A de si longs détails le dieu du goût s'oppose.
Mais qui peut refuser un hommage à la rose,
La rose, dont Vénus compose ses bosquets,
Le printems sa guirlande, et l'amour ses bouquets.
Qu'Anacreon chanta, qui formoit avec grâce
Dans les jours de festin la couronne d'Horace.

Chant 3.

The version which I am about to give from our anonymous translator is, throughout, a faithful and spirited copy, and, in one or two instances, rises, I think, in its diction and metrical tone, beyond the level of the original. I would particularly point out, as of this description, the seventh and the closing couplets.

Charms of the eye, and graces of the plain, Ye flow'rs, the vain caprice of art disdain.

Come, paint the ground with all your bloomy pride ; Come, nor your rich allurements seek to hide

The tuneful trifling of the Bard,

Who trick'd a Gothic theme with classic flowers,
And sung of fountains bursting from the shells
Of brazen Tritons, spouting through the jaws
"Of Gorgons, Hydras, and Chimæras dire.'

B. iii. 1. 366.

Within the sad parterre's disgusting bound;
But let your smiling stores be show'r'd around.
On the green lawn your blushing bloom display,
Or with the path's gay laughing border stray;
Here form your tufts, yon bow'rs around entwine,
Or on the riv'let's bank meand'ring shine;
Hang from those walls, or 'mid yon basket bloom,
Where, tempted by the sweetly-breathed perfume,
Let the bee hesitate, as round he flies,

In what sweet cup to roll his little thighs.
Your monthly change let fond Rapin pursue,
Tell all your names, and paint each varying hue:
Impatient taste abhors details so long;

But to the Rose, who dares refuse a song?

The Rose, with which her arbours Venus wove,
The Spring his garland, and his nosegay, Love;
Anacreon's fav'rite flow'r, the chaplet gay
Of jovial Flaccus on the festal day.

In complete contrast to this light and brilliant scenery, the French bard now makes a sudden transition to one of those features of the wild and picturesque of which the modern art of landscape gardening has so happily availed itHe calls us to behold, in short, with what striking and admirable effect rocks, either

self.

in their insulated or assembled state, may be rendered subservient to the purposes of him who possesses a just taste for the beauties and sublimities of nature. He contemns, however, in the most emphatic manner, all attempts to introduce such a constituent of landscape where it previously existed not, declaring, what experience has almost constantly taught, that the effort is alike presumptuous and abortive; and he then indignantly exclaims, in allusion to this vain mockery of imitating man,

Loins de ces froids essais q'un vain effort étale, Aux champs de Midleton, aux monts de Dovedale, Whately, je te suis; viens, j'y monte avec toi. Que je m'y sens saisi d'un agréable effroi ! Tous ces rocs variant leurs gigantesques cimes, Vers le ciel élancés, roules dans des abimes, L'un par l'autre appuyés, 1 un sur l'autre étendus, Quelquefois dans les airs hardiment suspendus, Les uns taillés en tours, en arcades rustiques, Quelques-uns à travers leurs noirâtres portiques Du ciel dans le lointain laissant percer l'azur, Des sources, des ruisseaux le cours brillant et pur, Tout rappelle à l'esprit ces magiques retraites, Ces romantiques lieux qu'ont chantés les poëtes.

Chant 3.

Far from such cold essays of feeble pow'r, To Middleton, to Dovedale, let me tow'r; Whately, with thee I seem to scale the sky; Tho' pleas'd I tremble, as I mount on high. Lo! here a rock his huge gigantic brow Enwraps with clouds; deep in th' abyss below. Another rolls; or cliff on cliff high piled, Wide o'er each other stretch their horrors wild. Here boldly o'er the deep-plung'd valley flung, Their rude arcades and frowning tow'rs are hung: Or thro' their black and distant aisles, the blue Æthereal gleams upon th' enchanted view; Or glitt'ring streamlets play adown the steep, Or headlong cataracts in thunder sweep. I view those magic scenes the wilds among, Which bards of old in holy lays have sung.

The energy of the original is here finely supported, if not surpassed, by the vigorous version of our translator, whose powers are almost immediately afterwards taxed in transferring a picture of a very opposite nature, but to which his colouring is not less successfully adapted. The Abbé is speaking of the variety and pleasing effect produced by clothing the rude and naked rock with lichens, plants, and shrubs,

and by partially shading the more bold and prominent parts with forest foliage; and he then asks,

N'avez-vous pas encor, pour former leur parure, Des arbustes rampans l'errante chevelure? J'aime à voir ces rameaux, ces souples rejetons, Sur leurs arides flancs serpenter en festons. J'aime à voir leurs fronts nuds, et leurs têtes

sauvages

Se coiffer de verdure, et s'entourer d'ombrages.
C'est peu. Parmi ces rocs un vallon précieux,
Un terrein moins ingrat vient-il rire à vos yeux ?
Saisissez ce bienfait; deployez à la vue

D'un sol favorisé la richesse imprévue :
C'est un contraste heureux !

Chant 3.

Are there not curling shrubs that gently creep
To hang their tresses on the naked steep?
How close they cling! how gradual they glide!

I love their verdure on its sun-burnt side:
I love the little root that dares to blow
Upon its worn and weather-beaten brow.
And haply too the op'ning rocks between,
I find a small recess, delicious scene!