feet. Originality and simplicity then went hand in hand. This, it is quite obvious, could not last long. In proportion as simple imagery and sentiment were preoccupied, artificial combinations became necessary. The change in the poetical style is apparent, accordingly, even in the younger writers of the age of Augustus. Ovid and Propertius exhibit many marks of what Quintilian has described as the depravity of the Latin style. That quaintness of expression, pointedness of sentence, and elaborate metaphor, in which this depravity is thought to consist, are best known from a selection of passages which contain them. In the few examples here given, such are attempted to be selected as embody the peculiarities of the style of the age, at the same time that they illustrate the genius of the poet. Propertius was one of the latest writers of the Augustan age. He died young, and his remains have been less esteemed than they deserve to be, probably because they are somewhat more tinctured with the peculiarities of the artificial style than those of his contemporaries. He certainly has not the genius of Ovid, to excuse his want of simplicity, to those who make it the first criterion of excellence. Neither has he the equable and plaintive flow of Tibullus: but his elegies exhibit occasional bursts of poetry, superior perhaps to any thing in those of his rival. The following passage may afford some idea of the capabilities of the poet, as well as of the turn of his style. Quicumque ille fuit Puerum qui pinxit Amorem, Lib. ii. Eleg. xii. Though generally elegant, however, and occasionally tender, he is haunted with a sort of pedantry, which sometimes weighs down his genius. During the latter portion of the reign of Tiberius, began that course of tyranny and debauchery, which overlaid and poisoned the genius and virtue of Italy. From this time the writers are few, and scattered at long intervals over a dreary and neglected tract. The reigns of succeeding emperors, down to Vespasian and Titus, exhibit little else than the annals of cruelty and sensuality; and a poet appears like an oasis of the desert green in the midst of a scorched and sandy waste. That tendency to the artificial style, which began with Ovid, attained, in the hands of Seneca, to all the madness of metaphor and antithesis. Examples of these figures are indeed to be found in almost every sentence of his prose writings, and of the few verses he has left. It is perhaps superfluous to remark, that the heavy and tasteless tragedies under the name of Seneca are generally thought to be falsely attributed to the tutor of Nero. In his poetical lamentations on his banishment, he quaintly alludes to the solitude of Corsica. "Hic, sola hæc duo sunt, Exul et exilium," And in conclusion of a deprecatory address to the rugged genius of the place, thus sings— Parce religatis, hoc est jam parce sepultis, "Vivorum cineri sit tua terra levis-." This taste in the usual course of things soon became subject to a reaction. It was a permanent one, and the writers from that time downwards are comparatively moderate in the application of artificial embellishment, only using it in proportion as they are compelled to do so by the increasing necessities of originality. Lucan was about twenty five years younger than Seneca. It is needless to dilate upon the well-known characteristics of this admirable poet. He has been, perhaps justly, accused of a tendency to bombast. The Pharsalia, however, as a whole, has a well-sustained tone of lofty stoicism, and contains many passages of a force and energy which have not often been surpassed. It may perhaps be but a doubtful compliment, that the sceptical Pere Hardouin, who has disputed the guthenticity of most of the classics, concedes that of Lucan. His language is much more artificial, and includes more apparent effort than that of the best poets of the Augustan period. His complimentary line to Cato is celebrated, "Victrix causa Diis placuit, sed victa Catoni." This, however, is not the only compliment he has paid to the Patriot. "Proh! quanta est gloria Genti Injecisse manum Fatis, vitaque repletos, Quod superest donasse Deis!. Having related the rout of Pompey's army, he breaks into these exclamations; the change of tense from the third to the first person plural is striking, and the concluding thought strong, and perhaps a little too daring. 66 "Vincimur his gladiis omnis, quæ serviet, ætas; The character is well kept up ;his persuasion that he was fated to conquer Rome,-his joy at the omens in his favour, and his disregard of them when against him,-his intense love of Fame and loathing of peaceful obscurity "Quantum, enim, distant a morte silentia Vita?" The passage of the Alps is, in some places, highly wrought. Indeed it seems to be one of the peculiarities of this poet to give a sort of dramatic, or even theatrical effect to some of his descriptions of natural scenery. The following passage is remarkable, not only as being a proc? of th strong and pointed metaphorical ex pression of which Silius Italicus was capable, but also as affording a striking example of that change of style which the necessity of originality forces upon poets. The Alpine solitudes are referred to. "Has observatis Valles enavimus astris ; Namque dies confundit iter, peditemque profundo Lucan, in his account of Cato's march through the Lybian Desert, had already said, "sideribus novere viam." Silius strengthens this passage by the "enavimus," which is " bold word," and by additional circum stances. a Implere, et pugnam, fugientum more petebant.” 66 Lib. v. The rout at Canne, which, though infinitely more disastrous, includes less of picturesque circumstance, is less successfully treated. The difficulty of transferring the interest from Hannibal to Fabius, Scipio, and others, who, after the decline of his fortunes, became "lords of the ascendant," takes much of their attraction from the latter books of the poem. The following lines may be quoted, as having that sort of theatrical effect which has been already adverted to :"Hinc rupti reboare poli, atque hinc crebra micare Fulmina, et in classem ruere impacabile coelum." Lib. XVII. of Statius have been al The poems Pope has conde scended to translate the first book of his Thebais, and to give an English version of the melodious mediocrity of his original. All Latin verse, however, is melodious; and to this excellence, which he possesses in common with the rest of his poetical countrymen, Statius has added little of his own. From this period down to Claudian, "all is void," poetically speaking, for, excepting by scholars, Ausonius is not resorted to, and Prudentius scarcely ranks as a classic-that poet being a Christian. In annals which are filled with wars abroad and brutality at home, there is no room for literature. The leaf coloured red is, in the eye of reason, as much a blank as that which is left untouched. Whilst every thing estimable was retrograde, corruption of manners advanced with accelerated progress. Juvenal had said, in his strong way, "Occurrunt multæ tibi Belides, atque Eriphylæ: Mane' Clytemnestram nullus non vicus habebit" and Silius Italicus elegantly and feelingly alludes to the same deterioration. He is describing the conduct of the Romans after the defeat at Canno,"Hæc tum Roma fuit; post te, cui vertere mores Si stabat fatis, potius, Carthago, maneres !" The poetry of Claudian is like the last lamp which, after a long interval, seems to bid us adieu, in our egress from some city where we are leaving the brilliancy of palaces, and the illuminated haunts of elegant civilization. He is one of the most polished of poets; nor does his polish detract any thing from his strength. His satirical passages are as free from coarseness as his gayest strains: and, as the finest scymitars are said to be tempered with perfume, they, perhaps, cut deeper from the delicacy employed in their formation. The obscurity of the events which constitute the subjects of most of his pieces, is a great disadvantage. We are with difficulty interested by that of which we know little. The Trojan war, and the fortunes of the first Cæsars, are familiar to all; but who knows or cares about the virtues of Stilicho, or the defeat of Rufinus? This poet abounds, above all the Latin poets, in point and antithesis. His points, however, are always elegant; although perhaps pushed, in a few instances, to absolute quaintness. The opening of the Panegyric on Serena, is a beautiful effort: "Dic mihi, Calliope, tanto cur tempore differs On the nuptials of Honorius, the gay poet informs the young bridegroom, "Non quisquam fruitur veris honoribus armat spina rosas; mella tegunt apes; Fescennina. In the poem on the enterprise of Rufinus, the half-suppressed inquietude of the people is described in a simile, of which the exquisite language is fully equal to the evident justice of the comparison : "Ceu murmurat alti Impacata quies pelagi, cum, flamino fracto, Durat adhuc sævitque tumor, dubiumque per æstum Lassa recedentis fluitant vestigia venti—" In Ruf. Lib. I. Rufinus is slain and hacked in pieces, and his limbs scattered about, "Pulvere raro, Per partes tegitur, nusquam totiesque sepultus." Lib. II. The next passage is singular, as beSystem. It may possibly have affording in anticipation of the Linnæan ed a hint to Darwin. "Vivunt in Venerem frondes; omnisque vicissim Felix arbor amat : nutant ad mutua Palmo Foedera; Populeo suspirat Populus ictu ; Et Platani Platanis, Alnoque assibilat Alnus." Epithal. de nupt. Hon. & Mar. The following description of the infant Sun is pushed, though elegantly, to an extreme of quaintness.-It is one of his few faulty passages: "Invalidum dextro portat Titana lacerto, Nondum luce gravem, nec pubescentibus alte Cristatum radiis Rapt, Pros. Lib. I. After Claudian there is no Roman poet of note. The intellect and learning of the times were rapidly absorbed by theological polemics of a descrip tion which, in their operation, seem to have darkened rather than enlightened the minds of the disputants. Such was the twilight which preceded the night of the middle ages. The foregoing extracts have gone so far in shewing that, after the Augustan age, the paucity of poets is probably to be attributed to the noxious influence of a corrupted and distracted empire; and that the efforts which were actually made, exhibit proofs of genius and taste, which, had they been reserved for a happier period, must have led to splendid results. It remains to glance at the revival of poetry, as it extended to England, and to point out the similitudes between the progress of the English poetical style, and that of the Latin classics. The truth of the critical deductions which may be drawn from this view, must, of course, depend upon the right appreciation of the facts. A few there is a homely formality, more or "Thou hallow'd relic, thou rich diamond, The style of the great Epic or ra- It was not until about the commencement of the reign of Elizabeth, that the English language attained such an approximation to perfection, as to become comparatively permanent in its idioms and general tone of expression. In tracing the progress of our poetical style, it would, however, be unjust to omit one or two writers of Henry VIII. and Mary. The works of the Earl of Surrey, and of Wyatt, present many passages of poetical simplicity, joined to easy versification, the last of which qualities is as rare in early poetry, as its adjunct is common. In an investigation of this nature, the progress of English poetry in general must be carefully kept distinct from that of English dramatic poetry. The ral style of poetry in the reign of Elizabeth, the true Augustan age of Britain, was affected by circumstances from the operation of which the drama was in a great measure free. The drama may be called of indigenous growth, while the Epic and Lyrical Ah! Love lay down thy bow the whiles' I may shoots were early improved by grafts from the ancient classical and modern gene "Dear dame, quoth he, you sleeping sparkes awake Till living moisture into smoke do flow, respyre." Book 1, Canto IX. Italian Parnassus. The drama, too, Envy is thus finely described,— was adopted by a man who had powers to form it as no other school was ever formed, and to enrich it as no other poetry was ever enriched. In the hands of this almost preternatural genius, it at once attained that perfection which other departments of the poetic art have only reached through the lapse of ages; and he has thrown a radiance over his dramatic contem poraries, with which their own powers, aided even by the tuition of his example, would never have invested them. Throughout the plays of Shakspeare, and also, in a lesser degree, in the other dramatic writers of his time, is to be found that just mixture of simple originality, bold metaphor, and pointed energy, which approaches the perfection of poetical writing. In the miscellaneous poetry of the age, "And next to him malitious Envy rode For death it was when any good he saw; Book 1, Canto IV. In Ben Johnson and in Donne there is an evident deviation from the though often hard, sometimes writes early simplicity of style. Jonson, elegantly, even in the modern acceptation of elegance. His epitaphs are deservedly celebrated. The two following are the first and last stanzas of one of his songs: "Come let us here enjoy the shade, None brooks the sunlight worse than he." Now hot, now cold, now fierce, now wild, In his Elegy on Shakespeare, the strong thoughts are clothed in rough versification: "Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to shew The reputation of Donne is a little unaccountable. His lumbering conceits and lumbering phraseology seem to have acted as a sort of pioneers to the less awkward forces of Cowley; but he is best known by the translation which Pope has made of some of his satires. If Donne was the precursor of Cowley, Drummond may, perhaps, as properly be called that of Waller. In this poet some of the most musical versification and most elegantly pointed lines of the time are to be found. Indeed some of his sonnets have never been surpassed. Waller has carried the union of pointed thought with correct versification to a height which after times have seldom exceeded. He is not, however, always equally happy, nor is the polish of his language always sufficient to disguise the far-fetched thoughts which are embodied in his stanzas. His exquisite song, Lovely Rose," has been the favourite of most readers of poetry. But a fairer sample of his beauties and his faults must be given. SONG VII. While I listen to thy voice Calls my fleeting soul away. To heav'n may go; For all we know Of what the blessed do above "Go Is that they sing and that they love." One of the happiest stanzas in his panegyric on Cromwell runs thus: It alludes to the insular advantages of England. "Angels and we have this prerogative, That none can at our happy seats arrive, While we descend, at pleasure, to invade The bad with vengeance, and the good to aid." Cowley made his age of English poetry what that of Seneca was in Roman poetry; and had Seneca been more of a poet, he would have been the Roman Cowley. One song will ufficiently exemplify the peculiarities of this poet. WEEPING. "See where she sits, and in what comely wise Nor know the beauty of thy tears, For she'll still come to dress herself in thee. As stars reflect on waters, so I spy In ev'ry drop, methinks, her eye; The baby which lives there, and always plays Like a Narcissus does appear, Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze. Ne'er yet did I behold so glorious weather, Pray heav'n her forehead, that pure hill of snow, Melt not to feed that beauteous stream below. Ah! mighty love, that it were inward heat The To this song, a double mark of admiration is requisite. The tribe, of which this author is one, have been called the " metaphysical poets;" and he is the prince of them. term " metaphysical" is, however, by no means happy in this application of it. It is used in contra-distinction to "natural;" the style of Cowley is the unnatural style. To define precisely what is meant by this is yet a matter of nice distinction; the faults of this style have been much exaggerated, and sometimes misconceived. The difference between Cowley and those who are called the natural poets seems to be merely this; that he pushes his thoughts, whether metaphors, antitheses, or similes, frequently too far, and, what is worse, for the most part uses them indiscriminately and without any apparent consideration, whether or not their general tone is adapted to that of the subject he is treating. His quaintest thoughts may be paralleled from different passages, in the works of other poets, but he is so blindly attached to them, that he crowds into his verse every point of every kind which his subject affords, as if all of equal propriety and value. Thus, in the example given, the last line is absolutely ludicrous, because utterly uncongenial with the graver tone of the subject and the preceding matter, whilst in an epigram or a satire it might have been applauded. His love of point is so intense, that he heeds not how far he goes for one, or how laboriously he hammers it into the shape he wants. Although a thought have the coldness of frostwork itself, he cares not, so it possesses also the crystalline sparkle; and though in the banquet he sets before |