Thus ends this noble drama. The outlines we have sketched, are necessarily imperfect; for, in the summary delineation of character, its nicer shades of feeling and sentiment, must, in part or altogether, disappear from view. Prominent characteristics alone, can be exhibited to advantage. It is a profound remark of Lord Bacon, "that for the expression of affections, passions, corruptions and customs, we are beholden to poets, more than to the philosopher's works; and for wit and eloquence, not much less than to orators' harangues." Whoever, therefore, would acquire a just notion of a poet's characters, must study them in the poet's language; by this means only, can the poet's vigor of thought be transfused into his own. An expression fully realized the force of a compound epithet analyzed into its simples, will often impart a more thorough knowledge of character, than can be derived from the whole work of a translator, however felicitous its execution. The contented reader of mere translations, knows not the feast of thought he neglects in the original. The philosophy of language, the progress of reason, the caste of national thought and religionf-all these topics, so interesting to the inquiring mind, can never be investigated to such advantage as in the phrases and usages of the ancient poets and orators. Nor is it difficult to assign the reason. Language, like every other science, is progressive. In rude society, speech is necessarily restricted to the expression of few objects of thought. As manners improve, language becomes more artificial; its foundations are enlarged; laws, morality, custom, ceremonies, civil or religious, exert a wonderful influence on its structure. Foreign conquests, and extended acquaintance with distant na tions, contribute materially to the same result. Hence the history of language is essentially connected with the history of civilization and national refinement. The antiquary, in his researches into the origin of words, throws light on the progress of the human mind. The complicated formation of language, with all its appendages of imagery and polish, is reduced to system, and observed to be the necessary result of the laws of thought.

* Sir James McIntosh has strikingly illustrated this observation, in his remarks on Cicero's definition of Fortitude" virtus pugnans pro æquitate." The remains of the original sense of virtus, manhood, give a beauty and force to these expressions, which cannot be preserved in our language. The Greek Apern and the German Tugend, originally denoted strength, afterwards courage, and at last, virtue. But the happy derivation of virtus from vir, gives an energy to the phrase of Cicero, which illustrates the use of etymology in the hands of a skilful writer.

The religious belief of the old Saxons may be derived, in part, from the meaning of their names of Deity. How few are aware of the force of those two words--Lord God. The word "God," is pure Anglo-Saxon, and means "good"--it was applied to the Supreme Being, as emphatically a "good Being." Lord is a contraction of the Anglo-Saxon--" heaf," bread; hence our word "loaf;" and "lord," to supply. The ancient English noblemen were accustomed to keep a continual open house, where all their vassals and all strangers had liberty to enter, and eat as much as they would-and hence those noblemen had the honorable title of "Lords," i. e. dispensers of bread. Thus, the words "Lord God," contain in themselves a body of sound divinity.

But trace the progress of English language and civilization, to be convinced of this truth. Their improvements go hand in hand.

A comparison, too, of languages, is often the only evidence of the affinity of nations-the oriental tongues are perceived to bear a striking resemblance to each other-and hence, the inference is natural, that the people of the east are branches of the same family. The relationship of the eastern and western nations, is as necessarily concluded; from an inspection and colla tion of their several modes of speech. The deduction, therefore, of the common origin of mankind, may be drawn from the mere observation of language. The remark of Bacon, is extremely ápropos-" Industrious persons, by an exact and scrupulous diligence and observation out of monuments, names, words, proverbs, tradition, &c., do save and recover somewhat from the deluge of time."

The Grecian language, the noblest legacy the ancients have bequeathed us, is peculiarly interwoven with the customs and institutions of the Greeks-that subtle people delighted in enlarging and refining their speech on the basis of their rites and ceremonies, civil or religious-they disdained to mix foreign allusions with so divine an invention-the language of the gods. The poets and orators recited their splendid productions before the assembled auditory of Greece. How natural, then, that they should make continual references to those venerable manners and institutions of their ancestors, which all held in religious veneration. What an ingenious topic of persuasion to descant on the usages, triumphs and glory of the past. The force and propriety of such allusions can be duly estimated by those only who are conversant with the original text. The essence or spirit of style and thought, like subtle gases, is of so volatile a nature, as to evaporate in the very act of transferring from language to language. Hence, the mere reader of translations will often be disappointed in his expectations of Grecian literature. He will read the most glowing passages of ancient poetry and eloquence, without emotion; he will merge the hidden and peculiar meaning of sentences and phrases into a general sense, corresponding to his own usage. Epithets of character, which, in the original, were pregnant with fulness will seem poor and meager ;and the reader, perhaps, discontented with classical taste and learning, will seek in the amusement of novels, histories and second rate productions of his own country, that delight and interest, which he sought, in vain, in communion with the master-spirits of antiquity.

--

Among the Grecian tragedians, Euripides is chiefly celebrated for that náivetè of expression, which it is impossible to transfuse into our own language. The simplicity of the poet's thoughts,* is remarkable; though there is nothing more elaborately curious than the structure of his words and the sweetness of his melody.† The admirer of ancient tragedy, will find in the "Medea" of this bard, that familiar and easy dignity of speech, which should characterise the stage. What

*Euripides abounds in much of what the ancient critics termed daλtav, tenui oratione et scripturâ levi.

Euripides was excessively slow in composing; on this account he was reproached by a malevolent poet, as stupid--ob serving at the same time that he had written one hundred verses in three days, while Euripides had written only three. True, says the poet, but there is this difference between your poetry and mine--yours will expire in three days, but mine shall live for ages tc oome,

=

epic poem, exhibit characters by the narration and description of the poet-but the poet disappears, and the personages themselves are set before us, acting and speaking what is suitable to their characters."

If, therefore, manners and customs shift in every age, we might expect à priori that dramatic writings would be often obscure, often unintelligible, after the lapse of centuries. What is thus presumable, has actually occurred. We have, in numerous passages, lost the proper key to the interpretation of the tragedians. Domestic and household manners are never the suitable subject of history, and hence they gradually fall into oblivion. The wave of conquest buries every vestige below its depths.

Owing to the continual fluctuation of manners and customs, the tragic poets are the least understood, of all the Grecian writers; the interest, therefore, which the reader, conversant with a different set of habits of life, would otherwise feel, is much impaired. Even the fashions of Shakspeare's time have altered to such a degree as to render difficult of comprehension some of his finest passages.

III. The simplicity of the ancient drama.

The plays of the Greeks, we have had occasion to observe, were designed to impart lessons of wisdom and morality to the people.* And, on this account, they received the approbation of the wisest philosophers. Whoever considers attentively the character of ancient mind, will remark, that it was peculiarly fond of the chaste and simple styles. All the classic models, though unadorned in expression, yet abound in all the majesty of genius-all the sublimest flights of fancy. This fondness for simplicity, the Attics carried to excess, in every department of literature. Tragedy, therefore, was modelled, in all its parts, according to the standard of popular taste; the lessons of wisdom and ethics, were clothed in the chastest attire; the plot of the drama itself was wonderfully destitute of incident. The primary end, to which all the action referred, was neither remote nor attained by artificial surprises or a labyrinth of turns; from beginning to end, you see the catastrophe; yet the magic wand of the poet, like the caduceus of Mercury, holds you spell-bound to his page. The incidents in the play of Medea, are consummated in the course of a few hours; nothing is more simple than the plot throughout; yet, the gifted mind of Euripides, has wrought up one of the noblest productions of the human intellect.

The striking peculiarity of Attic genius, alluded to, in connection with the revolution of modern taste, sufficiently account for the depreciation of the ancient drama. The question of the relative merits of the modern and ancient stage, we do not mean here to discuss:

Non nostrum inter vos tantas componere lites
Et vitulâ tu dignus et hic.-Ecl. iii.

But that public taste has undergone a decided change, * Yet Solon held a contrary opinion as to their effect. He went to witness a new tragedy of Thespis; after the play was ended, Solon ran to the actor, and roughly asked, if he were not ashamed to speak so many lies before so great an auditory? Thespis answered, "It was no shame to act or say such things in jest." Solon, striking the ground hard with his staff, replied, "But, in a short time, we who approve this kind of jest, shall

use it in earnest, in our contracts and transactions."

it would be vain to deny ; a drama now on the ancient model, would not be tolerated by a theatrical audience. The sentiment of Euripides-the soft murmurings of the Attic Bee,* the wild melody of Æschylus, have no great charms for modern ears. There must be plots and underplots-uncertainty of catastrophe-noveltysurprises-bustle and love-shiftings of scenes and protracted periods of years. All these are constituents of the modern drama.

We have thus briefly noticed a few causes that have tended to obscure the intrinsic merits of the Grecian drama. The subject is full of interest, and might be pursued at length-but our limits forbid ;—we have only to exhort our fellow-students to enter the rich fields of classical science, and reap the glorious barvests stretching out illimitably before them. The prize to be won is noble--in all ages, the emulation of choicest spirits. To fathom the depths of souls lit up by the purest ray of thought-to soar with them in their longings after immortality, to the calm Elysium of contemplation, is surely no mean employment of angelic minds.

And have not Grecian classics a special claim on the attention of American youth? Were not their authors freemen, and their thoughts beating high with the fervor of liberty? Were not Sophocles and Æschylus patriot soldiers in the battles of Greece against the proud invader? Was not their language that of the heroes of Marathon and Thermopyla? Surely we should reverence and study so valuable a memorial of the past— embodying the breathing thoughts of heroes-the vehicle of indignant rebukes of tyranny-and connected, in its history, with the first dawnings of liberty, and the proudest epochs of the ancient world. Chapel Hill, May 31, 1839.

* Sophocles, so called from the honied sweetness of his Muse.

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

Mr. WHITE:

are read and appreciated by every denomination of Christians, and few men have ever been the honored instruments of more extensive good. The verses have never appeared in print on either side of the Atlantic. B.

LINES,

COMBE ON PHRENOLOGY.

[All our readers are probably not aware that the distinguished GEORGE COMBE, of Edinburgh, the first living Professor of Phrenology, is now on a visit to this country--and that his lectures on that interesting subject have attracted, and are still attracting brilliant

at Mount Vernon.

BY REV. WM. JAY, BATH, ENGLAND.

There dwelt the Man, the flow'r of human kind, Whose visage mild bespoke his nobler mind. There dwelt the Soldier, who his sword ne'er drew, But in a righteous cause to Freedom true. There dwelt the Hero, who ne'er fought for fame, Yet gained more glory than a Cæsar's name-There dwelt the Statesman, who, devoid of art, Gave soundest counsels from an upright heart. And O! Columbia, by thy sons caress'd, There dwelt the Father of the realms he bless'd, Who no wish felt to make his mighty praise, Like other Chiefs, the means himself to raise. But there retiring, breathed in pure renown, And felt a grandeur that disdained a Crown.

SONNETS.

INDOLENCE.-(BY PARK BENJAMIN.)

I.

There is no type of indolence like this:-
A ship in harbor, not a signal flying,
The wave unstirr'd about her huge sides lying,
No breeze her drooping pennant-flag to kiss,
Or move the smallest rope that hangs aloft:
Sailors recumbent, listless, stretched around
Upon the polished deck or canvass-soft

To his tough limbs that scarce has ever found
A bed more tender, since his mother's knee
The stripling left to tempt the changeful sea.
Some are asleep, some whistle, try to sing,

Some gape, and wonder when the ship will sail, Some "damn" the calm and wish it was a gale; But every lubber there is lazy as a king.

II.

To see a fellow of a summer's morning,
With a large fox-hound of a slumberous eye,
And a slim gun go slowly lounging by-
About to give the feathered bipeds warning
That probably they may be shot hereafter-
Excites in me a quiet kind of laughter.
For, though I am no lover of the sport
Of harmless murder, yet it is to me
About the laziest sight on earth, to see
A corpulent person, breathing with a snort,
Go on a shooting-frolic all alone:

For well I know that when he's out of town,

He and his dog and gun will all lie down,

that there are hundreds of intelligent persons, in whose minds the very name of phrenology is associated with something like empiricism and imposture. The violent opposition, however, which it has already encountered, and is destined still to encounter, may, we ment of its claims to be ranked as a true science. All think, be easily accounted for, without any disparagenew systems and discoveries, even in those branches of human knowledge which do not concern the moral feelings or affect the passions,-such for example as the mathematics or mechanical philosophy,--are always slow in making their way to general favor and acceptance; and this doubtless arises in a great degree from the prejudices of education and attachment to old opinions. The material philosophy of Newton, it is said, had flourished for thirty years, before the learned doctors of the University of Cambridge condescended to embrace it; and, in our own country, it is well recollected, that the experiments of Fulton to illustrate the application of steam power to the purposes of navigation, were long regarded as the efforts of a crack-brained enthusiast. If in such instances, it has been found hard to beat down human prejudice and error, how much more difficult is it, when the discovery relates to moral, metaphysical or religious truth. A system which teaches that the feelings, propensities and capacities of our nature, may be inferred from cerebral development, or be determined by external and visible conformation, is at once revolting to all those who desire to appear better and wiser than they are-or who are conscious of some secret frailties, or lurking dispositions, which they would gladly conceal from mortal eye. In like manner, we know that there is a natural repugnance in the heart to the revealed truths of religion, because they present an humbling and mortifying view of man's nature, and exact from him a purity of thought and life beyond his unregenerate capacities; but as this innate aversion to the holy requirements of christianity, does not prove that christianity is false, neither does the common and natural dislike which is felt towards phrenology diminish its just claims to fair and candid inquiry as well as the fearless assent of the mind upon conviction. We know some excellent and pious persons, however, whose antipathies are so strong on the subject that they will not even examine it, and this, in most cases, arises from a vague conception that the science is some how or other allied to materialism. We have no doubt, ourselves, that this is a gross misapprehension of the nature and tendency of the system; and this opinion cannot need stronger confirmation than in the fact, that phrenology numbers among its disciples some of the firmest believers in the christian religion. Other persons there are, who, without supposing that any connexion exists with materialism, turn from the dis

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