which thy tuneful posterity, feeling the degradation of genius, bring against thee! These sentiments, which the poet of modern Italy indulges against the servility of his countryman, and which Ariosto before him had gaily expressed *, have been felt by the poets of other countries, jealous like himself of rescuing their profession from disgrace. A poet of my country, in numbers not unworthy of the Mantuan bard, had preceded Alfieri; and the sentiments of both are so coincident, that it would seem as if the elegant regrets of the English poet had served for the basis of the energetic indig, nation of the Italian. 'O! had thy muse, whose decorating skill Could spread rich foliage o'er the leafless hill; Had she, who knew with nicest hand to frame The sweet unperishable wreaths of Fame; praise, Then with more keen delight, and warmer had set, Where Art could nothing blame, and Nature nought regret.' HAYLEY'S Essay on Epic Poetry. the poetical crimes of Virgil, whatHowever great may have been lulling his countrymen into serviever effect they might have had in tude, we should, perhaps, feel some indulgence for the poet, since his offences, in provoking chastisement, have given birth to such glowing sentiments in favour of freedom. It him from the charges which these would, indeed, be difficult to clear accusing spirits bring against him in alleviation of the severity of the but might not something be urged record; but can nothing be sugsentence? The facts stand on eternal gested in favour of the intention! Are we sure that the poet, while he was consummating his crime against And given to Freedom what she gave to liberty, felt no concern for the snare Power; *Non fu si santo ni benigno Augusto, The poet adds, 'Nessum sapria, se Neron fosse ingiusto, 'Deem not Augustus' life so free from blame As Virgil's trump delivers him to fame. His skill in verse, and love to bards display'd, The dire proscription veils in friendly shade. Not one might now on Nero's guilt ex- Nor infamy perchance attend a name The pen of writers, and the muse ee- he was spreading for his country? Did he cast no lengthened looks into future ages, following in his fancy that track in the infinite ocean of time along which his reputation was destined to sail? On this subject an idea suggests itself, which, though it presents little in justification of the offence, offers a plea in mitigation of the punishment. 'The ivory gate,' says Mr. Gibthe sixth book of the Æneid, puzbon, in his critical observations on every lover of Virgil: yet it affords zles every commentator, and grieves cester. But though Mr. Gibbon no advantages to the bishop of Glou has demolished the ivory gate, as well as every other part of the Warburtonian hypothesis, are we sure that he has discovered its uses, or the meaning of Virgil, better than preceding commentators? The ex planation by which he attempts to votedness of the poet to Augustus, may it not be presumed that he could not eradicate from his mind the remembrance of those virtues which illustrated his country, those principles which it were impossible to be a Roman, and a poet, and not feel? May it not be conjectured that Virgil felt at times the indignity he had committed towards the sacredness of his profession, in the per version of the moral lesson which he might have held up to the world? May not compunction have wrung his heart, when he reflected on the dishonourable offering which he made should have consecrated to the manes of the last defenders of the repub lic? Did he feel no remorse in caressing thus ingloriously the hand that fed him? he who sometimes threw out his republican soul athwart the cuirassed breast-plate of the courtier, representing on the shield of his hero, the sacred spirit of Cato dispensing laws to the happy shades around him, and who could so feelingly paint the country court of the poor Evander, and thus panegyrise mediocrity: Had Mr. Gibbon been as solicitous for the political as for the religious reputation of the poet, he might, perhaps, while he was framing hy-to power, of that incense which he potheses, have hazarded other conjectures to unfold this ænigma. Throughout his critical observations, Mr. Gibbon does not appear to have stumbled on any of those formidable objections which our lynx-eyed poets have brought against Virgil. On the contrary, he enumerates, • among the most striking beauties of this sixth book, the poet's representation of the happiness enjoyed by the patriot who died for his country. Is it possible that the offences charged on the poet either escaped the notice, or, considering the political character of the critic, were not judged by him to be offences? Dr. Jortin has assigned what Mr. Gibbon calls a reason new and ingenious for Virgil's having explained away his hero's descent into an idle dream; but this reason the critic finds also untenable. The preposterous conduct,' which is explained by the -poet's epicurism, and which is supposed to be the result of design by the one, is attributed to haste and indiscretion by the other. In a work so finished, it is scarcely to be supposed that Virgil could have acted without some design; much less, that in the most exquisite parts of his poem he could have been guilty of haste and indis-cretion, Notwithstanding the de • Dare to be poor, and emulate a god.' Did no struggles arise in favour of virtue, in which the poet contrasted the sublimity of his character and the servility of his situation? Did he contrive no mode of escape from the reproaches with which elevated minds, among his own countrymen and posterity, might overwhelm him? Here the idle dream' finds a necessary appendage in the ivory gate, through which the patriot might hope to glide, though the poet were torn to tatters in the passage. To quit the luxuries of a court, to make the surrender of his elegant villas in Campania and Sicily, and retire to his native marshes, as Alfieri suggests, were sacrifices which pro bably required more strength of THE A NOVEL. mind than Virgil possessed. But to ELVILLE FAMILY SECRETS; All sentiment of republican virtue was not yet extinct in the soul of Virgil. If it were not a moral feeling of this kind which urged the sacrifice of his reputation as a poet, what motives could have led him, at the close of life, to order this precious monument, this work of eleven years, to be committed to the flames. The fastidiousness of genius leads sometimes to extravagancies. Dissatisfaction is the constant attendant of extraordinary talents. But Virgil saw nothing around him that could bear the slightest point of competition; he had no rival; he had struggled successfully against his divine original, and had perhaps equalled, if he had not, as Scaliger pretends, outstript him. May it not then be conjectured, that this last act of the poet's life-the order for burning the Æneïd-was the sacrifice of genius to principle? Unwilling to perpetuate the injury he had done his country, or that these records of base sublimity' should survive him; fearful that this ænigma of the ivory gate might, like his other ænigmas, remain unresolved; and foreseeing the accusations which might be brought against him, he was anxious to complete the sacrifice, while the surest means of repairing the mischief remained in his power. But these intentions were frustrated, and happily for the world; which, though with Ariesto, Alfieri, and Hayley, it may. reprobate the cowardice of the republican, and the servility of the courtier, will, as long as this globe shall be hung in ambient air, bow in respectful admiration before the poet. VOL. XXXV. By the Author of Emily de Veronne.' ONE stormy night, when not a single constellation glimmered in the hemisphere, the wind whistled loud and shrill through the woods, enveloped in a dismal obscurity, lord Ethric Elville's speedy career was checked by the sudden ap pearance of a pale light gleaming from an aperture in a ruinous wall which prevented his plunging headlong into a rapid stream that rolled in torrents in the way he was pursuing. In a moment the light vanished! all was profound darkness! The roaring of the water over its rocky bed almost drowned the sound of the thunder which rumbled heavily at a distance: the lightning became very vivid, and brought comfort to the benighted traveller, by showing him he was within his father's domains. He stood stedfastly gazing on the spot whence the light had proceeded, considering which road to pursue.-Again it appeared; he called aloud, and was answered by a piercing cry.-Again it vanished as before. Various reports of spectres haunting those ruins had been long in circulation: he determined, should heaven conduct him safe home, to explore the place, and be convinced it was a natural, and not a supernatural, being, which filled the inhabitants around with terror. After being long exposed to the pelting of the pitiless storm, he reached the castle of Elville, which was situated in that part of Northumberland near the Cheviot Hills-a fortress of great strength, both by nature and art, containing within its boundaries a garrison, armoury, and accommodations for a battalion of soldiers, together with dungeons, in which many a brave Scot had bitD ! terly felt the effects of the lord of Elville's power. This castle, so near the borders, was often an object of contention between the warring countries; and often, likewise, the resort of its noble possessor and family, for the purpose of hunting, and other rural recreations. disdaining the tumultuous glitter of the great world, she preferred a solitary ramble in the forests, or over the heath-clad hills of Cheviot, attended only by her brother's faithful page-when he could not himself accompany her-to all the ceremonious visits the attendant obsequious retinue her father's wealth could bestow. One fine morning, strolling further than usual, with her darling sister Matilda by her side, and Ethric's page not far distant, a person on horseback, galloping very swiftly, met her eyes. Curiosity for a moment riveted her to the spot she stood on: she had not time to testify her fears, ere the rider was prostrate at her feet, in the mildest terms imaginable beseeching her to recommend a place of safety from, assassins, who were many, and in pursuit of him. The susceptible heart of lady Elfrida, ever alive to every humanising feeling, was never more forcibly touched. In the present instance, the most rigid of the daughters of discretion could not have resisted the importunities of such a pleader; the most descriptive pen, and en An inveterate hatred of the Scotch had long filled lord Elville's breast; consequently he rather promoted than depressed those factions which convulsed the neighbouring kingdoms. High in favour at court, allied to the most powerful families in England, he lived in splendor little inferior to royalty. Ethric, his eldest son, was brave, generous, and humane, affable and condescending, enforcing the duties of the soldiery with strictness, yet without austerity. Edward was just the reverse; impetuous, cruel, and selfish; very tenacious of his high birth, regarding those beneath him with disdain; looking up to his brother as the person who deprived him of that dignity he wished most anxiously to possess. Helen, the eldest daughter, resembled Edward in disposition; in person she was handsome; while Elfrida, the second daughter, with a person incompara-thusiastic genius, could not do jusbly beautiful, possessed the virtues of Ethric. Sydney and Matilda, yet but children, were much attached to their amiable sister, who devoted most of her time to their artless society. The haughty Helen scarcely ever deigned to notice them; the magnificence of courts, and adulation of courtiers, was her sole delight. The lady Elville had early inculcated into their breasts a proper sense of their greatness; but in none had it taken deeper root than in that of Helen: Elfrida was often an object of her displeasure, for not supporting with becoming grandeur her elevated station in life. With a heart alive to every soft emotion, tice to the attractions of this young Scot, for such his attire denoted him. Tall and elegantly formed, arrayed in the dress of his country, his plaid, thrown carelessly around him, could not conceal the symmetry of his limbs: a large plume of feathers waved over his helmet, and gave additional grace to his fine form: his dark animating eyes, beaming with sensibility, darted their powerful glance on Elfrida, who stood motionless. She concluded he must be a chieftain of rank: his dress, his horse richly caparisoned, convinced her these suggestions were true. Could she, then, countenance her father's enemies? It was no time to deliberate. Seeing her hesitate, the stranger exclaimed with energy, 'Fairest of English dames, it is degrading to seek an asylum from death from one, as a man, I am bound to protect! For my sake flee this place! Beauty like your's could not soften their adamantine hearts; and I should feel a double pang in my last moments, should you be exposed to those barbarians on my account!' Matilda now jogged her, begging her to conceal him where Sydney aw the light the preceding evening. The noble stranger cast a grateful look on the lovely little girl, and pressed her extended hand with feryour in his own, exclaiming, Innocent child, you are interested for me! Would to heaven this fair lady would equally commiserate my distress!at the same time casting a supplicating look on Elfrida. But again recollecting himself, he saidTo seek protection in this abject manner is disgraceful to a soldier. I will face my enemies, though numerous as the grains of sand on the sea shore; I shall then die an honourable death, worthy' He was proceeding: his last words aroused her to a sense of his danger, and she conducted him to the ruins, where, in the inmost recesses, she was preparing to leave him; but he persisted in accompanying her to the confines of the forest, where he entreated her to inform him to whom he was thus indebted. Your whole appearance,' said he, bespeaks you of no common extraction; the obligation I am under can never be obliterated from my bosom. The rich domains, the abode of the ambitious Elville, cannot be far distant. Even now, methinks, I address one of his daughters, whose attractions fame has extolled far beyond Scotia's land. Your silence convinces me I now am before the gentle sister of my unmanly persecutor.' Elfrida shuddered; she knew the malice of Edward, and enjoined the page to the strictest silence. Glendarn, she knew, was one of her father's greatest enemies; yet, on considering his distress, his country, and the race he sprung from, were forgotten. When he found it was lady Elfrida who had thus treated him, he said- By way of acknowledgment for your kindness, remember I will never lift my arm against your brother's life: should the common chances of war ever throw him in my way, a remembrance of his gentle sister will unnerve my arm, my sword will fall at his feet. But first hear a vindication of my own conduct: be convinced I have not been too severe. I was this morning going to break a lance with an antagonist who had bid me defiance, when my vassals, under some feigned pretence, were detained; a number of armed men, by the orders of your brother Edward, rushed from an ambush, laid my faithful page dead at the first onset, barbarously stabbed him in twenty places, when he lay gasping for breath on the ground. Exasperated to madness, I spurred hard my steed, rushed furiously forward, struck him a blow with my truncheon :-he fell; two or three others were trampled down, I passed the dismayed legion, who seemed thunderstruck on seeing their leader fall: the most trivial circumstance disconcerts the wicked; but a good man, whose own conscience does not reprove him, who can daunt? Heaven directed me to the spot rendered sacred in my heart, as the place where first I beheld her to whom I shall be devoted to the last hour of my life. I boast not the eloquence of a courtier; I am a rough unpolished soldier, speaking the language of sincerity: banish me not entirely from your presence I cannot long endure that pang.' The massive turrets of the castle |