the Greek Drama. Many persons of considerable learning make awkward attempts at composition, and for the want of training, with as poor success as those who enter into the palæstra with unelastic limbs. They are as stiff and unnatural, sometimes as ridiculous, as those who with no inbred sense of the propriety of things adjust their outward manners to a set of fixed and unyielding rules. No doubt their prefaces and learned theses are unexceptionable in minutiæ, and betray even an intense scholarship which leaves little room for verbal criticism. Their mode of proceeding is to bring together from all quarters a great number of detached and idiomatic phrases, and having shaken them together, as the old hero did the lots in the bottom of the helmet, to draw them forth into an artificial patchwork of learned sentences. It is not that they sit down to write from the fullness of their minds, and with a native ease; but they are like those who have the squares and pieces of the ivory puzzle before them, and fit them together as they best can, so as to have the appearance of some regular figure. They have certain peculiar terms which must be lugged in at all hazards. Here non dubito quin, or quæ cum ita sint, herald in some sentence of more than Ciceronian elegance; then you recognize the omnis homines, the antiquity, and affected brevity of Sallust, with an abundance of tum tums, and every sort of correct structure formed in the most approved rules of CROMBIE'S GYMNASIUM, or ELEGANTLE LATINE. A vengeance on the audacious critic, who takes upon him to demur at any part or parcel of what has been culled from such undoubted sources! They fly to the rescue with the terrible aspect of those who have justice on their side, and exhibit a malicious pleasure, as if the enemy had been caught in his own snare. The worst of it is, that they overshoot the mark-they are superelegant-they out-Cicero Cicero; in short, they do not know how to write Latin; they are mere slavish imitators, and want the taste, training, and sort of knowledge, to strike out boldly into a style of their own, to invent where invention may be necessary, yet all after a strict analogy, and in accordance with the true genius of the tongue. These remarks might be easily illus trated by appropriate examples, if it would serve any purpose to disturb the serenity of those who are too happy in contemplating their own works, which they seem to imagine that some old genius has invested with a great part of its own grace, 66 -quæ Venus Quinta parte sui nectaris imbuit." We have yet to allude to a hardly legitimate branch of composition, forming the third part of the "Arundines,” the imitations of the rhymes, commonly called monkish. Rhyme, as Miller calls it, is a modern bondage, but the attempt to discard it, by himself and others, and to establish English poetry on the foundation of quantity and measure, is something which the structure of the language scarce encourages or indeed admits. We want the musical chime, to make up for other deficiencies in point of harmony; and, in spite of the rhetoricians, think that it is consistent even with the sublime in writing. A few have succeeded in blank verse; but especially the attempts sometimes made to manufacture English hexameters are not good, and had better be abandoned. They are forced, barbarous, and contrary to nature, and can give the ear no delight. But however indispensable to modern language, rhyme can add nothing to the satisfactory melody of Greek or Latin verse, whose fixed quantities and sonorous sounds confer a higher advantage on the poet. It was scarce thought of by the ancients, although certain similar endings, the ὁμοιοτελεύται of the Greek orators, are spoken of as a sort of authority. There are no rhymes in Latin until some time after the language began to decline; when in several ages it had greatly fallen from its purity, they abounded. We can call some to mind which do not sound very monkish. Some of the religious rhymes, however, considered merely as compositions, and unconnected with the music of the cathedral, are possessed of great merit, as we need scarcely instance that one in which Pergolesi has achieved a durable triumph,--as also in our own day Rossini, and that marvellous blast of the trumpet in the "Dies iræ:" "Tuba mirum spargens sonum A few compositions in this kind are agreeable for their novelty, and to show how much tact and ingenuity may accomplish with the limited capabilities of the tongue. But the bondage of rhyme in Latin will be very apt to force the writer into barbarisms and vague expression. We shall, however, select a few pieces from this part of the volume also: LITANY TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. "In the hour of my distress, When temptations sore oppress, And when I my sins confess Sweet Spirit, comfort me! "When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomfited Sweet Spirit, comfort me! "When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drowned in sleep, Yet mine eyes their vigils keep— Sweet Spirit, comfort me! "When the passing bell doth toll, And the furies in a shoal Come to fright my parting soul Sweet Spirit, comfort me! "When the tapers all burn blue, When the comforters are few, And that number more than true Sweet Spirit, comfort me! And I nod to what is said, "When the priest his last has prayed, 'Cause my speech is now decayed Sweet Spirit, comfort me! "When (God knows) I'm tossed about Either with despair or doubt, Yet before the glass runs out Sweet Spirit, comfort me! "When the tempter me pursueth With the sins of all my youth, And half damns me with their truth Sweet Spirit, comfort me! "When the flames and hellish cries Fright my ears and fright my eyes, And all terrors me surprise Sweet Spirit, comfort me! "When the judgment is revealed, And that open, which was sealed, When to thee I have appealed, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!" HERRICK. AD SANCTUM SPIRITUM. "Hora in calamitatis, Cum tenter et prober satis, O! ut solvar a peccatis, Solare, dulcis Spiritus! "Cum capite et corde æger Miser intus lecto tegar, Ne in tenebras releger, Solare, dulcis Spiritus ! "Quando domus flet et gemit, Atque sopor mundum premit, Nec vigiliis me demit, Solare, dulcis Spiritus ! "Quum campana sonat mortem, Furiæque vim consortem Jungunt, rapiant ut fortem, Solare, dulcis Spiritus ! "Lampas fuscos dat dolores; Pauci adstant, qui dolores Levent-veri pauciores! Solare, dulcis Spiritus ! "Cum sacerdos summa dabit "Cum huc illuc (Deus novit) "Cum peccatis me juventæ Solare, dulcis Spiritus ! "Aures gemitus obtundunt ! Ignes oculos confundunt! Nervi sine te succumbunt! Solare, dulcis Spiritus ! "En judicium declaratur : En! patet quod celabatur: En! vox iras deprecatur Solare, dulcis Spiritus !" If I do not remember thee, Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; Yea, if I prefer not Jerusalem in my mirth. Remember the children of Edom, O Lord, In the day of Jerusalem; how they said, Down with it, down with it, even to the ground. O daughter of Babylon, wasted with misery, Yea, happy shall he be that rewardeth thee As thou hast served us. Blessed shall he be that taketh thy children And throweth them against the stones." PSALM CXXXVII. PROPTER AMNES BABYLONIS. "Propter amnes Babylonis Sedebamus lacrymantes, Templi sancti et Sionis Triste fatum complorantes; "Et ad salices propinquas, "Namque amabilem concentum Exquirebant vexatores, Jubilemus ut recentum Inter cladium dolores; "Et clamabant, 'Delectentur Templi si non reminiscar. "Pende exultationem, Deus, Arabum et minas Quas fuderunt, ut Sionem Convertebant in ruinas. "Ut fremebant,' Devastate Solymorum ornamenta, Et cum solo adæquate Urbis alta fundamenta.' "Felix erit, Babylonis Nata, curis jam vexata, In te die ultionis Qui rependet nostra fata. "Felix erit, qui infantes Cum parentibus excidet, Et ad lapides extantes Vitam fragilem elidet." On the whole we can mention no department of the "Arundines" where the labor of the editor has been expended in vain, and we regard the whole work as honorable to English scholarship, as it is a luxurious monument of the press. Perhaps the present may afford us a seasonable occasion to say of our own country, what may be more in accordance with truth and justice, than flattering to the national ear. We never look over a publication of the kind just mentioned without questioning when, if ever, we shall be blessed with those excellent systems which shall be productive of like fruits; when the learned professor shall not be the last source of appeal to the ignorant many, but the charmed circle being widened which cannot admit within it the ignorant or profane, the good scholar may be found in every walk of life, while a tone of feeling and exalted aim is given to all educated ranks, which shall be itself the best vindication of letters. That the standard of classical education is lamentably low in this country, is a truth which will hardly be questioned, notwithstanding intelligence on common topics is universal, under the fostering influence of our institutions and laws. Science, in its application to the useful arts, is pursued with unfailing energy, perhaps to a hasty development of our resources, but for the rest, cui bono? Let us not be understood as chiming in with the remarks of certain insolent querists, or as depreciating American scholarship, when we know for a certainty, that there are individuals among us whose own love of letters would carry with it a sufficient reward and inducement; that their laborious works in classical criticism and research are reprinted, and a circulated with every mark of approbation as school-books in England; that there is scarce department of science, learning, or literature, in which one or more are not found distinguished; and that in nearly all of our many colleges there are men whose attainments are of the highest respectability, although, as things are now managed, it is impossible for them to perfect the education of scholars, partially trained, and under modes as different from one another as the States and Territories whence they So far we shall deny the impu come. tation of knowing "little Latin and less Greek," and shall protest against relinquishing any of the respect or merit which is justly due. Some years ago a stranger, delighting in the euphonious name of Fidler, published a superficial and trashy book, purporting to be his "Observations" in the United States of America, wherein he states that there are not only no scholars in the land, but if all the books in the land should be collected together, there are not the materials out of which a scholar could be made. This man came hither to seek his own ends, which, it seems, had never been enough promoted at home, although, as he modestly observes, "I was possessed of more than ordinary acquirements." How profound his acquirements really were, would be evident to the most casual reader from the very wretched composition of his book. His darling project appeared to be, after gaining some preferment, to effect the publication of what is alluded to on almost every page of his volume as "MY SANSCRIT WORK." In the way of this there were, according to his account, several small obstacles: firstly, the necessary type; secondly, a publisher willing to bestow on him the princely reward of his pains; and lastly, a learned body of men fit to appreciate his learning. Pity that he should have brought his oriental merchandize to so bad a market after bearing it on his asinine back so long! In Boston, which he states to be the hotbed of American letters, he represents himself as magisterially examining the Professors in Sanscrit, and the result was, that not one could say boo to this goose of a pedant, so that he soon found out that he had "little to fear," and he despaired to find any able to cope with him. Perhaps if he had continued the search, he had succeeded better. We could point him, without having to seek long, to men modest, retiring, well appreciated in their own seats of learning, who could come even to an alternate contention in Sanscrit, with this very impudent and conceited pedagogue. The truth is, without going back into our history, we can record at present some of the noblest examples of enthusiasm in the pursuit of classical learning to be found in any country. We remember to have read some years ago a life of Washington, written in very good Latin, by a backwoodsman, under circumstances of peculiar want and discouragement. The editor states, that while residing in the far West, being desirous of pursuing classical studies, he had the good fortune to fall in with the author, Mr. Francis Glass, who was at that time the presiding genius of a district school. The account which he gives of his introduction to him, is interesting, and worthy to be transcribed: on my "I found him in a remote part of the country, in a good neighborhood of thrifty farmers who had employed him to instruct their children, who in general were then acquiring the simplest rudiments of an English education. The school-house now rises fresh memory. It stood on the banks of a small stream, in a thick grove of native oaks, resembling more a den for druidical rites than a temple of learning. The building was a low log-cabin, with a clap-board roof, but indifferently tight. All the light of heaven found in this cabin came through apertures made on each side in the logs, and these were covered with oiled paper to keep out the cold air, while they admitted the dim rays. The seats or benches were of hewn timbers, resting on upright posts placed in the ground to keep them from being overturned by the mischievous urchins who sat on them. In the centre was a large stove, between which and the back part of the building stood a small desk, without lock or key, made of rough plank, over which a plane had never passed; and behind this desk sat Professor Glass when I entered his school. "The moment he learned that my intention was to pursue the study of the languages with him, his whole soul appeared to beam from his countenance. He commenced in a strain which in another would have seemed pedantic, but which in fact was far from being so in him. The following imperfect sketch, drawn entirely from memory, may serve to give some idea of his peculiar manner: Welcome to the shrine of the Muses, my young friend, salve! Xaipe! The temple of the Delphian God was originally a laurel hut, and the Muses deign to dwell, accordingly, even in my rustic abode. "Non humilem domum fastidiunt, umbrosamve ripam." Here, too, the winds hold converse, "Eurus, and Caurus, and Argestes loud," and the god desses of the Castalian fountain, the daughters of the golden-haired Mnemo VOL. XII.-NO. LVI. 24 syne, are sometimes silent with the lyre, "cithara tacentes," that they may catch the sweet murmurs of the harp of Æolus. Here too, I, the priest of the Muses, Musarum sacerdos, sing to the young of nibus puerisque canto. Plutus, indeed, either sex, strains before unheard, Virgithat blind old deity, is far away; and far away let him be, for well has the prince of miserable, wrinkled, bald, and toothless comic poets styled him a " filthy, crooked, creature, ρυπῶντα κυφόν, ἄθλιον, ρυσὸν, pad vra, vodov." Such was my first interview. It was a display perfectly natural, and without the least apparent effort on his part. Glass knew nothing of the world more than a child. He was delicately formed in mind and body, and shrunk from all coarseness, as a sensitive plant from the rude touch. A cold or unfeeling word seemed to palsy every current of his soul, and every power of his mind; but when addressed in gentle, confiding tones, he was easy, communicative, full of light and life. At such hours, he poured out a stream of classical knowledge, as clear, sparkling, and copious as ever flowed from the fountains of inspiration in the early days of the Muses. I had been with him about three months, when he communicated to me his long cherished intention of writing the life of Washington in Latin, for the use of schools. He, after this time, often adverted to the subject, with an earnestness I shall never forget. By parcels I got something of his history. He was educated in Philadelphia. While acting as an instructor in the interior of Pennsylvania, he contracted an unfortunate marriage, in a state, as he said, of partial insanity; no wonder he thought so, when he found himself surrounded by evils which his imprudence had brought upon him. He did all he could for his wife and rapidly increasing family, but his efforts procured for them but a scanty subsistence. "With all ambition prostrated, and with a deadly sickness at the heart, he somewhere in the year 1817 or '18 left Pennsylvania for the West, and settled in Miami county. From that time to the period I became acquainted with him, he had pursued the business of school-keeping, subject to the whims of children and the caprices of their parents, enough alone to disturb the greatest philosopher. Every new change of school district gave Glass some new cause of suffering, which had an effect on his health and temper. During all the time he had been in the Western Country he made little or no progress in his contemplated work. In the drudgery of a daily school he could |