In Grecian language deigns at first to speak:
By slow degrees her ruder tongue she taught
To tell the wonders that her valour wrought;
And her historic host, with envious eye,
View in their glittering van a Greek ally.

Thou Friend of Scipio! vers'd in War's alarms *)!
Torn from thy wounded country's struggling arms!
And doom'd in Latian bosoms to instill

Thy moral virtue, and thy martial skill!
Pleas'd, in researches of elaborate length,
To trace the fibres of the Roman strength!
O highly perfect in each nobler part,
The Sage's wisdom, and the Soldier's art!
This richer half of Grecian praise is thine:
But o'er thy style the slighted Graces pine,
And tir'd Attention tails thro' many a maze,
To reach the purport of thy doubtful phrase:
Yet large are his rewards, whose toils engage
To clear the spirit of thy cloudy page:
Like Indian fruit, its rugged rind contains
Those milky sweets that pay the searcher's pains.

Rome's haughty genius, with exulting claim,
Points to her rivals of the Grecian name!
Sententious Sallust leads her lofty train;
Clear, tho' concise, elaborately plain,
Poising his scale of words with frugal care,
Nor leaving one superfluous atom there!
Yet well displaying, in a narrow space,

Truth's native strength, and Nature's easy grace;

*) Polybius, born at Megalopolis in Arcadia, 205 years before Christ. He was trained to arms under the celebrated Philopmen, and is described by Plutarch carrying the urn of that great, but unfortunate General in his funeral procession. He rose to considerable honours in his own country, but was compelled to visit Rome with ather principal Achæans, who were delaised there as pledges for the submission of their state. — From hence he became intimate with the second Scipio Africanus, and was present at the demolition of Carthage. He saw Corinth also plundered by Mummius, and then passing through the cities of Achaja, reconciled them to Rome. He extended his travels into Egypt, France and Spain, that he might avoid such geographical errors as he had censured in other writers of history. to, the age of 82.

He lived

Skill'd to detect, in tracing Action's course,
The hidden motive, and the human source.
His lucid brevity the palm has, won,
By Rome's decision, from Olorus' Son.

Of mightier spirit, of majestic frame,

With powers proportion'd to the Roman fame,
When Rome's fierce eagle his broad wings unfurl'd,
And shadow'd with his plumes the subject world,
In bright pre-eminence, that Greece might own,
Sublimer Livy claims th' Historic throne;

With that rich Eloquence, whose golden light
Brings the full scene distinctly to the sight;
That zeal for truth, which interest cannot bend,
That fire, which freedom ever gives her friend.
Immortal artist of a work supreme!

Delighted Rome beheld, with proud esteem,
Her own bright image, of Colossal size,
From thy long toils in purest marble rise,
But envious Time, with a malignant stroke,
This sacred statue into fragments broke:
In Lethe's stream its nobler portions sunk,
And left futurity the wounded trunk.
Yet, like the matchless, mutilated frame *),
To which great Angelo bequeath'd his name,
This glorious ruin, in whose strength we find
The splendid vigour of the Sculptor's mind,
In the fond eye of Admiration still
Rivals the finish'd forms of modern skill.

Next, but, O Livy! as unlike to thee,
As the pent river to th' expanding sea,
Sarcastic Tacitus, abrupt and dark,
In moral anger forms the keen remark;
Searching the soul with microscopic power,

To mark the latent worm that mars the flower,

*) The trunk of a statue of Hercules by Apollonius the Athenian, universally called the Torso of Michael Angelo, from its having been the favourite study of that divine artist.

He is said to have made out the compleat figure in a little model of way, still preserved at Florence, and representing Hercules reposing after his labours. The figure is sitting in a pensive posture, with an elbow resting on the knee.

His Roman voice, in base degenerate days,
Spoke to Imperial pride in freedom's praise;
And with indignant hate, severely warm,
Shew'd to gigantic Guilt his ghastly form!
There are, whose censures to his style assign
A subtle spirit, rigid and malign;

Which magnified each monster that he drew,
And gave to darkest vice a deeper hue;
Yet his strong pencil shews the gentlest heart,
In one sweet sketch of biographic art,
Whose softest tints, by filial love combin'd,
Form the pure image of his father's mind.

O blest Biography! thy charms of yore,
Historic truth to strong Affection bore,
And fost'ring Virtue gave thee as thy dower,
Of both thy Parents the attractive power;
To win the heart, the wavering thought to fix,
And fond delight with wise instruction mix.
First of thy votaries, peerless, and alone,
Thy Plutarch shines, by moral beauty known:
Enchanting Sage! whose living lessons teach,
What heights of Virtue human efforts reach.
Tho' oft thy pen, eccentrically wild,

Ramble, in Learnings various maze beguil'd;
Tho' in thy style no brilliant graces shine,
Nor the clear conduct of correct design,
Thy every page is uniformly bright
With mild Philanthropy's diviner light.
Of gentlest manners, as of mind elate,
Thy happy genius had the glorious fate
To regulate, with Wisdom's soft controul,
The strong ambition of a Trajan's soul.
But O how rare benignant virtue springs,
In the blank bosom of despotic kings!

Thou bane of liberal knowledge! Nature's curse!

Parent of Misery! pamper'd Vice's nurse!
Thou who canst bind, by thy petrific breath,
The soul of Genius in the trance of death!
Unbounded Power! beneath thy baleful sway,
The voice of Hist'ry sinks in dumb decay,

Still in thy gloomy reign one martial Greek,
In Rome's corrupted language dares to speak:

Mild Marcellinus! free from servile awe *)!
A faithful painter of the woes he saw;
Forc'd by the meanness of his age to join
Adulterate colours with his just design!
The slighted Attic Muse no more supplies
Her pencil, dipt in Nature's purest dies;
Add Roman emulation, at a stand,

Drops the blurr'd' pallet from her palsy'd hand.

But while Monastic Night, with gathering shades,

The ruin'd realm of History invades ;

While, pent in Constantine's ill-fated walls,
The mangled form of Roman grandeur falls;
And like a gladiator on the sand,

Props his faint body with a dying hand;

While savage Turks, or the fierce Sons of Thor,
Wage on the arts a wild Titanian war;'
While manly knowledge hides his radiant head,
As Jove in terror from the Titans fled;
See! in the lovely charms of female youth,
A second Pallas guards the throne of Truth!
And, with Comnena's royal name imprest **),
The zone of Beauty binds her Attic vest!
Fair star of Wisdom! whose 'unrival'd light
Breaks thro' the stormy cloud of thickest night;
Tho' in the purple of proud misery nurst,
From those oppressive bands thy spirit burst;
Pleas'd in thy public labours, to forget
The keen domestic pangs of fond regret!

Pleas'd to preserve, from Time's destructive rage,
A Father's virtues in thy faithful page!

*) Ammianus Marcellinus, a Grecian and a soldier," as le calls himself, flourished, under Constantius and the succeeding emperors, as late as Theodosius. He served under Julian in the East, and wrote an History from the reign of Nerva to the death of Valens in 31 books, of which 18 only remain.

**) Anna Comnena was the eldest daughter of the emperor Alexius Comnenus, and the empress Irene, born 1085. She wrote an History of her father, in 15 books, first published very. imperfectly by Hoeschelius, in 1610, and since printed in the collection of the Byzantine Historians, with a diffusive and incorrect latin version by the Jesuit Possinus, but with excellent notes by the learned Du Fresne.

Too pure of soul to violate, or hide
Th' Historian's duty in the Daughter's pride!
Tho' base Oblivion long with envious hand
Hid the fair volume which thy virtue plann'd,
It shines, redeem'd from Ruin's darkest hour,
A wond'rous monument of female power;
While conscious Histry, careful of thy fame
Ranks in her Attic band thy filial name,
And sees, on Glory's stage, thy graceful mien
Close the long triumph of her ancient scene!

SHERIDAN.

Der Leser findet die Biographie dieses Schriftstellers im

ersten Theil des Handbuchs, Seite 556. Wir haben die vortreffliche Komödie desselben, the School for Scandal, ganz in unsere Sammlung aufgenommen, theils weil sie zu den vorzüglichsten in der Englischen Literatur gehört, theils weil es unserer Meinung nach ungleich räthlicher und leichter ist, ein ganzes dramatisches Stück mit dem Anfänger zu lesen, als ihm aus mehreren Bruchstücke vorzulegen. Eben diese Gründe bestimmten uns auch, die oben mitgetheilte Tragödie M. beth von Shakspeare in ihrer ganzen Länge einzurücken.

THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL. A Comedy in five Acts.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE,