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than wild hills that aspire to be mountains, covered with vast, unfrequented woods, and here and there affording a peep : between their summits at the distant ocean. Though delightful in the extreme to those who had spirits to bear it, it was too gloomy for me.' There may be persons who have been ready to wonder that a poet could exist, and give forth poetry, on the banks of the Ouse; but this may serve to convince them that they are not in Nature's secret. Bees know, what butterflies do not know, that it is not the gayest flowers that hold the honey:
Sacrilegious hands have been busy at Weston, so that these views alone present the scenes alluded to, as they appeared in the Poet's time. The Lodge is tenanted by one who knows not William Cowper, nor cares for him, regarding him as a heretic with all the unsocial bigotry of his Church,
Art. IX. Batavian Anthology; or Specimens of the Dutch Poets ;
with Remarks on the Poetical' Literature of the Netherlands to the End of the Seventeenth Century. By John Bowring, Honorary Correspondent of the Royal Institute of the Netherlands, and Harry S. Van Dyk. f.cap 8vo. pp. 242. Price 7s.6d. London,
E owe to the Dutch the discovery of the arts of printing
and oil-painting; we owe to them the pendulum and the microscope; we owe to them much fine fish' and much sound divinity; we are indebted to them for one of the very best of our kings; but assuredly, the last thing for which we should have expected to be indebted to the land of tulips, is poetry It has produced painters, but the Flemish school, though high in art, is poor in fancy : its beauties are travesties of Venus, and its subjects often burlesques upon nature. It can boast of learned men, but they were ashamed of their own language, and hid their names in a more classic dialect, so that we hardly recognise Erasmus and Grotius as Dutchmen. It has produced patriots; and in Holland, the flame of liberty, civil and religious, was kept alive, when in this country it smouldered only in the ashes of the Puritans. But we invest those heroic republicans with a sort of severe virtue, which would not admit of an alliance with the graceful embellishments of life: Yet this is an idle prejudice. What was Milton? What was Akenside ? Both preshyterians and stern republicans, Then we might have looked for poets in Holland; but who thinks of learning Dutch, except a merchant or translator of languages ? Mr. Bowring, however, tells us, that the language of Holland is the purest of all the Gothic dialects, that it is one of the interesting branches growing from the great Teutonic stock, and preserving far more of the original character than the rest of the same family. This must give it attraction in the eyes of a philologist; but what recommends a language to scholars or readers in general, is its literature ; and it was not known that Holland, though she had her learned Latinists, possessed any native literature. There has been, as the Translator remarks, * a real ignorance of the existence of any thing that could put • in its claim to the name of Belgian poetry. But as little did, English literati, in the pride of their native resources, dream of a Russian Anthology. It is but within comparatively a recent date, that we have concerned ourselves about the poets of Germany. And to speak the truth, it seems as if degrees of affinity in language, as sometimes in relationship, operated with a repulsive power in an inverse proportion; for there has been shewn very little disposition to cultivate the acquaintance of the Gothic or Teutonic cognates of our aboriginal tongue. Instead of this, as if the language itself was bent on its own aggrandisement, and seeking to lose the remembrance of its urigin in splendid alliances, it has of late admitted scarcely any thing but Greek into its vocabulary, while our Travellers are daily importing Orientalisms of the most venerable date, still further to enrich the most copious and heterogeneous of conventional mediums. But we are very glad to find that Batavia has an anthology, and we are very happy, too, to be able to form some judgement of the productions of Belgian poets, without, at our time of life, being reduced to the painful expedient of learning Dutch. We are not such British critics as to look with pedantic scorn on the attempt to graft a new variety upon our literature; and without offering any equivocal compliments to the long-suffering Translators, whose pleasure in the task has, we doubt not, amply compensated their labour, we frankly tender them our sincere thanks for a very elegant and very interesting volume, wbich deserves all the room it will occupy in, the poetical library. This premised, we shall immediately proceed to give a few specimens.
The following lines are taken from a writer of the sixteenth century,-Anna Byns. She was inimical to the Reformation, • and directed her talents principally against its progress.'
See'st thou the sun and moon's transparent beam,
The fair stars thickly sprinkled o'er the sky?
Then turn thy contemplative gaze on high,
Whose heavenly power is in the sun-rays seen.
And decks with flowers the hills and valleys green,
So that no painter could convey, I ween,
Such magic colour and variety.
How wondrous He who all those works created.' On account of the very high eulogy pronounced upon the virtues, talents, and attainments of Jacob Cats (aliter Jacobus Catsius), a poet born towards the close of the sixteenth century, we insert the following jeu d'esprit.
• We read in books of ancient lore,
For who e'er calls a poor man wise ?' pp. 77, 8. We regret that no specimen is given of this Writer's sublime or devotional poetry: the specimens do not correspond to the biographical preface, and would give no idea of the character attributed to Cats. We have been much more interested by the compositions of Gerbrand Brederode. He was principally celebrated for his comedies and his songs. The sentiment of the first stanza of the following delightful little poem, may be thought in character with the pagan cast of the expression; but this will not excuse its impiety: it is, however, less offensive than several passages of the kind in Anacreon Moore.
• If all were mine that Jove divine
Or other gods could proffer,
I would not take their offer,
If I must thee surrender,
In payment for their splendour.
And bow'd by poverty and care,
And dwell without my loved-one there. • Should they display unbounded sway
O'er all these kingly regions, And give to me dominion free O'er lands and mighty legions ;
My heart the gift would treasure,
To rule them all at pleasure,
Nor for all the world is worth,-
Every gift from heaven or earth. . I would decree that all should be
Observant to revere thee, With bended knee, submissively, Though princes-kings-stood near thee.
Courts should their glories lend thee,
And empresses attend thee,
their tribute to thy state In low and humble duty;
And place thee on a royal seat, Deck'd, as well becomes thy beauty,
With splendour and adornment meet. • An ivory throne should be thine own,
With ornaments the rarest;
And sweetest flowers be wreathing,
And round thee fondly breathing;
More than all my store of gold,
More than the giant world could hold. • But these I know thou canst forego,
For pride has never found thee, And I possess more wealthiness Than all the courtiers round me.
If riches they inherit,
I have them too.in spirit :
Than e'er adorn'd a narrow mind ;
For the basest of our kind.'
• Though treasures unbounded are not my share,
I care not for gold,
I care not for gold,
the choicest of treasures hold.
And ask not, my fair!
And ask not, my fair !
For peace and the noblest enjoyments dwell
And not in vain wealth,
And not in vain wealth,
And thy matchless soul,
And thy matchless soul,
« Could fools but feel their want of sense,
But 'tis the bane of folly ever
To think itself supremely clever,-
And thus the fool a fool remains.'
• GENEROUS THANKS.