best authorities give it for Aloway, I shall relate it. On a summer's evening, about the time that nature puts on her sables to mourn the expiry of the cheerful day, a shepherd boy, belonging to a farmer in the immediate neighbourhood of Aloway Kirk, had just folded his charge, and was returning home. As he passed the kirk, in the adjoining field, he fell in with a crew of men and women, who were busy in pulling stems of the plant ragwort. He observed, that as each person pulled a ragwort, he or she got astride of it and called out, "Up horsie!" on which the ragwort flew off, like Pegasus, through the air with its rider. The foolish boy likewise pulled his ragwort,and cried with the rest Up horsie!" and, strange to tell, away he flew with the company. The first stage at which the cavalcade stopt, was a merchant's wine cellar in Bourdeaux, where, without saying by your leave, they quaffed away at the best the cellar could afford, until the morning, foe to the imps and works of darkness, threatened to throw light on the matter, and frightened them from their carousals. The poor shepherd lad, being equally a stranger to the scene and the liquor, heedlessly got himself drunk; and when the rest took horse, he fell asleep, and was found so next day by some of the people belonging to the merchant. Somebody that understood Scotch, asking him what he was, he said he was such-a-one's herd in Aloway; and by some means or other getting home again, he lived long to tell the world the wondrous tale. I am, &c. &c. ROB. BURNS. AMUSEMENT. For the Anthology. WE continue our observations on the elegant performance, of which we commenced the review in the last number of the Anthology; and it may not be improper to give some account of the system, under which we intend to arrange our remarks.. This poem certainly deserves all the critick can bestow; and, although our limits will not permit us to insert the various notes, &c. supplementary to this review, yet, as soon as we can obtain a sufficient quantity of Hebrew types for the remarks of Abraham Sheva, the Jewish annotator, we intend to present a complete edition of all the pragmatical observations, notes and various readings, in twentyseven neat folios. But, in the present course of remarks, al though they are intended as nothing more than the precursor of our contemplated edition, we shall treat the subject, as logically as possible: we have therefore considered it most convenient with our design, first, to go through this performance by a course of analytical observations, and, when we have obtained a complete view of the several parts, whereof the subject is composed, to reduce these several members, by the synthetick method, to their orig inal combination. To determine to what order of poetry this performance belongs, to examine it by the rules of the scholiasts, and to compare it with other productions of the same order, will afford abundant matter for a separate essay. Having made this necessary digression, we proceed to the review. The cat's in the fiddle! Various have been the opinions of the learned, respecting this particular part of our performance. The learned critick, whose name is mentioned at length in the prece ding number, very handsomely refutes several conjectures, offered to invalidate our poet's antiquity. It has been questioned by an Italian commentator, whether, or no, fiddles were known to the ancients: the learned critick replies; "Stulte, nescis quod ab Anglicanis Fiddle vocatum est, apud Latinos esse Fidiculam ? Si ignaro tamen, quam distant verba in eorum sonis? Nec unquam audivisti, rò go idem significasse olim inter Græcos? Cur non rogas, si feles olim vixerunt apud antiquos?-But the most ingenious objection, against the antiquity in question, was made by a German, who wrote comments on this poem in 1201; which comments were discovered and published, together with the poem itself, by Gutteellberg, at Mentz, soon after the invention of printing, in 1478. This German, whose name was of very great length, and whose reputation among his countrymen was of course very considerable, affirmed, that he had made several experiments, and had satisfied himself, that it was utterly impossible for a kitten, of three days old, to enter at any aperture about a fiddle, without tearing off a considerable quantity of its fur, and even rubbing its flesh; and, as these exigencies had not been provided for by the poet, or, in other words, as they had not been mentioned by him, he concluded the poem, in toto, a forgery. But, however ingenious, these remarks are answer. ed without any difficulty whatever. The German has used in his observations the word, kshriwtosk, which implies a fiddle of an inferiour size; and all his ingenious sophistication is thereby rendered nugatory, for he cannot say, but the fiddle, spoken of by the poet, was as capacious, as our largest bass-viols, which, from their sound, one would suppose might contain four of the largest ramcats in the country, or their guts at least. But as the German cannot speak directly, as to the size of the fiddle in question, whether it was a violino concertini, ripieno, violoncello, or violone, so neither can we. We therefore relinquish this doubtful ground, and assume a new point; to wit, if we are to believe, according to the opinion, advanced in the first number, that the poem was written in commemoration of certain miraculous events, it is impossible to admit any human reasoning in disqualification of the facts, related by the poet; and, for the sake of perspicuity, we shall form our argument into a direct syllogism, thus ; Human reason is limited to an investi-" gation of the nature of things; Miracles are not in the nature of things: Ergo,-Human reason cannot extend to the investigation of miracles. We have been brief in refuting the above remarks and conjectures, because we have considered this subject very copiously in vol. 20. not. 18. pag. 634. of our projected edition. The beautiful abruptness, displayed in the introduction to the subject, immediately after the portion of the poem, reviewed in the foregoing number, is, perhaps, without its parallel. Here no time is wasted in ridiculous invocations of mere creatures of the mind; neither does the poet consume three or four hundred lines in describing the contortions of the cat, at the time of her entrance into the fiddle. He barely states the fact, without any complication of imagery, which, he prudently foresaw, would unavoidably divert our attention from the main design. There is a poem, which has been deservedly celebrated, but which is certainly very far inferiour to that under review, although many of the learned have held it in equal estimation. I refer to the poem, beginning thus ; Ding-dong, bell! The cat's in the well! This does not charm us by its abruptness, like The cat's in the fiddle! although it possesses, in an eminent degree, all the beauty of elegiack composition. But the first line prepares us for something extremely solemn, since bells dingdong only on the most serious occasions. Dishclouteroff was therefore incorrect in supposing, that bells could be ding-dong'd for fires and town-meetings, since ding dong implies a slower motion of the "campana malleus," than is used on such occasions. We are informed of the singular and wonderful fact, that the cat is in the fiddle, without any thing like premonition; we are not informed how she came there, nor how she will be extricated our admiration is therefore raised to the highest Vol. IV. No. 4. Y pitch, and we have to contemplate, not only the mode of her entrance into the fiddle, but how she will come out of it. On the contrary, in the poem, which some have pretended to compare with our unparalleled performance, we have nothing to cause our admiration ; for it is easy enough to suppose a cat may be in a well, although very wonderful how she could be in a fiddle and we could not wonder long, in the first instance, allowing our admiration had been raised; for the author continues thus ; Who put her in? Little John Green. Who pull'd her out? Great John Snout. So, we know the whole at once, and our admiration can exist no longer. In fact, these poems are not of the same class, and it is therefore ridiculous for any one to institute a comparison between them; it is absolutely "Gryphes cum equis." It is truly surprising, that, excepting the present, we have no great poem of antiquity, that is not burdened with an invocation of the Muse; and it is very wonderful, that the ancient poets could relate nothing of any consequence, without the assistance of the Gods and Goddesses. Our author very reasonably concludes, that he can give us the necessary information, that the cat's in the fiddle, without invoking any supernatural agent to assist him in the narration. Had the poem now before us commenced with an invocation of the Muses; had the poet introduced a long and formal proposition of his subject; or had he attempted to describe the various attitudes, gestures, etc. of the cat, at the time of her entrance into the fiddle, the charm, by which we are now held in admiration, could have ex isted no longer, and the sublimity of this exordium would have been nothing, but a long concatenation of unmeaning expletives. We shall speak largely of the sublimity of this performance, when we come to examine it by the rules of But our modern the scholiasts. The cat's in the fiddle! And if we will judge Addison by a modern criticism, let us refer to Dr. Blair; he observes, exemplifying his remark by the above lines," This, and all introductions of the same kind, are a forced attempt in a writer to spur up himself and his reader, when he finds his imagination begins to flag." But, in this elegant performance, there is nowhere such a species of weakness. Let us suppose our author had begun like Addison; and we shall soon see, how far below it's present merit the poem will appear, when tortured with useless amplification: But, O my Muse! what numbers can poets are just as bad, on the score of amplification and invocation, as the ancients. They cannot describe a battle, but the whole heayens must be in an uproar; nor can they relate the skirmish of a couple of insignificant scouts, without being at fifty times the trouble in describing, than the scouts were in fighting. In a word, they cannot speak of a palisado, counterscarp, or ravelin, which my uncle Toby would have described in twenty minutes, and even corporal Trim in twice that time, without carrying us all through the covered-way, back again over the glacis, through the trenches, nor even without leaving us, after all, confoundedly mauled with the And cat and cat-gut fill the distant skies. chevaux-de-frize: and, in doing all this, they must have the assistance of three of the Muses at least, with Bellona into the bargain. - If it will not lessen the dignity But O, my Muse! what numbers wilt thou find To sing the furious troops in battle Methinks, I hear the drum's tumul tuous sound, The victor's shouts, and dying groans confound. What man, so mad, so ignorant of be found To sing the cat, within the fiddle bound. o paint her form, what colours shall avail ? Her lengthen'd talons, and extended tail? Methinks, I hear the sounds tumultuous rise, Our poet knew how far superiour the elegance and concinnity of his exordium would appear, when contrasted with loads of epithet and heterogeneous matter. He therefore rejected all superfluous ornament, which must necessarily have presented itself to his mind on this occasion, and confined himself to the bare relation of facts. Had he been inclined, he might have extended his performance to a greater length than any of his followers, Homer and Virgil not excepted. To say nothing of Homer's shield, our poet might have consumed an hundred lines very prettily in describing the fiddle, as did Virgil in describing the shield of Eneas. He might very well have delineated on the bottom, top, and sides of the fiddle, the four provinces of Greece,...Macedonia, Epirus, A- septem Terga boum, plumbo insuto, ferroque rigebant? All wonder'd when her claws she first expos'd, So firm, they seem'd of seven bulls'horns compos'd. In fine; we know of no poem, the exordium of which is so truly beautiful in any language-Homer does not venture a single step in the Iliad, as well as in the Odyssey, without craving the assistance of the Muse. Virgil, more daring than Homer in this particular, has ventured to the distance of seven lines, and even proposed his subject, previously to his invocation. Silius Italicus has discovered himself as much the ape of Virgil in this particular, as in many others. Lucan has marked out for himself a road entirely new; he first proposes his subject, next, begins the narration, and then invokes the Muse. But what shall we say of Apollonius Rhodius? His poem, on the expedition of the Argonauts, begins with an invocation of ne one; but the poet very familiarly tells Phoebus, by whom, he says, he is already inspired, that he intends to resound the deeds of some famous heroes; and, as the first part of this intelligence is probably somewhat new to Phoebus, the god must have a strange opinion of the poet, not very different from the idea we sometimes have of our visiting cousins from the country. But this is not all; after a few fines he invokes the Nine with all possible politeness, begging their assistance in the most obliging terms. Now, whether he intended to insult Phœbus by this impudent treatment, or, whether it proceeded from pure affection for the sex, it is not to our purpose to determine. It is however certain, that Phoebus resented it by with of the Muses almost altogether, holding from him the assistance for which we have the testimonies of Longinus, Quintilian, Scaliger, and Rapin. But it is unnecessary to adduce any more examples from the ancients in proof of our poet's supe riority, on account of his elegant exordium of his performance. And and comprehensive brevity, in the as we have more than once stated our determination to be as brief as possible, we think proper to close present number. the For the Anthology. ORIGINAL LETTERS S. FROM AN AMERICAN TRAVELLER IN EUROPE TO HIS FRIENDS IN THES COUNTRY. LETTTER FOURTH. Rome, Dec. 9, 1804. with which this city abounds, it MY DEAR FRIEND, |