How do your tuneful Echoes languish, Ev'ry shade and hollow'd fountain, Till the sad Nine in Greece's evil hour Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. And coward Vice, that revels in her chains, When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, oh Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast. III. 2. "Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid, What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face: the dauntless child This pencil take, she said, whose colors clear, Richly paint the vernal year: Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy! This can unlock the gates of Joy; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears." The second Ode" is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward the First, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the Bards that fell into his hands to be put to death." The author seems to have taken the hint of this subject from the fifteenth Ode of the first book of Horace. Our poet introduces the only surviving Bard of that country in concert with the spirits of his murdered brethren, as propheti cally denouncing woes upon the conqueror and his posterity. The circumstances of grief and horror in which the Bard is represented, those of terror in the preparation of the votive web, and the mystic obscurity with which the prophecies are delivered, will give as much pleasure to those who relish this species of composition, as any thing that has hitherto appeared in our lan guage, the Odes of Dryden himself not excepted." I. 2. "On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Rob'd in the sable garb of Woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood; (Loose his beard and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air,) And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. Hark how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave, Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or lost Llewellyn's lay. I. 3. "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hush'd the stormy main: Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed: Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head. One of the greatest poets of this century, the late and much lamented Mr. Gray of Cambridge, modestly declared to me, that if there was in his own numbers any thing that deserved approbation, he had learned it all from Dryden."--BEATTIE ] On dreary Arvon's shore they lie, No more I weep. They do not sleep. I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. II. 1. "Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room, and verge enough, The characters of hell to trace.' When the prophetic incantation is finished, the Bard thus nervously concludes. "Enough for me: with joy I see The different doom our fates assign. Be thine despair, and sceptred care, To triumph, and to die, are mine.' He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height VIII-WISE'S INQUIRIES CONCERNING THE FIRST INHABITANTS, LANGUAGE, RELIGION, LEARNING, AND LETTERS OF EUROPE.* [From the Monthly Review, 1758. "Some Inquiries concerning the First Inhabitants, Language, Religion, Learning, and Letters of Europe. By a Member of the Society of Antiquarics in London. Printed at the Theats, Oxford, 4to."] EVERY search into remote antiquity inspires us with a pleasure somewhat similar to what we feel upon the recollection of the carlier occurrences of our younger days: dark, indeed, and very confused the remembrance; yet still we love to look back upon those scenes, in which innocence and tranquillity bear, or seem to bear, so great a proportion. But how agreeable soever inquiries of this nature may prove in gratifying our curiosity, the advantage would be trifling if they rested only here. They are further useful in promoting the advancement of other kinds of learning; for, an acquaintance with the causes whence arts and sciences had their rise, will probably direct us to the methods. most conducive to their perfection. Nor is the historian less than the philosopher indebted to the antiquarian. It is from that painful collection of opinions, and the seemingly tedious induetions of the last, that the first draws his materials for the ascertainment of truth, gathers order from confusion, and justly marks the features of the age. * [Francis Wise, B.D., and F.S.A., many years fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, was born in 1695. In 1726, the Earl of Guildford, who had been his pupil, presented him to the vicarage of Ellesfield, in Oxfordshire. Besides the above work, he published "Annales Elfredi Magni," "Observations on the History and Chronology of the Fabulous Ages," &c. "He died," says Mr. Nicholls, "at his favorite retreat, at Ellesfield, October 1767, aged seventytwo, universally beloved and esteemed, on account of his great merit and learning."-Lit. Anee., vol. v. p. 527.] It is true, however, that as researches into antiquity are beyond the abilities of the many, so are they calculated only for the entertainment and instruction of the few. The generality of readers regard investigations of this nature as an uninformed rustic would view one of the India warehouses; where he sees a thousand things, which, being ignorant of their uses, he cannot think convertible to any valuable purpose; and wonders why people travel so far, and run such hazards, to make so useless a collection. Experience would, however, convince him, that from such acquisitions as these, different artists take the materials of their different occupations; and that the mistake lay not with the collectors, but in the observer. The more polite every country becomes, the fonder it seems of investigating antiquity; yet it happens somewhat unfortunately for this branch of science, that it is always cultivated to most advantage at those times when a people are just beginning to emerge from primeval obscurity. The first writers have the materials of many preceding ages to choose from, and all that remains for their successors is to glean what they have left behind. From hence, therefore, we may infer, the great indulgence that should be shown to a writer, who, in an age so enlightened as ours, continues to cultivate so laborious a part of learning. As his materials, in such a case, are not of his own choosing, he may often seem triflingly minute, many conjectures will be offered upon slight probabilities, and those opinions which he supposes peculiarly his own, may appear to be the repeated observations of former writers. As to our author in particular, his learning is extensive, and his candor, good sense, and modesty, serve to adorn it. He professes himself not bigoted to any opinion, but willing to have his own examined, though not deserving of controversy: such talents |