ; but, 
giving it a new form altogether, makes it, as far as possible, 


bis own property. Here is the canzonet ; and any one, 
Avho has the slightest pretension to a taste for antique sim- 
plicity, must see how far superior it is to Moore's artificial 
composition : 

" I made a posie while the day ran by — 
Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie 

My life within this band. 
But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they 
By noon most cunningly did steal away, 

And wither iu my hand. 

Farewell, dear flowers ! sweetly your time ye spent ; 
Fit while ye hved for smell or ornament, 

And, after death, for cm-es. 
I follow straight, without complaint or grief ; 
And, if my scent be good, I care not if 

It be as short as yom-s." 

The date of the subsequent ode is clearly fixed, by the 
allusion it contains to the troubles occasioned in the northern 
parts of the empire by the proceedings of King Tiridates. 
It is addressed to Lamia, a Koman general, who had distin- 
guished himself in the peninsular war (bello Ccnitabrico), and 
was at that time enjoying his half-pay in or about Tivoli. 

Ode XXVI. — feieitdship ai^d poetey the best 


AXNO AB r.c. 1730. 
Jir — "Fill the bumper fair." 

Sadness — I who live Musis amicus 

Devoted to the Muses, Tristitiam et metus 

To the wild wmd give, Tradam protei-vis 

To waft where'er it chooses ; In mare Creticum 

Deigning not to cai*e Portare ventis. — 

W'hat savage chief be chosen Quis sub arcto 

To reign beneath " tlie Bear," Rex geUdae 

O'er the fields for ever frozen. Metuatiu- oree, 

Let Tiridates rue Quid Tiridatem 

The march of Roman legions, Terreat, unice 

Wliilc I my path pm-sue Securus. O quae 

Through poesy's calm regions- — Fontibus integris 

Bidding the Muse, who drinks Gaudes, apricos 

From the fountains unpolluted, Necte flores, 

To weave with flowery links Neete meo 

A wreath, to Friendship suited, Lamise coronam. 



!Foi' gentle Lamia's brovr. — 

O IMuse melodious ! sweetly 
Echo his praise ; for thou 

Alone canst praise him fitly. 
For him thy Lesbian slieU 

With strings refurnish newly, 
And let thy sisters swell 

The jocund chorus duly. 

Sadness — I wh