But Thor unbound his storms, The winds among its branches roar'd, The lightning clave its heart in twain; Though in its mouldering trunk The death-owl screams aloud. To deck the hearse of death. Pale Hela bears thee hence "No! not to worlds below," Edw. My lust is guilty of this chain of horror. H. Monarch, how wilt thou that this monster die? And heaps on the shuddering shore The giant sisters stalk on iron sale (Hela,) was goddess of death, and guarded the hell-hounds. (The raven leads.) A raven decorated the Danish banner. (Bridge of gods.) It was on the rainbow that the ghosts of heroes walked to Valhalla. (Iduna,) the wife of Braga, took charge of the apples of immortality. (Tuisko,) the god of discord, presented armor to the heroes on their admission into Odin's hall. His arm was bitten off by the wolf Feuris. A one-handed idol of this god is shewn in the library of saint Genevieve at Paris by the name of Hercules Ogmius. (Heimdal) kept the gates of heaven. (The equal sisters.) The Valkyrics were gigantic virgins, whose office it was to execute the orders of the superior deities. They. selected the slain in battle, punished the guilty, brought the chosen to Valhalla, and Edw. Let him escape. My heart is rent presented mead to the guests of Odin. in twain. Alfather, grant me to devote the rest That bends the knee of penitence to heaven. Minstrels sing. When on a land of crimes Black storm-clouds lour above, Earth yawns-huge cities sink- Shall not Alfather frown, And speak the words of wrath, From world to world The awful sentence rolls. From cleaving skies the gods descend; The father of slaughter has roar'd, No living soul escapes. Huge Niord has heard in the deep, (Dance of May.) The games of Hertha celebrated at this season are not yet obliterated, (The virgin that unwedded dies.) The Goths had these gloomy notions of the fate of those who died unmarried.-See the Fòr Skirniş in Sæmund's Edda (Lak) was the god of evil: the charlock, a sort of thistle common on barren ground, still retains his name. (Alfather) is the name attributed to the supreme god by the northern nations, after they had learned to separate him from their deified heroes. (O'er Gwyneth.) Pentaskeworth was destroyed by Caradoc, a prince of Gwyneth wha rebelled against Edward. (Surtur) was chief of the deuses, or genii of fire. To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine, I SIR, TAKE the liberty to add a few words to Dr. Smith's letter in your last Magazine, as a somewhat fuller answer to your correspondent, p. 123 in the Magazine for March. It is a wise maxim, not to speak before we think; and one equally wise, not to assert a fact for which there is not undoubted proof. Your correspondent seems little acquainted with the several volumes published by the illustrious Swede himself, or he would not have hazarded the assertion that he had discarded the word Linnæus and adopted a Linné, or Von Linné I happen to be possessed of several letters from him, in which the former name is constantly used, In the titles of more than twenty voJumes published by himself, he constantly retains it. I hope therefore the more barbarous appellation will now be laid aside; and the Linnæan society discard their modern, but fanciful orthography, in imitation of their illustrious founder; who, both before and after he received those honorary distinctions due to his excellent character, used the first appellation. Whilst I have the pen in hand, allow me just to remark, that it has long been matter of regret that such a number of uncouth and unclassical names are in troduced into the nomenclature of botany. Taste must be disgusted with their anaual, nay their monthly, increase. We already see the pages of botanists filled with Crowæa, Cemphena, Geodia (for Goodenough), Celebreshia, Elshelttzia, Blackstonea, Sowerbæa, Hebenstrelia, Fortkola, Woodfordia,Woehenderfia, Dillwynia, and Wiggii; and we soon expect Crabbæa, Wagstaffea, Humphreyia, Edwardsia, Pitchfordia, Hailstenea, Scrimsliria, Beckhensia, Robsonia, and a long list of others. I wish some more unexceptionable method could be devised to perpetuate the labours of ingenious men. How must the lovers of pure Latin be disgusted with such barbarisms! April 7, 1810. H.C. For the Monthly Magazine. On GENIUS; extracted from the JOURNAL of a REFLECTOR. I N commerce with the world, by which is meant perpetual intercourse with the fashionable, it is difficult to preserve enthusiasm or cherish genius; nor is there an instance of a mind which exclusively preferred this circle, and long retained either. "Powder, and pocket-glass, and shew," belong to a class little distinguished by reason, imagination, or magnanimity, It must be observed, we are speaking of philosophical, and of the higher order of poetic genius; for painting and music have eminently flourished in the soil of luxury and courts. Ridicule and wit may be said to be in their proper ele ment, amidst objects which afford such ample materials; witness the reign of Charles II., which teemed with authors of this description; but the superior mind, the profound thought, seeks for other scenery and other associates. Nature in its sublinity, is its congenial sphere: the rising and the setting sun, the impervious desert, and the majestic waves of a stormy sea, awaken its enthu siasm; it delights in the tremendous rock, the massy ruin; in thunders, whirlwinds, and volcanos; its powers unfold within the pale shrines of Gothic superstition, and its fancy revels amidst the dreariness of enchantinent. Nor are Pope, Swift, and the other bright luminaries of the age of queen Anne, exceptions. On a close examination of their works it will be found, that they all possessed more of wit than genius; and, moving in a circle of artificial splendour, became incorpo❤ rated with it, and cultivated talentsa s dif ferent from the sublime, as water-works from Niagara. Wits are born convivial: they love the busy hum of men, the festive board, the jovial glee; variety and folly are their element; multiplicity of objects forms their delight. Genius has but one: to this it adheres with undistracted force; and its sensations are no less keen than strong. Wit has perception without feeling; and merriment and scoff being parts of its nature, nothing is unwelcome to its taste, or unattainable to its efforts, but the sublime. But what is genius? Of all the terms to which strong signification is annexed, opinion has been most varied concerning its definition. The ancients believed it inspiration: the moderns, every thing but this. Montesquieu considers it as an effect of climate; Helvetius, of a favourable education: and the French critics deny it to every author who writes equally well or all subjects. That climate has some effect on the imagination cannot be denied. Natives of Switzerland and St. Giles's, (even supposing it possible to preserve morals in the district of the latter,) would form very different modes of thinking, from the different objects presented to their senses: but objects, however influential on character, or favourable to genius, would not create it; and when we retrace the authors who have written sublimely, or philosophers who have thought profoundly, in situations the least analo gous to their subjects and circumstances, the most depressive to their fancy, we cannot admit climate to be an efficient cause of genius. Thomson the poet composed his Seasons in London; Wieland cultivated his rural muse in the air of Versailles, and amidst the marshes of Flanders; and and Erasmus the wit was born at Rot terdam. Education, (of which government forms a considerable part) appears to influence genius far more than climate. Bacon lived under Elizabeth, when science was a fashion, and when people were accustomed to think deeply: Shakspeare also adorned her reign; and though endowed with every faculty of mind which could be defined genius, we can scarcely suppose he would have been equally sublime, had he written in the present day. "Whenever criticism flourishes, a severe and minute taste will be cultivated, and the luxuriances of imagination lopp'd off'' The peculiarity of his phrase, in which his genius appears as conspicuously as his thought, the concise amplitude, vigour and boldness of his expressions, are censured by a critic of our own, partial to the French scool, who tauntingly observes among the faults of English authors, "that they would be all genius." Cowley, it must be acknowledged, was a wit: but he lived when the times were not frivolous. The ports of the Seventeenth century were men of learning; and it was essential for the reader to be learned also, to receive any ples sure from their works, or even to understand them. But though the fancy was uncharmed, and the passions unaffected, the understanding was fully exercised, and all the powers of recollection and inquiry awakened by the perusal: we cannot but respect an age (whatever be our opinion of its taste) when a poet distinguished by scholastic speculation, and a wit by metaphysical researches, were held in such high estimation. Milton wrote when England was a republic, and he was embued with the spirit of his party: we can always discern under republican governments a strength of thought, and energy of expression, in its writers; which are lost under monarchies, in times of refinement, The genius of a people will have a Corresponding language; the Greek was that of a polite people, who cultivated a great taste for arts and sciences: the use of the participles gives it a peculiar force and brevity, without taking any thing from its perspicuity; it is copious, sonorous, and varied. The Latin, which • Shaftesbury, has strength and expression, suited the character of the Romans; warlike, and engaged in battles and commotions. It was admirably adapted to history and nervous popular eloquence, in which they excelled; inore figurative than the Eng lish, less pliant than the French, less copious than the Greek, and less melodious than the Italian. The Italian indeed is a proof that language degenerates with the genius of a nation into effeminacy: its sweetness, smoothness, and harmony, are substituted for strength; and it furnishes an instance that the character of a people, yet living under that sky where valour once was universal, is more influenced by government than climate. In the east, where temperature and Mahometanism combine to influence the imagination, the human mind has lost much of its capacity and powers. It has been observed by an admired writer, that the Arabic, the sweetest and most copious of the eastern tongues, was peculiarly adapted to charm the shepherd and the soldier, (with whom it was vernacular), in those wild and beautiful compositions of their poets, in which were celebrated their favourite occupations of love and war; and it became, in the hands of Mahomet, a powerful instrument of fascination to inen little qualified to judge of any works of genius, but those addressed to the fancy and the heart. In the west, under the auspices of a better government and a better religion, the mind attained a vigour in its intellectual exertions, an extent in its intel lectual pursuits, and a success in their cultivation, utterly unknown in any other period of their history. The English has copiousness and strength: nor is it deficient in harmony, as its poetry, without the aid of rhyme, evinces. It derives its very forcible and significant words from the Greek, which are formed on the model of the Greek compounds; it may retain something of the Gothic roughness, and sometimes remind us of those who framed our language; but we have enriched it with every tongue, and cultivated it with every art. The brightest passages of Milton and Shakspeare, (says an ingenious essayist) are so closely connected with the genius of our own language, that no foreigner can ever taste them in the original, nor can any translation convey an idea of their beauties: but this is not defeca defect, but excellence; it is the inimita ble in poetry, as well as painting, which is "The grace beyond the reach of art." Some have supposed the patronage of the great was necessary to bring genus to perfection; but we have many instances of the contrary: the most eminent works have been produced without it; and when it has been bestowed in early youth, it has proved not only injurious, but fatal. The mind, whose powers would stagnate unstimulated by fame and favour, wants that radical principle of vigoar which alone can arrive at excel. lence. Few who obtain distinction at a juvenile period of life, preserve or merit it long; effort is abated, not by difficulty, but success: indeed it is the obstacles which it overcomes, that evince the strength of genius. monly accompanied by an impatience of labour; and if it inspire confidence that the intricacies of art and depths of science can be penetrated by a careless glance (which seems what sir Joshua meant when he guarded against dependance upon genius), if application rease, improvement ends, and nothing which it produces will ever have a permanent nich in the temple of fame. To close these observations with the opinion of the first ancient, and the first modern, critic: Genius is that energy which collects, Combines, amplifies, and animates; active, ambitious, enterprising; always imagining something greater than is known; always endeavouring something better than it performs; that power without which judgment is cold, and knowledge inert."-Johnson "To attain excellence in any art, three things are necessary: nature, study, and To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. SIR, Praise, till the reasoning faculties_are__practice."—Aristotle. matured, weakens the moral powers (which have a close alliance with the intellectual); and inspires a conceit and self-sufficiency, obstructive of all progress in genius no less than virtue. A great painter and an acknowledged critic, exclusive of his own art, has left on record his opinion of this confidence, in some admirable lectures to his young pupils. "Ilave no dependance on your own genius," was his reiterated counsel; indeed he impresses it in a manner that would lead superficial observers to suppose he thought that industry could supply its place; he continually tells them that genius can achieve little without it, and self-sufficiency for ever preclude advancement in their art. No one had better opportunities than sir Joshua Reynolds, of observing the effects of resolute perseverance, even with moderate talents; and the perfection it might attain when operating with a mind potent and original. Without industry, knowledge cannot be acquired: genius will soon be exhausted if the soil is unenriched by foreign stores; it will have no materials to work upon, no ideas for imagination to combine; and it can become fruitful only in proportion to its resources. The treasures of ancient and modern art are essential to its fertility, and industry alone can collect them. I acknowledge that genius scizes and combines, with a rapidity inconceivable to slower capacities; and this is one of its most striking characteristics: but quickness of apprehension is coms Magazine for the inclosed letter, VENTURE to solicit a place in your written by Mr. Mathias upon the death of his friend, the Rev. Norton Nicholls; feeling as I do, that by admitting it you will gratify many of your readers, who, though acquainted with the deceased, may not have had an opportunity of seeing this tribute to his memory. Few men have had the happiness of enjoying, during their lives, a more extensive circle of refined and elegant society, than Mr. Nicholls; few have been gifted with an equal share of those polished manners and that engaging benevolence, which cause their company to be universally courted; and few have by their deati created a greater vacuum, or been more generally lamented; so that, though Mr. Mathias, having been induced by the pressing solicitations of his friends, puivately to print a few copies of the letter, has endeavoured to distibute these copies wherever he thought the memory of the deceased was cherished with esteem, it is scarcely possible but that he must have overlooked many, by whom it would have been prized and valued. I feel therefine, sir, that in scading it to you I am performing an acceptable service to numbers, though I may not be fulfilling the wishes of the author; and I beg leave, not only to add my tribute of respect, however inconsiderable, to the memory of a man whom, when alive, I was als lowed to call my friend, and whose losa I inust Ir is my melancholy office to inform you of the death of our friend, the rev. Norton Nicholls, LL.B. rector of Lound and Bradwell, in the county of Suffolk, who died at his house at Blundeston, near Lowestoft, in that county, on Wednesday the 22d of November 1809, in the C3th year of his age. As you well knew the genius, the accoinplishments, the learning, and the virtues, of this rare and gifted man, your gene. rous nature must think that some little memorial of him should be recorded, however frail and perishable in my delineation. To be born and to die did not make up all the history of our friend. Many of the chief ends of our being, which he fulfilled during the placid and even tenor of a long and exemplary life, proved that he had been; and they fully evinced that he had deserved well of all who had enjoyed the intercourse of his society. Many were enlivened by the cheerfulness of his disposition, and all partook of his benevolence, His chosen companions were delighted and improved by his readiness to communicate the rich treasures of his cultivated mind, in all the bright diversities of erudition and of taste. Indeed those studies which can alone be the aliment of youth and the consolation of our declining days, engaged his attention from his carliest years. "Amplissimam illam omnium artium benè vivendi disciplinam, non vitâ magis quam litteris feliciter persecutus." Even when a school-boy, he was never desultory in his application; and he was distinguished for those exercises which mark strength of understanding and solidity of judgment. He wandered not in vain among those fields and hills, so justly styled 'happy' by our greatest lyric poet; and he left Eton for the university of Cambridge, with, a mind prepared for greater attainments, and, capable of that excellence which is the reward of ability when fostered by application. In addition to the attentions which he experienced from the celebrated Dr. Barnard, then master of the school, I have heard him frequently express his grateful sense of the assistance he received at Eton from the voluntary private instruction of Dr. Sumner, whose classical erudition was deep and extensive. By such men he was formed for the intercourse of those highly cultivated minds, educated in the groves of our Academe, which were destined to be the future ornaments and the supports of literature, of the church, and of the state. At the time when Mr. Nicholls became a student in Trinity Hall, the university of Cambridge was the chosen residence of Mr. Gray: A sì gran nome sorga Tutto il coro à inchinarsi del Parnaso! It was natural to feel a gratification in being a member of the same learned society with him; and it was natural also to aspire (if possible) even to a distant intercourse with such a man. To see Mr. Gray was desirable; to speak to him was honourable; but to be admitted to his acquaintance or to his familiarity, was the height of youthful, or indeed of any, ambition. By the intervention of a common friend, Mr. Nicholls, when between eighteen and nineteen years of age, was introduced to Mr. Gray. I remember he told me, what an awe he felt at the time, at the lightning of his eye; at that " folgorante sguardo," as the Tuscans term it; but Mr. Gray's courtesy and encouraging affability soon dispersed every uneasy sensation, and gave him confidence. Shortly after this Mr N. was in a select company, of which Mr. Gray was one; and, as it became his youth, he did not enter into the conversation, but listened with attention. The subject however being general and classical, and as Mr. Nicholls, even at that early period, was acquainted not only with the Greek and Latin, but with many of the best Italian poets, he ventured with great diffidence to offer a short remark; and happened to illustrate what he said by an apposite citation from Dante. At the name of Dante, Mr. Gray (and I wish every young man of genius might hear and consider the value of a word spoken in due season, with modesty and propriety, in the highest, I mean in the most learned and virtuous, company) suddenly turned round to him, and said, “Right: but |