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hope I have not been in company with any person that there has been any danger in.' No!' says his neighbour, ' was not you at the Bullhead tavern, in Gracechurch-street, with Mr. _ the night before last ? Yes,' says the first, ' I was, but there was nobody there that we had any reason to think dangerous. Upon which his neighbour said no more, being unwilling to surprise him; but this made him more inquisitive, and as his neighbour appeared backward, he was the more impatient, and in a kind of warmth, says he aloud, 'why, he is not dead, is he?" Upon which his neighbour still was silent, but cast up his eyes, and said something to himself; at which the first citizen turned pale, and said no more but this, then I am a dead man too,' and went home immediately, and sent for a neighbouring apothecary to give him something preventive, for he had not yet found himself ill; but the apothecary opening his breast, fetched a sigh, and said no more but this, ' look up to God;' and the man died in a few hours.”

Although we allow, that there is a great air of truth and reality in the work of Defoe, and though we feel considerably indebted to the writings of the excellent Dr. Hodges, we cannot cease to regret the absence of a striking, picturesque, and faithful description of the plague by an eye-witness, like that we find in the pages of Thucydides, which is perhaps the most perfect piece of composition that ever came from the pen of man. Nothing there is wanting to satisfy the physician, the historian, the poet, or the moralist; for that inimitable writer has selected his details with such judgement, has narrated them with such spirit, has supplied such genuine touches of truth and pathos, as to give, in a few chapters, such pictures to the imagination, such information to the understanding, as the elaborate volumes of others are unable to convey; and perhaps it is owing to the interest which he has given to the plague of Athens, as well as to the inherent interest in the subject, that the plague has become so favourite a theme to both poets and historians. That it has been so is a fact, and we propose, in our next number, to present our readers with a general review, as well of this extraordinary disease in its various localities, as of the very interesting series of works and single passages, of various countries and various ages, which have been written

With respect to the plague of London, however, we can collect from Dr. Hodges the symptoms and phenomena of the disorder, though we cannot describe them with the wonderful accuracy and in the spirited manner of Thucydides. Most persons, upon their first invasion by the sickness, perceived a creeping chillness gradually spreading itself over the body, which produced a shivering not unlike the cold fit of an ague--succeeded by convulsive motions of the limbs and frame. Soon after this horror and shaking followed a nauseousness, and strong inclina

upon it.

tions to vomit, with a great oppression and seeming fullness of the stomach; a violent and intolerable headache next succeeded, when some fell into violent fits of phrenzy, and others became soporose and stupid. Afterwards, a fever discovered itself, and as soon as it began to appear, a strange faintness seized the patient, which was seconded by violent palpitations of the heart, so powerful as to be heard even at a considerable distance. In some instances, perspirations ensued, which would break out in such profusion, as if the whole constitution were dissolved. These sweats were sometimes of a citron colour; sometimes black, fetid, and often like blood; sometimes they were cold, while the heat raged inwardly and excited an inquenchable drought. But the most constant signs of the pestilence were blains, which broke out all over the person with exquisite and shooting pains, hard and painful tumours, with inflammation upon the glands, virulent carbuncles, which, while their pain was intense, their cure and danger was most critical and hazardous—not to mention the tokens which proceeded from the putrefaction of the blood and the mortification of the part, which, when real, 1. e. when the spot and the part about had lost its feeling and no mistake could arise, were the certain forerunners of death; in some cases only appearing a few hours previous to dissolution, in others the fourth day before, remaining, observes Dr. Hodges, all that time terrible admonitions to the sick and their attendants.

To the affliction arising from such a disease was London exposed, with various fluctuations, for the space of twelve months, and to such an extent, as that four thousand died of it in one night, twenty thousand in one week, and, in the whole, not less than a hundred thousand. About the same time of the year that it commenced, its retreat was observed to have taken place, or, at least, to be very near at hand. All the symptoms became less violent, fewer were infected, and those who were so mostly recovered, so that this once powerful and gigantic distemper dwindled into slight and contemptible attacks of quinsey and headache. We must now close our observations, both on the work of Defoe and its subject, with this remark, that it has been our intention in this article, as it will be in the next, to consider the plague in a literary and historical point of view, and by no means, by dwelling upon the cure or the nature of the disorder, to invade the province of the physician, which, if we were capable of doing, we should certainly search for a fitter theatre and fitter auditors, than the pages and readers of the Retrospective Review.

Art. II.-Coleccion de Poesias Castellanas anteriores al siglo

xv. 8c. Por D. Tomas Antonio Sanchez. Cuatro Tomos. Madrid. mdcclxxix-mdccxc.

ave left a per

An apology is due for the somewhat irregular way in which the subject of the poetry of Spain has been treated in our former articles; but its character is so varied, and its varieties have been so little connected with one another, that it seemed, on the whole, most desirable to follow the flow of each particular class in one continued stream. Now and then, the different species of composition appear to blend, and it is therefore difficult to characterize some of the fragments of past ages. In our days, two schools alone seem to manent influence—the Moorish or Arabic, to which we intend to devote a separate paper, for this is assuredly the species of poetry which may be deemed peculiarly characteristic of Spain -and the poetry founded on the Troubadour compositions, which has however been influenced, in the progress of time, not a little, by the classical models of antiquity, and most especially by the study of the bards of Italy. The Spanish drama, too, opens a vast field to interesting research—a field little explored by any modern writers. Bouterweck's notices of the dramatic authors of Spain are imperfect in the extreme, and it is from him that Sismondi has principally borrowed. Schlegel has devoted himself principally to one or two authors; while the names of some of the brightest ornaments of the Spanish stage (Gabriel Tellez for example), men worthy to be fixed as stars of the first magnitude in the histrionic heaven, have scarcely crossed the Pyrenean mountains—they have no place in our dictionaries--they have been shut out from our temples of fame.

On the present occasion, we shall give sundry specimens of the poetry which has been collected by the industry of Sanchez, and published in the four volumes, whose title heads this article.

The very earliest epoch of Castillian literature is graced with extraordinary poetical productions. “The Cid Campeador,” a work of the twelfth century, is now familiar to English literature, though the famous letter, on the early poetry of Spain, of the Marques de Santillana to the Condestable de Portugal, which has served as a text book to Sanchez, in his interesting collection, does not speak of this poem. In many of these early compositions all doubts as to their antiquity have been prevented, by the custom of interweaving their date with the conclusion of the poem, but that is not the case here; and the proofs of its antiquity, which are however quite satisfactory, depend upon its language and character. The series of valorous deeds, celebrated by the unknown poet, formed a fine subject for the enthusiasm of patriotic and poetic feeling, though, it must be confessed, we should be very backward in believing that his hero possessed the generous virtues attributed to him; he is represented by Arabic historians as the most perfidious and cruel of human or inhuman beings-violating every compact, however solemn, and treating those he vanquished with unsparing barbarity, of which, in truth, some evidence

may be found in the poem before us. The Cid is, notwithstanding, the great theme of ancient Castillian songs: tragedies, comedies, romances, canciones, have each in turn made him their subject. In the poem before us there is great vigour of language, a constant current of imposing events, some passages of touching interest; and considering the then undefined and unformed character of the language which the poet employed, it is, in every respect, one of the most extraordinary compositions of this era. For example, take the description : “ And the night began to wane, and the day was dawning then, Up! heroes of the morn, for ye are valiant men. For the matin song now calls, and the bells are ringing fast, To church, my valiant Cid and his wife Ximena haste. At the holy altar-foot, she threw her on the ground, And prayed in language rude, such language as she found :

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• Lord! Thou art King of Kings—the universal Lord !
Believed by my heart, and by my tongue adored;
Saint Peter help my prayers, while thus, my God! I pray,
That thou wilt shield my Cid from danger on his

We part—0 may we meet-and meet on earth again'-
The oration's said—the mass is over—no delay-
The steeds are all prepared—come, hasten to the plain.
Towards his wife the hero turns, and asks a last embrace,
She bends to kiss his hand, and down her mournful face
Her tears fled hurryingly; she knew ņot what to do;
He looked


his girls, and in this sad adieu Commended them to God above; To God and to his wife--the woman of his loveAnd now we part--God knows when we shall meet—if ever-How many tears were shed ! O such a scene was never; Even like a nail that's torn from the living flesh, they part: My Cid, with all his host, now pricks his steed to start, And bows his head, and turns to those he leaves behind ; Then Alvar ? speaks--reproves his wavering mind :

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'Is then your valor, Cid, forlorn ?
Was it for this, that you of such high race were born?
Forward ! now forward, Cid ! here tarry thou no more,
For that shall turn to joy, which sorrow was before ;
He who gave us souls to feel, shall give us counsel sure.""*

Again, in the following description of a battle with the
Moors, there is great energy:
“Then his mighty voice was heard, who was born in happy hour,
Come onward, onward, knights, for the sake of charity,
For I am Ruy Diaz—the Cid—then follow me.'

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* “ Pasando va la noch, viniendo la mañana

Ellos mediados gallos piensan de cavalgar
Tañen à matynes à una priesa tan grand.
Mio Cid è su mugier à la Eglesia van.
Echo's Doña Ximena en los grados delantel altar
Rogando al Criador quanto ella meior sabe.

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Tu eres Rey de los Reyes é de todel mundo Padre,
A ti adoro e creo de toda voluntad,
E ruego à San Peydro que me ayude a rogar,
Por mio Cid el Campeador quo Dios le curie de mal.
Quando hoy nos partimos en vida nos faz iuntar.
La Oracion fecha la Misa acabada la han,
Salieron dela Eglesia ya quieren cavalgar,
El Cid à Doña Ximena ybala abrazar
Doña Ximena al Cid la manol 'va besar,
Lorando de los oios que non sabe que se far.
E el á las niñas tornolas à catar,
A Dios vos acomiendo fijas
E a la mugier è al padre Espiritual.
Agora nos partimos Dios sabe el aiuntar.
Lorando de los oios que non viestes a tal;
Asi's parten unos d’otros como la uña dela carne.
Mio Cid con los sos vasallos pensó de cavalgar;
A todos esperando la cabeza
A tan gran sabor fabló Minaya Alvar Fanez
Cid! do son vuestros esfuerzos ?
En buen ora nasquiestes de madre :
Pensemos de ir nuestra via esto sea de

Aun todos estos duelos en gozo se tornarán
Dios que nos dió las almas conseio nos darâ.”

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