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comes of it. Ab! to ward it off the blow
-remains one. Separate from her,
to pass for the mere Jew.' The following is part of the first dialogue that passes between the lovers. • Recha. Where have you been? where you perhaps
Up-how d'ye call the mountain ?
p. 159, 160.
fortunate. Now I shall learn for certain, if 'tis truemaco
faid to me,
Temp. What! If the spot may yet be seen where Moses
No, no ; not that.
that I have seen, quite the reverse obtains.' p. 128-29. After some farther talk, equally innocent and edifying, the amorous Templar exclaims
só Temp. How truly said thy father, “ Do but know her!”
p. 130. The following soliloquy of the Wise Nathan, when the sultan leaves him to ponder on his query about the three religions, is in a loftier style, and is in the best and most sententious manner of the author.
Nath. I came prepared with cash-he asks truth. Truth?
p. 145-46. We suspect our readers have enough now; yet there are many choice phrases and images to be culled. Nathan, reproving pride, says,
• The iron pot would with a silver prong
be lifted from the fire.' The fair Recha comparing the truth of Christianity to weeds sown in her mind, says,
- Yet I must acknowledge
that makes me giddy--that half suffocates me.' And her handmaid, observing the agitation of her lover, observes with much elegance,
Something passes in him. It boils—but it must not boil over. Leave him The same personage conceiving Nathan to be somewhat severe in his farcasms, replies to him with great fpirit, by first saying,
Hit of, and then exclaiming, you are on the bite.' We suspect, however, that we are indebted to the taste of the translator for the dignity of these two repartees. There is one other phrase to which he seems particularly partial, and which has a very singular effect on his composition. He can by no chance be prevailed upon to use the verb ' to find,' without coupling it with the particle ' up;' thus, he says, 'We'll find thee up a staff;
go find me up the Jew;' . Will no one find me the Dervis up;'I wish to find him up that may convert her,' &c. &c.* The phrase occurs at least twenty times; and, whether it be bora rowed from the idiom of the original, or invented by the translator, must certainly be allowed to possess singular grace and animation.
We have now exhibited enough, we conceive, of this drama, to satisfy the greater part of our readers, that, in spite of fome late alarming symptoms, there is good reason for holding, that there is still a considerable difference between the national taste of Germany and of this country. The piece before us, has not only been a favourite acting play for these last six and twenty years, but it is considered as one of the best productions of their celebrated Lesling, who is vaunted as the purest and most elegant of their dramatic writers, and has long been the idol of those who cry down Schiller and Kotzebue as caricaturists. The translation is from the pen of Mr Taylor of Norwich, whose admirable versions of Lenore, and of the Iphigenia in Tauris, have placed him at the head of all our translators from that language.
ART. XII. English Lyrics. Third Edition. By William Smyth,
Fellow of St Peter's College, Cambridge. 12mo. pp. 150. London, 1806.
dently of a man of refined taste and amiable dispositions. The character of the poetry is delicacy rather than force ; ten
derness rather than enthusiasm ; and a sort of contemplative morality, somewhat sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,' instead of the strong emotions and lofty conceptions of the bolder lyric. The author holds dalliance with the Muse, but is not possessed by her ; he rather guides his genius, than is impelled by it, and stands too much in dread of faults, to attain many of the greater beauties. There is nothing of narrative, and very little of character or manners in his volume. It is made
of dissections of the finer feelings, reflections on innocent unhappiness, and allegorical sketches of the passions by which life is governed. The composition is sometimes enlivened by the beautiful workings of fancy, and sometimes debased by the affectation of unnecessary refinement. In short, if the reader can form to himself: the idea of a middle style, between the capricious prettiness of Shenstone, and the bold and abstract, personifications of Collins, he will have attained a very just conception, we think, of the style of Mr Smyth's English Lyrics.
It was a bold attempt to inscribe an Ode to Pity,' after the author we have just mentioned ; yet the following stanzas are elegant.
• O Pity! all my fighs are thine,
My follies pause, my bosom warms,
Whene'er I mark thy sorrowing forms ;
-Or him, 'mid fortune's gathering gloom,
His generous heart consume.
The tears, that speak the exiled soul ;
And turns, her anguish to controul ;
To death devoted, glides away,
Of many a morrow gay. The following lines express a common thought; but express it, we think, with great tenderness and beauty.
Ah, Julia! must that morrow come,
When I in anguish shall behold
p. 67, 68.
Those lips, whence I such kiffes steal,
Robb’d of their dye and honied ftore,
Or speak one tempting challenge more?
When I may press that hand so fair,
Yet feel no pulses trembling there?
of soften'd blue With liquid fondness sparkling beam, But seem their long, their laft adieu,
In every faded look to gleam.
Must keen disease, muft wasting pain,
To count the fighs that moan in vain ;
See oʻer thy frame Death's tremors creep,
And feel the grief that cannot weep.' p. 26, 27. The next is in a more cheerful and familiar tone.
• True, Laura, true! I own with pain,
That goodness oft must toil in vain,
I feel how just thy passing figh.
every woe ;
have marked thee for their friend ;