to visit the shrine where his companions in arms are laid to rest; and Freedom, in whose cause they fought and fell-leaving the mountains and fields, the hamlets and the unwalled cities of England, delivered by their valor-hastening to the spot, and dwelling (but only for "a while") "a weeping hermit there." The sentiment, too, is profound: "How sleep the brave!" Then, in that lovely line, "With all their country's wishes bless'd!" is implied every circumstance of loss and lamentation, of solemnity at the interment, and posthumous homage to their memory, by the threefold personages of the scene, living, shadowy, and preternatural beings. As for thought, he who can hear this little dirge "sung," as it is, by the "unseen form" of the author himself, who can not die in it-without having thoughts, "as thick as motes that people the sunbeams," thronging through his mind, must have a brain as impervious to the former as the umbrage of a South American forest to the latter. There are in its associations of war, peace, glory, suffering, life, death, immortality, which might furnish food for a midsummer-day's meditation, and a midwinter night's dream afterward, could June and December be made to meet in a poet's revery. FROM THE EXEQUY ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED WIFE, By Henry King, bishop of Chichester; born 1591, died 1669 "Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed, Never to be disquieted: My last good-night" thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake; Till age, or grief, or sickness, must Marry my body to that dust It so much loves, and fill the room Next morn I rise nearer my West Of life, almost by eight hours' sail, Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale." What a "last good-night!" is this! and oh! what a one good. morrow!" to last for eternity, when such partners awake from the same bed, in the resurrection of the just! Is there the "man born of a woman," who has loved a woman, and lost whom he loved, and lamented whom he has lost, that will not feel in the depth of his spirit all the tenderness and truth of these old-fashioned couplets! I dare not offer a comment upon them, lest I should disturb the sanctity of repose which they are calculated to inspire Nature speaks all languages; and no style is too quaint or podantic, in which she may not utter heart-sentiments in terms that can not be misunderstood, or, understood, be resisted. Dryden's "Alexander's Feast" is undoubtedly the lyric masterpiece of English poetry, in respect to versification; exemplifying, as it does, all the capabilities of our language, in the use of iambics, trochees, anapæsts, dactyls, and spondees. The metres in this composition are so varying, and yet so consonant-so harmonious and so contrasted-they implicate and disentangle again so naturally, so necessarily almost, that I know not to what they can better be compared than to a group of young lions at play-meeting, mingling, separating-pursuing, attacking, repelling-changing attitude, action, motion, every instant-all fire, force, and flexibility-exuberant in spirits, yet wasting none; while the poet, like the sire, couched and looking on, may be presumed with his eye to have ruled every turn and crisis of their game. He sings, indeed, the triumph of music; but his poetry triumphs over his subject, and he insinuates as much. It was less "the breathing flute and sounding lyre" of Timotheus than the living voice, the changing themes, the language of light and power of the bard, "that won the cause." A single section will justify this praise; the measures, it will be observed, change in every couplet: there are scarce two lines alike in accentuation, yet the whole seems as spontaneous as the cries of alarm and consternation excited by the bacchanal orgies described: "Now strike the golden lyre again, A louder yet, and yet a louder strain; And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Has raised up his head, As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries; See the furies arise; See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in the air, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes Behold the ghastly band, Each a torch in his hand! These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle are slain, And unburied remain, Inglorious on the plain; Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew! Rehold how they toss their torches on high How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of the hostile gods! The princes applaud with a furious joy, And the king seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fired another Troy." CHAPTER XIII. OF EPIC POETRY. Q. What rank does the Epic hold in poetry? A. It generally occupies the first place among poetic compositions, and, if well executed, is regarded as one of the noblest displays of poetic, if not even of human genius. What is its peculiar object? A. To describe some great and important action or event, for the purpose of making it subservient to moral instruction. Q. What other name does it often receive? A. It is frequently styled heroic poetry, because, .n every poem of this sort, there is a leading character called the hero. Q. Why is he so named? A. Because the whole course of the action, and train of the events, are made to turn upon the manner in which he performs his part. Q. What name does the plan of such a work commonly receive? A. It is commonly called the plot, which denotes the arranging of all the various parts into a regular whole. Q. And in what manner is the plot carried on? A. Partly by the descriptions and details which the poet himself makes; and partly by the introduction of actors, who have all their different parts to perform. Q. What is this selecting and arranging of the different parts called? A. It is usually styled the machinery, which denotes the means adopted by the poet for carrying his plot to a conclusion. Q. Does he begin and give a regular account of the whole trans action from the commencement? A. No; he generally begins in the middle, but a some important part of the narrative; and, after describing the state of things as then existing, he introduces different actors to explain what had led to such events. Q. What name is given to those parts which are introduced as if for mere embellishment? A. They are called episodes, which mean separate incidents or stories, having an intimate, though not a necessary connection with the main action. Q. How should an epic poem be arranged? A. With such order and regularity, that all the parts may have a close dependence upon each other. Q. What ought the senuments and language to be? A. Lofty and dignified, always moving with majesty, and never stooping to what is mean or trivial. Q. What must be the character of the style? A. It may, in point of ornament, admit of every variety of which composition is susceptible; but its leading feature ought to be sublimity. Q. Have there been many great epic poems produced? 4. Very few, compared with the number of excellent productions in almost every other description of poetry Q. Can you mention the principal? A. The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer, the Æneid of Virgil, the Jerusalem Delivered of Tasso, and the Paradise Lost of Milton. Q. Can you mention the subjects of each of these? A. The subject of the Iliad is the destruction of Troy; of the Odyssey, the wanderings of Ulysses; of the Æneid, the settlement of Æneas in Italy; of the Jerusalem, its deliverance from Mussulman oppression; and of Paradise Lost, the fall of man from his primitive state of innocence, and consequent expulsion from the garden of Eden. CHAPTER XIV OF DRAMATIC POETRY. Q. What do you underst ind by Dramatic Poetry? A. Poetry founded upon a regular plot or story, and fitted to be represented by action on the stage. Q. In what does it differ from epic poetry? A. In its containing no narrative on the part of the poet, being all spoken or performed by the different actors or characters who arc introduced. Q. What is the greatest excellence of dramatic poetry? A. Its being in accordance with nature, and making a near approach to the character of real life Q. What, then, are the chief objects of dramatic poetry? A. Men and manners, with an exhibition of all the various passions, virtues, and vices incident to human nature. Q. How many sorts of dramatic poetry are there? Q. What constitutes the difference between these? A. Tragedy is founded principally upon the loftier passions, virtues, vices, successes, and distresses of mankind; comedy, on their whims, fancies, humors, vagaries, foibles, and follies. Q. What are the passions which they chiefly awaken ? A. Terror, pity, and indignation, are the passions chiefly excited by tragedy; ridicule and contempt, those principally produced by comedy. Q. What knowledge would the dramatic writer require particularly to possess? A. An intimate acquaintance with life and character, as well as with all the different movements and operations of the human heart. Q. What must be the style of dramatic poetry? A. Its style must depend altogether upon the nature of the subject, and the character of the different actors. Q. Who may be regarded as the best dramatic writer? A. He who best displays the workings and effects of human passion, and gives to every character the greatest distinctness and personality. Q. Is tragedy a very common species of composition? A. Very much so; it prevailed greatly among the Greeks and the Romans, and has since found a place in the literature of every nation in Europe. Q. Can you mention any of the most distinguished ancient dramatic writers? A. Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes, among the Greeks; and Plautus and Terence, among the Ro mans. Q. Who are among the most eminent of modern dramatic writers? A. Racine and Molière among the French; and Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Dryden, Otway, and Congreve, among the English; with a few German, Italian, and Spanish names of consid |