dross was not an inappropriate emblem of the exchanges made from time to time by our poor ancestors; but happily their dross has at last been converted into gold; or that which is more precious than even fine gold!(H) in which the origin of Druidism is discussed (p. 70). An earlier perusal would probably have deterred me from the prosecution of my labours, but does not make me regret them. VOL. III. NOTES. (A).-PAGE 164. LUCAN AND BURKE. LUCAN's works seem to have been very highly esteemed by our British Polybius, Burke! "But what is liberty," asks that profound statesman, "without wisdom, without virtue? It is the greatest of all possible evils; for it is folly, vice, and madness, without tuition or restraint. Those who know what virtuous liberty is, cannot bear to see it disgraced by incapable heads, on account of their having high-sounding words in their mouths. Grand swelling sentiments of liberty, I am sure I do not despise. They warm the heart; they enlarge and liberalize our minds; they animate our courage in a time of conflict. Old as I am, I read the fine raptures of Lucan and Corneille with pleasure." Reflections on the French Revolution-Tac. Ann. xvI., 17. See also Murphy's Translation and note. Burke's familiarity with Lucan's writings, further appears by his adoption of this poet's vehement language to express his own heart-rending affliction, at the bereavement of his son. "Human sorrowing is too limited,” said he, "too hedged in by the interruptions of society and the calls of life, for the greatness of such a loss. I could almost exclaim with Cornelia, when she bewailed Pompey, 'Turpe mori post te solo non posse dolore.' 'Tis vile one cannot die of grief alone. (Phars. Lib. 9, v. 108.) Life of Mackintosh, vol. 2, p. 94. (B).-PAGE 167. PUDENS'S PANEGYRIC ON LUCAN'S PHARSALÍA. Among all the writers of antiquity, none ever pourtrayed mental or moral grandeur with such a bold and masterly hand, as Lucan. The anger of Achilles, as described by Homer, is the peevishness of a child, or the madness of a bully, compared with the irresistible might, the terrible activity, of Cæsar's soul; "intolerant of rest,* delighting to pave his way with ruins,† and thinking nothing done, while aught remained to be done!"‡ When wrapt in a plebeian cloak, he taps at the fisherman's cottage door, how does the greatness of his soul burst through his disguise, and his princely promises belie his beggar's garb !§ and when encountering all the fury of a tempestuous sea, how does his daring spirit rise above the storm? The versality, as well as unwearied activity of his mind, is also well exhibited, when, after the battle of Pharsalia, he throws off the excitement and turmoil of ambition, and expatiates on the beautiful antiquities of Troy ;¶ and, again, when amid all the voluptuousness of Cleopatra's court, he turns from the banquet to satiate his thirst for knowledge; and questions the source of the Nile, and begs to be instructed in the mysteries and religion of Egypt!** Such is Cæsar, as described by the poet; but what shall we say of Cato? Cæsar seemed superior to the elements; but Cato triumphs over fate! In Cato, Lucan has given a reality to the dreams of poets, and a life to the visions of Nunquam patiens pacis, &c."-Phars 11., v. 650. "gaudensque viam fecisse ruina."-Lib. 1., 150. "Nil actum credens, dum quid superesset agendum."—11. v. 667. quanquam plebeio tectus amictu, Indocilis privata loqui.” v., v. 538.—(Vid præc. et seq.) Phars. v., v. 659, cit. ante. Phars. IX., v. 150, et seq. ** Phars. x., v. 155, et seq. philosophers. Never did uninspired pen draw a character of such moral grandeur-such majesty of soul! With what propriety does Lucan introduce the reader to him at midnight; revolving public cares in his mind upon his sleepless pillow; "fearful for others, but not for himself;"* like one, who, as he expresses it, deems his life given him "not for himself, but for the world!" His speech on the oracle of Jupiter Ammon, is such a speech as never oracle yet gave ;‡ and a more sublime picture was never sketched by a poet, than Cato pursuing his dreadful march through the Lybian desert; not ordering his army forward, but leading them; and standing patiently with fevered lips at the new-found well, until the meanest soldier had drunk, before he slaked his own burning thirst.§ Yes, noble poet! these two characters of thine -sketched with equal boldness and discrimination, and coloured so glowingly and so gorgeously, exhibiting the mighty mind of Cæsar, and the majestic soul of Cato; the one grasping the world, and the other soaring above it; the one a hero, and the other a demigod; make all the characters of Homer dwindle into men! The poet having thus excited our astonishment at Cæsar, and our admiration of Cato, tries another chord of human passion on behalf of Pompey; namely, our sympathy: and his introducing him under the comparison of a dismantled tree, fixed in its own august dimensions, although denuded of its glory, effectually bespeaks it.|| + *Invenit insomni volventem publica cura Fata virum, casusque Urbis, cunctisque timentem, Hi mores, hæc duri immota Catonis Lib. IX., v. 564. Id. v. 380. § Idem., v. 587. Lib. I. v. 135. See Blair's remarks on this simile, and other parts of the poem, in his lectures on the Belles Lettres. Lest this short lived feeling should languish, he revives it again with a most touching description of Rome's idol leaving Italy; while his paternal shores, and indistinct mountains, vanish, irrevocably vanish, from his sight; and as his weary eyes close, the doleful vision of his deceased consort appears to him.* Again the poet throws a veil of conjugal tenderness over his weakness ; and draws a most affecting scene, when he contemplates removing Cornelia to a distance from the horrors and dangers of civil war.† Nor is it the least ingenious stroke, where, on the eve of the fatal conflict of Pharsalia, he dreams of his former greatness; and in his slumbers seems again to hear the plausive shouts of crowded theatres, and again to taste the glories of his former triumphs! How well does this usher in the sad reverse of fortune; which leaves her late favourite a ruined exile, pale, and careworn; his white hairs, and martial vest, disfigured with dust!§ I shall not notice his treacherous death, or simple funeral rites; as poetry could add nothing to the pathos of a fate, which drew tears from the eyes of his rival Cæsar. In all these instances, Lucan has wisely appealed to our commiseration; knowing that Pompey, being neither so great as Cæsar, nor so good as Cato, yet nevertheless, great and good, had no such claims on our wonder or admiration; and, therefore, must appeal to our sympathy. Such are the principal characters in the poem ; and certainly the poet's labours, as he modestly expresses Lib. III. ab initio. + Dum fovet amplexu gravidum Cornelia curis Pectus, et aversi petit oscula grata mariti: Humentes mirata genas, percussaque cæco Vulnere, non audet flentem deprendere magnum / &c. Lib. v. v. 357. Lib. VII. v. 7 et seq. § Lib. VIII. v. 55. |