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saith, and Plinie also, that in age the eagle hath darknesse and dimnesse in eien, and hevinesse in wings, and against this disadvantage she is taught by kinde to seeke a well of springing water; and then she flyeth up into the aire as far as she may, till she be full hot by heat of the aire, and by travaile of flight, and so then by heate the pores be opened, and the feathers chafed, and she falleth sodeinglye into the well, and there the feathers be chaunged, and the dimnesse of her eien is wiped away and purged, and she taketh againe her might and strength."

Was it with reference to this poem that Ralegh called one of the rivers which he entered in Guiana, the River of the Red Cross?" ourselves," he says, being the first christians that ever came therein.' Page 300.

66

"Is not enough fowre quarters of a man Withouten sword or shield, an hoste to quayle?"

There is a fine story in the Edgeworths' Essay on Bulls, which makes us believe that Spenser caught the expression in Ireland.

P. 348. Church's emendation should have been adopted in the text. Spenser never introduces the Alexandrine out of its place in his 'stanza. Excepting his hemistichs, there is but one instance of irregularity throughout the whole of the poem, which is in the arrangement of a rhyme, and even that is probably an error of the printer.

Vol. IV. p. 8. The verb to coure is by

no means obsolete. We have heard it in

common use in many parts of the king

dom.

P. 200. Spenser mentions among
"the nation of unfortunate

And fatall birds

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Vol. VI. p. 77.

"And all his face deformed with infamie."

This passage requires a note. Scarifying the face was one of the Gothic punishments, but to what chivalrous custom does this allude?

P. 299. st. 61. In this stanza the irregularity of rhyme occurs. Church proposes the easy alteration of hire instead of hibits three triads of rhymes, and no almeed; but Mr. Todd says, the stanza excollect that it is the only stanza in the teration seems requisite. Did he not repoem which has three triads? We may here observe that Upton has mistaken the metre of the arguments; he says that the poet intended they should be metre, but

The whistler shrill, that whoso heares doth humbled down to the lowest prose; and dy.

What is this? the line requires a note.

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therefore split his words, as thus :

"The witch creates a snowy La-
dy like to Florimell."

The fact is, that the two lines were considered as one in metre, and only printed line. The common ballad stanza was a otherwise on account of the length of couplet; and when written thus has a greater variety of pauses, as in this very instance, than in its modern form.

I know not whether it has been observed that Spenser becomes less alliterative as his poem proceeds.

The notes which Mr. Todd has retained are more numerous than useful. Many,

indeed, are utterly worthless. Why should good paper be filled with such word-hunting inanity as in these instances?

"In sunbright armes,] The epithet sunbright is certainly, as Mr. Upton has observed, a very happy one. But I doubt whether Spenser may be pronounced the original framer of it. In Greene's Arcadia, 1589, it is thus employed: "Sunnebright Venus." Fairfax, Milton, and Henry More, all ardent admirers of Spenser, have adopted this compound. Davies also in his Scourge of Folly, 1611. p. 44, has "his sun-bright glory. TODD."

"They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us plant;] The guardianship of angels is a favourite theme of Spenser and of Milton. It is difficult to pronounce which of them has decorated the subject with greater elegance and sensibility. Spenser probably might here remember the following lines of Hesiod, Op. et Dies, ver. 121.

- Δαίμονες εἰσι Διὸς μεγάλα διὰ βαγές, Εσθλοὶ, ἐπιχθόνιοι, φύλακες θνητῶν ἀνθρώπων. Italian poetry, I should observe, delights in describing angelic squadrons. See my note on Milton's Par. Lost, b. iv. 977. Milton, indeed, before he had become deeply versed in Italian literature, borrowed from his favourite Spenser, this disposition of the heavenly host into squadrons bright. See his Ode Nativ. v. 21. "And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright." We may therefore no longer suppose that Milton could here be much indebted to Sylvester's" heaven's glorious host in nimble squadrons," Du Bart. p. 13. See Considerations on Milton's early Reading, 1800, p. 46. The fact is, that Sylvester often plunders Spenser, but often also accommodates the theit to his purpose with little taste or judgment. TODD."

"They courteous congé took.] It may be remarked that this phrase often occurs in romance. Thus, in Histoire du Chevalier aux armees doree, 4to. Paris, bl. 1. s. d. Sign. G. i. Comme le Cheuallier aux armes doree print conge de la bonne dame pour aller poursuyure le roy de Noruegue. Again, Sign. L. i. Le Cheualier print conge du seigneur du chasteau engage lequel luy fist bailler chevaux & armeures. And, in l'Histoire & plaisant Cronicque du petit Jehan de Saintre, 4to. bl. 1. s. d. fol. x. b.Et quant il fut hors de la chambre & eut prins son piteux congie, &c. Again, fol. xxvii. Apres que Saintre eut prins conge des barons, &c.' See also F. Q. ii. iii. 2, ii. xi. 17, &c. TODD."

same person! Upton's notes are in genera! the worst, except indeed a few political ones, which might have been very pretty articles to carry to market ten years ago, but are now somewhat stale. A few of the present editor's, and but few, contain some curious matter. We shall quote the best.

"And many-folded shield] An idea of the many-folded shields, which were formerly in use, may be gathered from a curious writer on the subject. "Our Saxon ancestors," says he, "vsed shields of skin, among whom for that the artificer put sheep-fells to that purpose, the great Athelstan, king of England, vtterly forbad by a lawe such deceit, as in the printed booke of Saxon lawes is extant to bee

seene.

With this vsage of agglewing or fa ning hard tanned hides for defense, agus their etymologie, who derive scutum, the Latin of a shield, from the Greeke word EKYTOE, a skinne:”—And presently after the writer describes the many-folded shield of the Duke of Lancaster, hung up in old St. Paul's cathedral; "It is very convex toward the bearer, whether by warping through age, or as made of purpose. It hath in dimension more then three quarters of a yeard of length, and aboue half a yeard in breadth. Next to the body is a canuas glew'd to a boord; ypon that thin boord are broad thin axicles, slice, or plates of horne, naild fast; and agre ouer them twenty and sixe thicke peeces of the like, meeting or centring about a round plate of the same size as the nauell of t sheild; and ouer all is a leather clozed fad to them with glew or other holding stad yppon which his armories were painted, &c." Bolton's Elements of Armories, 4to. 1010, pp. 66-70. TODD."

the

"Which by that new rencounter &c] Rencounter is an accidental combat or adve ture. Fr. Rencontre. It is thus explained, contradistinction to duelling. Duelling ing been formerly prohibited in France, * na aitair of honour was decided but by the way of Rencontre; a word invented to escape congnizance of the law. By the term Re contre is meant, that, if a gentleman either covertly or overtly affronts another, the int opportunity, out of the reach of witness, ↳ taken, by either or both, to appoint a struct or a road in which they are to meet to a me ment; and, either on foot, on horseback, et in their carriage, occasion some kind of ling or sudden scuffle, as they should bare agreed on beforehand, to be looked upon i the sense of whatever spectators may be acce dentally present, as an unforeseen and instas taneous event, and by no means the effect of A most stupid note of Upton's is retained any former provocation, since which they vol. VI. p. 151. A character in the poem might have had time to reflect and grow coul is called Dolon, and the sagacious com- See M. Coustard de Massi's History of Dr. mentator tells us that Dolon is mentionedelling transl. Lond. 1770. P. ii. Sect. ii, by Homer, and goes on as if this were the

"TODE."

1

The treatise on the state of Ireland, it appears, has not been published without mutilation. In some MSS, says Mr. Todd, which I have seen, the severity of Spenser, as well in respect to certain families as to the nation in general, is considerably amplified. But I have not thought it necessary to specify every particular of dormant, and perhaps not justifiable harshness. It would be difficult to conceive any degree of harshness which would not have been justifiable from Spenser in those times, and we cannot but wish this admirable treatise had been printed entire.

The smaller poems have received some valuable additions. The original translations of Bellay are added in a note; and four sonnets by Spenser, collected from the original publications in which they appeared. They are however wrongly placed at the end of his other sonnets, which they might better have preeeded, for they interrupt the connection with the epithala

mium.

It is singular that Spenser, who possessed the finest ear of all our poets without

any exception, should uniformly end his sonnets with a couplet, the worst possible termination for that form of poem.

The editor hasnot done rightly in retaining Britain's Ida, which is universally acknowledged not to be Spenser's. Its licentiousness would be proof enough were there no other. Spenser had a perfectly pure mind; in the whole of his works there is but one stanza reprehensible for indecency.

This edition is assuredly a very valuable one, and the public are greatly indebted to Mr. Todd for his fidelity and labour. We wish the book were handsomer; handsome it is as far as regards quality of paper, form of letter, and colour of ink; but every page is deformed by the abominable custom of splitting a verse because the page is too narrow. There are two ways of remedying this offensive unsightliness: by using a smaller type suited to the page, or restoring the foolscap quarto; the size universally preferred for poetry over all Europe two centuries ago, in the best age of printing, and certainly the best adapted for it.

ART. III.--The Wanderer of Switzerland, and other Poems. By JAMES MONTGOMERY. small 8vo. pp. 175.

IF the reader will take the trouble to refer to the critiques on the first, second, and third volumes of the Poetical Register, in the respective volumes of the Annual Review, he will find in every one a warm commendation of the pieces there given under the signature of Alcæus, some of which are quoted in confirmation of the opinion expressed, and as an encouragement to bashful merit.'

This Alcæus, as it now appears, is Mr. Montgomery, and it must naturally give us the most lively satisfaction to learn from his preface, that the favour which a few of his pieces anonymously obtained, gave birth to the present volume.'

Oh! when the lyre of such a poet, like the harp of Memnon, which he has so beautifully apostrophized in one of his odes, was waiting only to beamed upon to wake into life and harmony, who could have forgiven the niggard churlishness of that criticism which should have refused to illumine his retirement with the bright est smile of welcome?

"Harp of Memnon! sweetly strung
To the music of the spheres,
While the hero's dirge is sung,
Breathe enchantment to our cass.
"As the sun's descending beams,
Glancing o'er thy feeling wire,

Kindle every chord, that gleams
Like a ray of heavenly fire!

Battle of Alexandria."

The first and longest of these poems, entitled The Wanderer of Switzerland,' commemorates, in equal strains, characters and events worthy to live for ever in bards-it commemorates the heroes of the the memory of patriots and the song of lates that gallant resistance and final dedemocratic cantons of Switzerland, and restruction of their country by the overwhelming power of France, which has crowned the tombs of the vanquished with immortal honour, and branded the forehead of their conqueror with everlasting disgrace. The form and manner of this piece is very singular. It is divided into parts, and several interlocutors are brought forward-the Swiss wanderer, his wife and daughter, and a shepherd who hospitably entertains them on their way. The his own, and the other speakers only rewanderer relates his country's story and lieve the narrative occasionally. The atthor has, we think,been unfortunate in the choice of his measure, which is the trochaic of seven syllables: we have per.. haps none so ill adapted to dialogue or prolonged narration, for none admits of so little latitude in its structure. The first

syllable should always be decidedly long; a point very difficult to accomplish in our language, where so large a proportion are either short or common; a considerable stress should likewise fall on the third and fifth syllables, and this very abundance of emphasis, which gives the measure so striking an effect in short pieces on topics requiring energy and spirit, renders it fatiguing in longer ones, which embrace a variety of tone and sentiment. But the hand of genius, whatever tool it may employ, is still inimitable in its touches.

"While the lingering moon delay'd
In the wilderness of night,
Ere the morn awoke the shade
Into loveliness and light:
"Gallia's tigers, wild for blood,
Darted on our sleeping fold;
Down the mountains, o'er the flood,
Dark as thunder-clouds they roll'd.
"By the trumpet's voice aların'd,
All the valley burst awake;
All were in a moment arm'd
From the barriers to the lake.
"In that valley, on that shore,
When the graves give up their dead,
At the trumpet's voice once more
Shall those slumberers quit their bed!
"For the glen that gave them birth
Hides their ashes in its womb :
Oh, 'tis venerable earth,
Freedom's cradle, Freedom's tomb !"

"Then in agony I rose,
And with horror look'd around,
Where embracing, friends and foes,
Dead and dying, strew'd the ground.

Many a widow fixed her eye,
Weeping, where her husband bled,
Heedless, though her babe was by
Prattling to his father dead.

Many a mother, in despair,
Turning up the ghastly slain,
Sought her son, her hero there,
Whom she long'd to seek in vain!
"Dark the evening shadows roll'd
On the eye that gleam'd in death;
And the evening-dews fell cold
On the lip that gasp'd for breath.""

We know not what strain this admirable minstrel awakes in the highest perfection-whether the trumpet-note that sounds the glory of Britain, and calls her sons to rally round their tombs and their altars, or the organ-stop of devotion that wafts the ennobled soul to purer and to happier worlds than this, or the wild flutebreathings of poetic fancy and deep melancholy feeling. His Ode to the Vo

6

lunteers' we have formerly copied from the Poetical Register.' His verses to the memory of Joseph Brown,' are worthy of any martyr to conscience and religion, and there is not a piece in the volume that does not bear the stamp of superior talents. How rich in various beauty is the following passage from the Snowdrop!

"Winter's gloomy night withdrawn,
Lo! the young romantic Hours
Search the hill, the dale, the lawn,
To behold the SNOW-DROP white
Start to light,

And shine in Flora's desart bowers,
Beneath the vernal dawn,
The Morning Star of Flowers!
"Oh welcome to our Isle,
Thou Messenger of Peace!
At whose bewitching smile
The embattled tempests cease:
Emblem of Innocence and truth!
Firstborn of Nature's womb,
When strong in renovated youth,
She bursts from Winter's tomb;
Thy Parent's eye hath shed
A precious dew-drop on thine head,
Frail as a Mother's tear
Upon her infant's face,

When ardent hope to tender fe.r,
And anxious love, gives place.
But lo! the dew-drop falls away,
The sun salutes thee with a ray,
Warm as a Mother's kiss
Upon her Infant's theek,
When the heart bounds with bliss,
And joy that cannot speak!

"When I meet thee by the way,
Like a pretty, sportive child,
On the winter-wasted wild,
With thy darling breeze at play,
Opening to the radiant sky
All the sweetness of thine eye;
-Or bright with sun-beams, fresh wa
showers,

O thou Fairy-queen of flowers!
Watch thee o'er the plain advance
At the head of Flora's dance;
Simple SNOW-DROP! then in thee
All thy sister train I see :
Every brilliant bud that blows,
From the blue-bell to the rose;
All the beauties that appear
On the bosom of the Year;
All that wreathe the locks of Spring,
Summer's ardent breath perfume,
Or on the lap of Autumn bloom,
All to thee their tribute bring,
Exhale their incense at thy shrine,

Their hues, their odours all are thine!
For while thy humble form I view,
The Muse's keen prophetic sight
Bring's fair Futurity to light,
And Fancy's magic makes the vision true.

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Oh when shall Spring its rage controul?
When shall the SNOW-DROP blossom
there?

Cold gleams of comfort sometimes dart
A dawn of glory on my heart,
But quickly pass away:

Thus Northern-lights the gloom adorn,
And give the promise of a morn,
That never turns to day!

"But hark! methinks I hear A small still whisper in mine ear; "Rash Youth! repent: Afflictions from above,

Are Angels sent

On embassies of love.

A fiery Legion, at thy birth,

Of chastening Woes were given,

"He saw whatever thou hast seen, Encounter'd all that troubles thee; He was-whatever thou hast been; He is what thou shalt be.

"The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye,
That once their shades and glory threw,
Have left in yonder silent sky,
No vestige where they flew.

"The annals of the human race,
Their ruins, since the world began,
Of HIM afford no other trace

Than this,---THERE LIVED A MAN!"

But the master-piece of our author is the poem called Ocean.' It displays,

To plick thy flowers of Hope from earth, in happy union, a vividness and novelty

And plant them high

O'er yonder sky,

Transform'd to stars,---and fix'd in heaven."

We shall now cite some stanzas which

appear to us to possess the property which a French writer well remarks as characteristic of a work of genius-that of seeming easy and being inimitable. They are not unlike some of the happiest efforts of Cowper.

"The Common Lot.

* Once in the flight of ages past,
There lived a Man :---and WHO was He?
Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,
That Man resembled Thee.

"Unknown the region of his birth,
The land in which he died unknown;
His name hath perish'd from the earth,
This truth survives alone:

"That joy and grief, and hope and fear,
Alternate triumph'd in his breast;
His bliss and woe,---a smile, a tear!
Oblivion hides the rest.

"The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirits' rise and fall;
We know that these were felt by him,
For these are felt by all.

"He suffer'd,—but his pangs are o'er;
Enjoy'd, but his delights are fled;

Had friends, his friends are now no more; And foes,his foes are dead.

"He loved, but whom he loved the grave

Hath lost in its unconscious womb:

Oh she was fair but nought could save
Her beauty from the tomb.

"The rolling seasons, day and night,
Sun, moon and stars, the earth and main,
Erewhile his portion, life and light,
To him exist in vain.

of description, a majesty, a spirit, and a pathos, which very few indeed, even of the favourite productions of the muses, can boast-in short, we doubt not that it will come to be considered among the lostore of first-rate English poetry. We vers of the art, as a noble addition to the trust that the author will not consider our selection of a few stanzas as a robbery.

"All hail to the ruins*, the rocks and the shores !

Thou wide-rolling Ocean, all hail! Now brilliant with sun-beams, and dimpled with oars,

Now dark with the fresh-blowing gale.
While soft o'er thy bosom the cloud-shadows
sail,

And the silver-wing'd sea-fowl on high,
Like meteors bespangle the sky,

Or dive in the gulph, or triumphantly ride, Like foam on the surges, the swans of the tide.

"From the tumult and smoke of the city set free,

With eager and awful delight,

From the crest of the mountain I gaze upon

thee;

I gaze, and am changed at the sight;
For mine eye is illumined, my Genius takes
flight,

My soul, like the sun, with a glance
Embraces the boundless expanse,
And moves on thy waters, wherever they
roll,

From the day-darting zone to the night-brood-
ing pole.

My Spirit descends where the day-spring is born,

Where the billows are rubies on fire,

And the breezes that rock the light cradle of

morn

Are sweet as the Phoenix's pyre:

O regions of beauty, of love, and desire!
O gardens of Eden! in vain

Placed far on the fathomless main,

Scarboro' Castle,

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