His shrewdness shews, that foggy Holland's fen
In spite of climate may produce great men.
To mock our tears or joys he never fear'd,
And sometimes ev'n at Fortune's self he jeer'd.
Useless, or worse then, are the things we see,
For which so oft we bend the suppliant knee.
Some fall beneath malignant envy's stroke,
By genealogies long-winded broke;

Down come their statues and triumphant cars,
And all the trophies of their glorious wars;
The horse's legs, and ev'ry chariot wheel,
The axe's vengeance is condemn'd to feel.

And now the flame consumes the great man's head,
So oft before with adoration fed;

Then does this, face, the second upon earth,
To pots and pans and utensils give birth.
Let us this day thanksgivings make at church,
Let us this night illuminate with torch;
To-day the varlet's on a hurdle dragg'd,
And wretched people are no longer gagged.
"Do but observe the rascal's ugly phyz;
I ne'er, believe me, lik'd or him or his.
But tell me, pray, the nature of the charge,
The judges, witnesses, and all at large."
No need of them, a shorter scheme prevails,
A long and secret letter from Versailles.

'Tis well; I ask no more, but long to know
What all this while the mob of Frenchmen do.”
On Fortune's side is rang'd the supple Gaul,
And with rude insults aggravates his fall;
With equal levity triumphant sings
O'er exil'd nobles, or o'er slaughter'd kings.
The people now to nothing give their mind,
Since venal suffrages no market find;
But soup and puppet-shows, the last resort
Of those who formerly controll'd the court.
Large is the number of those doom'd to budge,
If we by wheels and gallowses may judge.
Some of our friends are almost dead with fear,
Lest from the scrape they should not get off clear.
But let us hasten, ere 'tis yet too late,

And trample on this victim of the state:
But let's have witnesses, lest we be tried,
For all suspicion may be thus defied."
Then thus the mob in moralizing strain:
"Who'd rise like him but to fall down again?
For this who'd swagger in the chair of state,
Or foremost be among the guilty great;
A prince's guardian, or a man of parts,
In conjuration vers'd, or magic arts,
Master of horse, or, raised above his peers,
In camp command a corps of volunteers ?

Why not? for sweet's the power of life and death,
Tho' not inclin'd to stop one wretch's breath."
The cup of joy so copious ne'er is found,
But that of sorrow will still more abound.
Better to be some village market's clerk,
Than in high life the object of remark,
O'er weights and measures boast despotic sway,
And long-rob'd pomp of office there display.
This mighty man, therefore, 'twill be confess'd,
Knew not wherein he could be truly blest;
For when he sought in wealth all bounds to pass,
And soar on honour's unsubstantial gas,
To fortune's bitterness he added gall,
And did but gain an aggravated fall.

What laid your Cæsars and your Pompeys low,
Who us'd the Romans worse than any foe?
What, but the lust of ruling by their nod?
At once accorded and aveng'd by God.
Few tyrants ever to the realms below
By mere decay or bloodless exits go.'

We have been desirous to exhibit Mr. Rhodes advantageously, and have therefore given an extended specimen of his abilities, which we submit entirely to the judgement of our readers.

The unpleasing duties of our own department remain to be exercised.

Before the merits of a writer are examined, candour requires that his motives and pretensions should be considered without prejudice or partiality.

Choice,' Mr. Rhodes assures us, had no share whatever in the origination of this design.'

Having, without any other purpose than that of self-exercitation and amusement, turned a few lines of him [Juvenal], when accidentally lying on my table, I was afterwards induced, by my love of occupation, and an examination of the translation which bears the name of Dryden, which I then thought had been the only one, to complete the whole.'

Mr. Rhodes, with becoming modesty, proceeds to express the correct opinion, that a first appearance before the public in print is no light matter; which we cannot reconcile with his incautious assertion, that his little bark is launched with as little concern as such a trifle may naturally be supposed to ex

cite.'

་

If this imi' ator could estimate as trivial an important and difficult enterprise, his display of reading and literary research, în a laboured exar ination of the merits of Juvenal, appears to as neither consistent nor judicious.

His sentiments of the original are sufficiently elevated. In

his preface and introductions to the various satires, aided by the illustrious Gibbon, he has described the characteristic beauties of Juvenal, his ardent imagination, dignified flow of numbers, and the pure and high-toned satire' which this haughty reformer fulminates from the most sublime heights.'

To give the English reader an adequate idea of the meaning of Juvenal-to suppress his impurities-neither to add nor to retrench, but to say what the author says-to render all his sentiments, and to present his sense with strong and familiar imagery' are the avowed intentions of Mr. Rhodes.

I have anachronismatically given him a sort of posthumous peep into futurity. (The trans-Tweedish reader may call it second sight.) -I have made him speak as I suppose he would now, not only to a modern reader, but to a modern English reader: I have, therefore, not merely translated him, but in some degree modernised, and even NATURALISED him.'

I have subjoined such similar passages from ancients and moderns, as occurred to my reading 'tracing the genealogy of sentiment.'

Such is the plan of Mr. Rhodes. We admit his maxim, that 'provided the author be fairly exhibited, it matters little what that exhibition be called.' How fairly he has exhibited Juvenal, our readers have in part observed for themselves. We shall extend our views, consider generally the merits of Mr. Rhodes, and compare passages from Juvenal-cursorily se lected with his imitations, and with the attempts of a few other 'doers into English.' We must not, however, omit to remark, that in his preface the imitator laudably avows that he would rather remain for ever in his present obscurity,' and that Juvenal should be sunk in everlasting oblivion, than that there should be found any thing in this book capable of perverting the principles or morals of such as are not yet past the age or power of ductility.' We give ample credit to his declaration, and applaud his motives: but to translate Juvenal with tolerable fidelity, preserving this sentiment, gigantic talents must be directed by keen discernment. Passages occur in these imitations, unavoidable, perhaps, by a translator, and improper to be revealed by us, which might show that a delicate reserve has not been uniformly supported. Direct allusions, which excite youthful curiosity, and familiarise the mind to immodest images, may not immediately pervert morals, but can scarcely

be considered as innoxious.

Of an author whose writings unveil such dreadful profligacies, many parts, useful to history, and intrinsically curious, should be confined to the original language. Entire translation must appear to every moralist an enterprise more ardueus than discreet.

We leave this subject, to prosecute our literary inquiries. In the conduct of his imitations, Mr. Rhodes passes, without eeremony, from the classic Tyber to the trading Thames, from 'ancient Rome to modern London.'

The stubborn matter-of-fact man, who will not bend, may consider either the book or himself, which he chooses, as infected with an immedicable malady.'

We fear we must consider ourselves immedicable.' We dise approve this 'mixt medley,' these anachronismatical and posthumous peeps.' No increased effect, but an obvious loss of dignity arises from mingling the history, characters, and allusions, of ancient times with those of the passing hour. MARS, VENUS, and the prostituted JULIA, are neither most harmoniously associated with LORD AUCKLAND and his ‘still-born' adultery-bill, nor do the works of GROTIUS and Puffendorf seem admissible authorities to support the imperial rights of DOMITIAN! For classic personages, MOTLEY'S' NOT 'the only wear.'-Johnson, an imitator exclusively inspired by the spirit of Juvenal, avoiding this admixture, wisely adopts a general substitution of modern characters and allusions. Of Johnson, Mr. Rhodes expresses his admiration, but pursues not the example.

In its versification, this work is usually so low, careless, incorrect, and verbosely languid, that we doubt

• Whether' we 'should baptise it verse or prose.'

The poet is not nice in his rhymes, nor scrupulous in his metre. A monosyllable occasionally supplies either one or two feet of the verse, as indolence requires. We cannot admit many examples of these defects, since our article must necessarily be rendered prolix, by the comparative extracts to be produced. We shall, however, as is our custom, prove our assertion.

'He'll straightway shiver, and his shoulders shrug,
Order a FIRE, or put on his rug.

If in like manner, you complain of fire,

He quickly adds, Good God! how I perspire!
By this time, therefore, you must plainly see,' &c. &c.

Rhodes. Sat. III. p. 73.

Above the difference of the wine I blame;
Now by the water I must do the same.'

'Then no good reason is for marriage LEFT
But bride-cakes may for invalids be KEPT!'

She'll not attend her husband out, or home,
If Mr. Magic should forbid to roam.'

No hour for food or med'cine can she find,
Like that which Mr. Gipsy shall appoint.'

S. VI. p. 169.

Cup, he'll present from stalls of crock'ry brought,

Which for a FEW halfpence have been bought.' S. XI. p. 290. The notes of Mr. Rhodes, seldom long, are often flippant, sometimes acute and judicious. The comparisons from ancient and modern authors are amusing.

We must now produce our marked parallels of translation. The translators of the seventeenth century often equal those of our own era, in tame repetition and prosaic inelegance; yet superior conciseness distinguishes Stapylton and Holyday, while Dryden, though diffuse, excels in metrical suavity.-We shall compare them, by a passage accidentally occurring, and of no peculiar attraction.

- perierunt tempora longi
Servitii. Nusquam minor est iactura clientis.
Quod porro officium, ne nobis blandiar, aut quod
Pauperis hic meritum?'

Juv. III. v. 124-127.

No where dependants sooner are dismiss'd,
Or driv'n abroad, to go where'er they list.
What can the poor then here look forward to?
Or without flatt'ry, what is here their due?'

Rhodes. (A. D. 1801) Sat. III. v. 176–179.

Our long, long slavery thought upon no more.
'Tis but a client lost,-and that, we find,
Sits wondrous lightly on a patron's mind;
And light indeed it is: for, to be plain,
What merit can a poor dependant gain
By his best services?'

Gifford's Translat. (A. D. 1802) III. 190-195.

Thus my long service is rewarded!

A client's loss is no where less regarded!

Indeed, what's here a poor man's toil or pay?'

Holyday's Translat. (A. D. 1673) III. 145–147.

Good night to all

My tedious service,-out a door I m burl'd,

A client's the least loss in all the world.

Indeed how can poor people hope reward?'

Stapylton's Translat. (A. D. 1673) III. 148-151.

In vain forgotten services I boast,

My long dependence in an hour is lost.

Look round the world, what country will appear,
Where friends are left with greater ease than here?
At Rome (nor think me partial to the poor)

All offices of ours are out of door,'

Dryden's Translat. (A. D. 1692) III. 221-226.