Homer] is the most miserable he had yet seen:" referring to the beginng of Odyssey X. as a proof of his position. Now we will venture to affirm, in direct opposition to the Warrington schoolmaster, that one of the points in which Cowper has signalized himself, is that of a correct, and, in the present age, most meritorious as well as masterly judgment in Euglish versification. Without troubling ourselves at this moment to turn to the passage in question, we have no hesitation in ranking it, if as bad as it is represented, amongst the exceptions, perhaps the many exceptions, which in so long a work as an entire translation of the Iliad and Odyssey may reasonably be expected *. But we have some reason to question altogether the rhythmical ear of a man who can see no difference between the accent on the first syllable of virum in arma virumque cano, and the actual rest on the corresponding long syllable in vires (vid. p. 6). With regard to Cowper's translation of Homer in general, it seems to us to be a work much underrated by modern self-erected judges of poetry.

Our admiration of the poetry of Pope will yield to that of no one who is disposed to view it with the candour of critical discrimination. We are not inclined to call that laboured excellence of thought condensed in his pithy lines by the name of conceit, nor to proclaim him in his mellifluous flow of classical language as under any counter-compact against simplicity, like Shadwell. But as a model of poetry, Pope, we venture to say, is dangerous; as a standard of taste, defective. We are, doubtless, apt to be misled, not to say bewitched, by the even, but monotonous harmony of the bard of Twickenham, and dazzled by the close array of his pointed antitheses and shining sentiments. On subjects requiring energetic brevity, or majestic strength, his style is admirable: and there is doubtless a vigour, richness, harmony, and pomp in detached passages of his translation of Homer, which the corresponding passages of Cowper do not seem to reach, or even to approach. And this is more particularly true of some of the fiercer descriptions of battles, or the more affecting scenes of living nature. But as a whole, to be accompanied throughout, to give a fair idea of the great poet (a just one who can give?) to interest the finer feelings of the heart, to sustain that interest, to please with all possible variety of correct cadence and nicely balanced periods, we have an

On referring, after writing this, to the passage in question, we are astonished, perhaps not astonished, to find it as correct, harmonious, and elegant a specimen of Cowper's style as we could wish to produce.

opinion, it may be a peculiar one, in favour of Cowper's blank verse translation, even beyond that which we entertain of its rhyming and splendid rival, considered merely as a representative of Homer. We could much wish for some fair opportunity of vindicating more fully this opinion; at present we must satisfy ourselves with generally expressing our surprise, that such a man as Wakefield should speak as he does respecting such a man as Cowper. His charge of a perpetual propensity to the ludicrous and burlesque in the Task seems to us a most unwarrantable misrepresentation of that most elegant satire, embellished as it is by the most touching sentiments, moral and religious. And we must look somewhat deeper than poetic taste, in a mind so liberal, so imbued with sensibility as that of Mr. Wakefield is by his admirers stated to have been, for this marked indifference to a writer almost excessive in his attachment to liberty, and for pure and exquisite sentiment unrivalled in English literature.

In letters 25, 26, 27, we find a high commendation of the poetry of Ovid, whom Mr. Wakefield does not hesitate to call "the first poet of all antiquity," p. 83: a remark to which Mr. Fox replies, by professing himself a great admirer of that poet, "to the great scandal of all who pique themselves upon purity of taste:" but he still ventures to prefer "the grand and spirited style of the Iliad; the true nature and simplicity of the Odyssey; the poetical language (far exceeding that of all other poets in the world) of the Georgics; and the pathetic strokes in the Æneid." To which he subjoins, with commendation, a reference to a similarity pointed out by Wakefield between Ovid and Euripides. Mr. Fox's high opinion of Ovid has an air of less intrepidity, when it is recollected that he was backed by the authority of Milton, whose favourite authors were Ovid and Euripides: the Metamorphoses of the former he is said to have had nearly by heart. A good comparison is instituted between Ovid and Virgil by Wakefield in pp. 96, 97, in which, however, he leaves somewhat coldly the single superiority of magnificent language to Virgil.

From letter 29 we should willingly, if we had time, produce to our readers the critical remarks of Mr. Wakefield's on the minor Greek poets: but must content ourselves with generally referring the curious on these interesting topics to very sensible and discriminating observations on the works of Apollonius Rhodius, Aratus, Nicander, Dionysius, Periegetes, Oppian, Nonnus, and the obscure but classic and highly finished Lycophron, dispersed over Mr. Wakefield's share in this correspondence. We could with pleasure also give some of Mr. Fox's

just and scholar-like observations scattered up and down these letters, particularly those in letter 53, upon the pathetic in the Æneid. But it may be a matter of mere curiosity to our readers to see one or two quotations from Mr. Fox of a more general nature, by which they may be able to fix the standard of his scholarship from his own mouth.

"I am at present," says he, in letter 7,"rather engaged in reading Greek; as it is my wish to recover at least, if not to improve, my former acquaintance (which was but slight) with that language."Of old editions and MSS. he professes himself "uncommonly ignorant, never having read Homer in any other editions than the Glasgow and Clarke's." And in letter 28, we find the following confession, which we freely confess we equally admire for its frankness and good sense.

"I wish to read some more, if not all, of the Greek poets, before I begin with those Latin ones that you recommend; especially as I take it for granted that Valerius Flaccus (one of them) is in some degree an imitator of Apollonius Rhodius. Of him, or Silius Italicus, I never read any; and of Statius but little. Indeed, as, during the far greater part of my life, the reading of the classics has been only an amusement, and not a study, I know but little of them, beyond the works of those who are generally placed in the first rank; to which I have always more or less attended, and with which I have always been as well acquainted as most idle men, if not better. My practice has generally been multum potius quàm multos legere.' Of late years, it is true that I have read with more critical attention, and made it more of a study; but my attention has been chiefly directed to the Greek language, and its writers; so that in the Latin I have a great deal still to read: and I find that it is a pleasure which grows upon me every day." Page 110, 111.

If these concessions forbid us to place Mr. Fox among the first scholars of the kingdom, which we understand some of his friends have injudiciously done, they still, in conjunction with the many sound and sensible observations, critical as well as sentimental, which accompany them, prove him to have had a high relish, and even we would say with his panegyrist Parr, an exquisite taste, for the most celebrated authors in Greek and Latin:" they shew him to have been possessed of a tenacious memory, and a power of readily applying his acquired knowledge; together with much philological precision, when disposed to put forth (which he appears often to have been) the vigour of his strong, native sense in considering "the structure of sentences, the etymology of words, the import of particles, and the quantity of syllables." In short, he had a mind to relish and improve a literary retirement: his disappointments in public

life did not leave him, as they have left many a statesman, without resource; and in the alternate and gratifying exercise of å vigorous judgment and vivid imagmation he could forget the feelings which first banished him to St. Anne's Hill; and could indulge the playful recreations of poetry and criticism as a happy exchange for the turbid and precarious visions of a rash, political ambition.

On subjects of a still higher and more interesting nature thêsé letters afford us few or no specimens of Mr. Fox's views; excepting a faint prayer of humanity on "the turn affairs had taken in Italy-God send it may lead to a peace" (p. 169): and a lamentation over the time lost in benefiting the world by an historical undertaking, of which we know the result." I shall grudge very much the time it takes away from my attention to poetry and ancient literature, which are studies far more suitable to my taste" (p. 169). We have scarcely a hint of Mr. Fox's proficiency in those feelings and those arts which, above all others, tend to improve, exalt, and bless the human race. Unfortunately, too much is to be gathered from this portentous silence Dum tacet, clamat. It calls us to the contemplation of " that something still" defective in the utmost plenitude of Mr. Fox's mind; a void, a dreary waste pervading all its moral part; a pining want of proper culture; a pernicious crop of sickly fruits, seeming, as it were, to echo cheerless to the wind. C'est un bel edifice mais il y manque la chapelle, said a lady to Mr. Gibbon, when boasting of his history. Can any other sentiment arise in the mind of him who contemplates with the eye of truth the hollow fabric raised by fame and Dr. Parr to Mr. Fox's memory? The stately form, the rich materials, and spacious groundwork of this fabric lead us, indeed, to feelings of no common regret for the deficiency within: and deeply must we reprobate that system of educa tion which in his early youth marked out no line, laid no foundation stone, for supplying the important part. Perhaps in a mind less original and commanding than Mr. Fox's we readily accept education, if studied to mislead, deprave, intoxicate the boy, as some excuse or at least palliation for the failures of the man.. If Mr. Fox's superior powers failed of educing these higher principles, apparently so congenial to them, we are only so far disposed to excuse him, upon any plea, as we believe great faculties to imply great temptations; and upon the plea of education in particular, only as far as we generally observe less leisure and inclination to be left in after life, in proportion to the talents spoiled by fashion or ambition, for redressing early errors, and changing the first direction.

In the mean time let us observe that characteristic traits of Mr. Wakefield also abound in these letters. His powers as a scholar and a critic have been already appreciated with so much accuracy by his kindred tribe as not to need further illustration: his fame has, doubtless, been much injured in this department through the influence of his known literary rashness and overweening self-conceit. The humiliating concession respecting his own Silva Critica, as containing “ plurima, quae sint juveniliter temeraria, argordavura prorsus, et homine critico indigna," might have been well anticipated from the following passage in his own life.

"It always appeared to my mind not only a violation of truth but an act of ingratitude to the "Giver of every good gift," to dissemble or disparage those qualifications which I was conscious of possessing and I esteemed it not folly only but a fraud-to bestow on ordinary proficients in learning and virtue such commendations as were only due to the genuine possessors of those valuable acquisitions. These dispositions, unconnected or unimpaired, as best pleases the reader's taste, have accompanied me through life: these domineer in my constitution to this very hour," &c.

That they did so, we have more than one melancholy proof in the present letters. It grieves us, but for example's sake, to drag to light against our departed scholar "his frailty from its dread abode," by quoting such passages as the following."I knew my Lucretius must make its way in time against all personal and political opposition, especially when known on the continent." Speaking of a critical nicety which Dr. Parr had in conversation deemed inadmissible, "I made no reply," says our self-complacent critic, but concluded it to have been " observed by all readers but MYSELF "Excuse me," says he, in another letter, "if I appear positive; it is only in the expression, which one acquires from the study of mathematics; where after constructing the figure it is usual to add, I say, the triangle so and so, is the triangle required!!"

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* A more innocent and interesting agreernent between Mr. Wakefield's delineations of himself in his life and in these letters appears in the following passages: "At college-a strange fastidiousness, for which I never could account, occasionally took a bewildering possession of my faculties. This impediment commonly recurred in the spring of the year, when I was so enamoured of rambling in the open air that not even emulation itself could chain me to my books." Vol. i. p. 87.

"My appetite," says be, near ten years after, in letter 39, dated Dorchester gaol, (poor fellow!) "my appetite is apt to flag with the hilarity of the season and the tempting appearances of nature; so that I should not much object to a liberation at this time with Lord Thanet and Mr. Ferguson!"