of Sophocles and Plato became daily less intelligible; an and all performances were nearer to the apprehension of the generality of readers by exactly the same space that they were removed from the true standard of purity and perfection. Accordingly, when in the tenth century, one Constantine Cephalas undertook the publication of a new Anthology, either in conformity, with his own taste, or from the necessity of accommodating his performance to the intellectual babits of his readers, he made a comparatively sparing selection from the compilations of Meleager and Philip, but filled his pages with copious insertions from Agathias; to which he added some miserable productions of the intermediate ages, together with a few by his patron the emperor Leo the Philosopher.

The learned remained in possession of this collection till about the beginning of the 14th century, when the business of arrangement and reform was unfortunately taken up by a monk of Constantinople, Maximus Planudes. To the execution of his task he appears to have brought no other qualities than those of bigotry, indolence, and dulness. He seems to have possessed the mechanical genius of an index-maker without his perseverance, and the narrow illiberal prejudices of an ignorant churchman, without his consistency and zeal. His object, as far as may be collected from his work, was first to reduce the bulk of Cephalas's Anthology; secondly, to purge it of its impurities; and thirdly, to make a digest of what he suffered to remain. The first of these purposes he accomplished by rejecting many of the most exquisite pieces. In the second he has shewn so little judgment and vigilance, that many compositions have been permitted to remain, which have neither the recommendations of innocence or elegance; and as to the third, instead of the natural order in which the poems originally appeared, he brought under one head all the compositions on the same subject alphabetically arranged according to the names of the authors, and by this mode of classification happily succeeded in disgusting the mind with a wearisome repetition of similar ideas, and so effectu. ally confounded the order of time, that the reader is deprived even of the slight satisfaction of tracing the gradual corruption of the language, or of ascertaining the claims of the several authors to originality of thought. His indolence was at least as fatal as his ignorance and want of judgment. A difficult or illegible passage in the manuscript before him never suggested to him the propriety of consulting others; to interpolate was easier than to collate, and accordingly the text is frequently either deplorably muti

lated, or miserably patched together with barbarous and incoherent distichs. This wretched and clumsy epitome, however, entirely superseded the original collection, and for three centuries the world heard no more of the Anthology of Constantine Cephalas. Probably it would have been lost to modern literature for ever, had it not been rescued from oblivion by the indefatigable and judicious labours of that mighty scholar, Claudius Salmasius. The result of his researches was that collection which still goes by his name, but which was never published till it was given to the world by Brunck in his Analecta.

The fragments which have been thus preserved, scanty as they are, compared with the three original collections, will be very highly prized by the genuine admirers of ancient literature. The remains of the earlier Anthology are indeed few, but precious; Gaià èv, ánλà jóda. The whole collection however, exclusive of every other claim to attention, must be allowed to possess that interest which must always attach to a multitude of compositions of the easier and lighter description. Nothing is so happily calculated to illustrate national taste and character, and to mark the progress of national manners, as those shorter performances which approach the familiar style of colloquial intercourse, and treat on subjects of daily interest and perpetual occurrence. much on this account as any other that the Greek epigrams It is perhaps as are so highly prized by every scholar. The severe chastity of taste, which distinguishes the nobler productions of that extraordinary people, is, if possible, still more conspicuous in their brief and trifling effusions. They frequently present no more than a single image or sentiment generally attired in the simplest languge, or at any rate, but very frugally decorated with the laboured ornaments of diction. They are mostly not only destitute of point, to which indeed the ambition of their authors seems scarcely ever to have been directed, but will in most instances disappoint those, who are on the watch for any thing striking. In short, their beauties are of that modest and retiring nature, which must necessarily fail to captivate at first sight, and nothing short of familiar acquaintance can give them their due interest and attraction.

These circumstances, which are far from operating to their disadvantage with a mind classically instructed, and deeply engaged with every thing that belongs to ancient literature, seem to render very unpromising the task of familiarising these elegant but simple compositions to a modern taste, by means of a translation. The languid curiosity of a reader ignorant of the language, is not likely to be very actively stimulated by specimens, the merits of which cannot

become fully intelligible even to scholars, till after a long and ntimate acquaintance with the original. This, doubtless, is the reason why so few of the epigrams have yet been translated. And indeed, the few that are in English, are perhaps not particularly well calculated to convey an accurate conception of the general character of the rest: for those which have been selected for translation, have something more pointed and showy than is usually to be found among the multitude of those which still remain unattempted. Of the later poems indeed which are to be found in the Anthology, there are not a great many which would repay the labour of translation; and he who should be desirous of training his faculties to this species of poetical exercise, would do well to confine himself chiefly to the materials of Meleager and Philip; but particularly the former. It is an infallible symptom of the declining taste of the age of Agathias, that the compositions appear to be spirited in the same degree that the subject is corrupt and licentious; an observation particularly applicable to the performances of Paul the Silentiary. The rest, in general, do little more than present the same images which a perusal of the earlier collections has rendered familiar, dressed in dull and faded colours; and instead of the lively and wholesome relish of native genius, offer nothing but the tame and vapid dregs of false taste and enfeebled imagination. This censure is of course not universally applicable and in spite of the objections and difficulties we have suggested, we should be greatly rejoiced to see in the English language a judicious selection of such of the epigrams, &c. as are best worth preserving. Such a work, if executed by men uniting the fancy of the poet to the accu'racy and perseverance of the scholar, would certainly be valuable. Recalling the public taste to the genuine standards of purity and beauty, it might perhaps assist in arresting the progress of that prurient and meretricious refinement, which is beginning to infect the style of our lighter poetical compositions, and thus might combine with the praise of elegant versification the more exalted merit of inoral utility.

The example of such an undertaking is presented to the public, on a small scale, by the little volume before us. It contains a number of highly creditable cxercises, consisting of translations of the epigrams, and of fragments preserved by Athenæus and Stobæus, together with some original compositions. They are introduced by a preface written with considerable elegance and spirit, and containing much appropriate information, and just criticism. The translations are agreeably illustrated by, oes, which display

a happy mixture of vivacity and erudition. The original poems in this volume have the merit of harmonious versifi-, cation, and shew a considerable command of poetical diction, and a fancy well stored with classical imagery. Of the translations our opinion is not uniformly favourable. Many of them certainly do not rise above mediocrity: a point indeed to which some of them are confined by the weight of their insipid original. Others, however, are executed with no ordinary degree of felicity; and some few are entitled to the praise of uniting the fidelity of translations with the freedom and spirit of original performances. We shall insert a few of the most favourable specimens.

The very first in the book, we think, does as much justice as a translation can do to the beautiful lines of Meleager.

'Clarissa, when she loos'd her virgin zone,
Found in the nuptial bed an early grave;
Death claimed the bridegroom's right; to death alone
The treasure, promis'd to her spouse, she gave.

To sweetest sounds the happy evening fled,
The flute's soft strain and hymeneal choir ;
At morn sad howlings echo round the bed,
And the glad hymns on quivering lips expire.

'The

very torches that, at fall of night,

Shed their bright radiance o'er the bridal room,
Those very torches, with the morning's light,

Conduct the lovely sufferer to her tomb.'

The following we regard as a very happy model for the translation of Greek inscriptions. It has all the pure simplicity of the original, and is as remarkable for its closeness as its elegance. For the satisfaction of those who may not have the Anthology on their table, we shall transcribe the Greek:

εις Αφροδ της άγαλμα κ. τ. λ.

Κύπριδος ὅλος ὁ χῶρος, ἐπὲι φίλον ἔπλείο τήνα

ἀιὶν ἀπὸ ἠπείρε λαμπρὸν ὅξῆν πέλαγος, ὄφρα φίλον νάυίαισι τελῆ πλέον· ἀμφὶ δὲ πόνος δειμαίνει, λιπαρὸν δερκόμενος ξόανον,

On a statue of Venus on the sea coast;

• Cyther

Looks de
And hith

Propition

n this craggy steep,
ard on the glassy deep,

lls the breathing gale,

the venturous sail,

While ocer a flows below serene,

Awed by the smile of Beauty's queen.' P. 10.

The following are remarkable for ease, elegance, and sweetness of numbers, and breathe all the spirit of the original:

Mild Star of Eve, whose tranquil beams
Are grateful to the Queen of Love ;
Fair planet, whose effulgence gleams
More bright than all the host above,
And only to the Moon's clear light
Yields the first honours of the night!

All hail, thou soft, thou holy, star,
Thou glory of the midnight sky!
And when my steps are wandering far,
Leading the shepherd-minstrelsy,
Then, if the Moon deny her ray,
Oh guide me, Hesper, on my way!

No savage robber of the dark,
No foul assassin, claims thy aid,
To guide his dagger to its mark,

Or light him on his plund'ring trade;
My gentler errand is to prove
The transports of requited love.'

$ From where his silver waters glide,
Majestic, to the ocean-tide

On fair Olympia's plain,

Still his dark course Alpheus keeps
Beneath the mantle of the deeps,
Nor mixes with the main.

To grace his distant bride he pours
The sands of Fisa's sacred shores,

And flow'rs that deck'd her grove;
And, rising from the unconscious brine,
On Arethusa's breast divine

Receives the meed of Love.

Tis thus with soft bewitching skill
The childish god deludes our will,
And triumphs o'er our pride;
The mighty river owns his force,
Bends to the sway his winding course,
And dives beneath the tide.'

O'er the smooth main when scarce a zephyr blow
To break the dark blue ocean's deep repose,
I seek the calmness of the breathing shore,
Delighted with the fields and woods no more.