He nightly tippled "Græco more," Say, to be Attic 's to be on tick, At once upon the hip he had you right. But, as for all your warbling Delias, writing to him in Greek. "Master Joachim (says he) has sent me some dates and some raisins, and has also written me two letters in Greek. As soon as I am recovered, I shall answer them in Turkish, that he too may have the pleasure of reading what he does not understand." "Græca sunt, legi non possunt," is the ignorant speech attributed to Accursius; but very unjustly: for, far from asserting that Greek could not be read, that worthy juris-consult upon the Law 6. D. de Bonor. Possess. expressly says, "Græcæ literæ possunt intelligi et legi." (Vide Nov. Libror. Rarior. Collection." Fascic. IV.) - Scipio. Carteromachus seems to have been of opinion that there is no salvation out of the pale of Greek Literature: "via prima salutis Graia pandetur ab urbe :" and the zeal of Laurentius Rhodomannus cannot be sufficiently admired, when he exhorts his countrymen, "per gloriam Christi, per salutem patriæ, per reipublica decus et emolumentum," to study the Greek language. Nor must we forget Phavorinus, the excellent bishop of Nocera, who, careless of all the usual commendations of a Christian, required no further eulogium on his tomb than "Here lieth a Greek Lexicographer." 1 ò návν. The introduction of this language into English poetry has a good effect, and ought to be more universally adopted. A word or two of Greek in a stanza would serve as ballast to the most "light o' love" verses. Ausonius, among the ancients, may serve as a model: οὐ γάρ μοι θέμις ἐστίν in hac regione μένοντι ἄξιον ab nostris ἐπιδενέα esse καμήναις Ronsard, the French poet, has enriched his sonnets and odes with many an exquisite morsel from the Lexicon. His chère Entelechie," in addressing his mistress, can only be equalled by Cowley's" Antiperistasis." Likewise to show his mighty knowl On things unknown in physiology, But, 't was in Optics and Dioptrics, on, As a more rare and rich phenomenon. For instance, when we ogle women 2 Or Glass-Breaker - Morhofius has given an account of this extraordinary man, in a work, published 1682, -"De vitreo scypho fracto," etc. 3 Translated almost literally from a passage in Albertus de Secretis, etc. 4 Alluding to that habitual act of the judgment, by which, notwithstanding the inversion of the image upon the retina, a correct impression of the object is conveyed to the sensorium. 1 Under this description, I believe "the Devil among the Scholars may be included. Yet Leibnitz found out the uses of incomprehensibility, when he was appointed secretary to a society of philosophers at Nuremberg, chiefly for his ingenuity in writing a cabalistical letter, not one word of which either they or himself could interpret. See the Eloge Historique de M. de Leibnitz, l'Europe Savante.- People in all ages have loved to be puzzled. We find Cicero thanking Atticus for having sent him a work of Serapion "ex quo (says he) quidem ego (quod inter nos liceat dicere) millesimam partem vix intelligo." Lib. ii. epist. 4. And we know that Avicen, the learned Arabian, read Aristotle's Metaphysics forty times over for the mere pleasure of being able to inform the world that he could not comprehend one syllable throughout them. (Nicolas Massa in "Vit. Avicen.") POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. ΤΟ FRANCIS, EARL OF MOIRA, GENERAL IN HIS MAJESTY'S FORCES, MASTER-GENERAL OF THE ORDNANCE, CONSTABLE OF THE TOWER, ETC. MY LORD, It is impossible to think of addressing a Dedication to your Lordship without calling to mind the well-known reply of the Spartan to a rhetorician, who proposed to pronounce an eulogium on Hercules. "On Hercules!" said the honest Spartan, "who ever thought of blaming Hercules?" In a similar manner the concurrence of public opinion has left to the panegyrist of your Lordship a very superfluous task. I shall, therefore, be silent on the subject, and merely entreat your indulgence to the very humble tribute of gratitude which I have here the honor to present. I am, my Lord, 27 Bury Street, St. James's, April 10, 1806. With every feeling of attachment and respect, PREFACE.1 THE principal poems in the following collection were written during an absence of fourteen months from Europe. Though curiosity was certainly not the motive of my voyage to America, yet it happened that the gratification of curiosity was the only advantage which I derived from it. Finding myself in the country of a new people, whose infancy had promised so much, and whose progress to maturity has been an object of such interesting speculation, I determined to employ the short period of time, which my plan of return to Europe afforded me, in travelling through a few of the States, and acquiring some knowledge of the inhabitants. The impression which my mind received from the character and manners of these republicans, suggested the Epistles which are written from the city of Washington and Lake Erie. How far I was right, in thus assuming the tone of a satirist against a people whom I viewed but as a stranger and a visitor, is a doubt which my feelings did not allow me time to investigate. All I presume to answer for is the fidelity of the picture which I have given; and though prudence might have dictated gentler language, truth, I think, would have justified severer. I went to America with prepossessions by no means unfavorable, and indeed rather 1 This Preface, as well as the Dedication which precedes it, were prefixed originally to the miscellaneous volume entitled "Odes and Epistles," of which, hitherto, the poems relating to my American tour have formed a part. 2 Epistles VI., VII., and VIII. indulged in many of those illusive ideas, with respect to the purity of the government and the primitive happiness of the people, which I had early imbibed in my native country, where, unfortunately, discontent at home enhances every distant temptation, and the western world has long been looked to as a retreat from real or imaginary oppression; as, in short, the elysian Atlantis, where persecuted patriots might find their visions realized, and be welcomed by kindred spirits to liberty and repose. In all these flattering expectations I found myself completely disappointed, and felt inclined to say to America, as Horace says to his mistress, "intentata nites." Brissot, in the preface to his travels, observes, that " freedom in that country is carried to so high a degree as to border upon a state of nature; and there certainly is a close approximation to savage life, not only in the liberty which they enjoy, but in the violence of party spirit and of private animosity which results from it. This illiberal zeal imbitters all social intercourse; and, though I scarcely could hesitate in selecting the party, whose views appeared to me the more pure and rational, yet I was sorry to observe that, in asserting their opinions, they both assume an equal share of intolerance; the Democrats, consistently with their principles, exhibiting a vulgarity of rancor, which the Federalists too often are so forgetful of their cause as to imitate. The rude familiarity of the lower orders, and indeed the unpolished state of society in general, would neither surprise nor disgust if they seemed to flow from that simplicity of character, that honest ignorance of the gloss of refinement which may be looked for in a new and inexperienced people. But, when we find them arrived at maturity in most of the vices, and all the pride of civilization, while they are still so far removed from its higher and better characteristics, it is impossible not to feel that this youthful decay, this crude anticipation of the natural period of corruption, must repress every sanguine hope of the future energy and greatness of America. I am conscious that, in venturing these few remarks, I have said just enough to offend, and by no means sufficient to convince; for the limits of a preface prevent me from entering into a justification of my opinions, and I am committed on the subject as effectually as if I had written volumes in their defence. My reader, however, is apprised of the very cursory observation upon which these opinions are founded, and can easily decide for himself upon the degree of attention or confidence which they merit. With respect to the poems in general, which occupy the following pages, I know not in what manner to apologize to the public for intruding upon their notice such a mass of unconnected trifles, such a world of epicurean atoms as I have here brought in conflict together. To say that I have been tempted by the liberal offers of my bookseller, is an excuse which can hope for but little indulgence from the critic; yet I own that, without this seasonable inducement, these poems very possibly would never have been submitted to the world. The glare of publication is too strong for such imperfect productions: they should be shown but to the eye of friendship, in that dim light of privacy which is as favorable to poetical as to female beauty, and serves as a veil for faults, while it enhances every charm which it displays. Besides, this is not a period for the idle occupations of poetry, and times like the present require talents more active and more useful. Few have now the leisure to read such trifles, and I most sincerely regret that I have had the leisure to write them. 1 See the foregoing Note, p. 123. POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA. ΤΟ LORD VISCOUNT STRANGFORD. SWEET Moon! if, like Crotona's sage,1 And write my thoughts, my wishes there; How many a friend, whose careless eye How little, when we parted last, I thought those pleasant times were past, For ever past, when brilliant joy Was all my vacant heart's employ: When, fresh from mirth to mirth again, We thought the rapid hours too few; Our only use for knowledge then To gather bliss from all we knew. Delicious days of whim and soul! When, mingling lore and laugh together, We leaned the book on Pleasure's bowl, And turned the leaf with Folly's feather. Little I thought that all were fled, And yet, 't was time; - in youth's sweet days, To cool that season's glowing rays, 1 Pythagoras; who was supposed to have a power of writing upon the Moon by the means of a magic mirror. - See Bayle, art. Pythag. Even now delusive hope will steal Amid the dark regrets I feel, Soothing, as yonder placid beam Pursues the murmurers of the deep, And lights them with consoling gleam, And smiles them into tranquil sleep. Oh! such a blessed night as this, I often think, if friends were near, How we should feel, and gaze with bliss Upon the moon-bright scenery here! The sea is like a silvery lake, And, o'er its calm the vessel glides Gently, as if it feared to wake The slumber of the silent tides. The only envious cloud that lowers Hath hung its shade on Pico's height,3 Where dimly, mid the dusk, he towers, And scowling at this heaven of light, Exults to see the infant storm Cling darkly round his giant form! 2 Alluding to these animated lines in the 44th Carmen of Catullus : jam mens prætrepidans avet vagari, 3 A very high mountain on one of the Azores, from which the island derives its name. It is said by some to be as high as the Peak of Teneriffe. |