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Sackbut with fife, the cymbal with the gong-
Earth shook, and roll'd the rattling sounds along.

• When, on a sudden, ceas'd the din of war,
And breath'd a softer symphony from far.
Wide flew the castle gates, and pour'd amain
Gay palfrey'd dames and damsels o'er the plain:
In sendal was the shining band array'd,
And at their head the merry minstrels play'd.
Foremost their empress rode, upon a steed
Of Araby, bedeck'd with gorgeous weed.
He, pacing in his pride, so lightly trod,
His nimble hoofs did scantly print the sod.
Held by a jesse of silk and silver twist,
A tarcelin sate perk'd upon her fist.
Or were it skill, or rather careless hap,
Upon her head she wore nor hood nor cap,
To shrowd her crisped locks; but only round
Her brows, a golden coronet was bound;

So that, all unconfin'd, her yellow hair

Stream'd with the wind, and wanton'd here and there.

Partenopex was among the first in the lists, yet not quite the first; for, after some had waved their claim, there still remained a certain Soldan, of stout limbs, and terrible in the way of fighting. Magic set aside, one cannot help thinking he would have had some chance in fair combat against the young Count of Blois : but a knight, named Sir Coursol, suggested, with much gallantry, that, as a lady was in the case, it would be fair to give beauty, as well as prowess, some share in the success; and proposed a stripping-match between the two worthies. All assented to this most reasonable scheme; and each, laying aside his arms, presents himself en deshabille to the empress's inspection. Independently of prejudice, she would naturally prefer Partenopex to a grim Saracen and the poem concludes with their legal union.

There is a good deal of interest in this poem, so far as it arises from frequent change of situation; but not much of that which depends upon character. We think it executed with great taste and spirit, as the extracts which we have given will exemplify. Others might be found, at least equally good; but we have no room for their insertion. The leading blemish of this poem, is an ill judged affectation of old language. Some mixture of obsolete words is sanctioned by Aristotle and Cicero; and, to come more home, gives a poetical cast to the language of Dryden, in his Fables; and to that of some later writers. Its effect, however, has chiefly depended upon their rare introduction, and upon their expressiveness in sound or sense. But Mr Rose's diction has no merit of this kind; his words are neither peculiarly appropriate, nor dignified;

they

they are simply old; priscis memorata Catonibus atque Cethegis. Indeed they have no appearance of having suggested themselves naturally to the author's mind; they want that primary excellence of forcible expression, the intimate union of thought and language, which can never exist, where a man translates his first words into a foreign dialect. It is very possible to think in Latin, or any other tongue which the writer knows thoroughly; but we can hardly conceive that a motley dialect of Chaucer, Spenser, and other old ballads, grafted on a modern versification, could be familiar to any one's understanding. In a man of Mr Rose's taste and genius, this perverse deviation is quite unaccountable: he loses a great deal in the popularity of his poem, and can gain nothing but that which is poor praise, the credit of knowing a few terms out of a glossary. Every page would furnish proofs of this charge. The term child, which is continually applied to Partenopex, must deceive most readers. Child, is certainly used in some ballads as an appellation of dignity; but it never occurs in Chaucer; and rarely, not more than about four times, in Spenser. There is no beauty in the term which justifies its constant recurrence: from the age of Partenopex, many would think it was meant in its obvious sense. Valet, p. 6. is exceptionable on the same account.-Certes, I cast not here to tell, p. 16.-Wise of rede and stiff in stower, p. 18.Grace his speech with goodliest garniture, p. 19. This is strange language, surely; and what shall we say of the following couplet?

A parlous wit she had, and could of lore, And eke of ancient tales, a countless store. ' Parlous is not English of any age; it is a corruption of perilous; or, as we should say in a more modern vulgarism, terrible. Could will perplex ninety-nine readers out of a hundred: the last will guess that it is the Anglo-Saxon word for knew. It should, however, have been spelt, coud; for, though it would be gross pedantry to spell the common auxiliary verb in that way, yet, if we are to take the old sense, we should have the old orthography likewise. Sightless crew, does not mean invisible, as the author wishes it to do, but blind. In p. 73. Horizon is turned into a dactyl. Of this verbal uncouthness, occasioned by an excessive use of obsolete language, there is a vast deal throughout the poem; and perhaps there is here and there some want of facility, and some flatness of diction, independent of that cause. But it is a work of great elegance; and, at least, equal to the Fabliaux translated by the late Mr Way; which indeed are liable to the same objection which we have made to Mr Rose's diction. No objection can, however, be made, and much praise must be given to the Notes upon this poem; they are lively without pert

ness,

ness, and show a very judicious use of extensive knowledge in the history and customs, as well as romantic works, of the middle ages. We would especially recommend that, in which he compares the leading circumstance of his story, the separation of the lovers in consequence of Partenopex's disobedience, with several tales of romance, tracing it to Apuleius, and, finally, to a much more antient and venerable source. Those who have read the beautiful fable of Cupid and Psyche in the author last named, will already, perhaps, have recognized its resemblance to this French story; a resemblance much too close to be accidental; and which proves that Apuleius, either directly or indirectly, furnished materials for these fictions. As the oriental tales, such as that of the three Calendars, have only a general similarity, while the very circumstances in that of Cupid and Psyche are, copied, we make no question that the Latin was the immediate source of our story. After a minute collation of these, Mr Rose proceeds.

The allegory veiled in the Latin fable, which seems, however, to be of oriental extraction, may afford a key to the various stories which I have in this place assembled. I shall, therefore, first give the observations of Bryant on this subject, and afterwards venture some suggestions which have sprung from a consideration of the tale in Apuleius, as well as a collation of the other stories to which it seems to have any striking degree of affinity. The most pleasing emblem among the Egyptians, was exhibited under the character of Psuche, Vuxn. This was, originally, no other than the Aurelia or Butterfly; but, in after times, was represented as a lovely female child, with the beautiful wings of that insect. The Aurelia, after its first stage as an eruca, or worm, lies, for a season, in a manner dead, and is enclosed in a sort of coffin. In this state of darkness it remains all the winter; but at the return of spring, it bursts its bonds, and comes out with new life, and in the most beautiful attire. The Egyptians thought this a very proper picture of the soul of man, and of the immortality to which it aspired. But they made it more particularly an emblem of Osiris, who, having been confined in an ark or coffin, and in a state of death, at last quitted his prison, and enjoyed a renewal of life. This circumstance of the second birth is continually described under the character of Psuche; and, as the whole was owing to divine love, of which Eros was an emblem, we find this person often introduced as a concomitant of Psuche. They are generally described as accidentally meeting and enjoying a pleasing interview, which is attended with embraces and salutes, and every mark of reconciliation and favour. (Analysis of Ancient Mythology, vol. II. p. 388.)

Such are the observations of a writer, to whom few will deny the praise of learning and ingenuity, set off by the graces of a style at once simple and elegant. But it does not seem to require much learning, or great ingenuity, to develop more of secret meaning in

the

the story of which he treats, than what he has suggested; unless any conjecture of mine, on this point, may be considered as anticipated in the vague allusion cloaked in the preceding paragraph of this solution.

• The fable of Apuleius, then, appears to me to contain also the story of the temptation of man, his transgression, fall, repentance, death, and subsequent reception into the favour of the Godhead ; all, indeed, somewhat discoloured by poetic fiction. Psyche is admitted to a union with Eros or Cupid; but prohibited from attempting to see him. She is induced, by the false suggestions of others, to infringe the command. The loss of the fellowship of the Godhead is the first penalty of her crime. She humbles herself, and repents; suffers much misery, and is forced to descend to the shades below; but is at length restored to the love of Cupid, and gifted with immortality. Is not every leading trait in the divine relation before referred to, figured in this beautiful allegory? Compare, again, this part of sacred history with the story in the Persian Tales; we shall find a prohibition of a similar nature, a similar sort of transgression, punishment, penitence, and final reconciliation. We shall also see, with the occasional exception of the last incident, the samé striking points of resemblance in the other stories, of which I have before given an analysis. '

In a very good note on the fairies, p. 47, we find an inference drawn from the resemblance of their name to that of the Persian Peris, the Persian letter P being, in the Arabic, changed into F.' Without knowing how this may be, we will venture to assert, that this etymon is quite fallacious. From the Italian fata is derived the French fee, and the English fay; from fee is formed the word féerie, which we have made faëry, signifying things belonging to, or connecting with fays; as, the land of faëry, the queen of faëry. By degrees this noun of quality was corrupted into a noun personal; and fays were, improperly, termed fairies. As we have thus accounted for the letter R, which forms the chief link between Peris and Fairies, we suppose it will be admitted that the derivation falls to the ground. There is nothing so deceitful as etymology: if a similarity of names and attributes were conclusive, we might bring our Devils themselves from the Dives of the East. But Mr Rose's proofs of the Oriental origin of fairyism are more decisive than likeness of name, and confirm the opinion we have stated above, as to the fountain whence most romantic fictions have flowed; not so much, we guess, through the Crusaders, though they certainly contributed their share, but, in a greater degree, by means of that idle and lying horde of pilgrims and palmers, whom curiosity and restlessness, more than devotion, drew in thousands to the Holy Land. Perhaps, too, the Jews were somewhat concerned in this communication of fables between the East and West.

The

The Red King, subjoined to Partenopex, might remind a reader of the Cloud-King, Elf-King, and other roitelets, who have been set over the government of goblins by Mr Lewis. It relates, however, to no less substantial a person than William Rufus, and his death by the arrow of Sir Walter Tyrrel. Mr Rose has made use of, a legend in Matthew Paris, wherein a certain monk dreams that the king entered a church, and gnawed the flesh from the crucifix. This is as little sublime as it is elegant, and not susceptible of a good poetical dress. But the greater part of the poem or ballad, we know not which to say, is very spirited. We quote the introductory stanzas as a specimen.

The Red King lies in Malwood-Keep;

To drive the deer o'er lawn and steep,
He's bown'd him with the morn.

His steeds are swift, his hounds are good;
The like, in covert or high wood,

Were never cheer'd with horn.

And he hath hawks all fowl to take,
By field, by forest, or by lake :
Right royal is his geer.
Among his merry-men is not
A simple groom, but by the slot

Can track the stricken deer.

But hound and brach are kennell'd all,
His merry-men are fast in hall,

His hawks are on the perch :
For they have flown at high and low;
And his good dogs have chas'd a doe
From Knowl to Brockhurst church.

• Red William's bow'r was closely barr'd,
His knights without kept watch and ward,
All clad in hunter's green :

The horn about their necks was hung,
And at their sides the quiver swung,
With store of arrows keen.

In baudricks of the grey wolf's hide,
Their faulchions strait and short were tied,
And mantles gay they wore;

Sharp knives were in their girdles stuck,
Hafted with antler of the buck,
Or tusk of Dennay boar.

The watchman on the castle top

Almost might hear an acorn drop,

It was so calm and still;

Might hear the stags in Hocknell groan,

VOL. XIII. NO. 26.

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