THE following passage will give no unfavourable idea of the style and manner of May. In the 9th book of the Pharsalia, Cæsar, when in Asia, is led from curiosity to visit the Plain of Troy.

Here fruitless trees, old oaks with putrefy'd
And sapless roots, the Trojan houses hide,
And temples of their Gods; all Troy's o'erspread
With bushes thick, her ruines ruined.

He sees the bridall grove Anchises lodg'd;
Hesione's rock; the cave where Paris judg'd;
Where nymph Oenone play'd; the place so fam'd
For Ganymedes' rape; each stone is nam'd.
A little gliding stream, which Xanthus was,
Unknown he past, and in the lofty grass
Securely trode; a Phrygian straight forbid
Him tread on Hector's dust! (with ruins hid,
The stone retain'd no sacred memory.)

Respect you not great Hector's tomb, quoth he!

-O great and sacred work of poesy,
That free'st from fate, and giv'st eternity
To mortal wights! But Cæsar, envy not

Their living names, if Roman Muses aught

May promise thee, while Homer's honoured

By future times, shall thou, and I, be read;

No age

shall us with darke oblivion staine,

But our Pharsalia ever shall remain,

MAY'S Lucan, b. 9,

Jam silvæ steriles, et putres robore trunci
Assaraci pressere domos, et templa deorum
Jam lassa radice tenent ac tota teguntur
Pergama dumetis ; etiam periere ruinæ.
Aspicit Hesiones scopulos, silvasque latentes
Anchise thalamos ; quo judex sederit antro;
Unde puer raptus colo; quo vertice Nais
Luserit Oenone: nullum est sine nomine saxum.
Inscius in sicco serpentem pulvere rivum

Transierat, qui Xanthus erat; securus in alto
Graminé ponebat gressus: Phryx incola manes
Hectoreos calcare vetat: discussa jacebant
Saxa, nec ullius faciem servantia sacri :
Hectoreas, monstrator ait, non respicis aras?

sacer, et magnus vatum labor; omnia fate
Eripis, et populis donas mortalibus ævum!
Invidia sacræ, Cæsar, ne tangere famæ:
Nam siquid Latiis fas est promittere Musis,
Quantum Smyrnei durabunt vatis honores,
Venturi me teque legent: Pharsalia nostra
Vivet, et a nullo tenebris damnabitur ævo.
11 bar godt fed Pharsal. 1.9.

1

.: INDEPENDENTLY of the excellence of the above translation, in completely conveying the sense, the force, and spirit of the original, it possesses one beauty which the more modern English poets have entirely neglected, or rather purposely banished from their versification in rhyme; I mean the varied harmony of the measure, which arises from changing the place of the pauses. In the modern heroic rhyme, the pause is almost invariably found at the end of a couplet. In the older poetry, the sense is continued from one couplet to another, and closes in various parts of the line, according to the poet's choice, and the completion of his his meaning:

A little gliding stream, which Xanthus was,
Unknown he past --and in the lofty grass
Securely trode-a Phrygian straight forbid
Him tread on Hector's dust-with ruins hid,
The stone retain'd no sacred memory.

He must be greatly deficient in a musi

cal ear,

who does not prefer the varied har

mony of the above lines to the uniform return of sound, and chiming measure of the following:

Here all that does of Xanthus stream remain,
Creeps a small brook along the dusty plain.
While careless and securely on they pass,
The Phrygian guide forbids to press the grass;

This place, he said, for ever sacred keep,
For here the sacred bones of Hector sleep:

Then warns him to observe, where rudely cast,
Disjointed stones lay broken and defac'd.

Rowe's Lucan,

YET the Pharsalia by Rowe is, on the whole, one of the best of the modern translations of the classics. Though sometimes diffuse and paraphrastical, it is in general faithful to the sense of the original; the language is animated, the verse correct and melodious; and when we consider the extent of the work, it is not unjustly characterised by Dr Johnson, as one of "the greatest productions of English poe"try."

Or similar character to the versification

of May, though sometimes more harsh in its structure, is the poetry of Sandys :

There's no Alcyone! none, none ! she died
Together with her Ceyx. Silent be

All sounds of comfort. These, these eyes did see
My shipwreck'd Lord. I knew him; and my hands
Thrust forth t' have held him: but no mortal bands
Could force his stay. A ghost! yet manifest,
My husband's ghost: which, Oh, but ill express'd
His forme and beautie, late divinely rare!
Now pale and naked, with yet dropping haire:
Here stood the miserable! in this place:

Here, here! (and sought his aerie steps to trace).

SANDYS' Ovid, b. 11.

Nulla est Alcyone, nulla est, ait; occidit una

Cum Ceyce suo; solantia tollite verba:
Naufragus interiit; vidi agnovique, manusque
Ad discedentem, cupiens retinere, tetendi.
Umbra fuit: sed et umbra tamen manifesta, virique
Vera mei; non ille quidem, si quæris, habebat
Assuetos vultus, nec quo prius ore nitebat.
Pallentem, nudumque, et adhuc humente capillo,