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presented to him by the wife of Themistocles, we consider very good:
"In smiles, like Saturn at the tribute pure
Of fruits and flow'rs in singleness of heart
Paid by religion of the golden age,
Timothea's gift the righteous man receives."
We have made a collection of a few more, of rather a different kind, which will give the reader a favourable impression of Glover's talent of illustration. We must, however, state that these little specimens occur with long and dreary intervals of prosaic composition between them. Some of them will not, perhaps, be considered as written in the purest taste; yet, in general, they are very well executed, and at any rate, afford examples of the power of description which fell to our author's share.
The change in the countenance of the herald, who had brought proposals from Xerxes to the Chalcidian senate, produced by the entrance of Themistocles, is thus compared:
"As at the aspect of a single cloud,
Known by the trembling seaman to contain
Destructive blasts, the sail he swiftly furls
With anxious wish for shelter in the lee
Of some still shore; the herald thus relax'd
His alter'd features. Arrogance abash'd
Foreboded ruin from that mighty arm,
In vigour brac'd by unexpected health.
In act to speak, the hero stretch'd his hand.
To fear and impotent distress he seem'd
Extending refuge, like a poplar tall,
Whose grateful branches cool the green descent
To some pellucid fountain, where his course
Th' o'erweary'd passenger suspends, to slake
His eager thirst beneath such friendly shade."
Besides the beautiful simile in the ensuing passage, there is some spirited versification.
"A sudden trumpet strikes his ear; he sees
Masistius nigh. So breaks the polar star
Through night's unrav'ling canopy of clouds
On some bewilder'd sailor, to correct
His erring course. Amidst a warm embrace
Began Mardonius: 'O, in season come,
Thou more than half myself! my strength decays,
My talents languish, ev'n my honour sleeps,
When thou art far.” Masistius calm replies:
‘I have compos'd Pallene's late revolt
Through all the district; Potidaea's walls
Alone resisted; from whose small domain
O'erflow'd by tides the army I withdrew.
I come, Mardonius, not to hear a tale
Of languid talents, or of strength decay'd,
Much less of honour sleeping in thy breast,
When I am absent. Honour on a rock
Immoveable is fix’d; its solid base
The billowy passions beat in vain, nor gusts
Of fortune shake; support from none it wants,
Firm in itself.’”
There are two good comparisons in this passage:
“Now Sparta's wide encampment on the right
Was form'd; sedate and silent was the toil,
As is the concourse of industrious ants,
In mute attention to their public cares.
Extending thence, successive states erect
Their standards. On the left, their num'rous tents
Th' Athenians pitch. In labour not unlike
The buzzing tenants of sonorous hives,
Loquacious they and lively cheer the field,
Yet regularly heed each signal giv'n
By staid commanders. Underneath a fringe
Of wood, projecting from Cithaeron's side,
Ascends the chief pavilion. Seated there
Is Aristides at a frugal board,
An aged menial his attendant sole.”
Themistocles, exulting in the restoration of Athens, to be brought about by his means, makes use of the following magnificent image. The genius of Glover, generally buried under the rubbish of dull chronicle, occasionally bursts forth in bright passages like this, which repay the patient reader for his perSeVerance.
“Superb, her structures shall proclaim
No less a marvel, than the matchless bird
The glory of Arabia, when, consum'd
In burning frankincense and myrrh, he shows
His presence new, and, op'ning to the Sun
WOL. II. PART I. I
Regenerated gloss of plumage, tow'rs,
Himself a species. So shall Athens rise
Bright from her ashes, mistress sole of Greece.
From long Pirsean walls her winged pow'r
Shall awe the Orient and Hesperian worlds."
Sicinus addresses Themistocles in these lovely lines:—
"O! thou transcendant, thou stupendous man,
From thy Timothea moderation learn,
Which, like the stealing touch of gentle time
O'er canvas, pencil'd by excelling art,
Smooths glaring colours, and imparts a grace
To mightiest heroes. Thus their dazzling blaze
Of glory soft'ning, softens envy's eye."
The obstinacy of Amompharetus is thus forcibly pourtrayed:
"His ready phalanx from the lines he draws,
Wing'd with his horse and bowmen; yet his course
Suspends at Sparta's camp. There sullen, fix'd
Like some old oak's deep-rooted, knotted trunk,
Which hath endur'd the tempest-breathing months
Of thrice a hundred winters, yet remains
Unshaken, there amidst his silent troop
Mardonius is thus contrasted with Themistocles:
"Stern he ends;
In open fight th' Athenian to confront,
Magnanimous he burns; his heated soul
Yields to delusion of that subtle chief,
Wise like the serpent gliding though a brake,
When his empoison'd jaws in silence steal
On some incautious woodman, who, on toil
Intent, exerts his brawny strength, nor deems
A foe is nigh."
We conclude our string of comparisons with the following very animated picture:
"Two more the gen'rous horse, uprearing, dash'd
Maim'd and disabled to the ground; the last
His teeth disfigur'd, and his weight oppress'd.
As some tall-masted ship, on ev'ry side
Assail'd by pinnaces and skiffs whose strength
Is number, drives her well-directed prow
Through all their feeble clusters; while her chief
Elate contemplates from her lofty deck
The hostile keels upturn'd, and floating dead,
Where'er she steers victorious; so the steed
Nisaean tramples on Laconian slain,
Triumphant so Mardonius from his seat
Of the general strain of feeling and principle we need say little; in its mixture of the high-minded and heroic with the tender and domestic, it bears some resemblance to the epic works of Southey, to which it approximates also in a certain bareness of style. The tameness, indeed, of the manner, and its want of vigour and depth, constitute the grand defect of the poem. e never feel ourselves raised above a moderate degree of composed elevation. There are numerous situations of which a poet of a higher order might have availed himself— and the thought frequently occurs to us, how admirable a substratum this or that incident would form for imagery or sentiment. A good painter, taking his subjects from such a work, might breathe into them a life unknown to the original; and a translator of genius would, perhaps, improve it into a much finer poem. Such as the work is, however, we are able to make a considerable number of extracts, which, collected into one point of view, as they are here, will, we think, not only gratify the lover of poetry, but save him the pain and trouble of making his way o the whole thirty books.
Timon, distracted by the violation of his daughter, starting from a broken slumber, thus exclaims, in this fine burst of impassioned poetry, “he has seen her :”
“‘Ah! I have seen my daughter,’ he replies,
“Have seen her twice!"—‘Where seen her?" all distress'd,
Th’ Athenian questions.—“On a rock she stood,
A naked rock, the parent wild exclaims;
“ Unloos'd her zone, dishevell'd was her hair;
The ravisher was nigh. On sight of me,
Who no assistance from the shore could reach,
“O father, father: I am sham'd, deflower'd,
But here will end my sorrows and disgrace;”
She said, and plung'd precipitate. I saw
Her body swallow'd by the greedy surge,
Unwept, depriv'd of sepulture, to float.'
“Illusion all !' the bard consoling spake;
“The phantom offspring of distemper'd sleep.'
'A second time,' the frantic sire pursues,
'Did Amarantha meet my aching sight;
Then, like an eastern concubine attir'd,
Her head was blazon'd with barbaric gems;
With golden gloss her wanton garment wav'd;
With her despoiler hand in hand she walk'd,
Disclaim'd her father, and her father's gods.
Oh, then I wish'd her on the waves again,
To parch in winds, or sate some vulture's beak!'"
The appearance of the spirit of the deified Leonidas, with his attendant heroes, to the poet jEschylus (one of the prominent characters) is thus described:
"To closing day
He bade farewell, and hail'd th* ascending stars
In music long continued: till the stream
With drowsy murmur won his eye to sleep,
But left his fancy waking. In a dream
The god of day, with full meridian blaze,
Seem'd to assume his function o'er the skies;
When, lo! the earth divided: through the cleft
A gush of radiance dimm'd the noon-tide sun.
In structure all of diamond, self-pois'd,
Amid redundant light a chariot hung
Triumphal. Twelve transparent horses breath'd
Beams from their nostrils, dancing beams of day
Shook from their manes. In lineaments of man,
Chang'd to immortal, there the mighty soul
Of Sparta's king apparent shone.
* * * Round in cars
Of triumph too arrang'd, the stately forms
Of those whom virtue led to share his doom,
And consecrate Thermopylee to fame.
* • Their shields
Broad like Minerva's eegis: from their helms
An empyreal brightness stream'd abroad:
Ineffable felicity their eyes,
Their fronts the majesty of gods display'd."
The following, from the second book, is a highly wrought picture of a classical kind of beauty:
"Lo! the gate is thrown Abroad; the priestess, lovely in her shape