For, unmoved, at its portal would WASHINGTON stand, And repulse, with his breast, the assaults of the thunder! His sword from the sleep Of its scabbard would leap, In vain thy cliffs, Hispania, lift the sky, And conduct with its point every flash to the deep! In vain, with naked breast, the storm defy His heart elate, with modest valour bold, In him beheld, with fond delight, conspire [fire. His equal mind so well could triumph greet, Of furious battle and of piercing sky: Five waning reigns had marked, in long decay, Oppress'd the valour of thy gallant race. No martial phalanx, led by veteran art, Illustrious MOORE, by foe and famine press'd, Yet by each soldier's proud affection bless'd, Unawed by numbers, saw the impending host, With front extending, lengthen down the coast. "Charge! Britons, charge!" the exulting chief exclaims: Swift moves the field; the tide of armour flames; And Fate's dark shafts in volley'd shadows flew. Immortal dead! with musing awe thy foes Tread not the hillock where thy bones repose! There, sacring mourner, see, Britannia spreads A chaplet, glistening with the tears she sheds; With burning censer glides around thy tomb, And scatters incense where thy laurels bloom; With rapt devotion sainted vigil keeps Shines with Religion, and with Glory weeps! Sweet sleep the brave! in solemn chant shall sound Celestial vespers o'er thy sacred ground! Long ages hence, in pious twilight seen, Shall choirs of seraphs sanctify thy green; At curfew-hour shall dimly hover there, And charm, with sweetest dirge, the listening air! With homage tranced, shall every pensive mind Weep, while the requiem passes on the wind! Till, sadly swelling Sorrow's softest notes, It dies in distance, while its echo floats! more applicable to the copy than the original. There was no freshness in PAINE'S writings; his subjects, his characters, his thoughts, were all commonplace and familiar. His mind was fashioned by books, and not by converse with the world. He had a brilliant fancy, and a singular command of language; but he was never content to be simple and natural. He endeavoured to be magnificent and striking; he was perpetually searching for conceits and extravagances; and in the multiplicity of his illustrations and ornaments, he was unintelligible and tawdry. From no other writer could so many instances of the false sublime be selected. He never spoke to the heart in its own language. PAINE wrote with remarkable facility. It is related of him by his biographers, that he had finished "Adams and Liberty," and exhibited it to some gentlemen at the house of a friend. His host pronounced it imperfect, as the name of WAS TON was omitted, and declared that he should not approach the sideboard, on which bottles of wine had just been placed, until he had written an ad ASHING ditional stanza. The poet mused for a pen, and wrote the followin perhaps, the best in the song: Should the tempest of war oversha Its bolts could ne'er rend Freed For, unmoved, at its portal would And repulse with his breast the His sword from the sl Of its scabbard woul And conduct, with its point, eve For ne'er shall the s He had agreed to write on the rebuilding of the I HODGKINSON, the mana evening, before it was to ed him for his negligen yet unwritten. “Pra PAINE, who was dinin "sit down and take a replied the manager: I will begin to drink side-table, and in tw address, which is o the Privy dous member place of clerk he retained unRichmond, where rs, on the twentyon to his ordinary irs, he reported the Supreme Court of Ap u volumes without asafterward, in connexion HT. He possessed in a affectionate respect of the wealth; and the House of ath, illustrated their regard ,ointing his eldest son to the so long held, and which has arter of a century longer con tant literary production of Mr. HOMER. This was his life-lang splendour of the Tale of Troy vish admiration, and the cultivaine mind enabled him but to see its beauty and grandeur. It is what time he commenced his verportion of it had been written in work was not completed until a wore he died. In his modest preface The author of this translation was in take it by fond admiration of the ced sublimity and beauty of the er of which peculiar graces of Ho us he conceives, been suficiently ܕܠ ܂ a the smooth and melodious rhymes s true that the fine poem of that which was the delight of my boywill always be read by me with unsure, appears in some parts more an even the work of HOMER himself; is less beautiful; and seldom does sublimity of the Greek." He had not 's-Iliad" until his own was considanced, and it does not appear that he hant he returns, bearing aloft ody spoils, some hostile hero slain, is fond mother's heart expands with joy!" iling with tearful eyes. To pity moved, EMBARKATION OF THE GREEKS. They, all day long, with hymns the god appeased; In praise of great Apollo-he rejoiced To hear that pleasant song-and when the sun WILLIAM MUNFORD. [Born, 1775. Died, 1825.] WILLIAM MUNFORD, the translator of the "Iliad," was born in the county of Mecklenburg, in Virginia, on the fifteenth of August, 1775. His father, Colonel ROBERT MUNFORD, was honourably distinguished in affairs during the Revolution, and afterward gave much attention to literature. Some of his letters, to be found in collections relating to the time, are written with grace and vigour, and he was the author of several dramatic pieces, of considerable merit, which, with a few minor poems, were published by his son, the subject of the present article, at Petersburg, in 1798. In his best comedy, "The Candidates," in three acts, he exposes to contempt the falsehood and corruption by which it was frequently attempted to influence the elections. In "The Patriots," in five acts, he contrasts, probably with an eye to some instance in Virginia, a real and pretended love of country. He had commenced a translation of OVID'S "Metamorphoses" into English verse, and had finished the first book, when death arrested his labours. He was a man of wit and humour, and was respected for many social virtues. His literary activity is referred to thus particularly, because I have not seen that the pursuits and character of the father, have been noticed by any of the writers upon the life of the son, which was undoubtedly in a very large degree influenced by them. WILLIAM MUNFORD was transferred from an academy at Petersburg, to the college of William and Mary, when only twelve years of age. In a letter written soon after he entered his fourteenth year, we have some information in regard to his situation and prospects. "I received from nature," he says, "a weakly constitution and a sickly body; and I have the unhappiness to know that my poor mother is in want. I am absent from her and my dear sisters. Put this in the scale of evil. I possess the rare and almost inestimable blessing of a friend in Mr. WYTHE and in JOHN RANDOLPH; I have a mother in whose heart I have a large share; two sisters, whose affections I flatter myself are fixed upon me; and fair prospects before me, provided I can complete my education, and am not destitute of the necessaries of life. Put these in the scale of good." This was a brave letter for a boy to write under such circumstances. Mr. WYTHE here referred to was afterward the celebrated chancellor. He was at this time professor of law in the college, and young MUNFORD lived in his family; and, sharing the fine enthusiasm with which the retired statesman regarded the literature of antiquity, he became an object of his warm affection. His design to translate the "Iliad" was formed at an early period, and it was probably encouraged by Mr. WYTHE, who per sonally instructed him in ancient learning. In 1792, when Mr. WYTHE was made chancellor, and removed to Richmond, Mr. MUNFORD accompanied him, but he afterward returned to the college, where he had graduated with high honours, to attend to the law lectures of Mr. ST. GEORGE TUCKER. In his twentieth year he was called to the bar, in his native county, and his abilities and industry soon secured for him a respectable practice. He rose rapidly in his profession, and in the public confidence, and in 1797 was chosen a member of the House of Delegates, in which he continued until 1802, when he was elected to the senate, which he left after four years, to enter the Privy Council, of which he was a conspicuous member until 1811. He then received the place of clerk of the House of Delegates, which he retained until his death. This occurred at Richmond, where he had resided for nineteen years, on the twentyfirst of July, 1825. In addition to his ordinary professional and political labours, he reported the decisions of the Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals, preparing six annual volumes without assistance, and four others, afterward, in connexion with Mr. W. W. HENRY. He possessed in a remarkable degree the affectionate respect of the people of the commonwealth; and the House of Delegate's, upon his death, illustrated their regard for his memory by appointing his eldest son to the office which he had so long held, and which has thus for nearly a quarter of a century longer continued in his family. The only important literary production of Mr. MUNFORD is his HOMER. This was his life-labour. The amazing splendour of the Tale of Troy captivated his boyish admiration, and the cultivation of his own fine mind enabled him but to see more and more its beauty and grandeur. It is not known at what time he commenced his version, but a large portion of it had been written in 1811, and the work was not completed until a short time before he died. In his modest preface he says: "The author of this translation was induced to undertake it by fond admiration of the almost unparalleled sublimity and beauty of the original; neither of which peculiar graces of HoMER's muse has, he conceives, been sufficiently expressed in the smooth and melodious rhymes of POPE. It is true that the fine poem of that elegant writer, which was the delight of my boyish days, and will always be read by me with uncommon pleasure, appears in some parts more beautiful than even the work of HOMER himself; but frequently it is less beautiful; and seldom does it equal the sublimity of the Greek." He had not seen CowPER'S "Iliad" until his own was considerably advanced, and it does not appear that he was ever acquainted with CHAPMAN's or SOTHE Br's. He wrote, too, before the Homeric poetry had received the attention of those German scholars whose masterly criticisms have given to its literature an entirely new character. But he had studied the "Iliad" until his own mind was thoroughly imbued with its spirit; he approached his task with the fondest enthusiasm; well equipped with the best learning of his day; a style fashioned upon the most approved models: dignified, various, and disciplined into uniform elegance; and a judicial habit of mind, joined with a consci EXTRACTS FROM THE "ILIAD." THE MEETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. To her the mighty HECTOR made reply: All thou hast said employs my thoughtful mind. Some heedless passer-by, and grief renew'd entious determination to present the living HOMER, as he was known in Greece, to the readers of our time and language. His manuscript remained twenty years in the possession of his family, and was finally published in two large octavo volumes, in Boston, in 1846. It received the attention due from our scholars to such a performance, and the general judgment appears to have assigned it a place near to CHAPMAN's and CoWPER's in fidelity, and between COWPER'S and POPE's in elegance, energy, and all the best qualities of an English poem. Then having fondly kiss'd his son beloved In glory chief. So! let him be renown'd The bloody spoils, some hostile hero slain, Smiling with tearful eyes. To pity moved, EMBARKATION OF THE GREEKS. When with food and drink They, all day long, with hymns the god appeased; To hear that pleasant song-and when the sun |