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“ A bower I have, where branching almonds spread, " Where all the seasons all their bounties Med; The gales of life amidst the branches play, • And music bursts from ev'ry vocal spray, " Its verdant foot a stream of amber laves, “ And o'er it Love his guardian banner waves : “ There shall our days, our nights in pleasure glide, “ Friendthip shall live, when paflion's joys fubfide; “ Increasing years improve our mutual truth,

And age give farction to the choice of youth." His complaint is thus beautifully resumed :

* Thus fondly I of fancied raptures fung,
“ And with my fong the gladden'd valley rung.
" But fate, with jealous eye, beheld our joy,
« Smild to deceive, and Harcer'd to destroy ;
“ Swift as the Dhades of night the vision filed,
“ Grief was the guest, and death the banquet spread.
“ A burning fever on her vitals prey'd,
“ Defied Love's efforts, baffled med'cine's aid,
“ And from there widow'd arms a treasure tore,

“ Beyond the price of empires to restore.” There appears to be fomething exceptionable in the termi. nation of this little poem. That an act of suicide should be produced by such a permanent, mellowed grief as the general tenor of the poem points out, is, we think, improbable. We have also a doubt whether the practice is consistent with Arabian manners. Considered in a moral light, perhaps even fictitious examples of suicide, in general, are not favourable to virtue. They may tend to familiarize the human mind to an act which the severe pressure of misfortune too ofien induces men to commit.

The Prospect of Life, an ode, paints the dark side of things strongly, and justly. Perhaps it might have been improved by contraction, and a different arrangement. We should, also, have approved it more, had it been written in regular stanzas. Cowley's mis-titled Pindaric, in which he was followed by every shimer, is now, in general, properly discarded, and we are sorry whenever we see attempts made to revive the use of it, by any who merit the name of poet.

The following picture of some of the miseries of life, is well drawn, and highly coloured :

• Ab! why the catalogue of ills prolong,
And swell with complicated woes the long?
Recount those darker moments of despair,

When all the passions, fierce and unconfin'd,

Ruih with the tempeft's fury on the mind,
And reason, headlong, from her itacion bear :
When poverty 10 every other pang

Adds her keen edge-presents an infant train,

Who with imploring eyes around thee hang,
And raise their suppliant plaints for bread in vain :

Stern

Stern fate, perhaps, determin'd to destroy

All that was precious, all thou wilhid to save,
And crush at once the source of ev'ry joy~
Blasts the young confort blooming in thy arms,
Nips in the bud a daughter's op'ning charms,

Or gives thy bosom friend to an untimely grave. The translation of the Oedipus Tyrannus being professedly a FREE one,

its fidelity to the original does not come properly before us. We apprehend, however, that it will afford the English reader a pretty competent idea of the work of Sophocles. Considered merely as a poem, it has much merit, the language not being deficient either in strength or melody ; as will appear from the following quotations :

As a specimen of the Lyric parts of this tragedy, we shall give the second strophe and antistrophe of the chorus, A& I.

• The pride of Thebes is levelld with the ground,

The fruits of earth lie blafted on the plain :
Her palaces with shrieks of death resound,

And her streets groan beneath the heaps of Nain.
So wide hath spread the monster's fiery rage,
Beauty's futh'd cheek with fatal crimson burns ;

From her wild eye pernicious lightning glares :
Ev'n virtue's hallow'd plaint the tyrant spurns ;

The screaming infant from the borom tears,

And strikes to earth the hoary scalp of age.
6 The mother with convulsive tortures torn,

Faints 'midt her pains, and languishes in death,
Her hapless infant, curft as soon as born,

Imbibes pollution with his earliest breath.
But hark! in louder bursts the pæans break;
The shores with wilder acclamations ring,

Mad with the flames that revel through their blood.
Increasing throngs around our altars cling,
And swift as rapid fire, or torrent flood,

By myriads rush to Lethe's gloomy lake.'
Of the colloquial parts, with quick returns of dialogue, our
Readers will judge from the following interesting scene :
Oedipus. Delay not, but inform me, didit chou give
An infant to this man !

Shepherd. I did, and oh!
Death had that moment been my happiest boon.
Oid. This day chou dieit, unless I know the whole
Of this dark scene,

Shep. Ah spare the dire recital :
'Tis death to tell thee.

Ord. Doft thou trifle with me?
Shep. Did I not say I gave the child ?

Oed. Go on;
Whence came he? Was he thine by birth, or who
Confign'd him to thy charge ?

Shop

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Shep. He was not mine ;
I had receiv'd him from another hand.
Oed. What other? Speak his name, and where he dwells.
Shep. By all the pow'rs above, enquire no more :
I do conjure thee.

Ord. If I ask again,
Wretch, thou shalt die.

Shep. In yonder palace born
Oed. Sprung from a slave, or was the king his fire ?
Shep. Oh misery to declare-

Oed. Oh! Death to hear!
Yet speak

Shep. He was suppos’d the king's own foo,
But well Jocasta knows the gloomy truth;
She can instruct thee best.

Oed. Didft thou from her
Receive the child ?

Shep. 'Twere fruitless to deny
What fate itself reveals.

Oed. What was her purpose ?
Shep. That I should kill it.

Oed. What, destroy the child :
Bloody, inhuman parent!

Shep. Dire affright,
From dreadful oracles, compellid the queen
To this unnatural deed,

Oed. How, oracles ?
What did they threaten?

Shep. That this son should say
Those who begat him.

Oed. But if such her fears,
Why didit thou give it to this shepherd's care?
Shep. Compaflion for the infant wrung my soul;

I hop'd he would have borne bis charge away,
Far, far from Thebes, and these his native roofs:
Fatal mistake! that life to him was death,
Preserv'd to long, unutterable, woes
For oh! if thou be'lt he, thou art indeed

The most ill-fated, most accurft of men.
Oed. 'Tis done; the tenfold mystery bursts to light;

I am that most ill-faced, most accurst.
Thou fun, farewell ; why smile thy beams on me,
Whom murder blackens, and whom inceft ftains ?
Incest and murder of the deepeft hue :
A father flain, a mother's bed defild!
Come night, come horror, shield me from his rays;
Plunge me in thick impenetrable glooms,

Black as my crimes, and boundless as my guilt. From the longer speeches, we shall extract part of the pathetic address of Oedipus to his daughters :

• Come near, my daughters ; shudder not to touch Your father, and your brother: view the hands,

Yet

Stern fate, perhaps, determin'd to destroy

All that was precious, all thou with d to fave,
And crush at once the source of ev'ry joy-
Blasts the young consort blooming in thy arms,
Nips in the bud a daughter's op'ning charms,

Or gives thy bosom friend to an untimely grave.' The translation of the Oedipus Tyrannus being professedly a FREE one, its fidelity to the original does not come properly before us. We apprehend, however, that it will afford the English reader a pretty competent idea of the work of Sophocles. Considered merely as a poem, it has much merit, the language not being deficient either in strength or melody; as will appear from the following quotations :

As a specimen of the Lyric parts of this tragedy, we shall give the second ftrophe and antistrophe of the chorus, Ac I.

• The pride of Thebes is levell’d with the ground,

The fruits of earth lie blasted on the plain :
Her palaces with shrieks of death resound,

And her streets groan beneath the heaps of Nain.
So wide hath spread the monster's fiery rage,
Beauty's flush'd cheek with fatal crimson burns;

From her wild eye pernicious lightning glares :
Ev’n virtue's hallow'd plaint the cyrant spurns ;

The screaming infant from the bosom tears,

And strikes to earth the hoary scalp of age.
• The mother with convulsive tortures torn,

Faints 'midit her pains, and languishes in death,
Her hapless infant, curst as soon as born,

Imbibes pollution with his earlieit breath.
But hark! in louder bursts the pæans break;
The shores with wilder acclamations ring,

Mad with the fames that revel through their blood,
Increasing throngs around our altars cling,
And swift as sapid fire, or torrent fiood,

By myriads rush to Lethe's gloomy lake.'
Of the colloquial parts, with quick returns of dialogue, our
Readers will judge from the following interesting scene :
Oedipus. Delay not, but inform me, didit chou give
An infant to this man !

Shepherd. I did, and oh!
Death had that moment been my happiert boon.
Oid. This day thou dieil, unless I know the whole
Of this dark scene.

Shep. Ah spare the dire recital :
Tis death to tell thee.

Odd. Doft thou trifle with me?
Shep. Did I not say I gave the child ?

Ord. Go on ;
Whence came he? Was he thine by birth, or who
Confign'd him to thy charge?

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