N° 5. Of this proposed edition of Chaucer, a part has been well executed in the elaborate edition of the Canterbury Tales, by Mr. Tyrwhitt, and in the copious life of the poet by Mr.

books, which abound with errors both verbal and metrical. The version is very unequal; numerous passages are remarkable for little else than slovenly diction and careless versification, and several, on the contrary, are faithfully rendered, and successfully emulate the beauties of the original. As the book is extremely scarce, two or three specimens will, I trust, be deemed acceptable.

Not distant from the christian camp arose,
Amidst the wide and solitary vales,
A forest vast, crowded with ancient trees,
Whose horrid arms did cast a deadly shade:
There, when the sun in mid-day glory shines,
Uncertain, faded, dismal is the light:
Such as appears within the clouded heav'n,
When ev'ning dun with gath'ring darkness strives;
But when the sun retires, in ocean's waves
Quenching his fiery orb, then clouds, and night,
Horror, and ten-fold shade, obscure the place,
Resembling hell, and cover mortal eyes
With blindness deep, and with sad terror shake
The guilty soul: thither no shepherd brings
His tender sheep; no herdsman drives his beeves
To pasture in the gloom; no traveller there
Or pilgrim enters, but at distance turns

His steps away; so awful seems the wood.

"

Ismeno, horrid Mage!

thither went

Thrice to the east he turn'd his baleful eyes,

Godwin; but there still remains the greater portion of his works untouched by any skilful editor; for neither Speight nor Urry can be deemed at all competent to the task which they undertook.

And westward thrice where sets the sacred sun;
Thrice wav'd that pow'rful wand that calls the ghosts
Back to their bodies, rising from their tombs
In dreadful apparition; thrice the ground
He struck with unshod feet, and utter'd thus
His curses dire, with accents terrible.

Hear, hear, ye sprites that from the golden stars
Down to the gulph of hell precipitate
Were, by the stroke of roaring thunder, driv'n:
And ye, who rove inhabitants of air,
And tempests raise, and storms: hear, all ye fiends
In Tartarus, who torture damned ghosts,

The ministers of everlasting pains :
Ye dwellers of Avernus, you I call:
And thou, great monarch of th' infernal realms,
Receive in charge this forest.

Canto 13th, line 10.

1

There welleth from the rock a silver spring
Sparkling and clear, whose waters pure entice
The thirsty guest to drink; yet such the pow'r
Lies in the liquor cold, such poison strange,
The smallest taste of that transparent wave
Inebriates every sense, and all the soul
Transports with sudden joy: the man begins
Unusual merriment, nor ceases once
From that vast laughter, 'till he breathes his last.
Far from these deadly streams with loathing turn
Your thirsty lips, nor let the faithless maids
• You next shall meet, upon the verdant bank

By the indefatigable industry of our literary antiquaries, much light has lately been thrown upon the state of our language anterior to the age of Chaucer; its mutations have been traced, its history ascertained, its poetry commented upon, and of course the diction and versification of Chaucer, their merits and defects, better understood and defined. The application of these resources to a new edition of the entire works of the venerable bard, would, there is little doubt, be well received by the public.

N° 7. A Collection of Letters translated from the modern writers would be, if it was meant to include the epistles of those who flourished during the revival of literature, a most interesting production. A happy selection from the correspondence of Petrarch, Boccacio, Politian,

Entice you, with their syren songs; tho' sweet
And wanton is their voice, tho' fair their form,
Smiling in joy, and glowing with delight.

Canto 14th, line 576.

A ruin now, imperial Carthage lies,
That scarce the remnants of her palaces
Surpass the weeds in height; so cities fall,
So perish kingdoms, and their pride and pomp
Are buried in the sands, and grass conceals
Their ruins. Wherefore then should man repine
That he is mortal, or be proud of life
Whose breath is fleeting air?

Canto 15th, line 156.

Erasmus, Bembus, Sadoletus, Flaminius, &c. could not fail to convey a vast fund of literary anecdote and instruction.

N° 22. A History of the Revival of Learning in Europe, upon the plan described in this catalogue, no individual, however extensive his erudition might be, could hope to execute. So gigantic is the scale indeed on which it is drawn, that an association of the most learned in this or any other country would alone be competent to the undertaking. The scheme in some degree corresponded with the powers of Johnson, and was familiar to the mighty mind of Bacon. "Argumentum non aliud est," says he, " quam ut ex omni memoria repetatur quæ doctrinæ et artes quibus mundi ætatibus et regionibus floruerint. Earum antiquitates, progressus, etiam peragrationes per diversus orbis partes (migrant enim scientiæ non secus ac populi) rursus declinationes, obliviones instaurationes commemorentur. Observatur simul per singulas artes, inventionis causa et origo; tradendi mos et disciplina'; colendi et exercendi ratio et instituta. Adjiciantur etiam sectæ et controversiæ maxime celebres, quæ homines doctos tenuerunt calumniæ quibus patuerunt, laudes et honores quibus decorati sunt. Notentur auctores præcipui, libri prestantiores, scholæ, successiones, academiæ, societates,

collegia, ordines, denique omnia quæ ad statum literarum spectant.*

It is within the scope, however, of a scholar of judgment, copious reading, and talents, to select the most splendid and interesting portions of the subject, to trace in a general way the causes of its progress or obstruction, and to enliven the whole with biographic detail. On this plan during the last century Collins and Warton published proposals for a History of the Revival of Learning; but it was left for Mr. Roscoe to carry into execution a part of the design in his Lives of Lorenzo de Medici and Leo the tenth. These productions, however, valuable as they are, have not filled up the outline even of the second scheme of composition; an express work on the enquiry, unmixed with extensive political discussion, the detail of military crime or private depravity, remains still to be achieved; nor have we reason to despair that the comprehensive plan of Bacon and Johnson shall not be realized, if we reflect that, among the Italians, the celebrated Tiraboschi has, as far as Italian literature is concerned, approached nearly to the model.

That Johnson failed to execute any of the numerous projects which his catalogue had sketched, will be readily forgiven when we reflect, that he • De Augment. Scient. Lib. 2, cap. 4.