Milton, likewise, or his nephew, Phillips, in the "Theatrum Poetarum," censures this affectation of hexameter and pentameter, in the instances of Fraunce and Sidney; "since," he says, "they neither become the English, nor any other modern language." And Southey, in his " Omniana," says, "As Chaucer has been called the well of English undefiled, so might Stanyhurst be denominated the common sewer of the language. It seems impossible that a man could have written in such a style without intending to burlesque what he was about; and yet it is certain, that Stanyhurst intended to write heroic poetry. His version is exceedingly rare, and deserves to be reprinted for its incomparable oddity."

We have already noticed Vicars's burlesque bombast, so that it is only necessary here to refer to him as the climax of this positive, comparative, and superlative trio of translators.

POPE, AND LORD HALIFAX.

"THE famous Lord Halifax was rather a pretender to taste, than really possessed of it. When I had finished the two or three first

books of my translation of the Iliad,' that Lord desired to have the pleasure of hearing them read at his house. Addison, Congreve, and Garth, were there at the reading. In four or five places, Lord Halifax stopped me very civilly, and, with a speech each time of much the same kind,—'I beg your pardon, Mr. Pope, but there is something in that passage that does not quite please me. Be so good as to mark the place, and consider it a little more at your leisure: I am sure you can give it a better turn.' I returned from Lord Halifax's with Dr. Garth, in his chariot; and as we were going along, was saying to the Doctor, that my Lord had laid me under a good deal of difficulty, by such loose and general observations; that I had been thinking over the passages ever since, and could not guess at what it was that offended his Lordship in either of them. Garth laughed heartily at my embarrasment; said I had not been long enough acquainted with Lord Halifax, to know his way yet; that I need not puzzle myself in looking those places over and over again when I got home. All you need do,' said he, is to leave them just as they are ; call on Lord Halifax two or three months hence ;

thank him for his kind observations on those passages; and then read them to him as if altered. I have known him much longer than you have, and will be answerable for the event.' I followed his advice; waited on Lord Halifax some time after; said I hoped he would find his objections to those passages removed; read them to him exactly as they were at first. His Lordship was extremely pleased with them, and cried out, Ay, now, Mr. Pope, they are perfectly right; nothing can be better.''

SPENCE.

VIDA.

JEROME VIDA, after having long served two Popes, at length attained to the Episcopacy. Arrayed in the robes of his new dignity, he prepared to visit his aged parents, and felicitated himself with the raptures which the old couple would feel in embracing their son as their Bishop. When he arrived at their village, he learnt, that it was but a few days since they were no more. His sensibilities were awakened, and his Muse dictated some elegiac verse, and, in the sweetest pathos, deplored the death and the disappointment of his aged parents.

DIRK COORNHERT,

an early Dutch Poet, was born at Amsterdam, in the year 1522. In 1562, he was Secretary to the town of Haarlem, and two years afterwards, to the Burgomasters of that place. In 1572, he was Private Secretary to the States of Holland. His general style was pure, but the subjoined extract proves that it was not always so. The thought, however, though not well expressed, is too pleasing to be lost.

"Maiden! sweet maiden! when thou art near,
Though the stars on the face of the sky appear,
It is light around as the day can be.
But, maiden! sweet maiden! when thou'rt away,
Though the Sun be emitting his loveliest ray,
All is darkness, and gloom, and night to me.
Then of what avail is the Sun, or the shade,
Since my day and my night by thee are made ?"

He greatly distinguished himself by his upright and intrepid conduct; and from among the verses written by him, whilst persecuted and imprisoned, these are, perhaps, worth quoting:

"What's the world's liberty to him whose soul is firmly bound

With numberless and deadly sins that fetter it around?

What's the world's thraldom to the soul which in itself

is free?

Nought! with his master's bonds he stands more privileged,―more great,

Than many a golden-fetter'd fool, with outward pomp

elate;

For chains grace virtue, while they bring deep shame on tyranny."

THE PERSON OF POPE.

"THE following particulars, concerning the person of this celebrated Poet, were," says a correspondent to the Gentlemen's Magazine,' in 1775, "taken down, without arrangement, from the mouth of an ancient and respectable domestic, who lived many years in the family of Lord Oxford. 'Mr. Pope was unable to dress or to undress himself, or to get into bed without help; nor could he stand upright until a kind of stays, made of stiff linen, were laced on him—one of his sides being contracted almost to the back-bone. He needed much waiting on, but was very liberal to the maid-servants about him, so that he had never reason to complain of being neglected. Those females attended him at night, and, in the morning, brought him his writing desk to bed, lighted