"In an age of simplicity, and among a people as yet but imperfectly polished, the violent emotions of the mind seek only to gratify themselves, and angry persons, finding violent and rude expressions most suited to that purpose, prefer them accordingly. It is not till a country has attained to a very high degree of refinement, that men learn to be angry with good manners, and to resent an affront with delicacy."

It may grieve us to quit the Iliad with such imperfect notice; but were we to fill twenty numbers of the Mirror with its beauties and our comments, we should yet feel unsatisfied, for we must still leave a store behind that would make us look back with regret. We may, however, observe, before we make our concluding remarks on this poem, that a Dutch critic has attempted to demonstrate that in the Iliad are shadowed out the siege and destruction of Jericho, and the other cities of Canaan, by Joshua; and another author has had the confidence to affirm that Homer wrote by divine inspiration, and that the Iliad is a prophetical description of the destruction of Jerusalem, of our Saviour's life and sufferings, and of the state of the Christian church, from its foundation to the times of the reformation.

We may also recommend to the admirers of the vine" the perusal of the Inx axos of Tryphiodorus.

"Tale of Troy di-.

This poem, which

is too much neglected, “is a sequel of the Iliad," as it treats of those events which follow the death of Hector; and on this account he may be said to relate quicquid restabat Homero, though not exactly in the same sense in which the words are applied by Ovid.

We have already signified our approbation of blank verse, and we do not fear to repeat that we hold it much more estimable and efficient, in the performance of such a labour as the present, than rhyme, even in the hands of one thrice endowed with Pope's potent command of versification. If Cowper's numbers abound in pauses, and do not always flow so smoothly as Pope's, they are the more like Homer's; and the English poet confesses the fact, adding

"But my limping lines are not numerous, compared with those that limp not. The truth is, that not one of them all escaped me, but, such as they are, they were all made such with a wilful intention."

And he thinks, properly, that a good effect is produced by "a line, now and then, less harmonious than its fellows." Is Homer himself without these irregularities? Had he been so, Eustathius, an excellent critic, and warm admirer of Homer, had never affirmed that some of his lines want a head, some a tail, and others a middle: some begin with a word that is neither dactyl nor spondee, some conclude with a dactyl, and, in the intermediate part, he sometimes deviates equally from the established custom. It may even be questioned, says Cowper, if a single passage of * Jac. Hugonis Vera Hist. Romana, cap. 14, and Merrick's Dissertation.

ten lines, flowing with uninterrupted smoothness, could be singled out from all the thousands he has left us.

Some there are, we know, who have the judgement (if judgement it may be called) to esteem the meretricious ornaments of Pope more than the chaste and simple grandeur of Homer: so, in this refined and illuminated age, the clear and classical style of Addison is decried as base and mean, and Gibbon's Gallic phrases and affected triads preferred: so is artificial tinsel exalted over pure and solid gold!

Finally, with regard to Cowper, as he stands related to Pope, we can not distinguish in a way more conformable to our opinion, than by using the words of Mr. Dubois on this subject, and with these we shall close our review of the Iliad.

"To estimate," says he, "the individual merit of Pope and this gentleman (Cowper,) in their respective performances of the identical work, I should say, that the former, with extraordinary facility of versification, seems, before he began, to have read over one or more books of Homer, then, dismissing him, to have executed his task, whilst the latter, with e'qual powers of poetry, appears to have followed in the track of his original so nicely, as to have had an eye (if I may use the figure) even to the stone and cement with which the noble architect has formed his immortal fabric. Mr. Cowper's translation, notwithstanding its pre-eminence, has not been deservedly appreciated; however, I have no hesitation in expressing my conviction that time will raise it to a level with the most admired productions of a similar nature."

THE noble author of " Childe Harold's Pilgrimage" and the "Giaour," which have already obtained merited celebrity, has presented the literary world with a new poem, entitled,

the "Bride of Abydos." In it he has blended novelty with harmony, and as he is well acquainted with Oriental manners and customs, has displayed them in such a fascinating manner, as to render them familiar and delightful to the natives of the western hemisphere. By the uniformly beautiful poetry which distinguishes Lord Byron's productions, we are enraptured; by his figurative elegance, enchanted. His Miscellaneous Pieces were first offered to the public, which, although in some respects of an inferior kind, were nevertheless ominous of future glory. We next behold him in the “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," lashing the petty ballad-mongers of the age, and aiming the shafts of satire against those poets, who had long been honored with public applause; and however we may be irritated at the condemnation of those, whose works often appeared to us charming, we are irresistibly compelled to risibility, by the ludicrous manner in which their defects are exposed. His "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage" was next committed to the ocean of public censure; and it was prosperously borne over its billows. At the publication of the "Giaour," his popularity increased. Unoccupied by the pressure of business, with nothing to divert his attention from poetry, he is fast ascending the pinnacle of fame. But to return more particularly to the poem which, it is our intention to examine. Its commencement would do honor to any poet. It is as follows:

"Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture-the love of the turtle-
Now melt into love-and now madden to crime?-

Know ye the land of the cedar and vine?

Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine,

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,

And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;

Where the tints of the earth, and the hue of the sky,

In color though varied, in beauty may vio;

And the purple of ocean is deepest in die ;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,

And all, save the spirit of man, is divine

'Tis the clime of the east--'tis the land of the Sun

Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done ?

Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell

Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell."

He refers in a very interesting manner to the death of Leander in swimming from Sestos to Abydos; in the beginning of the second canto :

«The winds are high on Helle's wave,
As on that night of stormy water
When Love-who sent-forgot to save
The young, the beautiful, the brave,
The lovely hope of Sestos' daughter.
Oh! when alone along the sky
Her turret-torch was blazing high,
Though rising gale, and breaking foam,
And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home;
And clouds aloft, and tides below,
With signs and sounds forbade to go,
He could not see, he would not hear,
Or sound or sign foreboding fear,
His eye but saw that light of love,
The only star it hail'd above;
His ear but rang with Hero's song,
'Ye waves, divide not lovers long.'

That tale is old, but love anew

May nerve young hearts to prove it true."

We cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of selecting the following beautiful lines:

"Oh! yet-for there my steps have been,
These feet have press'd the sacred shore,
These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne-
Minstrel! with thee to muse, to mourn-
To trace again those fields of yore-
Believing every hillock green

Contains no fabled hero's ashes

And that around the undoubted scene

Thine own "broad Hellespont" still dashes

Be long my lot-and cold were he

Who there could gaze denying thee!

There is a strain of uniform beauty pervading the whole poem, which, though for the most part destitute of sublimity, is yet powerfully attractive. Lord Byron's fame is now fixed on a permanent basis-and we sincerely hope, that he will yet favor the public with many poems similar to the Bride of Abydos.

LETTERS ON MYTHOLOGY.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF C. A. DEMOUSTIER.

(Continued from Vol. 3, page 311.)

LETTER XXXV.

I HAVE slightly sketched for you the feasts of Venus, permit me, fair Emilia, to present you with its partner, in the feasts of Bacchus.

Bacchus was represented upon a car drawn either by tigers or panthers, emblematical of the madness inspired by. intoxication; sometimes he was seen borne by a lynx, and I confess that for that I am unfurnished with a reason; for the lynx is remarkable for nothing more than a piercing sight; to be sure a drunken man may see double, but not very far. The god was crowned with ivy, and that diadem was surmounted by a pair of horns. This symbol was given to Bacchus because he was the first that yoked oxen together for tillage. The trunk of an oak was placed near him in memory of his having been the first to exchange the sustenance of man from acorns to fruit and corn; and a branch of the vine, or of the fig-tree, was also part of his regalia; in his right hand he held a thyrsis, à species of lance wreathed with vineleaves. His companions were generally the Muses, to shew that he inspires their songs as often as Apollo.

As the god of drinkers, Bacchus was represented seated upon a tun, his brows bound with ivy, of which the dropping leaves were said to keep down the fumes of the wine; his broad face was spread with a vermillion color, and his nose