The conceit "were lovers judges," of the translator, is more in the manwhich is quite gratuitous on the part ner of Ovid than of Virgil. The change from the singular to the plural in the line, "What fierce distraction," &c. enfeebles the poem very much, and the line, " Again I perish with untimely fall," is so extremely slovenly and unvirgilian, that we are surprised Mr Ring, if he could not himself produce a better, had not recourse, ut suus mos est, on such occasions, to his practice of levying_contributions from his more tuneful predecessors. (To be continued.) BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF KORNER, SCHENKENDORF, AND SCHULZE, THREE MODERN GERMAN POETS. GERMANY yet weeps over the ashes of three of her most promising poetical children, who, within these few years, have been called away from the task of delighting their country, and from the enjoyment of that fame their writings were beginning to obtain. Theodore Körner, Ernst Schulze, and Maximilian Schenkendorf, are at present honoured by a purer devotion than is paid to Goethe, Schlegel, or Fouque. The fame of these latter is brilliant, and widely diffused; but it is obscured by envy, and often darkened by malice. Their poetical theories are contested, their labours vilified, and their characters and writings calumniated. We pay the homage due to talents cheerfully, when their possessor is no longer sensible of the honours we bestow on him. The merits of the dead are even magnified, and those who are the most ready to scowl on living, are most eager to worship departed genius. It is not that reputation is beyond our reach, when an author is laid in his grave, but he is no longer our competitor, he is removed from our path, and there is a feeling of mercy in human nature which makes it spare the arrows of reproach, when they cannot be aimed against a living antagonist. The first, and the greatest of the young men, whose loss the muse deplores, is Theodore Körner, who fell in a skirmish with the French in Mecklenburg, before he had attained his thirtieth year. By birth he was a Prussian, but he resided for a considerable time at Vienna, and there most of his writings were first published, or performed. He was chiefly distinguished as a dramatic author; and Rosamund and Zriny are two well known tragedies of his composition. They are agrecable and pleasing, rather than deepfelt or sublime, and full of that gentle reverie, Schwärmery, which, in our opinion, is at present the distinguishing characteristic of German poetry. At the voice of freedom, which resounded throughout Germany in 1813, his heart appears to have beat higher, and his muse to have taken a bolder flight. He grasped the sword to contend for liberty, and he turned his lyre to martial deeds, celebrating the triumphs of his countrymen, or inspiring them by his songs with courage. "Lützow's Wilde Jagd," "Schwertlied," and " Männer und Buben," were some of the most admired of all the exhilarating songs, -and they were extremely numerous, which were produced in Germany during the contest of 1813, 1814. They are still remembered and sung with considerable enthusiasm. Many of them possess a value, independent of their poetical merit, derived from the circumstances under which they were written, on the march-while standing centinel-a few hours before his death, were all circumstances under which the poet composed some of his best productions. "Lützow's Wilde Jagd," is a description of the corps to which Körner belonged, and which was distinguished by its resolute daring deeds. Lützow was a Silesian nobleman, whose wife was seduced by some Frenchman during the subjugation of Prussia. He immediately left Berlin, where he was then residing, and retiring to his estates in Silesia, never returned to court till Germany rose in arms to expell the French. He then formed a rifle corps of volunteers, clothed in black, with red facings, which became known by its valour and its name, “The corps of Vengeance," throughout Germany. The black, it was said, denoted sorrow for the decayed spirit of the country, and the red facings was French blood. Its motto was "Luise und die Rache," (Louisa," Queen of Prussia, and Revenge.) At first it neither gave nor received quarter, and was nearly extirpated in several battles. Yet was it always soon again completed, till its commander himself fell on the fields of France. The circumstances which caused Schill to be unsuccessful added to his fame. He fought almost alone, and while it was impossible that his valour could save his country, it exalted him far above every other German warrior of the day. Under similar circumstances Lützow might have attained equal fame with Schill. But the deeds of the young volunteers he commanded were only a few of a very splendid series, and were lost or forgotten amid the glare of numerous and important victories. From the prodigious enthusiasm of the Germans at the period of their deliverance there were, no doubt, many examples of heroism like that of Lützow and of Körner, which it will be the business of future historians and poets to record and embellish. For many years, nay, for centuries, the Germans have felt no such general enthusiasm, nor been surrounded with so much glory; and Spain is most certainly not the only country in which the defeated oppressions of a foreign power have given rise to a warm and general desire for internal and regulated freedom. In sharing the enthusiasm and the hopes of his countrymen it was impossible that Körner should not have been, in some measure, a prophet-should not have foreseen some of the results, while he participated in the contest. His confidence in a Report says the Queen of Prussia died from having caught cold at a ball at which she had danced too much in very thin clothing; the Prussians, however, in general, believe that she fell a victim to chagrin, from the ill treatment of the French, and hence her name became a sort of rallying word to the Prussians. just cause, and in the Almighty, was great, and hence he seemed sure of victory, and in a manner prophesied it. At the same time, he was not insensible of what it would cost; he knew that many a noble head and affectionate heart must pay the price; and as he himself was one of those who cheerfully gave up their life for victory, there are many passages of his poems that seem like allusions to his own fate. "He was missed among the returning victorious bands," and was one of those faithful warriors who will never be forgotten by a happy and victorious people. With our present experience we may doubt if some of his hopes have not been disappointed. Germany has not acquir ed "every thing great," nor every thing beautiful," but it was impossible for Körner to imagine that the monarchs whom he loved and celebrated for their avowed attachment to their country, should afterwards prove false to their promises, and traitors to the sentiments which replaced them on their thrones. The skirmish in which he lost his life is scarcely recorded in history, and would, but for him, be for ever forgotten. Now, however, it is in a manner incorporated in German literature, and destined to live as long as it shall be read. Exclusive of the sonnets, elegies, and odes of condolence addressed to his parents, his name and his fate are of ten alluded to. The hereditary Prince of Mecklenburg Schwerin proposed to have him buried at Ludwigslust in the neighbourhood of the royal grave; but his father preferred leaving him to repose where his comrades in arms had buried him. This was near an oak in Mecklenburg, and the sovereign gave a considerable piece of ground near the spot, which has been planted with trees, and bears a castiron monument to the memory of the hero. Respected as a man, and admired as a poet, he is deeply regretted, and has had a more permanent monument, even than of iron, built up for him in the songs of some of the first living writers of his country. Der Jüngling sank zu früh vom Tod umfangen, Im Jugendkranz, ein Sänger und ein Held. Tiedge. Of Maximilian Schenkendorf, we know nothing more than that he also was engaged in the war for freedom, but returned in safety to his literary pursuits. It was only, in fact, after that period that he was much distinguished, and then, he was little, or not at all, known beyond the circle of readers of almanacks and pocket-books. We have never seen any of his productions but in these periodical works. He died, we believe, in 1818, and is loudly bewailed by many brother and sister writers in the periodicals for 1820. We have a biographical memoir before us of Ernst Schulze, prefixed to his Câcilie, of which we intend to give an account in a subsequent Number, and from this we shall now extract the principal events of his life and the features of his character. Professor Bouterwek of Göt tingen, well known for his philosophical writings, is the author of this memoir. He was the friend of Schulze, and editor of his posthumous works; and, according to his opinion, the writings of his pupil are destined to live as long as the German language. Ernst Schulze was the son of a Bürgermeister of Celle, in the dominions of Hanover, and was born there on the 22d of March 1789. In his youth he appeared to have a greater capacity than disposition to learn. He excelled in bodily exercises, and his youthful acquaintance loved him for his drollery. But he was so disorder. ly in small matters, and so incapable of executing the little commissions with which boys are sometimes entrusted, that nothing good was expected from him in after life. He displayed considerable ardour in pursuits that were congenial to his disposition. Before he was fourteen years of age, he had made such progress in the study of heraldry, that his advice was sought by painters who had heraldic ornaments to prepare. But his perseverance was not equal to his ardour, and he soon gave away the books and illustrations of heraldry he had collected. In company with two other youths, he made his first attempt at authorship, which consisted of a sort of newspaper describing family matters as if they were affairs of state. Fate soon after separated him from these friends; and as he was much attached to them, the pain of separation made him, for the first time, a poet. Afterwards, he devoted himself, with great vehemence, to reading fairy tales and books of chivalry; but no persuasion could induce him to learn arithmetic. Near Celle there was an old castle in ruins, a part of which was inhabited by a farmer, and in which a library full of Schulze's favourite books, and fitted up in a Gothic style, still remained. These captivated his fancy, and he persuaded his father to allow him to take up his abode in the farmer's family. There he read so constantly, that the farmer expressed his fears that the youth would read himself melancholy and mad. The time approached, however, for him to engage in some occupation. His decided aversion to law, and medicine, made him choose theology for, at least, the nominal objects of his studies, and in the autumn of 1806 he was sent to Göttingen. He seems now first to have learned, that, by a proper application of his talents, he might obtain a respectable subsistence without devoting himself to either of the three learned professions; and he soon gave up theology for the classical languages and elegant literature. There are so many professors in Germany for every branch of science, that teaching at a university may be said to be a regular calling, and to require a regular education. And a great number of young men are in constant training for future professors. Schulze resolved to teach the classical languages, and be a professor of elegant literature. With this view he left off the study of theology for poetry. Homer engrossed much of his attention, and he formed the project of writing a history of the lyric poetry of Greece. Few, how ever, of the projects of our youth are completed in manhood. So many unforeseen circumstances "turn awry the current of our thoughts," that rarely men of talents, certainly none of a very ardent imagination, follow up in the prime of life the schemes of their boyhood. Ardent minds are extensive and excursive in their thoughts, and in them the probability is great, that they will vary in their course. We can readily conceive a vain youth in the first flutter of his imagination, supposing himself destined to inform or delight mankind, to be the prince of philosophers, or the first of poets; but it is the attribute of genius, from the ease of its execution, to be in a manner unconscious of its own powers; and he whom Nature has appointed to fill the highest place, will see it within his reach before he dreams of his exalted fate. Schulze resolved to be a teacher of poetry, and to write a history of a part of it, but he became a lover and a poet,-has left no vestige of his intended history, but many light and agreeable poems. In the early part of his residence at Göttingen, he was cheerful and rather volatile, paying little attention to the lectures he heard, and delighting in the gay poetry of Wieland. In the latter part he became melancholy, and at both periods his writings bore marks of the prevalent disposition of his mind. So altered had he become, that those who formerly regarded him as nearly incapable of a serious thought, were alarmed at his earnestness and melancholy. For a while he had fluttered round the circle of youthful joys, and sipped honey from every blooming flower. But real life was not capable of long satisfying him. He had lived too much in a world of imagination to be contented with dull reality. An ideal female reigned in his heart, to whom he found a resemblance in the daughter of one of the literati of Göttingen. His fancy enveloped her with all its own splendours, and he appears never to have been intimate enough with her to destroy the illusion. Cecilia had charms sufficient to captivate an ordinary man, and permanently to content his heart. She was in the full bloom of youth, distinguished for native talents and acquired accomplishments, and was more charming than most of her sex. To approach and admire her was the summit of his wishes. What his admiration might hereafter have become, the early death of Cecilia does not allow us to know; but his passion was purely poetical in its origin, and poetical and Petrarchal in its continuance. It seems never to have gone beyond singing her praise, and consecrating her name by his poetry. He was contented to see and admire her, and probably loved her with much more fervour than he would have done had his passion been less the offspring of his own imagination, and more of her charms. While he gave up his mind, or at least his poetry, to this pure devotion, he did not forget the ordinary business of life. When his passion was at its height, he continued his studies, passed his examination, and was admitted to take the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Cecilia appears to have returned his attachment, though probably, after it had continued some time, she wished it less etherial. Nor do we think this the least reproach to her. The duties and substantial joys of life are not to be sacrificed for a little vain adulation; and though a Laura, already married, might be delight ed with the added homage of a poet, we cannot expect that this alone should supply, in the heart of a young woman, the place of the delightful affections of husband and children. We believe, with an elegant living author, that many of the younger and most accomplished of the other sex who are said to die of some accidental cold, are, in reality, the victims of an unfortunate attachment; they perish of a very common disease, though disguised under a variety of names,-a broken heart. Schulze went on for many months worshipping the idol of his fancy, the goddess of his imagination, and he seems always to have forgotten that she was a woman, in the blush of beauty, and in the bloom of existence. He never talked of marriage, but fretted and starved her with the high-scented incense of poetical adulation. Etherial as his attachment might be, it was at the same time ignorant, if not unfeeling; for he sported in his reveries with the heart which his arrows had pierced. A cold and a consumption at the end of a year rooted out this lovely flower from the earth it adorned. The pious resignation and the fortitude with which she bore her sickness increased his admiration to the highest pitch. She had displayed every womanly, every Christian, every poetical, virtue; and her character was so consecrated by her early death, that she became more than sainted in the imagination of her poetical lover. After her death he remained always melancholy, and his poetry, which had before been rather cheerful and gay, became pensive and sad. As he stood over the beautiful corpse, he very poetically, but somewhat unmanly, we think, and unfeelingly, resolved to glorify her name with all the powers of his muse. As he looked on her in mute despair, he first thought of that VOL. VIII. poem which it was the chief business of his remaining days to compose, and which bears the name of Cäcilie. In January 1813 it was begun, and though the work was interrupted by other occupations, and even by his serving as a volunteer in 1813-14, the whole twenty cantos were completed by December 1815. It is by far the longest modern German poem we know. How ever much the ancient industry and perseverance of the Germans may be yet visible in their philosophical productions, no trace of them can be discovered in their modern poetry. The longest of their latter productions with which we are acquainted, except Cäcilie, does not extend to half a common octavo volume. Schulze had never before shown any disposition to write religious poetry; but "Cäcilie" has decidedly a religious turn, and is full of religious feelings. His former studies had, however, a considerable influence on his imagination, and " Cacilie" is a strange mixture of religion and chivalry, of contemplative feeling, and of miracles, wonders, and battles. But, at present, we must confine ourselves to his life-his poet ry will be noticed on another occa sion. Ere this poem was half finished, he fell sick of a consumption, which was soon to carry him after his beloved Cecilia. Like all consumptive people, he seems not to have anticipated that his death was near. He projected a second romantic poem as long as "Cäcilie," to be executed in Italy, which he proposed to visit. Yet, as if a voice of more knowledge than his own had spoken in his verse, -as if he were an unconscious prophet of his own fate,-he makes the hero of his poem, the beloved of his imaginary Cecilia, sink with her into one grave, and be united with her only in heaven. During the summer of 1816, he employed himself in making preparations for his journey to Italy, though he continued his studies, and gave lectures on the older poets, which did not succeed very well. In the autumn of this year, though weak, he made a tour on foot through the delightful neighbourhood of the Maine and Rhine. The fatigues of this journey hastened his dissolution. He was ever careless of his health, and on this occasion he exposed himself both to wet and cold. In a state almost of G |