from so foul a charge as this last, his commentators have pretended that his gazels are full of religious mysteries, and that almost every expression has a two-fold meaning, the external and cupidinous being only a veil for the esoteric and concealed, which is all purity and devotion. Two of these annotators, Feridun and Sudi, have defended the salacious bard with all the elegance and force of the Turkish language, in which their commentaries are written. And D'Herbelot himself has been half pursuaded to credit their fantastic explanations, from the poet's having preferred a life of seclusion to the pomp of courts and the tumult of public society. Our English translators, however, notwithstanding this eloquence of mystery," feel themselves under the perpetual necessity of curtailing its luxuriance, and often of giving a very different sense from that conveyed by the text: and under their plastic power of transformation, the "angel-faced cup-bearer" and " infidel boy" are converted into damsels and nymphs of paradise.

In reality, however, the wildly figurative languages of the east, and the bold excursions which all Asiatic poets allow themselves, lay an easy foundation for the belief of an exoteric or mysterious meaning among readers of a warm and luxuriant imagination: and, on this account, the same kind of double interpretation has been often attributed to the Song of Solomon by rabbinical as well as by christian expositors.

With respect to Hafiz it is obvious, however, that religion occupied no great portion of his life, and, of course, that his gazels have little pretensions to piety, both from his own confession, and the conduct of the populace upon his decease. On his death, so great was the opposition made to his enjoying the rites of interment, by many of the chief men of Shiraz, on account of the indecency of his poems, that a violent contest ensued between his friends and his opposers.

Hafiz himself, and other writers, amply describe the effect his poetry had in those times. Popular veneration seems to have risen into wild and frantic superstition, as may be inferred from many serious appeals made to the oracular and ominous influence of these compositions, both at and after his death, by a mode of soothsaying or divination, similar to the Sortes of the Latins, and familiar to the Asiatics. An old poet declares, that the delicate suavity of these gazels is unparalleled in the productions of any poet: and, in truth, Hafiz himself is but too often found, like Horace, trumpeting forth his own praise, and pluming himself on the universality of his fame.

We have evidence of the operation of his poetry on succeeding ages, particularly from grammarians, who assert, that the poesy of Hafiz derived its innate grace from having been bathed in the waters of life, and that it equalled the virgins of paradise in beauty; and from travellers, among whom we may mention sir T. Herbert, Kampfer, Chardin, and Francklin. Even in India, his gay and lively airs are more frequently introduced in their musical festivities, than the compositions of any other poet, however celebrated, whether Hindoo or Mahometan, either of Bengal or Deckan.

Nothing has so much excited the curiosity of English readers, with respect to Persian poetry, and Hafiz in particular, as the suffrage in its favour of that eminent scholar and critic, sir William Jones. What he, who was an incomparable proficient in Greek and Roman literature, and an elegant poet in his native language, approved, must surely be entitled to some regard. And yet, when we examine the few translations which have hitherto been published from Hafiz, I, for my part, am unable to discover in them any original or transcendant merit.

We may easily conceive that this poet, in his native language, may possess the most exquisite charms: because words and numbers have an

excellence independent of their meaning. All languages have the materials of a style, in which those versed in it derive the pleasures which painting and music are qualified to give; and we are told, that the Persian language abounds in a particular manner in the artifices and felicities of number and expression. But of these qualities, a stran ger to the language cannot possibly judge. All within his reach is the bare thought or image conveyed in a literal translation.

From these translations we discover, what indeed their warmest admirers readily acknowledge, that these poems contain nothing but the praises of woman and wine. This praise is delivered in a sort of dramatic manner, by which the tipler is displayed to our view, seated at the banquet, with his mistress beside him, calling for a fresh supply of liquor. His love, indeed, is not of that sort which European poets of the present age delight to celebrate, since its fervours are as readily excited by a boy as by a girl.

Though there are extant near six hundred odes of Hafiz, there is a most unvarying uniformity among them. The two great images that seem to dance eternally before him are wine, with its power to soothe or madden, and the object, either male or female, of another appetite, who figures either as coy or kind. These images form the substance of every ode, and the collateral reflections, with which they are most sparingly sprinkled, are proverbial and common-place, and derive as little value from their moral or useful tendency, as from their novelty.

The following is a literal translation of one of these odes, and is a faithful sample of the whole.

How canst thou eat the bread of life without drinking wine?

Quaff wine to her dear remembrance again and again.

O cup-bearer with legs of silver, I am intoxicated with the love of thy beauty!

Quick fetch the cup, that I may fill it My heart-ravishing angel makes for me again and again. Ornaments of various hues, and odours afresh and afresh.

O! gentle zephyr, when thou passest by the habitation of my fairy, Afresh and afresh tell her, in whispers, the tale of Hafiz.

What is the substance of the above strains? When we come to enquire into their real meaning, we shall find nothing but an unsubstantial phantom; nothing worthy of the name of a thought; nothing but an incoherent calling for more wine, with abrupt declarations of love to the boy that waits.

If we would see how these monotonous and heartless images can be embellished with the charms of style and the trappings of European fancy, we may turn to a translation, by sir William Jones, of one of these odes which are in highest repute. We shall find, in the following stanzas, all the refinements of verse, rhyme, and amplification lavished upon something, which, when we come to analyze it, will turn out to be as trite, incoherent, and unmeaning, as the ode already given. How do these frigid compositions shrink into contempt, when put into comparison with the glowing images and thrilling sentiments, the rich and varied strains of Burns, pregnant with a meaning, that melts the heart, and exalts the fancy.

Sweet maid, if thou would'st charm my
sight,
And bid these arms thy neck infold,
That rosy cheek, that lily hand,
Would give thy poet more delight
Than all Bocara's vaunted gold,
Than all the gems of Samarcand.

Boy, let yon liquid ruby flow,
And bid thy pensive heart be glad,

Whate'er the frowning zealots say:
Tell them, their Eden cannot show
A stream so clear as Rocnabad,
A bower so sweet as Mosellay.

O! when these fair perfidious maids,
Whose eyes our secret haunts infest,
Their dear destructive charms display,
Each glance my tender breast invades,
And robs my wounded soul of rest,
As Tartars seize their destin'd prey.

In vain with love our bosoms glow: Can all our tears, can all our sighs, New lustre to those charms impart ? Can cheeks, where living roses blow, Where nature spreads her richest dyes, Require the borrow'd gloss of art?

Speak not of fate:-ah! change the theme,

And talk of odours, talk of wine,
Talk of the flowers that round us bloom:
'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream;
To love and joy thy thoughts confine,
Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom.

Beauty has such resistless power,
That even the chaste Egyptian dame
Sigh'd for the blooming Hebrew boy;
For her how fatal was the hour,
When to the banks of Nilus came
A youth so lovely and so coy!

But ah! sweet maid, my counsel hear (Youth should attend when those advise Whom long experience renders sage): While music charms the ravish'd ear, While sparkling cups delight our eyes, Be gay, and scorn the frowns of age.

What cruel answer have I heard!
And yet, by heaven, I love thee still:
Can aught be cruel from thy lip?
Yet say, how fell that bitter word
From lips which streams of sweetness
fill,

Which naught but drops of honey sip?

Go boldly forth, my simple lay,

Whose accents flow with artless ease,
Like orient pearls at random strung:
Thy notes are sweet the damsels say;
But O! far sweeter, if they please
The nymph for whom these notes are
sung.

B.

For the Literary Magazine.

TRADE IN BIRDS.

A MAN, in estimating the commerce of a country, would hardly take into view the trade in singing birds: yet this trade is by no means despicable.

Canary birds, which are so fashionable in Europe and America, are chiefly bred at Inspruch, which is an inaccessible spot among the Alps: from thence they are sent to Constantinople, and every part of Europe. The trade to England in these birds is in the hands of four or five natives of Tyrol. They bring annually about sixteen hundred, which pay a duty of twenty pounds. Yet notwithstanding this duty, and though they are brought a thousand miles on men's backs, they find their account in selling them for five shillings a-piece.

For the Literary Magazine.

WHY ARE DIAMONDS VALUABLE?

THE value of the diamond depends upon its rarity. It has, indeed, a lustre and hardness superior to that of other terrestrial productions; but these qualities, which may make it useful, do not constitute its value, or enhance the price that is given for it. Its price depends almost entirely upon its rarity. If diamonds were as common as glass, they would be as cheap.

The value set upon diamonds astonishes a simple mind. Nothing but the strongest evidence would make us believe some statements that are given of this value. The prodigality of the rich in this article furnishes a more stupendous example of human folly than any other circumstance.

The rarity of diamonds is a very extraordinary circumstance, since they are merely a modification of charcoal, which is the most common

and cheap substance in use. Indeed there are similar examples, equally extraordinary, to be met with. The adamantine spar is as rare as the diamond, though only an aluminous earth; and iron, never found in perfection, has scarcely ever been discovered in a metallic state. The same thing may, indeed, be said of glass. Though silicious substances be so abundant, and the medium which assists, and the agent which produces their fusion so plentiful in nature, I much doubt whether there is a cubic inch of good transparent glass, produced without the assistance of man, on the surface of the globe. A globule of such glass is in reality rarer than the largest diamond.

For the Literary Magazine.

MILTON'S FAMILY.

IT is the opinion of some, that talents, like houses and noses, are inheritable. This persuasion is probably founded upon facts that are exceptions, and not examples, of a general rule. It would reflect some light upon this subject, to examine the history of great men in their descendants: to enquire, for example, into the history of the posterity of Spenser, Shakespeare, and Mil

ton.

Of all men, Milton seems to have owed most both to nature and to education. In natural genius, in acquired knowledge, in the benefits of scholastic instruction, of foreign travel, of political activity, of social intercourse, in personal beauty and accomplishments, few can vie with Milton. What portion of all these admirable properties descended to his children? What has become of the Miltons? may a speculative enquirer be allowed to ask. They descended, before or after his death, to the lowest walks of life, and his last remaining descendant, a granddaughter, passed a long life in a

petty haberdashery shop, poor and ignorant.

For the Literary Magazine.

SPENSER'S FAIRY QUEEN MODERNIZED.

BY what title are we to distinguish that species of composition, of which Dryden affords us examples in his Palamon and Arcite, and Pope in his Wife of Bath and his imitations of Donne? These poets take the substance, the sentiments, and images of certain ancient writers of their own country, and give them a language and numbers of their own. The dialect of the old poet is nearly unintelligible. His metre is rude or antiquated; some of his images quaint, unapt, and injudicious. All these disadvantages vanish under the modern pen, and the sterling gold, which, an obsolete and halfworn superscription, would scarcely allow to be current, becomes, by passing anew through the mint, a distinct, legible, and beautiful modern coin, which every body admires and covets.

There is, however, a certain class of students to whom this new dress is by no means a recommendation. An antiquated dialect and metre adorn and exalt, in their apprehension, instead of debasing or obscuring the author. That train of thoughts and studies, which terminates in this excessive veneration for antiquity, is natural to all minds, but all minds are not in the way of imbibing this passion. The dialect of Chaucer and Spencer may augment the value of their compositions to a few, but, doubtless, it creates an insuperable obstacle to the study of them in the minds of the many. These writers are pretty much in the situation of writers in a foreign language, and as much require translation as Virgil, Klopstock, or Racine, to make them intelligible and agreeable to the ears of their

posterity. Indeed this modernizing system is nothing but a species of translation, susceptible of the same licence, and subject to the same laws.

What Chaucer's appearance is in modern language, we see in the specimens given us by Pope and Dryden. Of Spencer we have hitherto had no opportunity of judging in this way. Yet Spencer possesses all the excellencies of the poet in a degree unspeakably superior to Chaucer. We may form some notion of the transcendant charms which this poet, if his lines were new modelled by a skilful hand, would acquire, by reading the late translation of Wieland's Oberon, a poem written in the genuine Spenserian manner. What an inestimable banquet would the translator of Wieland provide for us, by taking the Fairy Queen in hand, and bestowing the same bewitching numbers and style upon a poet who deserves them, at least as much as Wieland.

The scruples of the classical antiquarian could not be offended by a proceeding of this kind. The poet, in his native and pristine dress, would still remain, and they would have the same opportunities, as formerly, of delving in this mine of English undefiled.

The enterprising translator need not be intimidated by the great extent of the Fairy Queen. There would be no necessity of new-modelling the whole of that work. The first book is entire in itself, or might easily be made so, and since the original plan of the writer is incomplete, even taking all that is extant, the properties of unity and coherence would be more effectually attained by separating this portion from the rest, and treating it as one poem, than by connecting it with the rest. It is well known that the original poem consisted of twelve books, of which only six were ever published. The cord, by which these twelve rods were bound together into one bundle, was displayed at the conclu

That mercy I to others show

That mercy show to me,

appear to bear any resemblance to the Lord's Prayer. Of the rest, the whole tenor and spirit, if not adverse, does, at least, bear no similitude to that eloquent, sublime, and simple invocation.

Most of these stanzas are abstruse and metaphysical, and, instead of being favourable to revelation, seem directly to exclude it. The sentiments respecting the Deity, forms of worship, human duty, are all friendly to ease, contentment, inactivity, and selfish enjoyment.

The first stanza abolishes at once all distinctions between religions, and between the Deity of Jews, christians, and pagans, as more or less pure and worthy to be worshipped.

Father of all, in every age,

In every clime ador'd, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord.