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To death she's lead! What tears of pity flowed
While Dian's altar streamed with guiltless blood!
The attending nymphs the holy crown prepare,
The sacred fillet binds her virgin hair,
Before the shrine her sire in sorrow stands,
The thirsty poignard lurks in priestly hands,
The mournful citizens are bathed in tears,
In silent agony the fair appears;
Now humbly kneeling, pleads with streaming eyes,
And now with piteous voice for mercy

cries :
That first the king a father's name she gave,
In vain she pleads; nor prayers nor tears can save.
Lo! from her palace and her friends she's torn,
Straight to the sanguine altar trembling borne;
Not as when blissful Hymen wakes his rites
Of mutual vows and solemnized delights,
But in the roseate hour of nuptial prime
A victim falls to bigotry and crime:
A parent's hands his suppliant child destroy,
Her life the purchase of a wind for Troy.
Such mighty evils holy phrenzy brings !

Such direful outrage from religion springs !" I. 93–125. Where did our author find any mention of the “ attending nymphs?” We have looked to no purpose in Lucretius: and he moreover tells us (and by a strange inconsistency Dr. Busby tells us also) that she was “ muta metu,” “ in silent agony, whereas the translation speaks of her crying for mercy with a piteous voice. Surely when a translator makes such a deviation from his author he outsteps his province. Neither does Lucretius state that she pleaded any thing: he merely says

“ Nec miseræ prodesse in tali tempore quibat,

Quod patrio princeps donârat nomine regem ;" and with more delicacy supposes some remains of parental affection to have pleaded for her.

Perhaps few parts of Lucretius have been more frequently quoted than the beginning of his second book, which is thus. rendered

“ When the wide ocean maddening whirlwinds sweep,
And heave the billows of the boiling deep,
Pleased we from land the reeling bark survey.
And rolling mountains of the watery way.
Not that we joy another's woes to see,
But to reflect that we ourselves are free.
So the dread battle ranged in distant fields,
Oarselves secure a secret pleasure yields.
But what more charming than to gain the height
Of true philosophy! What pure delight,

From wisdom's citadel to view, below,
Deluded mortals, as they wandering go
In quest of happiness! ah, blindly weak!
For fame, for vain nobility they seek.

What though no sculptured boys of burnished gold
Around thy hall the flaming torches hold,
Gilding the midnight banquet with their rays,
While goblets sparkle and while lustres blaze;
What though thy mansion with no silver shine,
Nor gold emblazon with its rich design;
No fretted arch, no painted dome, rebound
The rapturous voice, and harps exulting sound;
Yet see the swains their gliding moment pass
In sweet indulgence on the tender grass,
Near some smoothi limpid lapse of murmuring stream,
Whose bordering oaks exclude the noontide beam.
Chiefly when spring leads on the smiling hours,
And strews the brightened meads with opening flowers,
In grateful shades, soft seats of peace and health,
Calmly they lie, nor dream of needless wealth.
When in embroidery clad, you sumptuous lie
On couches blushing with the Tyrian dye,
Say, will the raging fever sooner cease
Than if you pressed the peasant's humble fleece?
From grandeur, then, since small the good that flows,
Nor poble thought, nor glory, wealth bestows,
Nor to the body true delight affords-
What real blessings yield the shining hoards?”

II. 27-50. Perhaps the following lines will present as favourable an idea of Dr. Busby's powers as any which we could select.

« Oft o'er the hills, when roam the fleecy breed,
And on the joyous grass disportive feed,
Where herbs, begemmed with pearly dews, invite,
And spread the spangled pastures with delight,
The full-fed lambs in blithesome frolic stray,
And try their tender horns in wanton play:
Viewed from afar, these forms as fixed are seen,
One settled white upon the partial green.
So when a mighty army fills the plain
With fictious war, and wild commotions reign,
Swift wheel the horse, amid the battle bound,
And beat with thundering hoofs the trembling ground.
Bright arms to Heaven reflect their gleamy rays,
And o'er the field the brazen bucklers blaze:
Thick press the squadrons, urged by hostile heat,
And earth, encumbered, groans beneath their feet.

Loud to the neighbouring hills the clamours rise,
The neighbouring hills rebound them to the skies:
Yet to observers on some mountain's height,
The struggling arms reflect a steady light:
No transient fashes, glancing gleams they yield,
One mass of splendor settles on the field.”

II. 353-377. The following translation of the beautiful passage beginning “ Nec ratione alia,” well deserves the perusal of our readers, and is in every respect a worthy translation of Lucretius.

The tender youngling hence its mother knows,
And hence the dam with love maternal glows;
All creatures hence their proper species find,
And in their union imitate mankind.
When on the altar of the gilded fane,
To angry gods, a tender heifer's slain;
When life Hows issuing in a purple flood,
When reeks the flamen with the smoking blood,
The hapless dam explores the fields around,
And with impatient hoofs imprints the ground,
Each lawn, each grove, surveys with anxious eyes,
And fills the woodlands with her piteous cries;
Oft to her solitary stall returns,
Oft the sad absence of her offspring mourns ;
No more the tender willows please, no more
Those streams delight her, which allured before :
The freshened herbs, impearled with silvery dews,
Their wonted beauty and their sweetness lose.
Though heifers fair in thousands round her feed,
And sport and frolic o'er the joyous mead,
These she regards not, but her own requires,
Whose absence all a mother's grief inspires."

II. 391-412. In the eighth line of the above passage, Dr. Busby has either mistaken “ flumen” for “famen,” or he has adopted a various reading with which we are unacquainted.

We shall now close our extracts, which we have made the longer because the expensive nature of the work will probably prevent its general diffusion, with one passage from the fifth book, which

is rather a paraphrase than a translation, and which reminds us strongly of Dr. Darwin's style.

“ Lo! spring advances with her kindling powers,
And Venus beckons to the laughing hours ;
Fly the winged zephyrs forth, and all things move
The earth to beauty and the soul to love :

Maternal Flora wakes her opening buds,
With sweetest odours fills the groves and woods,
With flowers of richest dies

prepares

the

way
For rosy pleasure and the genial May.
Her fervid rays then scorching summer pours,
And dusty Ceres brings her gathered stores:
Fierce from the north arrives the Etesian blast,
And, roaring, tells the fleeting summer's past:
Then autumn comes, and Bacchus reels along,
Flushed with the purple grape, and revelry, and song:
Now raging storms and boisterous winds awake,
The loud south-east and south their prisons break,
The sultry south, full charged with burning drought,
And heapy clouds with bursting thunder fraught:
Then chilling snows, with gelid frost, advance,
And shivering winter ends the annual dance."

V. 929–948. Before we finish our remarks upon

the work before us, it may perhaps be expected that we should say something of the notes. We can, however, say but very little of them. They consist of three chief ingredients; the praises of Lucretius, which those who have read his work could well spare ; a laboured, and sometimes a prolix refutation of his arguments, which after his doctrines have been so often and so well combated we consider as superfluous; and a collection of parallel passages, most of which are to be fouod in prior translations.

A life of Epicurus is appended, which is clear and concise, and so much what it ought to be, with the exception of an occasional inflation of style, that we do not think it necessary to prolong our article after it has arrived at this length by any particular remarks it.

We now take our leave of Dr. Busby, and if our voice is not lost among the flattering congratulations of the “ Illustrious, noble, and estimable individuals” who swell his list of patrons, we would seriously recommend him, if an opportunity should occur, to revise his poem; to omit that part of which we think every good man will be sorry to see a fresh translation; to retrench his commentary, and simplify some of the glittering language into which he has been betrayed.

This done, although we think that his undertaking was wholly unnecessary, we shall be willing to admit that he has executed it in a manner creditable to himself.

upon

Art. IV–A Voyage round the World, in the Years 1800, 1901,

1802, 1809, und 1804, in which the Author visited the Mar deira. the Brazils, Cape of Good Hope, the English Settlements of Botany Bay and Norfolk Island; and the principal Islands in the Pacific Ocean, with a Continuation of their History to the present Period. By John Turnbull. 2d Edit.

London. 1813. Tue

He modesty and diffidence of authors, especially of those who favour the world with their travels, might well pass into a proverb, were it récollected how many of them, according to the professions in their prefaces, have offered to the public materials which

were
drawn

up at first merely for the amusement of private friends," and which, when they were collected, they “ had not the most distant idea of their being published.” As to the difficulty the private friends” of Mr. Turnbull may have had in obtaining the object of their request it is not necessary for us to investigate; but we know of few occasions on which we could have joined such solicitations with greater sincerity than on the present. The entertainment we have experienced in the perusal of the voyages of Colunibus, Raleigh, De Gama, Drake, Cook, and Dampier, are still fresh in our memory; and we şeem to meet old friends in improved circumstances when we revisit with Mr. Turnbull many of the places first made known to us by those discoverers.

Mr. Turnbull undertook his voyage previously to the occupation of Madeira by the British troops. But he has given us, by means of a second edition, the latest possible accounts of that colony, through a source of information “ on which he has every reason to depend."

“ Funchal, the largest and most populous town of the island, is beautifully situated on the south side of the declivity of a hill, facing the sea ; the houses rising gradually above each other, till they reach the summit of the first range of hills, where the prospect is bounded by another range, planted with vines and fruit trees, and adorned with country houses and gardens. It was now ten in the forenoon of as bright a day as the meridian glory of a southern sun ever produced to cheer the heart of man. The vineyards yet retained on their leaves some of the morning dew; the face of the island was clothed in many places with tropical shrubs; the orange, melon, sugar-cane, and banana, gratified more than one sense by their hue and fragrance. The spectator, however, has here to encounter a disappointment which too frequently occurs from the nearer view of a scene which had appeared in very high colours at a distance. The external and internal condition of the houses but

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