to return to Boston, in order that he might consult with his father, to whom he likewise carried a letter from the govern or, giving the most favorable account of his good conduct and behavior. The old gentleman, thinking it too adventur ous to set up a lad of eighteen years as a master printer, by no means relished the project. He accordingly advised his son to return to Philadelphia, and work as a journeyman until he was of age, at which time he would endeavor to assist him. Franklin saw the propriety of his father's counsel, and therefore, after a short stay, returned to Philadelphia, where he immediately went to work, with his usual cheerfulness and diligence. Franklin's fondness for reading and thirst for improvement did not forsake him when he left Boston. He soon formed an acquaintance with several young men of a studi ous disposition, whom he formed into a sort of literary asso ciation, which met at certain periods for the purpose of communicating to each other their little compositions; and as each member was freely permitted to comment and criticise on the several productions which were laid before them, it afforded them an excellent opportunity both for entertain ment and instruction. In the mean time, Sir William Keith still professed a great regard for Franklin; blamed his father for what he called unnecessary caution; as a proof of his friendship desired to be furnished with an inventory of what was needful in a print ing office, and expressed his intention of procuring them from England, and enabling our young printer to enter into business for himself: he at last enquired of Franklin, whether it would not be of consequence, that he himself should visit England to make the purchase. To this Franklin readily assented, and took a passage in the only vessel which then regularly sailed between London and Philadelphia. Keith had likewise professed that he would give him letters of recommendation, which would enable him to purchase every thing SELECTED REVIEW. FROM THE MONTHLY MIRROR. The Iliad, Odyssey, and Batrachomyomachia of Homer. Translated into English Blank Verse, by the late William Cowper, Esq. Second Edition, with copious Alterations and Notes. 2 vols. 8vo. Ir is now, according to the most probable calculation, about eight and twenty centuries since the existence of Homer. Through this vast period of time, so marked with revolution, destruction, and every other evil incident to the lot of human affairs, the noblest productions of the Grecian bard have not only lived, but gathered, in their triumphant course, fresh and unfading laurels from each succeeding age. Writers without number, as well ancient and modern, as sacred and profane, have, in their contention how best to express their veneration for the poet, racked the most fertile invention, accumulated every epithet, and exhausted all praise. But one Zoilus has, in this great circle of years, dared to mingle his envious and vituperative breath with the joint incense of an admiring world : For us, therefore, at this hour, to attempt to add to his fame by the most laboured panegyric, would be as vain a strife as were we to endeavour to increase the light of the sun, or augment the waters of the ocean. Come then, expressive Silence! muse bis praise ! THOMSON. If it be too late to speak of the merits of Melesigenes, so is the mo ment past when his translator might, amidst the sadness of his mind and the assaults of the melancholy fiend that vexed him, have been cheered by the approbation his labours deserve, and will, we are firmly persuaded, in the end universally receive. Now he is no more! Kurai Пargoxλos. At once he lies insensible of all blame, and deaf to the sweetest voice of commendation! Dead, but not to be forgotten, whilst "The Task" and this his elaborate work, these monuments of his fame, survive; and survive they will, as long as genius and learning maintain aught of respect or reverence amongst mankind. The object of our present review is not the first edition of Mr. Cow per's translation, which appeared in quarto, and has long been out of print, but the second, published in octavo, since the author's death, by « his kinsman, J. Johnson, LL. B. chaplain to the bishop of Peterbor ough," who too diffidently observes, at the commencement of his pref ace: "I have no other pretension to the honorable name of editor, on this occasion, than as a faithful transcriber of the MS. and a diligent correcter of the press, which are, doubtless, two of the very humblest employments in that most extensive province. I have wanted the ability to attempt any thing higher, and, fortunately for the reader, I have also wanted the presumption. What, however, I can do, I will. Instead of critical remark, I will furnish him with anecdote." He then proceeds to trace the progress of the edition before us, from the beginning to the end, which is in a considerable degree interesting, and leaves us with the wish for a longer and more general narrative; a wish that will, we are told, be shortly gratified by a life of the poet, from the pen of his intimate friend Mr. Hayley. A preface to each edition follows; the first of which very forcibly, and, we think, most justly, argues in defence of blank verse, as in all respects preferable to rhyme, in the execution of a translation of Homer. "I have," says he, with great candor, at p. xxii. "no contest with my predecessor. None is supposeable between performers on different instruments. Mr. Pope has surmounted all difficulties, in his version of Homer, that it was possible to surmount in rhyme; but he was fettered, and his fetters were his choice." "That he has sometimes," continues he, in the next page, "altogether suppressed the sense of his author, and has not seldom intermingled his own ideas with it, is a remark which, on this occasion, nothing but necessity should have extorted from me; but we differ sometimes so widely in our matter, that unless this remark, invidious as it seems, be premised, I know not how to obviate a suspicion, on the one hand, of careless oversight, or of factitious embellishment on the other. I have omitted nothing-I have invented nothing." "And now," concludes this good and great, but unhappy man, "I have only to regret that my pleasant work is ended. To the illustrious Greek I owe the smooth and easy flight of many thousand hours. He lías been my companion at home and abroad-in the study, in the garden, and in the field; and no measure of success, let my labors succeed as they may, will ever compensate to me the loss of the innocent luxury that I have enjoyed as a translator of Homer." The preface to this, the second edition, is short, and terminates with these words: "I know not that I can add any thing material on the subject of this Jast revisal, unless it be proper to give the reason why the Iliad, though greatly altered, has undergone much fewer alterations than the Odyssey. The true reason, I believe, is this: the lliad demanded my utmost possible exertions; it seemed to meet me like an ascent almost perpendicular, which could not be surmounted at less cost than all the labor that I could bestow on it. The Odyssey, on the contrary, seemed to resemble an open and level country, through which I might travel at my ease: The latter, therefore, betrayed me into some negligence, which, though little conscious of it at the time, on an accurate search, I found had left many disagreeable effects behind it. I now leave the work to its fate. Another may labor hereafter, in an attempt of the same kind, with more success, but more industriously, I believe, none ever will." Homer's poems were first collected together at Athens, by the order of Pisistratus, and digested into books, called Rhapsodies.-They were previously sung, in a detached manner, by itinerant bards, with other pieces of their own composition. Of these Payado, or Rhapsodists, who in a great measure partook of the nature of the Scandinavian Scalds, Druids, and Saxon Minstrels, the author of the Iliad was originally one, and obtained, it is probable, a more pitiful subsistence, in his travels from town to town, than those who came after him. Thus treated while alive, the celebrated poet no sooner breathes his last, than Smyrna, Chios, Colophon, Salamis, Rhodos, Argos, Athenæ, On which circumstance this neat epigram is founded: Sev'n famous towns contend for Homer dead, Through which the living Homer begg'd his bread. "In the year 1488," says Mr. Roscoe, "Demetrius Chalcondyles, and Demetrius Cretensis, published at Florence the first edition of the works of Homer, which is inscribed to Piero de Medici, the son of Lorenzo." They have since been printed, in numerous modes of utility and elegance, in Germany, France, and England. Versions of the Greek are abundant : Italy, France, and England have long possessed them, and Germany, though it could before only boast of imperfect attempts, can now exhibit a complete translation of both the Iliad and the Odyssey, in German hexameter verse, by Johann Heinrich Voss, which, for spirit, is reported to be equal to any, and for correctness superior to all. Coming at length to our own translators, we find that the battle is principally between Pope and Cowper, who form the two great bodies of the troops that have entered the field, and though we may occasionally notice the indirect skirmishes of others in the common attack, yet our chief attention must be directed to their more important evolutions and Cuper, says Chambers, informs us that the rhapsodists were clothed in red when they sung the Iliad, and in blue when they sung the Odyssey. + The English Homers of Chapman, Hobbes, and Ogilby, we purposely avoid noticing, because we could not justly advert to them without extending our review to a very irksome and inordinate length. How much Pope was indebted to these, as well as to the poetical translation of Eobanus Hessus, and the French versions of La Valterie and Dacier, is well known to the republic. Cowper, also, owes some obligation to Chap man. achievements. We shall now proceed to review the translation of our poet, on which we shall not dwell as it may please ourselves, but as long as we think it likely not to prove tedious to our readers. The Iliad, whose subject is the anger of Achilles, and its direful consequence to the Grecian army, first claims our regard; and here we behold oʻtwy wointwv agisos in his meridian splendor. In our selections, we shall not be guided by a wish to expose the liberties Pope has taken with his author, or to produce any remarkable beauties of translation either in him or Cowper, but by the desire of bringing forward several of those divine passages that abound in the Iliad, Bright and numberless as the stars in beaven. In the sixth book we are presented with that exquisite and affecting scene in which Hector embraces his infant son Astyanax, and takes leave of Andromache, who uses all her eloquence to prevail on him to shun the fight. To whom majestic Hector thus replied: Thy cares are all mine also. But I dread The matron's scorn, the brave man's just disdain, Of Argos; there to labor at the loom But heav'd in vain, to bear the pond'rous urn From Hypereia's or Messeïs' fount. Fast flow thy tears the while, and as he eyes |