The Cornish Magazine. JUNE 1st, 1828. ADDISON AND THE POETS. THIS is considered by many the golden age of English Poetry; and perhaps, justly; for at no period in the history of English Literature, has there appeared a greater number of Poets of the first order. But though we abound in favourites of the Muse, the lover of Poetry has no occasion to fear being overstocked the more abundant his stores, the more frequent and the richer will be his intellectual gratifications, He will always remember that "The poet's eye, in a fine phrenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And as Imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name." And who does not contemplate with rapture, resembling the Poet's fire, the beautiful realities he places before you? I was amused a few days since, in looking into a small volume of Addison's poems, which contains, besides minor pieces, the Campaign, dedicated to Marlborough,-his letter from Italy,-and a short letter about the greatest English poets. Every body has read the celebrated letter from Italy, as well as Johnson's criticism on it. Yet I cannot forbear transcribing two passages which I think eminently beautiful. The first relates to Italy itself, and occurs near the opening of the Poem: "For wheresoe'er I turn my ravished eyes, The subject of the other passage to which I allude is intimately connected with our Classical associations: "O Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay, Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day." This is a passage, for its sentiments and language, worthy of the author of Cato. But to the letter about the Poets :-It purports to be "A short account of all the muse possest That down from Chaucer's days to Dryden's times, Have spent their noble rage in British rhymes." He begins with Chaucer, whom he calls "a merry bard, who told many a story in rhyme and prose.' But it is extremely unsatisfactory to find that in the half dozen lines devoted to the Father of English Poetry, Addison dwells entirely on "his worn-out language." Could nothing more be said of him than that he was a " merry bard" and wrote in " unpolished strains?" It L VOL. 3. was no part of Addison's intention to draw a full-length picture of each poet whom he selects for his criticisms: this is readily granted. But instead of occupying four out of six lines in saying the Poet wrote in a barbarous style, had he no word to express the peculiarity of the poet's genius, no simile by which to remind us of the pleasure afforded by his works to his contemporaries? This letter was composed by Addison in 1694: if Chaucer was antiquated then, he is doubly so now: and yet who likes to see his shelf of Poets lacking merry old Chaucer? And puzzling though it often times be to trace out and catch his meaning, who ever opens poems without being amply amused? his The lines about Spencer, the next named in the letter, may pass without a remark, there being nothing striking in them. It was enough to say that he wrote in a manner so as to please the age in which he lived: that is no mean praise. "But now the mystic tale, that pleased of yore, Perhaps admirers of " the ancients," will hardly admit this. But I question whether Spencer is read so much as Chaucer; and few, I opine, but the students of Poetry, submit to the drudgery of toiling through the Faery Queene. Jo Cowley, Addison is of course more liberal of his praises. In this poet, he says, "One glittering thought no sooner strikes our eyes As in the milky-way a shining white, Whilst jointly all promote the common blaze." It may perhaps be considered hyper-criticism, to suggest that a thought cannot strike the eyes, nor the eyes be struck with wonder, though they may express it. But it is surely an odd conceit, "He had more pleased us, had he pleased us less." The meaning may indeed be easily conjectured, and is better expressed in a subsequent line, 'Thy fault is only wit in its excess." A larger portion of the letter is assigned to Milton than to any other poet. and the whole of it is worth transcribing: "But Milton next, with high and haughty stalks, No vulgar hero can his muse engage, Nor earth's wide scene confine his hallowed rage. Spurns the dull province of mortality; Shakes heaven's eternal throne with dire alarms, And sets the Almighty thunderer in arms. Bold and sublime, my whole attention draws, How are you struck with terror and delight, When great Messiah's outspread banner shines How does the chariot rattle in his lines! What sounds of brazen wheels, what thunder, scare, With fear my spirits and my blood retire, To see the scraphs sunk in clouds of fire; But when with eager steps from hence I rise, Every one that has read Milton, (and who has not ?) will acknowledge that those lines convey a just idea of his immortal poem, and describe correctly if not powerfully the feelings its perusal inspires. I well remember the pleasure I experienced on one occasion in particular in reading Book VII, in which Raphael relates to Adam the process of Creation. With what delight did I dwell on the enchanting, wonderful scenes; delight so pure and exalted that I cannot hope to enjoy it often. Again and again I turned to that paraphrase of the inspired record, (for such I would call it,) and, as the poet himself says of Adam when he had listened to the account of the celestial visitant,— -"As one whose drouth Yet scarce allayed, still eyes the current stream, Addison at a later period of his life, published his well known papers on "Paradise Lost," in the 4th and 5th volumes of the Spectator. In these papers, the poem is compared with Homer and Virgil; several admirable remarks are made on its structure in general; and then follows a rich repast of criticism on its plot, characters, sentiments, language, and whatever relates to an epic poem. We ought indeed to consider ourselves not a little indebted to these essays for pointing out first the superlative merits of Milton, and thus making him more generally known and admired. Till that period, perhaps the poet's own wish, expressed in his beautiful address to Urania in the commencement of Book VII, had hardly been accomplished: "And fit audience find, though few." But I must close my remarks; for having spoken of Milton, I cannot leave him to return to Addison's letter. Paradise Lost lies open before me; so a truce to the critic and to criticism. Penzance, March 1828. W. FRAGMENT OF A VOYAGE ON THE NILE, (Extracted from the unpublished Journals of Mr. Buckingham, Author of Travels in Palestine, &c. and Editor of the Sphynx and Athenæum.) KOUM OMBOS. MONDAY DEC. 12th. ON returning from a voyage beyond the Cataracts, and descending the Nile with its powerful current in our favor, we had reached the intricate curvature of the River at Koum Ombos, (the City of the Crocodile), at an early hour, and mooring the boat to the bank, we ascended, with great difficulty in the steep accumulation of ruins, to examine the remains of the ancient Egyptian city of the Crocodile, (which overlooks the Nile from the promontory on which it stands). The shores of the river from Cairo to the Cataracts present no finer or more commanding situation for a city than the one occupied by this. A projecting eminence forms an elbow in the stream, and the edifices, seated on the summit of this towering Cape, must have commanded the surrounding country in every direction. It has before it too a number of fertile little islands, which compensate for the sterility of the enclosing desert, and by the division of the river's stream, disperse abundance through the province. Upon the very edge of the cliff are still seen fragments of ancient dwellings, built of slightly burnt bricks, with arches of a Saracen form, whose founda tions becoming undermined by the strong pressure of the rapid stream, against the loosened soil are in premature decay. It is near this cluster of habitations, and like them too upon the very edge of a precipice, with the greater portion of its massy rocks fallen and disjointed, that a fragment of an ancient temple is seen with three capitals of its supporting columns just rising above the sand, surmounted with a quadruple head of Isis, as at Tentyra. The doorway was guarded by two sculptured Sphynxes, hovered over by winged serpents, the sides surrounded by a torus and Esculapian wand, and the portals as the shafts of the Pillars covered with a profusion of hieroglyphic figures. The walls are in an extremely broken and mutilated state, but as one portion of the sanctuary yet remains, though almost in the act of falling into the river, an interesting group is preserved. Isis is represented sitting, and suckling the infant Horus on her knee, clasping his neck with her right arm, while her left supports the breast to his mouth. She is thus receiving an offering of two emblematic figures from a priest, who is followed in successive order by four female musicians. The first, who has her long hair hanging over her shoulders, terminating in beautiful curls, wearing a lotus head-dress, and playing on an elegantly shaped harp resting on a pedestal, its top surmounted by a Sphynx, wearing the globe and horns of the Goddess. The next that follows has a feathered plume on her head, her hair falling in tresses, her waist encircled by the crossed wings of the Hebrew Seraphim, and playing gracefully on a tambourine. The head-dress of the third is unfortunately destroyed; her forehead is bound with a fillet, her waist clothed with a fine transparent robe, playing also on the same instrument. Above and below are laboured inscriptions very finely cut, and in the best style. Over the first door way Isis herself is seen presenting offerings to a priest, holding the flail. On the second, the figure of a male with a crocodile's head, is often repeated, and Priapus is numbered among those who receive the gifts; other portions show divinities sitting on chairs, holding the flail, while underneath them are bass-reliefs as on the pedestal of the colossal Osmandy at Thebes, and the monolithic temple at Daboat, except that here the figures are kneeling. Among the falling stones scattered around in every direction, the beetle bearing a globe, the drooping lotus, and the serpent were among the most frequently repeated objects. The ceilings were ornamented with spread vultures and stars, and the friezes were formed of cross winged hawks, lustral vases, and females sitting on the open lotus flower, holding the flail. The sculpture was of good execution, and the painting partially preserved. To the east of this and also on the edge of the cliff, from which it threatens soon to fall, is the portion of a solid wall extremely narrow, of an unusual height, being little short of 100 feet above its foundation. In searching carefully for any fragments with which it might have been connected I could see nothing except some large masses of stone falling underneath it into the river, and as it resembled no other building I had seen, appearing to have been one of the sides of a square tower, it seemed more than probable that it might have been a Pharos for this intricate channel, and at the same time, a post of observation, for both of which purposes its situation was admirably calculated. It stands at this moment so immediately on the precipice as not to be approached without danger. One can perceive however, that it was ornamented with sculpture and inscriptions of the same nature as those which decorate the walls of sacred buildings, sacrifices, divinities, &c. But the most considerable pile which remains to testify the magnificence of this city of the amphibious God, is a grand Portico of fifteen columns, disposed in three rows of five in front, about seven feet in diameter, and having half their height above the sand. The circumstance of this Portico being of an unequal number of columns may be remarked as a great peculiarity it was the only instance I had yet met with in Egypt, and 1 was some time before I could persuade myself of their not been an additional row, now fallen and destroyed. I searched in vain for any vestiges which might have proved their former existence, and was further confirmed in the truth of the singularity that I had at first noticed by finding that in the front row, the two wing columns on each side only were engaged with pannels of masonry, leaving two door-ways between the three central ranges. The Capitals of the three central rows of columns were also alike, the two wing ranges uniformly corresponded. Each door-way was guarded by sculptured Sphynxes facing cach other; they were both surmounted by the winged globe in the grand cornice of the building, and both decorated with the same ornaments. The entrance to the second Portico was also through two corresponding doors in line with the outer ones, though now rendered impassable by being blocked up with sand. The shafts of the pillars are beautifully encircled with alternate borders of the Lion, the hawk, the vulture, the jackall, the grasshopper, the serpent, &c. The plinths, the architraves, and the roof were full of ornaments of an astronomical kind, being formed of globes, stars, &c. and over one of the doors communicating with the second Portico, surmounting the most magnificent cornice that can be imagined, was a boat resting on lustral vases, bearing a globe, in the centre of which was a sitting figure, and on each side adoring priests, and divinities. On mounting the summit, we could perceive a smaller portico succeeding to the outer one, with the same number of columns, but so filled with sand and obstructed by the falling in of its roof, that nothing but the capitals of those pillars and some portions of the architraves are to be seen; they show a sculpture equal to any other part of the building, and were similar in their design. Beyond this were three succeeding apartments or sanctuaries, all opening into each other, and diminishing in size, all ornamented with finished sculpture, and roofed with stones that covered the whole breadth without jointures. In the first of these apartments offerings of the lotus flower are made to Isis. In the two last which were perhaps the most sacred, the Crocodile is the Deity to whom presentations are made, and his head crowning a human body is seen in all the outer walls. After turning to enjoy the extensive and delightful view which this commanding eminence afforded, we embarked and profited by the calm that still favoured us, to pursue our course down the stream. Soon after noon we reached the narrow strait of Silsiles, and I could count every tomb its extensive quarries contained, and trace the route we had followed, in visiting them on our upward voyage. The ruined Arabic town with walls of brown unburnt bricks, again appeared also on our right, and the same cause that prevented my visiting it on our passage up, still existing, we passed it without landing continuing our route until the late rising of the moon, when we anchored opposite to Edfon or Apollinopolis Magna, whose superb Temple I again wished to examine, for which purpose, therefore, we determined to make a short stay here. |