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Page 215, line 23.

Immoveable-for ever there to freeze!

She was under all her sails, and looked less like a ship incrusted with ice than ice in the fashion of a ship.-See the Voyage of Captain Thomas James, in 1631.

Page 216, line 6.

Of burning sand their everlasting grave!

After line 6, in the MS.

Now the scene shifts to Cashmere-to a glade
Where, with her loved gazelle, the dark-eyed Maid
(Her fragrant chamber for awhile resigned,
Her lute, by fits discoursing with the wind)
Wanders well-pleased, what time the Nightingale
Sings to the Rose, rejoicing hill and dale;
And now to Venice-to a bridge, a square, &c.

Page 218, line 3.

Lo, on his back a Son brings in his Sire,

An act of filial piety represented on the coins of Catana, a Greek city, some remains of which are still to be seen at the foot of Mount Etna.* The story is told of two brothers, who in this manner saved both their parents. The place, from which they escaped, was long called the field of the pious; and public games were annually held there to commemorate the Event.

Page 218, line 7.

From harp or organ!

What a pleasing picture of domestic life is given to us by Bishop Berkeley in his letters ! "The more we have of good instruments the better for all my children, not

:

* It is introduced also, and very happily, by two great Masters; by Virgil in the Sack of Troy and by Raphael in the Incendio di Borgo.

excepting my little daughter, learn to play, and are preparing to fill my house with harmony against all events; that, if we have worse times, we may have better spirits."

Page 218, line 15.

And with assurance sweet her soul revive

In child-birth

See the Alcestis of Euripides, v. 328.

Page 218, line 19.

Who lives not for another.

How often, says an excellent writer, do we err in our estimate of happiness! When I hear of a man who has noble parks, splendid palaces, and every luxury in life, I always inquire whom he has to love; and, if I find he has nobody or does not love those he has—in the midst of all his grandeur I pronounce him a being in deep adversity.

Page 218, line 28.

O thou all-eloquent, whose mighty mind

Cicero. It is remarkable that, among the comforts of Old Age, he has not mentioned those arising from the society of women and children. Perhaps the husband of Terentia and "the father of Marcus felt something on the subject, of which he was willing to spare himself the recollection."

Page 221, line 22.

And stars are kindling in the firmament,

An old writer breaks off in a very lively manner at a later hour of the night. "But the Hyades run low in the heavens, and to keep our eyes open any longer were to act our Antipodes. The Huntsmen are up in America, and they are already past their first sleep in Persia."

BEFORE I Conclude, I would say something in favour of the old fashioned triplet, which I have here ventured to use so often. Dryden seems to have delighted in it, and in many of his poems has used it much oftener than I have done, as for instance in the Hind and Panther,* and in Theodore and Honoria, where he introduces it three, four, and even five times in succession.

If I have erred any where in the structure of my verse from a desire to follow yet earlier and higher examples, I rely on the forgiveness of those in whose ear the music of our old versification is still sounding.†

* Pope used to mention this poem as the most correct specimen of Dryden's versification. It was indeed written when he had completely formed his manner, and may be supposed to exhibit, negligence excepted, his deliberate and ultimate scheme of metre.-JOHNSON.

With regard to trisyllables, as their accent is very rarely on the last, they cannot properly be any rhymes at all: yet nevertheless I highly commend those, who have judiciously and sparingly introduced them, as such.-GRAY.

ODE TO SUPERSTITION.*

I. 1.

HENCE, to the realms of Night, dire Demon, hence! Thy chain of adamant can bind

That little world, the human mind,

And sink its noblest powers to impotence.
Wake the lion's loudest roar,

Clot his shaggy mane with gore,

With flashing fury bid his eye-balls shine;
Meek is his savage, sullen soul, to thine!

Thy touch, thy deadening touch has steeled the breast,
Whence, thro' her April-shower, soft Pity smiled;
Has closed the heart each godlike virtue blessed,
To all the silent pleadings of his child.†
At thy command he plants the dagger deep,
At thy command exults, tho' Nature bids him weep

o!

* Written in 1785.

The sacrifice of Iphigenia.

I I

I. 2.

When, with a frown that froze the peopled earth,*
Thou dartedst thy huge head from high,
Night waved her banners o'er the sky,
And, brooding, gave her shapeless shadows birth.
Rocking on the billowy air,

Ha! what withering phantoms glare!

As blows the blast with many a sudden swell,
At each dead pause, what shrill-toned voices yell!
The sheeted spectre, rising from the tomb,
Points to the murderer's stab, and shudders by;
In every grove is felt a heavier gloom,
That veils its genius from the vulgar eye:

The spirit of the water rides the storm,

And, thro' the mist, reveals the terrors of his form.

I. 3.

O'er solid seas, where Winter reigns,
And holds each mountain-wave in chains,
The fur-clad savage, ere he guides his deer
By glistering star-light thro' the snow,
Breathes softly in her wondering ear
Each potent spell thou bad'st him know.
By thee inspired, on India's sands,
Full in the sun the Bramin stands ;

* Lucretius, I. 63.

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