of the claims of Polynices. The alarm of the inhabitants of Thebes, expressed by the Chorus-the description of the chiefs-the assault of the besieging army-the cessation of hostilities and a single combat between the brothers, in which both fall-are the leading incidents.

In the Seven Chiefs, the first scene discovers Eteocles lamenting the cares and the difficulties of government, and animating the people to the defence of the city. A messenger comes in, and gives a description of the leaders of the invading army, in language at once so sublime and so tender, that though it is rather an epic than a dramatic beauty, as indeed are many of the finest of this play, I cannot deny myself the pleasure of laying it before my readers.

66

The impetuous leaders of the Argive host Are sacrificing bulls upon the altars, And in the hollow of their shields receive The blood, in which they dip their hands, and swear

By Fury, Mars, and murder-loving Terror, Either to make of Thebes a heap of ashes, Or with life's purest currents dye her soil; And hang upon the chariot of Adrastus Memorials of themselves, and send them home

To their loved parents, and their wives and children:

The tears of nature glisten in their eyes, Fierce as they are; yet does their voice relent not;

Their steely souls are hot, and breathing fury, Like lions, from whose eyes the battle

flames."

A song of the Chorus succeeds, strongly descriptive of the terror and distraction that prevail in a besieged city. The army is seen approaching

in the distance.

"My sinking soul is stricken with fear,
For the hour of sorrow and death is near.
The heavy clouds of dust that rise,
Though dumb, bear tidings through the
skies,

That the dreaded foe has struck his tent,
And is rushing onward, on ruin bent.
Afar the steeds, seen dimly, fly
Like creatures coming through the sky;
And beyond is a dark and thickening host,
Like the troubled waves of ocean tost.
The sounds of arms and hoofs I hear,
A mingled murmur in my ear;
But soon shall they in thunder break,
And the dreamer from his visions wake,
With the voice of many waters from the hills,
When the rains to torrents swell the rills.
Ye gods! whose power is over all,
By whom the cities rise and fall,
Oh! hear a wretched people's cries,
And send protection from the skies.

The din of war is hastening on,
And the shields are flaming in the sun;
Who may with such a host contend?
Look on us prostrate in the dust,
Who may the walls we love defend?
We in your altars place our trust-
To them our spirits fondly cling,
While your statues are o'ershadowing-
What shall become of us! Do you not hear
The clang of many a shield, and many a
spear?

Thy people, Mars, wilt thou betray,
And give them to the foeman's rage?
Oh! shall this city pass away,
Thy chosen in a long past age?
Thy well-beloved people perish,
Whom thou so long hast deign'd to cherish?
God of the golden helm and mighty hand,
Oh! look upon thy favoured land.
Ye gods! the Theban maidens free
From banishment and slavery;
For round the city rolls a tide
Of warriors in plumed pride,
In fury driven from afar,
By the tempestuous gales of war.
Oh, Jupiter! our guardian be,
And save us from captivity.

The Argives throng around the gates,
And murder on their steps awaits ;
And the trampling steed, and the piercing

spear,

And all the horrors of war are near;
For the Seven Chiefs are leading them on,
And the work of destruction is begun."

"The rolling chariots are nigh,
And the lances are maddening in the sky :
My country! how I weep for thee,
In the hour of thy calamity!"

And in a succeeding ode the same subject is continued:

66

Sleep flies from my eyelids, fear lives in my heart,

As the delicate dove that sits close in her nest, My cares are consuming, and never depart; To guard, with her pinions and down of her

breast,

From the coil and the sting of the snake that is near,

Her

offspring, that to her than life are more dear;

So I fear lest these armies our walls that

surround,

May level our temples and towers with the ground.

See! in wrath they are coming-oh! where shall I fly,

From the stones and the arrows that boom through the sky?

Ye gods! who from Jove the almighty de

scend,

This city and people, these temples, defend, To what lands can ye go that are blooming so fair!

To what streams or what fountains that once

may compare

With the waters of Dirce, so cool and so clear, So rich in their flow, and to fancy so dear;

The river of all to which ocean gives birth, The brightest, with plenty that blesses the earth?

Oh! god of my country, who, next to the sky,

Lov'st the temples of Thebes, in our troubles be nigh;

Put our foemen to shame, and the glory be thine,

That for ages thy people may kneel at thy shrine.

Oh! doom not a city to ashes and dust, The pride of the nations, antiquity's trust; Shall our maidens, like cattle, be dragged by the locks,

And our matrons be driven to bondage like flocks!

Oh! loud is the wailing on that fatal day, From their homes when a people is hurried

breast;

For the loved one, the cares of the mother are vain,

She may hide,-through her body her dar ling is slain."

A herald enters, and gives a character of each of the chiefs, and describes the blazonry on their shields. In this part of the play there are some splendid passages, but like that already quoted, more fit for narrative than dramatic poetry. This is a fault which schylus frequently commits; but we are not to be surprised, that without any example of the drama to guide him, he should not have clearly seen the limits which separate acted from spoken poetry. These descriptions, in which he seems to have taken the shield of Achilles as his model, occupy a most disproportionate length of the play, nearly one half of the whole. The character of Amphiaraus may serve as a speciinen. There was in this man, who was a prophet, and who was averse to the expedition, a gentleness of spirit, well becoming a minister of religion, and finely opposed to the ferocity of the other chiefs.

The sixth is Amphiaraus ;-a man Of sanctity of soul and gentle manners, Yet in a righteous cause he knows not terror; The virtuous indignation of his heart

Is uttered in reproaches against Tydeus,
The city's pestilence, the murderer
Who leads the Argives in the path of ruin;
The Fury's herald, the High Priest of death,
The counsellor of mischief to Adrastus;
Thy hapless brother he addresses thus:
Is this a warfare sanctioned by the gods?
Expect'st thou glory from a war like this?
A traitor to thy country and her gods.
Oh! canst thou close the spring of nature's
fountains ?

Although this city fall beneath thy might,
Will she receive thee as a son again?
I know that in the combat I must die,
Yet will I dare the battle, and I hope
A fate not quite inglorious.' On his shield
There was no blazonry, he chose to be,
Rather than seem, a virtuous man.' ""

Eteocles at last rushes out to battle, meets his brother, and both are slain. The bodies are brought on the stage, and are mourned by Ismene and Antigone, the former of whom was attached to Eteocles, and the latter to Polynices. Meanwhile they receive information that the senate of Thebes had ordered the remains of Eteocles to be interred with all the honours due to his rank; but that the body of Polynices should be cast out unburied, a prey to the dogs, as a traitor to his country. Antigone thus replies to the message: "Go tell the Magistrates of Thebes from me, Though all resist, that I will bury him; When nature bids, no dangers shall deter me;

I will inter my brother, though the state Should brand me with the name of traitor for it;

Are we not bound by nature's strongest ties? The children of the same unhappy father? Faint not, my spirit,-in the path of duty, The living with the dead shall hold com

Did not one miserable mother bear us?

munion;

He shall not be the prey of hungry wolves. No! I will swathe him in fine linen garments, And in my bosom bear him to the grave, And rear for him affection's monument; Tho' a weak woman, and the state oppose me, Yet shall I find the means for this good purpose."

The "Phoenissæ," the play next to come under review, is the work of Euripides. It was the glory of Greek tragedy, that in it genius was enlisted under the banners of morality, and Euripides was not only a great poet,

but an eminent teacher of moral wisdom. He had from nature a heart of the keenest sensibility-and a rich imagination. In the school of philosophy, he had learned to turn the one into its proper channels, and to prune the other of its unprofitable luxuriance,

and, by a concentration of its energies, to give it a force and a vigour which it could not have obtained by any other training. He took the most exalted view of the end of poetry, and from the stores of philosophy he was enabled to confer a solidity and a value on her creations. It was not his aim merely to yield a momentary delight, but, through the imagination and the feelings, to elevate, and refine, and invigorate, the whole nature of man. But the quality the most prominent in this great man, is tenderness of heart; nor did he, like Sophocles, put a check on his sympathies, that they might be displayed with the more effect in some striking situation; whereever an object presents itself for their exercise there is an overflow of them, and by the communications of genius he never fails to inspire his readers with his own sorrows. His verses are laboured to the most exquisite polish, and he bestowed so much care on their composition, that he is said to have spent three days on the correction of so many lines. Whether this be literally true or not, it is certain that he was his own most severe critic, and might, in this respect, be imitated with profit in this scribbling generation, in which many seem to mistake the facility of manufacturing feeble lines for the inspiration of genius. A story, which has been often told, shews the extent of his reputation among his contemporaries. In the unfortunate expedition of the Athenians against Syracuse, all the prisoners who could repeat his verses obtained their liberty. This is perhaps a more splendid eulogy than ever was bestowed on poet. In dramatic management, he is less skilful than Sophocles, and his tragedies are often clumsy and disjointed in their structure, but even in this respect it will soon appear that he was superior to Eschylus.

In the Phoenissæ, Jocasta, the mother of the warring princes, is introduced by Euripides, and acts a distinguished part in the play. She opens the piece by a prologue, in which she explains the causes of the calamities of her family, and the quarrels of her sons. Antigone, of whose attachment to her brother we had a proof in the conclusion of the last play, then appears, accompanied by an aged tutor. From the scene they had a full view of the besieging army, and the old

man points out to her the chiefs, and among the rest Polynices, for whom she had eagerly inquired.

"Tutor. See! there he is;he stands beyond the tomb

Of Niobe's seven daughters, near Adrastus; Dost thou not see him.

An. Yes: but indistinctly; Methinks I see him dimly shadowed yonder. Oh! could I journey on that passing cloud, On the wings of the wind, to my dear brother,

And pour my spirit in a fond embrace.
See! how he shines in coat of golden mail,
Bright as the beaming of the morning sun."

thee,

After so many weary days of absence? Embrace the breasts that gave thee suck, and lay

Thy cheek on mine, and let thy raven locks
Flow on my bosom ; art thou come at length
Thus unexpected to a mother's arms?
Do I again enjoy the dear delights
I had with thee ere thou wert banish'd
hence ?

Without thee the palace of thy father
Was as a desert to me; thou wert mourned
By all thy friends, by all the citizens;
Then did I shear my hoary locks, and then
Change the gay garments that betoken'd joy
For the dark weeds more fitting for a

mourner.

Po. There is no man that does not love his country; Yet come I in anxieties and fears, Lest I should fall into my brother's snares, And perish in them; yet there is one hope Of safety in thy promise pledged to me. Thus have I dar'd to enter these lov'd walls, These palaces, these altars of the gods, And that Gymnasium wherein I was train'd To manly sports; and the fair streams of Dirce,

Which years have come and gone since I have seen,

A miserable exile, fill my eyes
With tears of melancholy. Oh! mother,
How art thou changed since last I saw thee
here!

Thy griefs for me have brought thee low indeed.

How is my father, feeble, blind, and old ? How are my sisters? Do they weep for me?

Jo. The Gods have doom'd our family to

ruin, Yet must we bear our sufferings with patience.

Po. Ask what thou wilt, I will deny thee

I lift the spear and draw the sword against it.

"Tis thine to reconcile thy children; Deliver me, the city, and thyself, From the calamities that threaten us. Eteocles. (Addressing Jocasta.) I come, but in submission to thy orders; What wouldst thou have, there is no time to lose?

Jo. Truth and justice require deliberation;

Look not so sternly, 'tis no Gorgon's head
That thou beholdest, but thy only brother.
Oh! Polynices, turn a friendly eye
Upon Eteocles.-Be friends, my sons!

Et. Mother, do not deceive thyself, but
know

That I for sovereignty would seek the sky Where the sun rises, aye, and would descend

Into the central caverns of the earth. Therefore to none will I resign the crown: It is the sword that must decide our quarrels. Shall he be sovereign, and must I be slave? Let him for this bring fire and sword against

me,

Harness his steeds, and fill the plains with chariots,

I will not yield to him the sovereignty."

The dialogue is continued, and is so extremely beautiful, that I regret my limits will not permit me to translate even a part of it.

A scene follows betwixt Eteocles and his uncle Creon, who recommends caution; but the impetuous young man, impatient of restraint, and burning for revenge, delegates to him the care of the government, and hurries out to battle. Creon sends for the soothsayer Tiresias, to consult him respecting the issue of the war; who informs him, that there is no other means of delivering the city from destruction but offering up his son a victim for the general safety. The father refuses, but the generous youth retires, and puts an end to his life. This scene, taken in itself, is good; -but, as it is little connected with the principal story, it must be condemned

Hear me, ye kindred of the unhappy king;
His sons have perished in the deadly combat.
C. Alas! this a heavy blow indeed!
M. Yes, if thou knew'st the whole.

C. More misfortunes ?

M. Thy sister sleeps in death beside her

sons.

Just as they lay expiring side by side, In speed the mother with her daughter

came;

And when she saw them dying of their wounds,

She shrieked aloud, Oh! I am then too late !'

And, falling on her children, now the one
And now the other, wept in bitterness;
And cried, Sons of my age! ye once were
dear

To one another as to me, but now
Your feuds have ruined me.' Eteocles,
In the last throes of agonizing nature,
Was wakened to attention by her cries,
And stretched his hand, wet by the dews of
death,

Seized upon her's, and, with a feeble pres

Surround me.' It was thus the princes perished.

Then was Jocasta conquered by her sorrows, And in a fit of phrenzy drew the sword. From her son's side, and thrust it through

her throat,

And long as life remained, embraced her And died between them."

sons,

The play concludes with the banishment of old Edipus, by the orders of Creon, and a pathetic scene betwixt him and Antigone, who accompanies him into exile. Z. 2 Z

CARR ROCK STONE BEACON.

THE Carr Rock forms the outer extremity of an almost continuous reef of rocks, which extends about a mile and a half from Fifeness, the eastern point of land in the county of Fife. As this reef forms a turning-point in the course of all northern bound ships to or from the Frith of Forth, and has very often proved fatal to shipping, it was extremely desirable that this dangerous rock might be distinguished, and pointed out to the mariner.

After much labour and expense, the Bell Rock Lighthouse, situate also at the entrance of the Frith of Forth, but at a greater distance from land, was completed in the year 1810; but still the safety of the navigation of the great estuary of the Frith of Forth was incomplete, while the place of the Carr Rock could not be ascertained by the mariner between half flood and half ebb tide, and especially in neap tides, when it hardly appears above water. In the year 1811, the Commissioners of the Northern Lighthouses, with a view to remedy this evil, first ordered one of Waddell's large floating buoys, from their superior and commanding appearance at sea, to be moored off the Carr Rock.

But as ships still continued to be wrecked upon, and in the neighbourhood of this rock, a permanent beacon, a more conspicuous mark, appeared still to be necessary. Accordingly, in 1812, the Northern Lighthouse Board resolved upon the erection of a stone beacon, and this building has now been in progress during the last five sum

mers.

As the Bell Rock Lighthouse is about twelve miles from the nearest land, and as this great work was erected in the course of four years, our readers will probably be desirous to learn how a building upon the Carr Rock, of much less extent, and not two miles from the shore, should have required a longer period, and be attended with so much difficulty. We are informed by Mr Stevenson, engineer, for both works, that this is partly owing to the waters of the ocean being more easily agitated and disturbed when flowing over the shelving rocks bounding the shores, than over those more in the open sea. The chief bar, however, to the operations of the Carr Rock Beacon, is considered to arise

from the smallness of the foundation afforded by the rock, which, as already noticed, forms the communication to seaward of an extensive reef of rocks.

Both the Bell and Carr Rocks are what seamen term half tide rocks, a name which indicates, that they are wholly covered by the sea at half tide. In respect to the elevation of these rocks above low water mark of spring tides, the circumstances of both are very similar, but the surface of the Bell Rock measures about 300 feet in length by 280 feet in breadth, while the greatest extent of the Beacon Rock, at the Carr, is only seventy-two feet in length by twenty-three in breadth. The consequence of the smallness of the dimensions of the Carr Rock, is the almost total want of shelter for the attending boats on either side, which renders the approach difficult excepting in the finest weather. Another evil consists in its having been found necessary to cut down the rock for a solid foundation, even so low as to be under the tide; it thus became necessary to erect a coffer-dam round the site of the building; this required the pumping of water from the foundation-pit every tide, and thereby subjected the whole operation to many casualities, which were only to be overcome by the resolution and perseverance of those employed in the work, encouraged by the confidence of the Board of Commissioners. The operations have been at length brought to the most flattering prospect of being completed in the course of the present year.

The Carr Rock, as before noticed, is only twenty-three feet in breadth, and the foundation course of the beacon is consequently confined to a diameter of eighteen feet. Its height therefore cannot exceed fifty feet, having an elevation of a circular form, diminishing towards the top to nine feet diameter over walls. aid up

During the three years ending in 1815, the artificers employed at this work were wholly occupied in preparing the foundation or site of the building, which became extremely tedious and difficult, from the lowness of the first course and the accidents to which building apparatus so exposed was liable. The operations could go on only in good weather, and only at the return of spring tides. A whole year's work, under these circum