my imagination, that I cannot forbear recalling your attention to it. I do this with the less scruple, as I do not mean to trouble you with any of those "vulgar fiassages," which the LEARNED CRITIC, with a delicacy highly commendable, "spared his friend the disgust of considering. Under this restriction, it may not be unentertaining to see in what manner writers of the first rank, and acknowledged abilities, imitate their predecessors so, as to make what they borrow appear their own. You will not, I apprehend, require any apology from me, for suspending awhile the design, with which I seemed to set out. I see no reason why, in our conversation or correspondence with each other, we should confine ourselves within any one certain track. Whatever subject may accidentally be started in our way, we are, I think, at full liberty to follow, whithersoever it may lead; and to continue the pursuit, so long as it affords amusement. We have often, you will recollect, read together, and been as often charmed with the introductory stanza to the first of Mr. Gray's two Pindaric Odes....the Progress of Poetry: where you have these admirable lines: Now the rich stream of music winds bearing resemblance to any part of the writings of his respected friend, has produced no parallel to this exquisitely beautiful passage. Mr. Wakefield has also given us an edition of Mr. Gray's poems, enriched with many valuable and interesting notes: in which he professes "not to be sparing of quotations from the poets," and conceives "no author to be a more proper vehicle for remarks of this sort, at once useful and entertaining, than Mr. Gray:" yet, in all his extensive range through the fields of classic lore, he notices only one or two slight resemblances. Having thus taken the liberty of introducing Mr. Wakefield, I cannot suffer so favourable an opportunity to escape me, without returning to that candid and discerning critic my warmest thanks; in which I am persuaded I shall be joined by every friend to genius, and lover of the muses, for his very able and spirited defence of the British Pindar against the illiberal attacks of a prejudiced commentator; whose puerile strictures on these divine poems certainly cast a shade on his literary character. Even Dr.Johnson himself, willing, as he evidently was, from whatever cause, to degrade the high character which Mr. Gray deservedly held, of an original writer, with uncommon powers of fancy and invention, and, therefore, ever on the watch to detect any latent imitation, has been able to discover no instance of similar composition. consideration the following lines, Now allow me to submit to your which, I am inclined to believe you have already in imagination anticipated, from one of the sublimest Odes in Horace: With this stanza before us, will there not arise in the mind something like suspicion, that Mr. Gray, when he wrote the fine lines quoted above, had his eye on Horace? Allow me to mark the principal features of resemblance. We have in each poet a stream, applied by the one to the various forms of poetry, by the other to the vicissitudes of human affairs, with especial reference to political revolutions. It is conducted by both, first in a course of placid serenity,then in torrents of rapid impetuosity; and marked at the close, by the same striking and impressive conscquence. the stream of Gray winds along with a marked character, appropriate to his subject: "Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong." Mr. Gray gives also peculiar grace and beauty to the piece, by his skilful use of the metaphorical style, blending the simile with the subject, so much in the manner of Pindar; and not making, as Horace has done, a formal comparison of the one with the other. I cannot here resist the temptation of recalling to your recollection an exquisitely fine passage in the book of Psalms; in which similar imagery is applied, under the same "The rocks and nodding groves re- form, in a manner most awfully bellow to the roar." sublime. It is where the divinely inspired poet, magnifying the God true spirit of Eastern poetry, his protecting power as follows: Very nearly a verbal translation of of his salvation, describes, in the the Latin text, 66 ....... Non sine montium "Clamore, vicinæque sylvæ." Here is certainly in these two passages an extraordinary coincidence of thought and imagery. In addition to which, the varying circumstances, described in both, follow each other exactly in the same order. The attentive reader will however discover, under this general similitude, a considerable difference in the mode of composition between the British and the Roman Pindar. Enough, perhaps you will think, to remove all appearance of direct imitation. It is most probable that Gray, without recurring to the text of Horace, has only copied from the traces, which a frequent perusal had left upon his memory. This hypothesis will appear more credible, when we analyze the different forms of composition. While the stream of Horace glides quietly into the Etruscan ocean, with no other distinction than that of genticness, "Oh! while along the stream of time thy name, 'Expanded, flies, and gathers all its fame; Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, "Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?" It will be rather a matter of curiosity, if I do not appear too trifling, to see how this beautiful passage would read, taken out of metaphor, and delivered in the plain comparative form. I will endeavour to render it in this form, as correctly as may be.....Oh! while your name fies abroad along the course of time, and gathers all its fame, like a ship going down the stream, and, with expanded sails, gathering, as it goes, the wind; say! shall I attend, like a little bark, pursue the triumph, and share in your fame, as the little bark partakes the gale, which swells the canvass of the larger vessel? You will not, I trust, require any further comment to ascertain the respective merits attached to these different forms of composition. Mr. Gray, it will be seen, has still further improved upon the Roman bard, by the addition of those verdant vales, and golden fields of corn, through which, in the first division of his subject, he conducts the peaceful stream: Through verdant vales and Ceres' golden reign. In the second division he simply describes it, now swollen into an overflowing river, rolling impetuously down the steep descent; which Horace emphatically expresses from Homer, by the effects. You, who are wont to view all works of taste with so correct and critical an eye, cannot fail to observe, and at the same time to admire, the masterly skill of these great artists in the execution of their separate designs. In which opinion Dr. Johnson does not seem equally disposed to concur with the learned Italian. This is a question which does not admit of argument. If there be a man who can bear the sudden breaking forth of those terrific sounds in the exordium, at which stout Gloucester stood aghast, and Mortimer cried to arms, and not thrill with horror: if there be a man, who can behold the awiul figure of the bard, in his sable vestments, with his haggard eyes, his loose beard, and heary hair, which In Mr. Gray's Ode, the varying movements of music, or poetry, are very happily illustrated by the inconstant current of a river; assuming in different places, a different character; presenting you by turns, either with rich and beautiful prospects, in soothing composure; or rousing the mind into emotions of wonder and astonishment, by scenes of a bolder feature; rolling, with the roar of thunder, down broken rocks and precipices. The imagery of Horace is equally well chosen, and suited to his purpose. His object was the course of events, which alternately take place in a popular government, at one time peaceful and orderly, dispensing case, security, and happiness to all around; at another, irregular, tumultuous, and turbulent, and hear him "Stream'd like a meteor to the troublet air;" SPECIMENS OF LITERARY RESEMBLANCE. "Strike the deep sorrows of his lyre," without emotion: this man, if such a man there be, has no feelings, to which a critic on the works of a great poet can apply. It were as vain and useless to converse with a man of this description on such subjects, as to commune with a deaf man on the enchantments of music, or with one blind on the charms of beauty. HISTORY OF PHILIP DELLWYN, “What had I,....the outcast of society....the poor, rightless dependant on the caprice of others.... what had I to do with high feeling, conscious worth, the sense of exalted generosity, or the haughty indignation of innocence against oppression....Ah, dear and amiable Miss Goldney, when I shed those bitter tears over your untimely grave, when I refused comfort, when I shunned society, and abandoned myself to a despair that was imputed to me as a crime, I doubtless foresaw that I was to hear no more the soothing tones of kidness.... that I was no more to experience the blessing of a friend! "How can I bear to dwell on the melancholy scene of her illness; and yet, in my hours of misery, I love to recal her patient and dignified suffering....the resignation with which she awaited the stroke which was to release her from a painful disease, and a world, in which for my sake alone, she wished to continue. Philip," said she to me one day, while I sat beside her, "I look forward with anxiety to your fate. Your ardent, impetuous temper, when I am no longer at hand to restrain it...your gloomy firmness, when the voice of kindness shall no longer attempt to soften it, will expose you to serious calamity! Phip Dellwyn, when injustice rouses you, when caprice despises when tyranny oppresses you, think you, when meanness injures, or of me:....Oh then be gentle, be patient!....Your situation, my dear boy, will not admit of those highspirited virtues, which yet, I trust, will, one day or other, when all your difficulties shall be surmounted, render you respectable and happy, the exalted, the dignified being I wish to see you ;....but remember, Dellwyn, through patient suffering lies the road to peace." "Her words were surely prophetic....I promised to remember her; alas! could I ever forget the sweet monitress of my early days, whose approbation had exalted me? whose smile had cheered me, and "I besought her to tell me who I was. terms with me; he ridiculed my me with the same intolerable sar- affusions to a secret he refused to disclose, the threats of low-minded oppression, and the stings of unjust opprobrium. At length I could bear these no longer ; my spirit revolted against such palliating conduct as mean and servile....I retorted when next Goldney taunted me, and retorted with such keenness, that I shook his very soul. We knew no limits; I reproached him with his conduct in terms which took from him all self-command: I acted on principle, and therefore possessed mine. I had argued with myself, that, with a body strong, healthy, and active, with a mind well cultivated, and no rebellious will, I could not fail to support myself. I cared little, therefore, what consequences I provoked, and I forbore no reproach, no expression, that could set before him, in its true light, the abominableness of his conduct. At length he ordered me to quit his house, and to see it no more...." This conduct, young man," said he, "absolves me from all further care of you, and exonerates me and all concerned from any engagements. Had you deserved it, the munificence of your father would have given you, at twenty-one, one thousand pounds; now go forth, a high-souled, pennyless bastard!" "I refused to go, till I knew the name of this munificent parent: but Goldney, well aware that his silence on this head would be a far greater punishment than the poverty he had denounced against me, resolutely maintained it, nor could all my exertions obtain the least information. "Irritated and dejected, I went to weep over the grave of Miss Goldney. I recalled her mild and complacent manners, her conciliatory advice, her patient spirit; yet I reproached not myself. For her sake, I had borne for months, treatment the most injurious; to have submitted longer, had been to deserve it....had been to shew a spirit rather servile than resigned, a spirit even my patient monitress could never have approved:....but on her grave I wept so long that night found me still there. I had taken with me a small packet of linen, a book, the valued present of Miss Goldney, and two guineas ....all in the world I could call my own; for it appeared to have been Goldney's policy or orders to keep me wholly without property! I was, however, rich enough to pay for a supper and a lodging, and walked away to a village a few miles distant. "The night brought no sleep to my eyes; the world was now before me. "The moment," said I to myself, "must have arrived, when I must have made choice of some mode of obtaining subsistence; it has advanced rather more rapidly, that is all." "At eighteen, with health, strength, and talents, one does not readily despair. "London," thought I, "is the great mart for talent:".... and to London I determined to go. The pen offered itself as the readiest means of gaining bread, and I resolved to write. Already had I laid the plan of my future labours, already had I turned some very eloquent periods, when I fell into a doze, from which I was awakened by the morning sun. As I prepared for my journey, I felt the spirit of independence rise within me: I took a hasty breakfast, and set forward on foot for London, exulting in the thought of the shame with which I should so soon overwhelm Goldney. I felt invigorated with hope, and enlivened with the thought of depending only on myself. Full of delightful reveries, I forgot that I was a hundred and fifty miles from London, that I was unused to long journies, and unacquainted with the world...alas! at eighteen, all difficulties fade before the consciousness of health, talents, and liberty." (To be continued.) HATFIELD. THIS man, who became the victim of an ungovernable propen |
