lating, we must imitate; instead of retaining all his images, with all their adjuncts, we must take them naked and disrobed of all their local and personal accompaniments, and provide them with a dress and situation entirely new and properly our own; instead of going back and placing ourselves in his situation, we must compel him to come forward and place himself in our's.

Thus no ancient writer has been oftener translated than Horace, yet nobody has met with any tolerable success in the undertaking; but when Pope thought proper to imitate, we immediately see a copy entirely worthy of the pattern. Horace himself appears to revive, to become a being of our own age, and a speaker of our own language, and thus enables us to form an adequate conception of his true character and genuine figure in the age of Augustus.

It is a pity that Pope confined his chief attention to the satires and epodes. Had he given us an English copy of the odes, in the same spirit, what an inestimable present would he have made to us! That he was as well qualified to imitate the odes as the essays can hardly be doubted; for if Horace were as well qualified to write odes as essays, there is strong reason for concluding that he who could imitate the one so successfully was also qualified to imitate the other. Indeed, this matter rests not merely on conjecture, but on proof. Take, for example, the following imitation, by Pope, of the first ode of the fourth book, addressed to Venus, and judge it with as much impartiality as can be mustered up by a classical scholar :

In thus successfully imitating Horace, we must take care to allow the copyist his full merit, and to place his merit altogether on a level with that of his pattern. Horace, in this case, would be a pattern or original in relation to Pope, but we must beware of considering the former as an original in a general and absolute sense. On the contrary, there is good reason for concluding that the odes of Horace are as much imitations of certain Greek lyric poets, as those of Pope would be of Horace. Independently, indeed, of this consideration, such imitations as Pope's evidently require as much genius for invention, taste for selection, and felicity of language as can be allowed to his original. Perhaps, indeed, it would not be rash to assert that more genius and taste are required to produce such parodies than to indite a composition, purely original, of equal merit; since the former are subjected to trammels and fetters, from which the latter are exempt, and the disadvantages of this restraint are by no means

WATER is one of the grand accompaniments of landscape. So essential is it in adorning a view, that some of the most pleasing compositions fall under one or other of these three heads, river scenery, lake scenery, or sea coast views. The characteristics of these several modes are often blended; but in their simple forms, the first partakes most of beauty, the second introduces grandeur, on which the third almost entirely depends.

The river view, unless indeed the river be very grand, or the country sublime, may be merely a scene of rural pleasure. Flocks and herds may pasture on its banks, with shepherds and herdsmen.

The lake scene, in which wilder ideas predominate, rejects these trivial appendages, or changes them for such as are more suited to its dignity. Flocks and herds are by no means unnatural appendages even of such a scene; but banditti, gypsies, soldiers, or other wild characters, are more accommodated to it.

In coast scenery, if its character be preserved distinct, the ideas of grandeur rise very high. Winding bays, views of the ocean, promontories, rocks of every kind and form, estuaries, mouths of rivers, islands, shooting peninsulas, extensive sand banks; and all, these adorned occasionally with castles, light-houses, distant towns, towers, harbours, all the furniture of navigation, and other incidental circumstances which belong to sea coasts, form a rich collection of grand and picturesque materials.

To all these circumstances of grandeur in the coast view (to which

VOL. VI. NO. XXV.

the lake has little pretension), we may add those vast masses of light and shade which the ocean exhibits; and which often spreading many leagues unbroken and undisturbed, yet gradually fading away, give instances of grandeur which no land illumination can reach. To this we may add the brilliant hues, which are continually playing on the surface of a quiet ocean. Beautiful, no doubt, in a high degree, are those glimmering tints which often invest the tops of mountains: but they are mere corruscations compared with these marine colours, which are con tinually varying and shifting into each other in all the vivid splendour of the rainbow, through the space often of several leagues.

To these grand ideas, which ac company the stillness of the ocean, we may add the sublimity of storms. A raging sea, no doubt, breaks the uniformity of light and colour, and destroys, of course, that grandeur in the ocean which arises from the continuation of the same idea. But it substitutes another species of grandeur in its room. It substitutes immense masses of water, rising in some parts to an awful height, and sinking in others into dark abysses; rolling in vast volumes clashing with each other; then breaking and flashing light in every direction. this is among the grandest exhibitions that water presents.

For the Literary Magazine,

GHESS, AN ANECDOTE.

All

THE following little incident is related by the famous Stillingfleet, at that time dean of St. Paul's, and afterwards bishop of Worcester:

When I was fellow of St. John's, I played much at chess; and being fond of it, I attained, as I thought, some degree of excellence; till at length, from beating all the young men at Cambridge who played with me, I began to think myself the best

chess player in England. It happened, on a visit to a friend in London, that an old German officer made one of the party. After dinner we went to different amusements, and it was proposed that he and I should play a game at chess, as we were both known to be chess players. I modestly threw my glove; but my heart beat with a full assurance of triumph. I soon, however, perceived, that my antagonist opened his game in a manner to which I had not been accustomed. This roused all my attention. But while I was defending myself in one quarter (for I quickly found I had to act only on the defensive) I received a severe blow on another. And while I was endeavouring to recover my disordered affairs, the enemy broke in upon me, and shamefully defeated me, without giving me an opportunity of display. ing one instance of my prowess. I was convinced, however, that all this mischief had befallen me from too great confidence, and an incautious manner of opening the game. I begged another trial: but it ended in the same disgrace. My antagonist, by this time, was fully apprized what a hero he had to deal with; and, exulting in his success, desired me to fix upon any chamber on the board I pleased, and use all my strength merely to defend that single post: he engaged to attack no other. But in spite of all my endeavours he gave me check mate upon that very spot. Nay, he did it repeatedly; for my shame was now turned into admiration. I sat down therefore contented, and endeavoured to console myself by forming the disgrace I had suffered into a lesson against presumption.

I cannot, in return, said I, sir, tell you a story of my prowess at chess; but if you will give me leave, I will tell you one of my perseverance.

I played a game with a gentleman at my own lodgings, and was victorious. You have taken me, said he, rather inopportunely to-day; but if you will be vacant on Thursday, I shall be this way, and will demand

satisfaction. Accordingly on Thursday he came about eleven o'clock; and by the time we had played three games, two of which I had won, his horses came to the door. I cannot leave the matter thus, said he; if you can set any little matter before me, we will go on. Two games more were played, when, in the midst of the third, a bit of roasted mutton appeared: and by the time it was cold, I had defeated him again. I was now four or five games before him. Our intercourse, therefore, with the mutton was short; and we went to work again. I was still victorious, when the horses returned at six. This is provoking, said he, I cannot leave the matter thus. Can I have a bed at the inn? His orders to his servant now were, not to bring the horses till they were sent for. This was a melancholy note to me, fatigued, as I was already, beyond measure. However, as I was under some obligations to the gentleman, and in my own lodgings, I had no choice. The night ended late, and the morning began early. Breakfast came, the barber came, dinner came, all was negligently treated, except the main point. I sighed inwardly, and hoped this visitation would now soon have an end. It lasted, however, all that day; and I was still two games before my antagonist; though I had played as carelessly as I could, without discovering my indifference. As the evening drew on, and I expected every moment to hear a message sent for the horses, I was shocked with his telling me we could not part on these unequal terms. As the next day was Saturday, and he must of necessity, he said, then finish, he would try his fortune once more. So we continued nailed to our board, till a late hour on Friday night; and began again before breakfast, on Saturday morning. Towards the close of the day, our accounts differed in one game. But I was too complaisant to dispute the matter; so the horses were sent for, and I was delivered from such a trial of my patience, as I never before experienced.

For the Literary Magazine.

SHYLOCK VINDICATED.

EVERY body knows the story of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice," and how heavy a stigma the poet has fixed upon poor Shylock, and through him on his whole nation. The resemblance of Shakespeare's story to the following authentic relation will strike every reader, while the circumstances in which the two stories differ will serve, in some degree, to vindicate the poor Jews from the heavy load of prejudice under which they la bour.

It was currently reported in Rome (says Gregorio Læti, in his Life of Pope Sixtus V), that Drake had taken and plundered St. Domingo, in Hispaniola, and carried off an immense booty. This account came in a private letter to Paul Secchi, a very considerable merchant in the city, who had large concerns in those parts, which he had insured. Upon receiving this news, he sent for the insurer, Sampson Ceneda, a Jew, and acquainted him with it. The Jew, whose interest it was to have such a report thought false, gave many reasons why it could not possibly be true; and at last worked himself up into such a passion that he said, "I'll lay you a pound of my flesh it is a lie." Such sort of wagers, it is well known, are often proposed by people of strong passions, to convince others that are incredulous or obstinate. Nothing is more common than to say, "I'll lay my life on it," "I'll forfeit my life if it is not true," &c.

Secchi, who was of a fiery, hot temper, replied, “If you like it, I'll lay you 1000 crowns against a pound of your flesh that it is true." The Jew accepted the wager, and articles were immediately executed betwixt them, the substance of which was, "That if Secchi won, he should himself cut out the flesh, with a sharp knife, from whatever part of the Jew's body he pleased." Unfortunately for the Jew, the truth of

the account was soon after confirmed, by other advices from the West Indies, which threw him almost into distraction, especially when he was informed that Secchi had solemnly sworn he would compel him to exact literal performance of his contract, and was determined to cut a pound of flesh from that part of his body which it is not necessary to mention.

Upon this he went to the governor of Rome, and begged he would interpose in the affair, and use his authority to prevail with Secchi to accept of 1000 pistoles, as an equivalent for a pound of flesh; but the governor, not daring to take upon him to determine a case of so uncommon a nature, made a report of it to the pope, who sent for them both, and having heard the articles read, and informed himself perfectly of the whole affair from their own mouths, said, "When contracts are made, it is just they should be fulfilled, as we intend this shall. Take a knife, therefore, Secchi, and cut a pound of flesh from any part you please of the Jew's body. We would advise you, however, to be very careful; for if you cut but a scruple or a grain more or less than your due, you shall certainly be hanged. Go, and bring hither a knife and a pair of scales, and let it be done in our presence."

The merchant, at these words, began to tremble like an aspen-leaf, and throwing himself at his holiness's feet, with tears in his eyes protested, "It was far from his thoughts to insist upon the performance of his contract;" and being asked by the pope what he demanded, answered, "Nothing, holy father, but your benediction, and that the articles may be torn in pieces." Then, turning to the Jew, he asked him, "What he had to say, and whether he was content?" The Jew answered, "He thought himself extremely happy to come off at so easy a rate, and that he was perfectly content." "But we are not content," replied Sixtus, "nor is there sufficient satisfaction made to our