founder of Rome; Homer's a prince of Greece; and for this reason Valerius Flaccus and Statius, who were both Romans, might be justly derided for having chosen the expedition of the Golden Fleece, and the Wars of Thebes, for the subject of their epic writings.

The poet before us has not only found out an hero in his own country, but raises the reputation of it by several beautiful incidents. The English are the first who take the field, and the last who quit it. The English bring only fifteen hundred to the battle; the Scotch, two thousand. The English keep the field with fifty-three, the Scotch retire with fifty-five: all the rest on each side being slain in battle. But the most remarkable circumstance of this kind, is the different manner in which the Scotch and English kings received the news of this fight, and of the great men's death who commanded in it.

Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say
But I will vengeance take,
And be revenged on them all

For brave Lord Piercy's sake.

This now full well the king perform'd
After on Humble-down,

In one day fifty knights were slain,
• With lords of great renown.

•And of the rest of small account

'Did many thousands die, &c.'

At the same time that our poet shews a laudable partiality to his countrymen, he represents the Scots after a manner not unbecoming so bold and brave a people.

Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed,

• Most like a baron bold,

• Rode foremost of the company,

• Whose armour shone like gold."

His sentiments and actions are every way suitable to an hero. One of us two, says he, must die; I am an earl as well as yourself, so that you can have nɔ pretence for refusing the combat: however, says he, 'tis pity, and indeed would be a sin, that so many innocent men should perish for our sakes; rather let you and I end our quarrel in single fight.

Ere thus I will out-braved be,

One of us two shall die;

I know thee well, an Earl thou art,
Lord Piercy, so am I.

But trust me, Piercy, pity it were,

And great offence, to kill

Any of these our harmless men,

For they have done no ill.

Let thou and I the battle try,
And set our men aside;

• Accurst be he, Lord Piercy said,
By whom this is deny❜d.

When these brave men had distinguished themselves in the battle and in single combat with each other, in the midst of a generous parley, full of heroic sentiments, the Scotch earl falls; and with his dying words encouraged his men to revenge his death, representing to them, as the most bitter circumstance of it, that his rival saw him fall.

Merry Men, in the language of those times, is no more than a cheerful word for companions and fellowsoldiers. A passage in the eleventh book of Virgil's Eneid is very much to be admired, where Camilla in her last agonies, instead of weeping over the wound she had received, as one might have expected from a warrior of her sex, considers only, like the hero, of whom we are now speaking, how the battle should be continued after her death.

Tum sic expirans Accam ex æqualibus unam
Alloquitur; fida ante alias quæ sola Camillæ,
Quicum partiri curas; atque hæc ita fatur:
Hactenus, Acca soror potui: nunc vulnus acerbum
Conficit et tenebris nigrescunt omnia circum:

Effuge, et hæc Turno mandata novissima perfer;
Succedat pugnæ, Trojanosque arceat urbe:
Jamque vale.........

Ex.

A gathering mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes;
And from her cheeks the rosy colour flies,
Then turns to her, whom, of her female train,
She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain
Acca, 'tis past! he swims before my sight,
Inexorable death; and claims his right.
Bear my last words to Turnus, fly with speed,
And bid him timely to my charge succeed;
Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve;
Farewel.

DRYDEN.

Turnus did not die in so heroic a manner; though our poet seems to have had his eye upon Turnus's speech in the last verse.

The Latian chiefs have seen me beg my life. DRYDEN.

Earl Piercy's lamentation over his enemy is generous, beautiful, and passionate; I must only caution the reader not to let the simplicity of the style, which one may well pardon in so old a poet, prejudice him against the greatness of the thought.

Then leaving life, Earl Piercy took
The dead man by the hand,
And said, Earl Douglas, for thy life
• Would I had lost my land.

O Christ! my very heart doth bleed
With sorrow for thy sake;
For sure a more renowned knight
• Mischance did never take.'

That beautiful line, Taking the dead man by the hand, will put the reader in mind of Æneas's behaviour to

wards Lausus, whom he himself had slain as he came to the rescue of his aged father.

At vero ut vultum vidit morientis, & ora,
Ora modis Anchisiades pallentia miris ;

Ingemuit, miserans graviter, dextramque tetendit. N.

The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead;

He griev'd, he wept; then grasp'd his hand and said, &c.

DRYDEN.

I shall take another opportunity to consider the other parts of this old song.

C.

No. LXXI. TUESDAY, MAY 22.

........ Scribere jussit amor.

Love bade me write.

OVID.

THE entire conquest of our passions is so difficult a work, that they who despair of it should think of a less difficult task, and only attempt to regulate them. But there is a third thing which may contribute not only to the ease, but also the pleasure of our life; and that is, refining our passions to a greater elegance, than we receive them from nature. When the passion is love, this work is performed in innocent, though rude and uncultivated minds, by the mere force and dignity of the object. There are forms which naturally create respect in the beholders, and at once inflame and chastise the imagination. Such an impression as this gives an immediate ambition to deserve, in order to please. This cause and effect are