of the poem, evinces industry; but he was sometimes impatient and careless. His materials were hard, and difficult to mould, and after he had obtained a form, he imagined that his labour was at an end; for he knew not the art of polishing.

There was an edition of Lucretius published in seventeen hundred and forty-three, in two volumes, octavo, with a free, prose, English version, by Guernier and others. To communicate the meaning of the more abstruse parts of Lucretius, a prose translation may be more competent than one in verse; but to those portions where his imagination takes wing, or where he exercises his happy powers of description, we should no doubt have occasion to apply the words of Roscommon:

Degrading prose explains bis meaning ill,

And shows the stuff, but not the workman's skill.

The translations of Creech and Guernier, except that of Mr. Good, which has recently appeared, are the only versions of the whole of Lucretius, in our language. Parts of this author have been translated by Evelyn, Sprat, Dryden, Beattie, and Wakefield.

Dryden, who left few of the ancient poets untouched, and never disgraced what he handled, rendered some parts of Lucretius in a manner very different from that of Creech. He does not profess however to have given a strict translation of those fragments of his author that he selected; for it was his avowed design "to make him as pleasant as he could." Indeed many of Dryden's versions, as they are called, may with great propriety be termed imitations ; but the portions. he has drawn from Lucretius, may with greater justice be denominated paraphrase.

The following example shows the sprightlines of Dryden's

manner.

Cerberus et Furiae jam vero, &c.

L. III. 1024.

* I shall make some remarks on this translation in my next number. † See Dryden's Miscellanies, vol. 2.

There are several translations in his miscellanies of this equivocal character; particularly those of the Idyllia of Theocritus; in one of which he makes Chloris say,

I'll die as pure as Queen Elizabeth;

which the English reader may set down for a singular anachronism of Dryden, or a wonderful prophecy of the Grecian virgin.

As for the dog, the furies, and their snakes,
The gloomy caverns and the burning lakes,
And all the vain infernal trumpery,

They neither are, nor were, nor e'er can be ;
But here on earth the guilty have in view
The mighty pains to mighty mischiefs due;
Racks, prisons, poisons, the Tarpeian rock,

Stripes, hangmen, pitch, and suffocating smoke.*

Dryden selected the more poetical parts of Lucretius only. For translating the close of the fourth book, in which, like his author, he always speaks plainly, he offers no apology, that he expected would be received; but he must have the credit of rendering it into rich verse, and of imparting to those passages, that are in themselves decent, a high degree of delicacy and feeling.

* Compare Creech, Book 3d, line 1015.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

FOR THE ANTHOLOGY.

The following tributary lines conclude Mr. Head's anniversary Poem before the Society of B K, and are extracted from the copy deposited in the Library of the Institution.

ALAS how frail all human pleasures glow!
This festive day must hear the voice of woe.
Restor❜d from climes bright with poetick bloom,
Where glory's laurel waves o'er Virgil's tomb,
A favour'd bard, to all the Muses known,

300

For us awoke his lyre's enchanting tone........

That matchless lyre has death's cold hand unstrung
And left its honours to a feeble tongue.

Sicilian Muses, all your treasures pour,

The fragrant lily and the purple flower,

With mingled sweets to grace his timeless urn
Whom Genius weeps and all the Virtues mourn :
These, these at least our pious hands may spread,
The unavailing honours of the dead.

310

Ver. 301. Winthrop Sargent, having twice visited Italy for the restoration of his health, was appointed to deliver the Anniversary Poem, in 1807. A few days before the celebration be waa attacked by a pulmonary disease, which terminated his life on the 10th. January, 1808.

Ver. 305.

Manibus date lilia plenis ;
Purpureos spargam flores, animamque amici
His saltem accumulera donis, et fungar inani
Munere.

Virg.

TRANSLATION OF ODE 17. BOOK 2. OF HORACE,

Cur me querelis exanimas tuis, &c.

WHY kill thy friend with grief and pain,

Ah! why so mournfully complain?

The gods can never so decree,
Nor can it be endured by me,

That thou, Maecenas first shouldst fall
The prey of fate that conquers all,.....
The column fair, that decks my name,
That props my fortune and my fame.
From me should death untimely tear
My life's lov'd half, I least could spare,....
But half himself, nor half so dear,
Ah! why should Horace linger here?
The day, that shuts its light from thee,
Shall be the last, that visits me.
It is no vain perfidious vow,

The gods have heard, and witness now:
Whenever thou, my friend must go,
And cross the joyless lake below,
We will, we will together tread
The hidden mansions of the dead;
Together make our last remove,
Prepared the extreme of fate to prove.
Tho' there chimeras huge, and dire
Oppose my steps with blasts of fire,
Tho' mighty Gyas there display
His hundred hands to bar my way,
In vain shall force with flames.combine
To tear my faithful shade from thine.......
So justice wills her fixt decree,
With her the unchanging fates agree.
Whether on me its aspect cast,
As o'er my natal hour it past,
Or Libra, or the scorpion fierce,
Whose sting did erst Orion pierce;
Or whether I to light was born
Beneath the stormy Capricorn,
Who bids the wintry tempest rave,
And lash the dark Hesperian wave;
Our stars with strange consent agree,
And mark our mutual destiny.
On thee Jove look'd propitious down,
To save from impious Saturn's frown;
Mis guardian radiance round thee shone,

And ere the mortal shaft had flown,
He check'd the approaching flight of fate;
When thrice the people, all elate

At thy approach, with plausive voice
Bade the throng'd theatre rejoice.

Me too, a falling tree had slain,

Had crush'd the cell that shields the brain,
If Faunus, prompt and faithful still
Mercurial men to guard from ill,

Had not with his right hand reliev'd
The blow, and thus my life repriev❜d.

To Jove erect the votive fane,

His altars let thy victims stain.

To Faunus grateful I've decreed,

Forth with a humble lamb shall bleed.

H******

TRANSLATION OF THE 22d. ODE OF BOOK 1. OF HORACE.

Integer vitæ, &c.

THE man upright and pure in heart,
Whose life no stain nor blemish knows,
Nor needs the Moorish spear nor dart,
Nor poison'd shafts where'er he goes ;.....

O'er desert sands 'mid summer's blaze,
Or Caucasus of clime severe,
Or where the fam'd Hydaspes strays,
And rolls in gold his current clear.

For late, a wolf, as free of care

Far in the Sabine woods I stray'd,

And sung of Lalage, my fair,

Saw me unarm'd, and fled afraid.

Yet not a fiercer monster roves,

Of feller rage, unwont to spare,
In Daunia's woods or Africk's groves
Tho' lions whelp, and wander there.

Then be my lot to rest or roam,

Far in the dreariest tract of earth,
In sterile realms, where nature's bloom
Expires with constant cold or dearth

Where ne'er a breeze refreshing strays,

Nor woodlands wave their branches green,
Where lowering clouds, and joyless days
In gloom for ever wrap the scene;

Or where, beneath the burning sun,
No cheerful haunts of man appear,
So near his flaming coursers run,

His glowing chariot rolls so near;

Love my companion still shall be,

And all my wandering steps beguile ;

In fancy still my Lalage

Shall sweetly speak, and sweetly smile.

H******

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

REMARKS on our review of Coelebs by "a friend to our miscellany," who desires to unite the spirit with the name of Christian, have been received. He thinks we have been too parsimonious of praise, and have censured in some instances without reason. Let the readers judge. We wish they had his light; but if we give a place to his communication, we shall be obliged, to be "consistent," to admit others to occupy our pages with exceptions to our judgmentfof books, till our Review is nothing but a mint of controversies.

Our correspondent intimates that our strictures should have been illustrated by extracts. Extracts from a book so much diffused appeared to us unnecessary and even impertinent. In our notice of Coelebs we considered ourselves more as expressing sentiments of a book generally read, than influencing expectation concerning one yet to be known.

The remarks of our friend, signed "Steady Habits," is received with pleasure, and we shall afford it a place in our next number. We regret that it will be necessary to divide it; but we have no fear of injuring its general effect bydivision.