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Perhaps I had no small change. Reader, do not be frightened at the hard words, imposition, imposturegive, and ask no questions. Cast thy bread upon the waters. Some have unawares (like this Bank clerk) entertained angels.

Shut not thy purse-strings always against painted distress. Act a charity sometimes. When a poor creature (outwardly and visibly such) comes before thee, do not stay to enquire whether the "seven small children," in whose name he implores thy assistance, have a veritable existence. Rake not into the bowels of unwelcome truth, to save a halfpenny. It is good to believe him. If he be not all that he pretendeth, give, and under a personate father of a family, think (if thou pleasest) that thou hast relieved an indigent bachelor. When they come with their counterfeit looks, and mumping tones, think them players. You pay your money to see a comedian feign these things, which, concerning these poor people, thou canst not certainly tell whether they are feigned or not.

"Pray God your honour relieve me," said a poor beads woman to my friend L one day; "I have seen better days." "So have I, my good woman," retorted he, looking up at the welkin which was just then threatening a storm-and the jest (he will have it) was as good to the beggar as a tester. It was at all events kinder than

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CATULLUS, WITH NEW TRANSLATIONS.

LEISURE HOURS.

No. VIII.

The Dedication, the Pinnace, the Peninsula of Sirmio, Hymn to Diana.

ENOUGH has been already said of Catullus in the former pages of the LONDON, with the exception of one point, which seems to have escaped the notice of the writers: I allude to the hard treatment which the poet has received from his professed friends. Whenever they light on any poem of peculiar brilliancy and energy, they directly set their mark upon it as a translation from some other poem of a Greek Writer; which other poem happens always to be

conveniently lost. Thus the_Atys, which is full of allusions to Roman customs, is said to be Greek; and if you appeal to the splendid picturing and animated passion of the Peleus and Thetis, in evidence of the capacity of Catullus to have invented the Atys, you are told, "Oh, the Peleus and Thetis is undoubtedly Greek." The Phaselus, also, where everything in itself inanimate finds a tongue, has life in its motions, and feels the stirrings of human passion, is

much too bold and picturesque to belong to the class of Roman poetry: it must certainly be Greek. Even Mr. Leigh Hunt, whose version of the Atys, Calve tuâ veniâ, is the most poetical and spirited in the language, takes up the common notion of his inspiring master being a plagiarist; and aware that his favourite theory of the Roman dearth of invention might be opposed by the grand example of Lucretius, he coolly reminds us that Lucretius stole his philosophy from Epicurus: but from whom did he steal his poetry?--He might as well have told us, that Shakspeare could not be an original poet, because the story of his Romeo and Juliet is to be found in Girolamo de la Corte's History of Verona.

and cautious imitation. The pre-
sumption is decidedly in favour of the
poetic originality of Lucretius and
Catullus. They alone have come
down to us; and if they were only
retailers of traditionary sentiment and
reflected imagery, from whom did the
other poets of the Republican era
borrow their recorded vigour?
Whence came the tragedies of Accius,
Pomponius, and Varius? The Thy-
estes of the latter is said by Quinc-
tilian (x. 513) to be " comparable to
any one of the Greeks." The same
critic affirms, "Satire is wholly Ro-
man:" how does this consist with
the dearth of invention? He takes
leave also to dissent from Horace in
his flippant censure of Lucilius,
and speaks of the nervous genius of
the latter in the warmest terms. If
it be objected that satire is excluded
from the higher order of poetry, let
the moral passages of Juvenal fur-
nish the answer.
AN IDLER.

Reasoning from analogy, we should naturally expect that poets of bolder invention preceded Virgil. The Augustan age was the Roman age of Anne; the era of critical refinement PS. The character which Juvenal gives of Lucilius resembles his own: if Juvenal was only an imitator, what must have been the archetype?

Ense velut stricto quoties Lucilius ardens
Infremuit, rubet auditor cui frigida mens est
Criminibus, tacità sudant præcordia culpâ :
Inde iræ et lacrymæ.

Sat. i. 165.

But when Lucilius brandishes his pen,
And flashes in the face of guilty men
As with a naked sword, loud blushes speak
The shuddering sin, that reddens on the check;
A cold sweat stands in drops on every part,
And rage succeeds to tears, revenge to smart.
Altered from Dryden.*

DEDICATION OF THE POEMS.

To Cornelius Nepos.

On whom this new, † spruce, tiny volume bestow,
By the porous dry pumice-stone burnish'd but now?
Cornelius, thy own it shall be,

For trifles of mine were still something to thee.
You praised them-for well I remember the time-
When alone of the sons of our Italy's clime,

In three tomes-Jove! what labour! what lore!
You dared to expand the long annals of yore.

Then accept nor disdain it-this scrip-scrap of mine;
Whatever the sins on its head, be it thine:

And may it perennially last,

O patroness virgin! when ages are past.

* This masterly old translator having stopped short of the sense, the couplet in Italics is supplied.

+ Doering will have it that novum and lepidum relate to the contents of the book, not to the outward fashion. In this case Catullus is chargeable with an aukward ambi

CONSECRATION OF HIS PINNACE.
Carm. IV.

Strangers! the bark that meets your eye
Saith never ship could fleeter fly;
No tree that swam e'er pass'd her by
With oar or straining sail :

She calls on Hadria's threatening shore,
The Cyclads, Thracia's surges frore,
Propontis, Euxine's surly roar,
To contravene the tale.

In after-time a skiff, she stood
Tufted with nodding leaves-a wood!
Full oft from ridged Cytorus' rood
Her sighing foliage spoke:
Pontic Amastris, lend thine aid!
Cytorus wave thy boxen shade;

Ye knew and know, the Pinnace said,
Your memories I invoke!

Bear witness ye! to what I speak:
I rooted on your mountain peak;
Thence launch'd me in your foamy creek,
And plunged the leafless oar;

Thence bore my lord through th' idle spray ;
On either tack obliquely lay,

Or with squared sail-yards right away
Scudded the gale before.

No shore-god had my prayers: I pass'd
From farthest seas, and now my mast
Rocks on this limpid lake at last;
My better day is gone:
Laid up, and dedicate to thee,
Who with thy twin-star rulest the sea,
I feel old age insensibly

Come stealing peaceful on.

TO THE PENINSULA OF SIRMIO.
Carm. XXXI.

Sirmio! soft eye of island scenery,
Resting on either waters, molten lake,
Or the broad sea, with what a glad free will
I visit thee once more; and scarce believe
That I have left at distance far behind
The desarts of Bithynia, and am here,
And look on thee in safety. O what bliss

guity in alluding to the gloss of the pumice, immediately in succession to these epithets. That lepidus and novus are used elsewhere to express facetious in matter, and new in manner, it requires not the ghost of Bentley to inform us: but this furnishes not a shadow of reasonable argument, why they should be so understood here. This is eternally the way with commentators, who, instead of weighing the context, ransack their memories for pedagogical common-places. They seem always to have a dread of circumstantiality; especially when it is picturesque and to the purpose. School-masters agree with them in this: perhaps because school-masters have formed their taste on commentators. I remember they would never let us say that Augustus quaffed the nectar with purple mouth, or that Dido spoke from her rosy lips; beautiful was always the word. In the Atys the emasculated youth is said to touch the timbrel niveis manibus : there is a faint allusion, delicately touched off, to the paleness of effeminated manhood. Then comes Doering with his "hoc est pulchris:” beautiful again!—“ O seri studiorum!" Let me, however, recommend Doering's edition of Catullus as a very accurate one, and the notes as generally fraught with useful comments and illustrations.

Greater, than thus to spring as loosed from cares,
To drop the weary load of mind, and spent
With foreign travel, by our own dear hearth
Sink down at once on that familiar couch
For which we languish'd when away! tis this
Compensates all we suffer'd. Joy to thee
Delightful spot! and bid thy master joy
That he is come: and thou, O Lydian lake,
Rejoice with all thy waters: all at home
That laugh in memory, laugh my welcome now!

HYMN ON A FESTIVAL OF DIANA.

Carm. XXXIV.

Girls and boys of spotless age,
Ours is Dian's patronage :

Spotless boys and girls, we raise
In song our Dian's praise.
Infant great of greatest Jove!
Daughter of Latona's love;
Newly born she cradled thee
By Delos' olive-tree.

For thou wert of mountains queen;
And of all the woodlands green;
Covert lawns in forest nooks,

And noisy-gurgling brooks.

Thee, Lucina-Juno,-call
Mothers in the birth-pang thrall;
Puissant Trivia, Luna thou,

With falsely shining brow.

Measuring with thy monthly sphere
Thy swift journey of the year,
Thou, O Goddess! fill'st with grain
The garners of the swain.

By the name that meets thy will,
Be thou named and hallow'd still;
Bless with thy accustom'd grace
The old Romulean race!

Tales of Lyddalcross.

TALE SIXTH.

DEATH OF THE LAIRD OF WARLSWORM.

It happened on a fine harvest af ternoon, that I found myself at the entrance of one of the wild and romantic glens or vales of Galloway; and as a Galwegian vale has a character of its own, it would mutilate my story to leave it undescribed. Imagine an expanse of brown moorland extending as far as sight can reach, threaded by innumerable burns or brooks, and tenanted only in ap

pearance by flocks of sheep, or by coveys of red and black game. Here and there a shepherd was seen with his dogs, or a bareheaded maiden with her pails of milk, going homewards from the fold, and cheering her way with one of those old tender traditional ballads which some neglected spirit, like that of John Lowe, has scattered so largely among the pastoral glens of Galloway. A shep

herd's house, or his summer sheal, ris ing like the "bonnie bower" of the two heroines of Scottish song, on a burn brae, and covered thick with rushes, while it threw its long wavering line of blue smoke into the clear sharp air, spoke of the presence of the sons and daughters of man, or said, in the quaint and homely language of the Galwegian proverb," where four cloots go, man's twa feet maun follow."

But this heath, barren and wild as it seemed, had other attractions. At the distance of almost every little mile, numerous streams of smoke ascended from the brown moor; the sound and the hum of man, busied with the flail, the hatchet, or the hammer, was heard; the cry and the merriment of children abounded; and here and there a green tree-top or a chimney-head, a kirk-spire, or a ruined tower, projecting above the horizon of blossomed heather, proclaimed to the traveller that Caledonia, amid her desarts, has her well-peopled glens and her fruitful places.

On a summer sabbath morning the people of Galloway are to be beheld in their glory; then every little deep green and populous vale pours forth its own sedate, and pious, and welldressed multitude. From the dame in the douce grey mantle to the maiden in glittering silks and scarlets; from him in the broad blue bonnet to her in the gallant cap and feather; from the trembling and careful step of age to the firm and heedless stride of youth; from her who dreams of bridal favours and bridegroom's vows, to him bent to the earth with age, musing on the burial procession and the gaping grave,-all are there, moving on staid and soberly to the house of God. Often have I stood and seen the scanty current of people issue out like the little brook of their native glen, join themselves to a fuller stream, and, increasing as they flowed on, become as a river ere they reached the entrance to the burial ground, which, hallowed with their fathers' dust, encompassed their native kirk. I have heard the bell toll, and the melody of their psalms of praise and hymns of thanksgiving flow far and wide. I have thought, while these holy sounds arose, that the bleat of the flocks became softer, the cry of the plover less shrill, and

that the divine melody subdued into music the rough brawling of the brook along which it was heard.

At the heathy entrance into one of these beautiful vales I accordingly stood and pursued the winding of a little stream, which, after leaping over two or three small crags, and forming several little bleaching grounds of greensward for the vil lagers' webs, gathered all its waters together, and concentrated all its might, to pour itself on a solitary mill-wheel at the farther end of the valley. On either side of the glen the shepherds and husbandmen had each constructed his homely abode. according to his own fancy; the houses were dropped here and there at random, facing east, and west, and south, each attached to its own little garden, the green flourishing of which was pleasant to the eye, while the fragrance of some sweet herbs, or a few simple flowers, escaped from the enclosure, and was wafted about me by the low and fitful wind. The whole glen was full of life, the sickles were moving beneath the ripe grain, the bandsmen were binding and stooking it, several low-wheeled cars were busied in depositing this rustic treasure in the farmer's stackyard; while the farmer himself moved about, surveyed the fulfilment of his wishes, and rubbed the full ears between his palms, and examined with a pleased and a curious eye the quality of his crop. At the doors of the cottages the old dames sat in groups in the sun, twirling their distaffs, and driving the story round of wonder or of scandal; while an unsummable progeny of barefooted bairns ran, and rolled, and leaped, and tumbled, and laughed, and screamed, till the whole glen re-murmured with the din.

I sat down by the side of a flat grave-stone, bedded level with the grass; the ancient inscription, often renewed by the pious villagers, told that beneath it lay one of those enthusiastic, undaunted, and persecuted peasants, who combated for freedom of faith and body when the nobles of the land forgot the cause of God and their country. Presently the children desisted from their merriment, and gathered about and gazed on me, a man of an unknown glen, with a quiet and a curious eye. I ever

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