But, oh thy ways are wonderful, and lie
Beyond the deepest reach of mortal eye.
Oft have I heard of thine almighty power;
But never saw thee till this dreadful hour.
O'erwhelm'd with shame, the Lord of Life I see,
Abhor myself, and give my soul to thee.
Nor shall my weakness tempt thine anger more:
Man is not made to question, but adore.”

NOTES ON THE PARAPHRASE. Book of Jol.] It is disputed amongst the critics who was the author of the Book of Job; some give it to Moses, some to others. As I was engaged in this little performance, some arguments occurred to me which favour the former of those opinions; and because I do not find them mentioned by any one else, I have flung them into the following notes, where little else is to be expected.

Ver. 1.] The Almighty's speech, chapter xxxviii, &c. which is what I paraphrase in this little work, is by much the finest part of the noblest and most antient poem in the world. Bishop Patrick says, its grandeur is as much above all other poetry, as thunder is louder than a whisper. In order to set this distinguished part of the poem in a fuller light, and give the reader a clearer conception of it, I have abridged the preceding and subsequent parts of the poem, and joined them to it; so that this piece is a sort of an epitome of the whole Book of Job.

I use the word paraphrasé, because I want another which might better answer to the uncommon liberties I have taken. I have omitted, added, and transposed. The mountain, the comet, the Sun, and other parts, are entirely added: those upon the peacock, the lion, &c. are much enlarged; and I

have thrown the whole into a method more suitable to our notions of regularity. The judicious, if they compare this piece with the original, will, I flatter myself, find the reasons for the great liberties I have indulged myself in through the whole.

Longinus has a chapter on interrogations, which shows that they contribute much to the sublime. This speech of the Almighty is made up of them. Interrogation seems, indeed, the proper style of Majesty incensed. It differs from other manner of reproof, as bidding a person execute himself, does from a common execution; for he that asks the guilty a proper question, makes him, in effect, pass sentence on himself.

Ver: 41.] The Book of Job is well known to be dramatic, and, like the tragedies of old Greece, is fiction built on truth. Probably this most noble part of it, the Almighty speaking out of the whirlwind (so suitable to the after-practice of the Greek stage, when there happened dignus vindice nodus) is fictitious; but is a fiction more agreeable to the time in which Job lived, than to any since. Frequent, before the Law, were the appearances of the Almighty after this manner, Exod. e. xix. Ezek. c. i. &c. Hence is he said to "dwell in thick darkness and have his way in the whirlwind."

The like spirit in these two passages is no bad concurrent argument, that Moses is author of the book of Job.

Ver. 191.] Another argument that Moses was the author is, that most of the creatures here are Egyptian. The reason given why the raven is particularly mentioned as an object of the care of Providence, is, because, by her clamorous and importunate voice, she particularly seems always calling upon it; thence zogárow, à zógaž, Ælian. I. ii. c. 48. is "to ask earnestly." And since there were ravens on the bank of the Nile more clamorous than the rest of that species, those probably are meant in that place.

Ver. 195.] There are many instances of this bird's stupidity: let two suffice. First, It covers its head in the reeds, and thinks itself all out of sight: Stat lumine clauso

CLAUD.

Ridendum revolta caput, creditque latere Quæ non ispa videt. Secondly, They that go in pursuit of them, draw the skin of an ostrich's neck on one hand, which proves a sufficient lure to take them with the other. They have so little brain, that Heliogabalus had six hundred heads for his supper.

Here we may observe, that our judicious as well as sublime author just touches the great points of distinction in each creature, and then hastens to another. A description is exact when you cannot add, but what is common to another thing; nor withdraw, but something peculiarly belonging to the thing described. A likeness is lost in too much description, as a meaning often in too much illus

tration.

Ver. 205.] Here is marked another peculiar quality of this creature, which neither flies nor runs directly, but has a motion composed of both, and, using its wings as sails, makes great speed.

Vasta velut Libyæ venantum vocibus ales
Cum premitur, calidas cursu transmittit arenas,
Inque modum veli sinuatis flamine pennis
Pulverulenta volat.
CLAUD. in Eutr.

Ver. 206.] Xenophon says, Cyrus had horses that could overtake the goat and the wild ass; but none that could reach this creature. A thousand golden ducats, or a hundred camels, was the stated price of a horse that could equal their speed.

Ver. 207.] Though this bird is but just mentioned in my author, I could not forbear going little further, and spreading those beautiful plumes (which are there shut up) in half a dozen lines. The circunstance I have marked of his opening his plumes to the Sun is true: Expandit colores adverso maximè Sole, quia sic fulgentius radiant. PLIN. 1. x. c. 20.

Ver. 219.] Thuanus (de Re Accip.) mentions a hawk that flew from Paris to London in a night. And the Eygptians, in regard to its swiftness, made it their symbol for the wind; for which reason we may suppose the hawk, as well as the crow above mentioned, to have been a bird of note in Egypt. Ver. 227.] The eagle is said to be of so acute a

cannot see her, she can discern the smallest fish under water. My author accurately understood the nature of the creatures he describes, and scems

to have been a naturalist as well as a poet, which the next note will confirm.

Ver. 231.] The meaning of this question is, Knowest thou the time and circumstances of their bringing forth? For to know the time only was easy, and had nothing extraordinary in it; but the circumstances had something peculiarly expressive of God's providence, which makes the question proper in this place. Pliny observes, that the hind with young is by instinct directed to a certain herb called seselis, which facilitates the birth. Thunder also (which looks like the more immediate hand of Providence) has the same effect. Ps. xxix. In so early an age to observe these things, may style our author a naturalist.

Ver. 259.] The descripton of the horse is the most celebrated of any in the poem. There is an excellent critique on it in the Guardian. I shall therefore only observe, that in this description, as in other parts of this speech, our vulgar translation has much more spirit than the Septuagint; it always takes the original in the most poetic and exalted sense, so that most commentators, even on the Hebrew itself, fall beneath it.

Ver. 289.] Pursuing their prey by night is true of most wild beasts, particularly the lion. Ps. vi. 20. The Arabians have one among their 500 names for the lion, which signifies "the hunter by moon-shine."

Ver. 322.] Cephesi glaciale caput quo suetos an

helam

Ferre sitim Python, amnemque avertere ponto.
STAT. Theb. v. 349.
Qui spiris tegeret montes, hauriret hiatu
Flumina, &c.

CLAUD. Pref. in Ruf. Let not then this hyberbole seem too much for an eastern poet, though some commentators of name strain hard in this place for a new construction, through fear of it.

Ver. 323.] The taking of the crocodile is most difficult. Diodorus says, they are not to be taken but by iron nets. When Augustus conquered Eygpt, he struck a medal, the impress of which was a crocodile chained to a palm-tree, with this inscription, Nemo antea religavit.

Ver. 339.] This alludes to a custom, of this creature, which is, when sated with fish, to come ashore and sleep among the reeds.

Ver. 353.] The crocodile's mouth is exceedingly wide. When he gapes, says Pliny, sit totum os, Martial says to his old woman,

Cum comparata rictibus tuis ora
Niliaeus habet crocodilus angusta;
that the expression here is barely just.

Ver. 364.] This too is nearer truth than at first view may be imagined. The crocodile, say the naturalists, lying long under water, and being there forced to hold its breath, when it emerges, the breath long represt is hot, and bursts out so violently, that it resembles fire and smoke. The horse suppresses not his breath by any means so long, neither is he so fierce and animated; yet the most correct of poets ventures to use the same metaphor concerning him ::

Collectumque premens volvit sub naribus ignem. By this and the foregoing note I would caution against a false opinion of the eastern, boldness from passages in them ill understood.

Ver. 377.] "His eyes are like the eye-lids of the morning." I think this gives us as great an image of the thing it would express, as can enter the thought of man. It is not improbable that the Egyptians stole their hieroglyphic for the morning, which is the crocodile's eye, from this passage, though no commentator, I have seen, mentions it. It is easy to conceive how the Egyptians should be both readers and admirers of the writings of Moses, whom I suppose the author of this poem.

I have observed already that three or four of the creatures here described are Egyptian; the two last are notoriously so, they are the river-horse and the crocodile, those celebrated inhabitants of the Nile; and on these two it is that our author chiefly dwells. It would have been expected from an author more remote from that river than Moses, in a catalogue of creatures produced to magnify their Creator, to have dwelt on the two largest works of his hand, viz.the elephant and the whale. This is so natural an expectation, that some commentators have rendered behemoth and leviathan, the elephant and whale, though the descriptions in our author will not admit of it: but Moses being, as we may well suppose, under an immediate terrour of the hippopotamus and crocodile, from their daily mischiefs and ravages around him; it is very accountable why he should permit them to take place.

ON DR. YOUNG'S TRANSLATION OF PART OF JOB.

BY DR. COBDEN.

THE poem, which, originally great,

Had long sustain'd poor Job's unhappy fate,
Fallen from its grandeur, clad in mean array,
And in the dust of prose inglorious lay;
Like him now shines, with former greatness blest,
And in its native majesty confest.

MISCELLANIES.

ON MICHAEL ANGELO'S FAMOUS PIECE OF THE CRUCIFIXON ;

WHO IS SAID TO HAVE STABBED A PERSON THAT HE
MIGHT DRAW IT MORE NATURALLY 1.

WHILST his Redeemer on his canvass dies,
Stabb'd at his feet his brother weltering lies:
The daring artist, cruelly serene,
Views the pale cheek and the distorted mien;
He drains off life by drops, and, deaf to cries,
Examines every spirit as it flies:
He studies torment, dives in mortal woe,
To rouse up every pang repeats his blow;
Each rising agony, each dreadful grace,
Yet warm transplanting to his Saviour's face.
Oh glorious theft! oh nobly wicked draught!
With its full charge of death each feature fraught,
Such wondrous force the magic colours boast,
From his own skill he starts in horrour lost.

1 Though the report was propagated without the least truth, it may be sufficient ground to justify a poetical fancy's enlarging on it.

TO MR. ADDISON,

ON

THE TRAGEDY OF CATO.

WHAT do we see? Is Cato then become
A greater name in Britain than in Rome ?
Does mankind now admire his virtues more,
Though Lucan, Horace, Virgil, wrote before?
How will posterity this truth explain?
"Cato begins to live in Anna's reign."
The world's great chiefs, in council or in arms,
Rise in your lines with more exalted charms;
Illustrious deeds in distant nations wrought,
And virtues by departed heroes taught,
Raise in your soul a pure immortal flame,
Adorn your life, and consecrate your fame;
To your renown all ages you subdue,
And Cæsar fought, and Cato bled for you.
All Souls Coll. Oxon.

HISTORICAL EPILOGUE TO THE BROTHERS.

A TRAGEDY.

An Epilogue, through custom, is your right,
But ne'er perhaps was needful till this night:
To night the virtuous falls, the guilty flies,
Guilt's dreadful close our narrow scene denies.
In history's authentic record read

What ample vengeance gluts Demetrius' shade;
Vengeance so great, that, when his tale is told,
With pity some e'en Perseus may behold.

Perseus surviv'd, indeed, and fill'd the throne, But ceaseless cares in conquest made him groan : Nor reign'd he long; from Rome swift thunder flew,

And headlong from his throne the tyrant threw : Thrown headlong down, by Rome in triumph led,

For this night's deed his perjur'd bosom bled:
His brother's ghost each moment made him start,
And all his father's anguish rent his heart.

When, rob'd in black, his children round him
hung,

And their rais'd arms in early sorrow wrung;
The younger smil'd, unconscious of their woe;
At which thy tears, O Rome! began to flow;
So sad the scene! What then must Perseus feel,
To see Jove's race attend the victor's wheel:
To see the slaves of his worst foes increase,
From such a source !-An emperor's embrace!
He sicken'd soon to death; and, what is worse,
He well deserv'd, and feit, the coward's curse;
Unpitied, scorn'd, insulted his last hour,
Far, far from home, and in a vassal's power:
His pale cheek rested on his shameful chain,
No friend to mourn, no flatterer to feign;
No suit retards, no comfort soothes his doom,
And not one tear bedews a monarch's tomb.
Nor ends it thus-dire vengeance to complete,
His antient empire falling shares his fate:
His throne forgot! his weeping country chain'd!
And nations ask-where Alexander reign'd.
As public woes a prince's crime pursue,
So public blessings are his virtue's due.
Shout, Britons, shout-auspicious fortune bless!
And cry, Long live-Our title to success !

EPITAPH

ON LORD AUBREY BEAUCLÈRK1,
IN WESTMINSTER-ABBEY, 1740.

WHILST Britain boasts her empire o'er the deep,
This marble shall compel the brave to weep:
As men, as Britons, and as soldiers, mourn;
'Tis dauntless, loyal, virtuous Beauclerk's urn.
Sweet were his manners, as his soul was great,
And ripe his worth, though immature his fate;
Each tender grace that joy and love inspires,
Living, he mingled with his martial fires :
Dying, he bid Britannia's thunders roar;

And Spain still felt him, when he breath'd no more.

Lord Aubrey Beauclerk was the eighth son of the duke of St. Alban's, who was one of the sons of king Charles the Second. He was born in the year 1711; and, being regularly bred to the sea service, in 1731 he was appointed to the command of his majesty's ship the Ludlow Castle; and be commanded the Prince Frederick at the attack of the harbour of Carthagena, March 24, 1741. This young nobleman was one of the most promising commanders in the king's service. When on the desperate attack of the castle of Bocca Chica, at the entrance of the said harbour, he lost his life, both his legs being first shot off. The prose part of the inscription on his monument was the production of Mrs. Mary Jones of Oxford; who also wrote a poem on his death, printed in her Miscel lanies, 8vo. 1752. R.

Thy wonted aid, my dear companion! bring,
And teach me thy departed friend to sing:
A darling theme! once powerful to inspire,
And now to melt, the Muses' mournful choir :
Now, and now first, we freely dare commend
His modest worth, nor shall our praise offend.
Early he bloom'd amid the learned train,
And ravish'd Isis listen'd to his strain.
"See, see," she cried, "old Maro's Muse appears,
Wak'd from her slumber of two thousand years:
Her finish'd charms to Addison she brings,
Thinks in his thought, and in his numbers sings.
All read transported his pure classic page;
Read, and forget their climate and their age."
The state, when now his rising fame was known,
Th' unrival'd genius challeng'd for her own,
Nor would that one, for scenes for action strong,
Should let a life evaporate in song. [pense,
As health and strength the brightest charms dis-
Wit is the blossom of the soundest sense :
Yet few, how few, with lofty thoughts inspir'd,
With quickness pointed, and with rapture fir'd,
In conscious pride.their own importance find,
Blind to themselves, as the hard world is blind!
Wit they esteem a gay but worthless power,
The slight amusement of a leisure hour;
Unmindful that, conceal'd from vulgar eyes,
Majestic Wisdom wears the bright disguise.
- Poor Dido fondled thus, with idle joy,
Dread Cupid, lurking in the Trojan boy;
Lightly she toy'd and trifled with his charms,
And knew not that a god was in her arms.

Who greatest excellence of thought could boast,
In action, too, have been distinguish'd most :
This Sommers knew, and Addison sent forth
From the malignant regions of the north,
To be matur'd in more indulgent skies,
Where all the vigour of the soul can rise ;
Through warmer veins where sprightlier spirits run,
And sense enliven'd sparkles in the Sun.
With secret pain the prudent patriot gave
The hopes of Britain to the rolling wave,
Anxious, the charge to all the stars resign'd,
And plac'd'a confidence in sea and wind.

Ausonia soon receiv'd her wondering guest,
And equal wonder in her turn confess'd,
To see her fervours rival'd by the pole,
Her lustre beaming from a northern soul:
In-like surprise was her Æneas lost,
To find his picture grace a foreign coast.

Now the wide field of Europe he surveys,
Compares her kings, her thrones and empires weighs,
In ripen'd judgment and consummate thought;
Great work! by Nassau's favour cheaply bought.
He now returns to Britain a support,
Wise in her senate, graceful in her court;
And when the public welfare would permit,
The source of learning, and the soul of wit.
O Warwick! (whom the Muse is fond to name,
And kindles, conscious of her future theme)
O Warwick! by divine contagion bright!
How early didst thou catch his radiant light!
By him inspir'd, how shine before thy time,
And leave thy years, and leap into thy prime!
On some warm bank, thus, fortunately born,
A rose-bud opens to a summer's morn,

Lord Sommers procured a pension for Mr. Addison, which enabled him to prosecute his travels. R

Full-blown ere noon her fragrant pride displays,
And shows th' abundance of her purple rays.
Wit, as her bays, was once a barren tree;
We now, surpris'd, her fruitful branches see;
Or, orange-like, till his auspicious time
It grew indeed, but shiver'd in our clime :
He first the plant to richer gardens led,
And fix'd, indulgent, in a warmer bed:
The nation, pleas'd, enjoys the rich produce,
And gathers from her ornament her use.

When loose from public cares the grove he sought,
And fill'd the leisure interval with thought,
The various labours of his easy page,

A chance amusement, polish'd half an age.
Beyond this truth old bards could scarce invent,
Who durst to frame a world by accident.

What he has sung, how early, and how well,
The Thames shall boast, and Roman Tiber tell.
A glory more sublime remains in store,
Since such his talents, that he sung no more.

No fuller proof of power th' Almighty gave,
Making the sea, than curbing her proud wave.

Nought can the genius of his works transceud, But their fair purpose and important end; To rouse the war for injur'd Europe's laws, To steel the patriot in great Brunswick's cause; With virtue's charms to kindle sacred love, Or paint th' eternal bowers of bliss above. Where hadst thon room, great author! where to roll The mighty theme of an immortal soul? [brought Through paths unknown, unbeaten, whence were Thy proofs so strong for immaterial thought? One let me join, all other may excel,

"How could a mortal essence think so well?"

But why so large in the great writer's praise? More lofty subjects should my numbers raise; In him (illustrious rivalry! contend

The statesman, patriot, Christian, and the friend!
His glory such, it borders on disgrace
To say he sung the best of human race.

2

* The publication of his Works

OF THE KINGDOM.

INSCRIBED TO

THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

HOLLES! immortal in far more than fame!
Be thou illustrious in far more than power.
Great things are small when greater rise to view.
Though station'd high, and press'd with public cares,
Disdain not to peruse my serious song,
Which peradventure may push by the world:
Of a few moments rob Britannia's weal,
And leave Europa's counsels less mature!
For thou art noble, and the theme is great.
Nor shall or Europe or Britannia blame
Thine absent ear, but gain by the delay.
Long vers'd in senates and in cabinets,
States' intricate demands and high debates!
As thou of use to those, so this to thee;
And in a point that empire far outweighs,
That far outweighs all Europe's thrones in one.
Let greatness prove its title to be great.
'Tis Power's supreme prerogative to stamp
On others' minds an image of its own.
Bend the strong influence of high place, to stem
The stream that sweeps away the country's weal;
The Stygian stream, the torrent of our guilt.
Far as thou mayst give life to virtue's cause;
Let not the ties of personal regard
Betray the nation's trust to feeble hands:
Let not fomented flames of private pique
Prey on the vitals of the public good:
Let not our streets with blasphemies resound,
Nor lewdness whisper where the laws can reach :
Let not best laws, the wisdom of our sires,
Turn satires on their sunk degenerate sons,
The bastards of their blood! and serve no point
But, with more emphasis to call them fools:
Let not our rank enormities unhinge
Britannia's welfare from divine support.

Such deeds the minister, the prince adorn;
No power is shown but in such deeds as these:
All, all is impotence but acting right; [power?
And where's the statesman but would show his
To prince and people thou, of equal zeal!
Be it henceforward but thy second care
To grace thy country, and support the throne;
Though this supported, that adorn'd so well,
A throne superior our first homage claims;
To Cæsar's Cæsar our first tribute due:
A tribute which, unpaid, makes specious wrong
And splendid sacrilege of all beside:
Illustrious followers; we must first be just;
And what so just as awe for the Supreme?
Less fear we rugged ruffians of the North,
Than Virtue's well-clad rebels nearer home;
Less Loyola's disguis'd, all-aping sons,
Than traitors lurking in our appetites;
Less all the legions Seine and Tagus send,
Than unrein'd passions rushing on our peace :
Yon savage mountaineers are tame to these.
Against those rioters send forth the laws,
And break to Reason's yoke their wild careers.

Prudence for all things points the proper hour, Though some seem more importunate and great. Though Britain's generous views and interests spread Beyond the narrow circle of her shores,

And their grand entries make on distant lands; Though Britain's genius the wide wave bestrides,

With one foot planted on the continent;
Yet be not wholly wrapp'd in public cares,

Though such high cares should call as call'd of late;
The cause of kings and emperors adjourn,
And Europe's little balance drop a while;
For greater drop it: ponder and adjust
The rival interests and contending claims
Of life and death, of now and of for-ever;
Sublimest theme; and needful as sublime.
Thus great Eliza's oracles renown'd,

Thus Walsingham and Raleigh (Britain's boasts !),
Thus every statesman thought that ever-died.
There's inspiration in a sable hour,

And Death's approach makes politicians wise.
When thunderstruck, that eagle Wolsey fell;
When royal favour, as an ebbing sea,
Like a leviathan, his grandeur left,

His gasping grandeur! naked on the strand,
Naked of human, doubtful of divine,
Assistance; no more wallowing in his wealth,
Spouting proud foams of insolence no more,
On what, then, smote his heart, uncardinal'd,
And sunk beneath the level of a man!
On the grand article, the sum of things!
The point of the first magnitude! that point
Tubes mounted in a court, but rarely reach;
Some painted cloud still intercepts their sight.
First right to judge; then choose; then persevere,
Steadfast, as if a crown or mistress call'd.-
These, these are politics will stand the test,
When finer politics their masters sting,
And statesmen fain would shrink to common men.
These, these are politics will answer now,
(When common men would fain to statesmen swell)
Beyond a Machiavel's or Tencin's scheme.
All safety rests on honest counsels: these
Immortalize the statesman, bless the state,
Make the prince triumph, and the people smile;
In peace rever'd, or terrible in arms,
Close-leagued with an invincible ally,
Which honest counsels never fail to fix
In favour of an unabandon'd land;

A land that starts at such a land as this,
A parliament, so principled, will sink
All antient schools of empire in disgrace,
And Britain's glory, rising from the dead,
Will fill the world, loud Fame's superior song.

Britain that word pronounc'd is an alarm;
It warms the blood, though frozen in our veins;
Awakes the soul, and sends her to the field,
Enamour'd of the glorious face of Death.
Britain-there's noble magic in the sound.
O what illustrious images arise!

Embattled, round me, blaze the pomps of war!
By sea, by land, at home, in foreign climes,
What full-blown laurels on our fathers' brows!
Ye radiant trophies! and imperial spoils!
Ye scenes! astonishing to modern sight!
Let me, at least, enjoy you in a dream.
Why vanish? Stay, ye godlike strangers! stay:
Strangers!-I wrong my countrymen: they wake;
High beats the pulse: the noble pulse of war
Beats to that antient measure, that grand march
Which then prevail'd, when Britain highest soar'd,
And every battle paid for heroes slain.
No more our great forefathers stain our cheeks
With blushes; their renown our shame no more.
In military garb, and sudden arms,

Up starts Old Britain; crosiers are laid by;