The wind's unbridled rage, the heav'n that burns, These sounds, of power to force the dead to rise, Awake the conscious pair from love's enchanted sleep,' There is one peculiarity in the composition of Wieland, which perpetually escapes the translator;-his love of allusion, his perpetual insertion of lines and half-lines culled from other poets. So in the first stanza, der holde Wahnsinn spielt is a translation of Horace's an me ludit amabilis insania: for this Mr. Sotheby has, What lovely dreams entrance th'unfetter'd brain,' in which phraseology the allusion cannot be perceived. He has effected much, however, in having naturalized so well a poem that is remarkable for a versatility of style which has no model among our native writers. Tay ART. XXXII. The Roman Nights; or Dialogues at the Tombs of the Scipios. Translated from the Italian of Count Verri, PP. 334. 35. 6d. sewed. Molini, Faulder, &c. 1798. WE 12mo. E noticed the original of this work in the Appendix to our 23d vol. p. 586; and we then intimated the intention of a translation into English, of which we now proceed to give some account. The writer imagines himself to be in the recently discovered tombs of the Scipios, enjoying the conversation of the most illustrious shades of the antient Romans; and several of the most conspicuous characters are engaged in dialogues on topics of their peculiar history, which they discuss without reserve. Such personification has been frequently applied as a vehicle of historical information, and with good success, from Lucian to Hurd; and the truly classical voyage of Anacharsis has acquired an interesting grace from the well-wrought semblance of originality. An acquaintance so intimate with the more recondite history of Greece and Rome, as that possessed by the Abbé Barthélemy and by Count Verri, is the more happily displayed by their having adapted details to the individuals whom they concern, and on which their own words appear to confer authenticity. The Count's reflexions on these tombs are apt and judicious: These tombs, venerable for their modesty, were erected at a time when the Romans did not desire to be distinguished for their magnificence, but for their virtue; composed of mean stone, and rudely rudely carved, the names and the exploits, though painted in fading colours, still remain visible, happily not effaced by the revolution of so many ages. These inscriptious relate, in short and unadorned sentences, the actions of that illustrious family; and the words are the ancient language of Latium in all its simplicity. Behold, said I to myself, where still rises the monument of Caius Cestius, whose actions are so unknown to fame, that we in vain seek for them in history. The proud tomb has with difficulty transmitted to us his bare name, unaccompanied with glory. O Fortune! why hast thou taken a barbarous pleasure in disturbing these glorious ashes, after having for so many ages preserved them beneath ruins?' The first character to whom we are introduced is Cicero; before whom Brutus and Cæsar argue the point of justice in We subjoin the respect to the assassination of the latter. speech of the Mother of the Gracchi, as a specimen of the sentiment and language: The two illustrious enemies remained still in that attitude, when a Matron, holding in her hand two youths, of a bold aspect, stepped forth from the crowd, and exclaimed, "Behold, Romans, the first victims of tyranny, your ill-rewarded defenders. Let no one boast of having suffered more than they for so illustrious a cause; and let no mother pretend to have brought forth among us better citizens than these." Thus saying, she let go the two youths from her hand, pushed them into the midst, and added, "Now do ye speak." Then one of them began, with a melancholy voice: "I hope that you recollect in me, Tiberius Gracchus: this is my brother Caius, and it is unnecessary to put you in mind that this is our mother Cornelia. You easily recollect the daughter of Scipio Africanus, the heiress of his magnanimity. We have been driven here by the confusion now excited in this region of death. Thou oughtest, O mother, to console thyself, since thou seest here, after so long a period, the tombs As a cloud veil. which contain the glorious ashes of thy race." on a sudden the splendour of the moon, so these words obscured Her sons, with sadness the majestic countenance of the Matron. stretching out their arms to her, seemed to console her. The whole multitude preserved a profound silence, a manifest sign of reverential expectation: when, behold, the Matron, with indignant hand, removed the veil from her face, and shook her head, so that her dishevelled hair floated on her shoulders. Then she exclaimed: "Wretched bones, in vain bathed with our tears! Neither the reputation of your actions, nor the splendour of your virtues, have then sufficed to preserve you from the most unworthy insults? Neither our care to place you in these tombs, nor your names which are-engraved upon them, could shelter you from the injuries of fortune. Yet we saw the Romans approach these urns in mournful silence. Unhappy me! who left my frail body in Misenum, where I passed the last part of my stormy life, relating with a noble pride your misfortunes, O my generous children, and those of my illustrious fa ther! Thou, however, less unhappy than these, O great Africanus, because removed from an ungrateful country, passedst the last years 3 of of thy life in dignified retirement at Lintermum, when thou threwest off thy mortal covering!" So saying, she tore the band from her hair, and tears of anger distilled from her eyes. Then Tiberius thus mildly addressed her :-"O mother, nothing here below is exempt from the empire of Time. Nations illustrious before us, endured its injuries, as we endure them at this moment. The lapse of ages, impelling wave after wave, overwhelms all human greatness, and sinks it into the abyss of oblivion. Generations appear and disappear upon the earth, like fleeting shadows. The living walk over the tombs of their ancestors; and destroying whirlwinds at length scatter into dust the proud structures, the humble tombs, the lamented ashes. Ah! mother, do not then contend with the common and eternal fate!" She answered with intrepidity: "No time ought to extinguish the glory of the Scipios, since it fills the universe with its splendour. Certainly Italy is now exposed to the ravages of barbarians and pirates, or perhaps is deserted, or in the power of conquerors, who have overwhelmed our history in the blood of the vanquished. No one any longer understands our language: the fame of ancient glory has never reached them; for, otherwise, they would not thus abuse these tombs, on which are carved such illustrious names." At which words, I was on the point of rushing forward into the midst, to defend our age; but I was restrained by the desire of hearing those surprising conversations, by disturbing which with troublesome interruptions, I feared lest I should cause the Shades to depart in anger. In the mean time, Cicero, Cæsar, Brutus, Antony, and the most illustrious Shades, regarded with eager anxiety those celebrated countenances, with which, as living in after-times, they were unacquainted. The aspect of Tiberius was sedate and mild, that of Caius disturbed and angry: their age appeared below the thirtieth year. The features of Cornelia were of mature beauty, untouched by the ravages of time; they preserved no traces of feminine softness. Her almost martial eyes, her severe brow, her swelling and composed lips, strangers to laughter, gave to her countenance a chaste and dignified elegance. But Tiberius, looking round him, thus mildly began: "Your ancient kindness, O my Romans, appears to me to be still expressed in your incorporeal images. You remember me, who died for your liberty. This city, called country by the rich, was to us only the theatre of their tyranny. Perpetually oppressed by usury, always overwhelmed with debts, always lavish of our blood, we were driven to war by the Consuls, that they might not be wea ried by our just complaints. The Patricians filled the ears of others with those venerable words-Country, Republic, Glory, greatness of the Roman People; but heaped their own coffers with gold, and revelled in splendid entertainments. It was established from the foundation of the Republic, by the well-known and always evaded Licinian law, that the public lands, conquered by the army, should be divided among the people; but those very fields whese furroughs were fattened by our blood, were always given to Patricians, who, while we were shedding it in profusion, were lying at sumptuous entertainments. I, chosen tribune for you, poor and brave, whose honourable scars appeared through your threadbare habits, opposed myself myself to this ancient robbery. The methods I used in attacking it were those of a citizen, namely, the law, and reason. But our insidious adversaries artfully conveyed away from the Assembly the ballotting urns and the rolls, just as the suffrages were on the point of being taken. My first endeavours being evaded by this artifice, my second were opposed with open atrocity. You saw the Fathers in their gowns rush upon me, supported in their perfidious violence by their slaves and clients. I endeavoured to appease the tumult by words; but no human voice could overcome the immense uproar of the Comitii, tempestuous as the ocean. Not being able, therefore, to express in any other way the danger in which I stood, I put my hand to my head, meaning to shew that it was exposed to imminent hazard. I then saw the Consul Scipio Nasica gather up his toga with his left hand, lift up his right, and suddenly rush against me, at the head of the Senate and of his satellites: he was certainly using some violent and angry expressions, as was manifest from his lips and his eyes, though I heard not what they were. The patrician fury came upon me like an overwhelming wave: the Conscript Fathers broke, in their rage, the benches of the Comitii, and, armed with the fragments, attacked my defenceless and sacred person. The populace gave way to the Fathers, if oppressors can be so called, and even submitted to be laid prostrate by their blows: dragged along by my robes, and severely wounded in the temples, I expired, grieving at the fate of Rome more than at my own. If there remain in you any gratitude for me, who died for you in so miserable a manner, ah! let some one tell me, why such a fury was excited when I touched my forehead, and by whom was I slain?" At which request Caius exclaimed: "O brother, after so many ages, happily found in this ocean of death, why dost thou desire to hear enormities, greater than those which thou in vain endeavouredst to correct? That motion of thine was, with ready treachery, interpreted by the Senators as a sign that thou demandest the regal diadem: they artfully exclaimed, magnifying this desire of thine, to excite against thee the fury of the mob. The Consul Scipio Nasica, in the attitude in which thou sawest him, called out, Whoever wishes his country to be safe let him follow me along with whom rushed the order of the Patricians, as if dragged, by a desperate pilot, to a shipwreck with their common country. We then saw the toga, the sign of eloquence and peace, bring destruction, and demand blood. Thou, borne down by the pressing crowd, wast wounded in the head with the fragments of the benches by thy own colleagues Satireius. and Rufus and such pride did they take in their wickedness, that Rufus was used afterwards to boast of those blows as of a glorious action. In that tumult, not less than three hundred citizens remained dead in the Forum. In vain did I ask thy body of the ferocious Patricians, desirous of bestowing upon it the funeral honours: it was thrown into the Tiber, and descended to the sea, the sport of the winds. The Senate, however, not satiated by this slaughter, afterwards drove many into exile, and beheaded many, because they pos sessed free minds, and favoured justice. Amongst whom Caius Billius, shut up in a cask full of serpents, gratified the rage of the Senators, who who invented, on this occasion, that detestable punishment. But thy death, and these cruelties, were so far from abating my courage, that they rather served to excite it. The day in which the people were at length to receive the rewards acquired by their valour, my wife presaging that I should return no more to her embraces, threw herself suppliantly at my feet, upon the threshold of my house, pressing one of our children to her timid bosom: I, however, in that last and most glorious day of my life, inflamed only by my noble design, kept my heart cold to those affections which are used to overcome even savage beasts. I left, with a severe silence, that door into which I was no more to enter, and saw the wretched woman fall down in it in a swoon, perhaps dead. I was not stopped by any compassion either for her or for my son, but led by love for my country to the Comitii. The fortitude of Brutus was certainly astonishing, who condemned his children to death for the safety of Rome; but he at least condemned youths who were traitors to her: whereas, I saw my wife fall, who was not only innocent, but distinguished by the beauty of her mind and person, and amiable for the rectitude of her manners.' Scipio Emilianus vindicates himself in the succeeding diaJogue. Marius and Sylla then argue on the causes and consequences of their refpective conduct. Pomponius Atticus, who Jived in retirement during the several civil conflicts of Rome, now comes forwards as the "accuser general" of the Roman people, and insists that the Romans were still more barbarous, than the most barbarous of the nations whom they had conquered. He even arraigns the virtue of Lucretia, and conducts that nice inquiry in the following manner: As a storm suddenly agitates the waves of the sea, so the Spectrés, who were listening with calm attention, then, trembling, murmured like the wind in the forest. In the mean time, a female Shade appeared, who advanced clothed in a white veil, desirous of drawing attention by her tears and her expressions of grief. She now plunged into the thickest of the crowd, and now appeared out of it, like the moon among the clouds; when the multitude, which she had disturbed, leaving an opening, she remained distinct in the midst, and stopped. Through the transparent veil which descended to her feet, was seen her lovely form, like a rose clothed in morning dew; but suddenly rending it from a new impulse of anger, she discovered the whiteness of her well-formed shoulders and her heaving bosom, upon which, however, with modest repentance, she held with her righthand the disordered veil, leaving a great part of her figure uncovered. She cast down her weeping eyes; anguish was painted upon her forehead, from which the thick golden hair fell upon her snowy limbs. Ah, how is the heart chilled by the sight of beauty in distress! As I looked upon her, I already felt the thrill of soft compassion run through my limbs, when my attention was drawn by a general whisper, which repeated the name of Lucretia. Pomponius, not disturbed by the tumult, nor by the fame of so illustrious a woman, approaching her, thus intrepidly continued: "O celebrated consort of Colla |