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BALLADS FROM THE ROMAIC.

BY WILLIAM E. AYTOUN.

I.

CHARON AND HIS CHARGE,

Τί εἶναι μαῦρα τὰ βουνὰ, καὶ στέκουν βουρκωμένα;

WHY look the distant mountains so gloomy and so drear?
Are tempests sweeping o'er them, or is the rain-cloud near?
No shadow of the tempest is there, nor wind, nor rain,-
'Tis Charon that is passing by with all his gloomy train.

The young men march before him, in all their strength and pride;
The tender little infants, they totter by his side;
The old men walk behind him and earnestly they pray,
Both young and old, imploring him to grant a brief delay.

"O Charon! halt, we pray thee, beside some little town,
Or near some sparkling fountain where the waters wimple down.
The old will drink and be refresh'd-the young the disc will fling,
And the tender little children pluck flowers beside the spring."

" I will not stay my journey, nor halt by any town-
Near any sparkling fountain where the waters wimple down:
The mothers, coming to the well, would meet the babes they bore,
The wives would know their husbands-nor could I part them more."

II.

THE VOICE FROM THE TOмв.

Σάββατον ὅλον πίναμε, τὴν κύριακ ̓ ὅλ ̓ ἡμέρα.

Two days we held our festival-two days we feasted high;
And on the third our wine was done-both cask and cup were dry.
The captain sent me forth alone to seek a fresh supply;
But nothing of the way I knew, for stranger there was I.

I took the first frequented path: it brought me to a cave-
Another led me through the wood-another to the wave;
At last I reach'd a rising ground, where many a cluster'd grave
Mark'd, with its cross and figured stone, the dwelling of the brave.

One stood apart from all the rest one low and lonely bed;.
I saw it not, but, wandering on, I stepp'd upon its head;
And lo! I heard a voice beneath a voice as from the dead,
Like thunder subterranean, in answer to my tread.

"What hast thou there, O lonely tomb?-what cause disturbs thy rest?
The black earth heap'd too heavily the stone upon thy breast?"
" I am not wearied with the stone, nor by the mould opprest;
It is thine own unhallow'd step that wakes me from my rest!

"Remove thy foot from off my head, thou stranger of the night,
And trouble not the sleep of him who fought his country's fight;
For I have been a young man too, in glory and in might,
And wander'd on the mountain side when the moon was shining bright."

III.

LOVE'S WITNESS.

Κόρη, ὅντας Φιλιάμαστον, νύκτα ητον, ποιὸς μᾶς εἶδε;

"WHEN I was in thy chamber,
Alone, my love, with thee,
Night cast its shadow round us,
And none was there to see;
The very breeze was lying
Asleep within the tree;
Then who could tell, or who reveal,
This cruel tale of me?"

"The lady moon was peeping,
And watch'd us through the tree;
A little star shot downwards,
And told it to the sea;
A sailor caught the whisper,
Who bore no love to me,
And sang, before a maiden's door,
This wicked tale of thee."

IV.

IOTIS DYING.

Σηκόνομαι πολὺ ταχυὰ, δύ' ὥραις ὅσον νὰ φέξῃ.

Two hours before the dawning, while yet the night-stars gleam,
I wake me from my slumber, and plunge into the stream;
I look around and listen the morning watch is mine-
I hear the beeches rustle, I hear the murmuring pine.

My comrades lie around me; but yet they do not sleep.
They call upon their captain-they call him and they weep;
"Up, up, Iotis! rouse thee-to battle with thy best!
The enemy are on us!-up, up, we may not rest!"

"What shall I say, my children? - how answer to your call?
This wound of mine is mortal; deep struck the deadly ball;
'Tis burning in my bosom-ye summon me in vain :
O! never in the combat my sword shall flash again!

"Your hands, my brave ones! raise me-once more erect I stand,
Once more ye gather round me, my true and trusty band!
Sounds not my voice as clearly as in the battle cry?

Then bring me wine, bright sparkling, that I may drink and die !

"O! were I on the mountains the mountains wild and free!
Beside the upland forest, beneath the spreading tree;
To feel the breezes blowing, to hear the wild-bird's song,
And sheep-bells gayly jingling, as the white flock moves along!"

MR PRENDEVILLE'S MILTON.

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fair indeed and tall,

Under a plantain,"

i. e. under that West Indian tree, the produce of which is the invariable companion of the yam or potato. "Yams and plantains" is the first cry which refreshes the ear of the voyagers on arriving at Jamaica, or any other island of the Caribbean seas; and the potato having so long run in Mr Prendeville's head, it is no wonder that the association of ideas should lead him to think of its companion, the plantain. Even in poetry they are linked together as well as in the market; for thus sings Waller in his Battle of the Summer Islands

"With candy'd plantains and the juicy pine,

On choicest melons, and sweet grapes they dine,

And with potatoes fat their wanton swine."

There is something romantic in this picturesque appearance of Adam for the first time, and it must be consolatory to the friends of Negro emancipa

tion. It is no great stretch of fancy to suppose, that as Adam was under a plantain he was over a potato, which indeed the context in some measure justifies us in supposing. We may suppose that he was occupied in heartily regaling himself with a copious mess of that most prolific of plants, (see Collins's highly instructive note on Thersites's " Devil luxury with his potato finger," in Troilus and Cressida, act v. sc. ii.,) in anticipation of the visit of her who is first told that she

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Multitudes like thyself, and so be styled Mother of all mankind."

As this is the most ingenious varia lectio, out of all sight, made by Mr Prendeville in the volume, it is with much regret we find him in his notes imputing so valuable an emendation as that of plantain for platan, to "inadvertence." Such a backing out is not by any means "the potato." But in many other places places of this Hibernian edition, no plea of inadvertence can deprive Ireland of the honour of illustrating Paradise Lost. We shall cite a few instances. Among the devils who rose from the burning lake at the call of Satan, came they

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Which gives Mr Prendeville an opportunity of narrating some reminiscences of his youth.

"In Ireland at least in the southwestern part-the 'Baal Thinnih,' called in English Bonefire,' by the peasantry, is celebrated on St John's eve. It is a day and night of great merrymaking. I have myself joined, when a boy, in the amusement and the ceremony. Close by each farm-house a fire is kindled in the evening, and the cattle are brought to it: if they cannot be driven through it, each interested person takes a burning brand, a branch of a bush or tree, and strives to strike the animals, who are frequently hemmed in by a circle of men and women, to prevent their escape in their consternation. The affrighted beasts running to and fro, and their fire-armed pursuers, present together a curious and exciting scene, which spreads over the whole country. Some of the men and women leap

Milton's Paradise Lost, with copious notes, explanatory and critical, partly selected from the various commentators, and partly original, and a memoir of his life. By James Prendeville, B.A., Editor of Livy. London: Holdsworth, 1840. 8vo, pp. 4+1xiv+452.

through the fire. The cattle are supposed

to be rendered fruitful, and preserved from evil during the ensuing seasons, by this contact with the holy fire. This ceremony ended, all the people of a district, young and old, assemble at the general 'bonefire,' for which great preparations have been made. It is generally an immense pile of turf, of a pyramidal shape, with the decayed trunk of a tree in the middle and out-topping the lofty pile, decked round with dry bones and green boughs, and surrounded with the skull of a horse or cow, when it can be procured. With out these the fire is incomplete. There is always music and dancing till a late hour-sometimes till the dawn. In some places a long file of men bearing flambeaus proceed from the fire a considerable distance, until they meet parties belonging to another fire, marching in similar procession; and then both parties, waving their torches in mutual salutation, return. These long rows of moving light seen on the slopes of the hills, and the columns of flame from the blazing piles, exhibit a very imposing spectacle."

Mr Prendeville, we see, very properly spells, and no doubt derives "bonefire," "as the English (?) call it," just in the manner that his countrymen pronounce it. We think that, in these religious ceremonies, Baal is not the only god adored, being of opinion that Chemos, the peculiar nature of whose phallic worship is agreeably described by Mr Prendeville, in a note on P. L. B. i. 406, meets with due attention from the male and female votaries. The late Mr Henry O'Brien wrote a most entertaining Essay on the Round Towers of Ireland as connected with that worship, which we think might be judiciously transferred into Mr Prendeville's notes.. It is a very ancient religion; and, notwithstanding the introduction of another creed, it is still devoutly honoured in all parts of Ireland. In one thing, however, we deem learned annotator decidedly wrong. "In the British isles," he says, "strong

our

remnants of this worship, [that of Baal, which was introduced by the Druids, still exist." It is plain that Mr Prendeville, though Irish, is not Milesian, as indeed his name would lead us to suspect. Introduced by the Druids indeed! Does not Milton himself point out its original seat, from Euphrates to the brook which parts Egypt from Syrian ground? And do not Keating, O'Halloran, O'Flaherty, Macgeoghegan, and other Druidical

historians inform us, that Milesius, father of Heber, Herenen, and Ir, and all the other Milesians of the world, married Scota, daughter of king Pharaoh of Egypt, we know not whether Amenophis the Second or not? And was it not he, then, who brought the worship with him straight from Egypt itself, fresh as a daisy, without the Irish being beholden to the Druids or any other such second-hand authorities for the same? Mr Prendeville records in his note on

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"I have often heard a pugnacious Irishman say, in his native language, ' I strike the shield and call for battle;' a phrase, no doubt, derived from the custom of the Celtic tribes;"

and if he broaches theories so disparaging to the Milesians, as their being indebted to the alien Druids-mere mushroom moderns to them for any thing, he may find the shield struck, and battle against him called for, by some pugnacious Celt. It is a pity he did not give us the original Irish of the cry; for it would look neat in a commentary upon Milton.

China, it might be imagined, was rather too remote from Ireland, to allow of its calling up Irish reminis. cences; but the patriotic mind of Mr Prendeville saw an opportunity, and accordingly, when we, (or rather Sa tan,) came to some place resembling "The barren plains Of Sericana, where Chineses drive With sails, and wind their cany waggons light." P. L. B. iii. 437-39.

The commentator tells us, that he

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Sandymount; which, when the wind was favourable, and the tide out, ran along for miles at great speed on the level strand, requiring no other human management than that of regulating the sails, of which there were two or three; the steersman standing with several others on a platform on the deck."

But it is not merely the productions of Irish art which are thus appropri. ately commemorated those of Irish nature are not forgotten. In the garden of Eden,

" Blossoms and fruits at once of golden

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on which the commentator remarks:
"At shut of evening flowers. A
beautiful epithet of evening, according to
the occupation of Adam and Eve. The
Greek husbandman termed the evening
Βουλυτον, or, 'unyoking time of oxen.'
Flowers become contracted in the evening,
and expand with the rising sun. As va-
rious epithets have been applied to the
evening by people of all nations, according
to their several pursuits, (in some of the
pastoral parts of Ireland the evening is
called • milking-time,') this epithet of

"We kiss a bonnie lassie, when the kye
comes hame ?"

Even the flowery occupation of Mil-
ton's Adam and Eve sinks into tame
and sleepy prose, if brought into con-
trast with the Scotch mode of compu-
ting the hour of evening by polite and
gallant attention to the flowers of the
forest
forest of living flesh and blood, to say
nothing of bone.

We shall only extract one other Irish anecdote, because we have a somewhat peculiar and personal knowledge of the subject.

"Now when ambrosial night, with clouds exhaled

From that high mount," &c.

P. L. Β. v. 642-3.

On this we have the following note.

"So Homer calls night ambrosial,' Il. ii. 97; and sleep, for the same reason, ' ambrosial,' v. 19, because it strengthens and refreshes.- (N.) Mr Wyse, M.P. for Waterford, a great Oriental traveller, and one of the best scholars I know, has told me that the word 'ambrosial' (αμβροσιn) applied to night in Homer, evidently refers to the delightful serenity of the air, and the fragrant exhalations from the flowers, during the summer nights in Ionia, (the country of Homer,) which have a composing and invigorating effect."

Mr Wise now may be a great Oriental, or hereafter a great Australasian traveller, for any thing we know to the contrary, as well as being one of the best scholars Mr Prendeville is acquainted with: no doubt a high commendation. But what can he tell about Ambrosial nights? Was he ever present at any of the Noctes Ambrosiane? If he pretends that he was, he is an impostor, and fit only to be president of the Anti-Education Board. If he had been among us, he would have known that it was not the fragrance of flowers, but of some

shut of evening flowers' is admirably thing far more potent, exhaling during

descriptive of the occupation of Adam and Eve."

Is Mr P. so ignorant as not to know that the Greeks called morning and evening αμολγος, i. e. milking-time? But our national vanity makes us here put in a claim for the superiority of Scotland in marking this picturesque hour of the day. What are the base mechanical unyokings of the Greeks, or the milkings of the Irish and the Arcadians, compared with our dating of the hour when

not only the summer but the winter nights in Gabriel's Road, or Picardy Place, (the native countries of the Noctes,) which had the composing and invigorating effects upon all who enjoyed it; rendering their immortal conversations such a world's wonder of wit, eloquence, fun, pathos, poetry, learning, and balaam; and during their too brief existence delighting and instructing, awing, as Aristotle says, with terror, or soothing with pity, all the sons and daughters of mankind.

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