MR. MACAULAY'S LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME.

THE object of the Lays of Ancient Rome is to exhibit what the writer conceives to be imitations of those ancient ballads on which it Is now conjectured the earlier history of Rome was founded. The sub- jects that Mr. MACAULAY, in the character of "an antique Roman," has selected for his purpose, are four,—the Defence of the Bridge by Horatius and two comrades against the Etruscan army of Por- sena, advancing to reinstate the Tarquins ; the Battle of the Lake Regillus, where Castor and Pollux appeared in the field to de- termine the trembling balance in the Roman favour; a fragment embracing what Mr. MACAULAY considers the most striking points of the well-known story ; and the Prophecy of Capys, whose main topic is the defeat of King Pyrrhus by Den- talus, but which, taking the form of a fabled prophecy to Romulus,

"'Repeat nnask'd, lament the wit's too fine For vulgar eyes, and point out every line." •

A general preface discusses the subject of the earlier Roman his- tory; presents the author's views of the lost ballads, as well as of ballads in general ; and, in the spirit of the " loce jam recitate," unfolds his leading ideas of what lays of ancient Rome ought to be, and how the poet's art, in the present volume, has fulfilled the critic's theory. If we follow the critical canon for every work, and regard the writer's end, Mr. Maceuray's Lays of Ancient Rome cannot be

complimented as successful. It is not that they are indifferent or bad imitations, they are not imitations at all: they no more re- semble any thing ancient, than a modern "fine young man" would resemble the Farnese Hercules by putting off' his clothes and carrying a (reduced) fac-simile-club ; or than a shirtless portrait- bust of the present day can compare with the vigorous outlines and massy forms of the men of the heroic age embodied by the antique sculptors. It may be asked, how can we tell ; seeing that all these indigenous Roman ballads have perished, and that if any of them bad been preserved, they could not, from the change of language, have been read ? To this we answer, that we infer the unknown from the known. Of the fragments of old Roman com- position which have been preserved, (though of a later age than any of Mr. MACAULAY'S Lays,) messiness is a general characteristic. The language may be rugged, the thought not profound, and cer- tainly not refined ; but there is a character of sturdy strength in the conjoint idea and diction that works of greater literary value do not possess. The same species of character prevails among other peoples. Some deeds of the Norman Conqueror are models of robust brevity and rugged power ; some ancient acts of Par- liament, proclamations, and even warrants, possess similar qualities in more or less degree : and (apart from the intellectual character of the men—limited in its range, but keen and vigorous within that range) the reason seems to be, that their subjects were real and they were in earnest about them. The historian may demur to the truth of their facts, the philosopher to the justness of their views, the reasoner to the soundness of their logic or the critic

to the ruggedness of their language and the involved structure of their sentences ; but these things diminish not their sturdy strength—perhaps, like the gnarls of an oak-root, they contribute to it.

We are not asserting that mere antiquity gives this quality ex necessitate. A person who wrote without having any thing to say would be as empty then as now, without the common stock graces of rhetorical art which a language in its zenith pos- sesses. And it is probable that this feebleness would be found more among ballads than business compositions, as soon as ballad- writing became a trade and not an inspiration. But compositions intrinsically faulty are not the things to be copied by an imitator of a later age, any more than the prolix narrative to be found in some of the better ballads.

We may be told that all this is conjecture, and at best negation. But the Lays of Ancient Rome not only have not an antique air, they have a very modern one,—bearing, at first sight, some apparent resemblance to the later ballads of the middle ages' and a still closer likeness to SCOTT'S imitations of those ballads. The spirit, however, which pervades them—that spirit which distinguishes the living body from the lifeless carcass, and in despite of form or diction stamps upon every thing its pecu- liar character—is of a still more modern kind. The piece to which they bear a resemblance so close as to be identical, is some spirited verses, (also written, we believe, by Mr. MACAULAY') supposed to be an address by Henry of Navarre to his army before a battle ; but their generic character is that of very superior Annual verses. This is not said in a depreciatory spirit, but as marking the essential character of the Lays; for in historical reading, a critical ac- quaintance with ancient modes, a high-toned if not an elevated mind, fluency of poetical diction, and all the arts of rhetoric by which (severely speaking) a claptrap effect is produced, Mr. Mee- MILAY is separated by an immeasurable interval from the youthful collegians and blues who contribute illustrative verses to plates which "learned Poussin drew," or some modern painter, not learned, has "dashed." But the essential character is the same in all. There is not a particle of the antique heroic spirit—very little, if any, of classical condensation, severity, and nature ; but a modern mind treating an ancient theme in a modern way—always well- sounding, often animated, and in Mr. MACAULAY'S case both at- tractive and telling, but no more like what they aim at being than a modern regiment is like an ancient legion, although the popular Preference might award the palm to the more obvious finery of the lace and scarlet.

Of the four Lays, "The Prophecy of Capys" goes over the largest field, and seems to exhibit the most terseness—not from any real condensation in the writer, but because the broad fea-

• " Corn loca jam recitata revolvimus irrevocati :

Corn lamentamur non apparere lahores Nostros, et tenni deducta poemata film"

But we think POPE has the advantage over Bonner His couplet omits no linage in the three lines of the Roman, and yet prese...s a characteristic, and S very striking one, of the class in question. briefly preludes through the striking points of Roman story before reaching the principal theme. To each lay is affixed a prose notice, in which, by an artifice not very well veiled, Mr. MACAULAY' under the guise of expounding the historical character of his sub- ject and his own purpose in its treatment, contrives to play the part of his own commentator, somewhat after the fashion of the ancient failing—

tures of the subject are alone touched upon. "The Battle of the Lake Regillus " is an effective and striking piece, with a variety of battle-scenes, imitated, as Mr. MACAULAY reminds the reader,

from the Iliad; but it is rather diffuse and wordy. In "Virginia,"

the fragments are selected with a view to what the author considers the best treatment ; and, after an introduction, they consist of the seizure of Virginia with a speech by Icilius, her death, and the subsequent tumult in the forum, together with the return home of Appius Claudius ; omitting the pleadings and judgment, as well as the scenes in the camp — the story, however, is completely in- dicated. " Horatius," the first lay, seems to us the best. It is in- deed equally verbose with the others, and is as devoid as the rest of an antique air or a classical spirit ; but it has more variety and relief.

From the want of condensation we have allued to, the Lays of Ancient Rome require more space to exhibit parts of them to ad- vantage than would have been the case had they been more clas- sical in their character. For the sake of presenting an entire scene, we will take the defence of the bridge against the army of Porsena. It should be remembered that any homeliness of phrase or peculiarity of accent which the reader may detect is done "on set purpose." The news has just reached Rome of the approach of the hostile army, and the Senate is consulting by the River-gate,

when our quotation begins— "But the Consul's brow was sad,

And the Consul's speech was low, And darkly looked he at the wall, And darkly at the foe.

Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge, What hope to save the town ? '

"Then out spake brave Horatio., The captain of the gate:

'To every man upon upon this earth

Death cometh soon or late : And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his gods, And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest, And for the wife who nurses His baby at her breast, And for the holy maidens Who feed the eternal flame, To save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of sham.?

"'Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may ; I, with two more to help me, Will hold the foe in play.

In you strait path a thousand May well be stopped by three : Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with me ?'

"Then out spake Spurius Lartius; A Ramman proud was he: Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee.' And out spake strong Herminius; Of Titian blood was he : 'I will abide on thy left aide, And keep the bridge with thee.'

" Horatius,' quoth the Consul, 'As thou gayest, so let it be.'

And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three.

For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, In the brave days of old. • • S • • 4, "Now while the Three were tightening Their harness on their backs, The Consul was the foremost man To take in hand an axe : And Fathers mixed with Commons Seized hatchet, bar, and crow, And smote upon the planks above, And loosed the props below.

Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea of gold.

Four hundred trumpets sounded A peel of warlike glee, As that great host, with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless Three.

"The Three stood calm and silent And looked upon the foes. And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose : And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that mighty mass; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow pass.

Annus from green Tifernum, Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seim, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; And Piens, long to Clusiurn Vassal in rime and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers

From that gray crag where, girt with towers,

Is

The fortress of Nequinum lowers J'er the pale waves of Nar.

"Stoat Lartius hurled down Auntie Into the stream beneath : Ilerminius struck at Seiue, And clove him to the teeth : Al Piens brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust ; And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust.

"Then Ocnus of Falerii Rushed on the Roman Three ; And Lausulus of Urgo, The rover of the sea; And Amos of Volsinium, Who slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Coca's fen, And wasted fields and slaughtered men Along Albinia's shore.

" Herminius smote down Aruns : Lartius laid Oenus low : Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow.

• Lie there,' be cried, 'fell pirate! No more, aghast and pale, From Ostia's sails the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark ; No more Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice accursed sail.'

"But now no sound of laughter Was heard among the foes : A wild and wrathful clamour From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance Halted that mighty mass, And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow pass.

"But, hark ! the cry is Astor: And, lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield.

"He smiled on those bold Romans A smile serene and high; Be eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye.

Qnoth he, The she-wolf's litter Stand savagely at bay : But will ye dare to follow If Astur clears the way?"

Then, whirling up his broad-sword With both bands to the height, Be rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might.

With shield and blade Horatius Right deftly turned the blow : The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh : The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow.

"He reeled, and on Herminius Be leaned one breathing-space; Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, Sprang right at Astor's face : Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, So fierce a thrust be sped, The good sword stood a handbreadth out Behind the Tuscan's head.

" And the great Lord of Luna Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernua A thunder-smitten oak.

Far o'er the crashing fore3t The giant arms lie spread ; And the pale Augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head.

" On Astor's throat Horstius Right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain Ere he wrenched out the steel.

'And see,' be cried, the welcome, Fair guests, that waits you here! 'What noble Locum° comes next To taste our Roman cheer?'

" But at his haughty challenge A sullen murmur ran, Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, Along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess, Nor men of lordly race ; For all Etruria'a noblest Were round the fatal place.

"Bat all Etruria's noblest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corpses, In the path the dauntless Three: And, from the ghastly entrance Where those hold Romans stood, All shrank, like boys who unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair Where, gross ling low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood.

" Was none who would be foremost To lead such dire attack ; But those behind cried 'Forward!'

And those before cried 'Back!' And backward now and forward Wavers the deep array ; And on the tossing sea of steel To and fro the standards reel; And the victorious trumpet-peal Dies fitfully away.

"Yet one man for one moment Strode out before the crowd: Well known was he to all the Three, And they gave him greeting loud. Now welcome, welcome, Sextus I Now welcome to thy hme ! Why dost thou stay, and turn away ? Here lies the road to Rome !'

"Thrice looked he at the city, Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread : And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay."

Here is another specimen, in another-looking metre.

THE DEATH OF VIRGINIA.

With that he lifted high the steel, and smote her in the side, And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob she died.

Then, for a little moment, all people held their breath ;

And through the crowded Forum WAS stillness as of death ;

And in another moment broke forth from one and all

A cry RR if the Volscians were coming o'er the wall.

Some with averted faces, shrieking, fled home amain; Some ran to call a leech; and some ran to lift the slain: Some felt her lips and little wrist, if life might there be found; And some tore up their garments fast, and strove to stanch the wound. In vain they ran, and felt, and stanched; for never truer blow That good right arm had dealt in fight against a Volscian foe.

When Appius Claudius saw that deed, he shuddered and sank down, And hid his face some little space with the corner of his gown, Till, with white lips and bloodshot eyes, Virginius tottered nigh, And stood before the judgment-seat, and held the knife on high. " Oh! dwellers in the nether gloom, avengers of the slain, By this dear blood I cry to you, do right between us twain ; And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and mine, Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Claudian line!" So spake the slayer of his child, and turned, and sent his way: But first he cast one haggard glance to where the body lay,

And writhed, and groaned a fearful groan ; and then, with steadfast feet.

Strode right across the Market-place unto the Sacred Street.

Then up sprang Appius Claudius: "Stop him, alive or dead Ten thousand pounda of copper to the man who brings his head." He look'd upon his clients; but none would work his will :

He look'd upon his Beton; but they trembled, and stood still.

And, as Virginius through the press his way in silence cleft, Ever the mighty multitude fell back to right and left. And be bath passed in safety unto his wotul home, And there ta'en horse to tell the camp what deeds are done in Rome.

A critic is always placed at some disadvantage in reviewing a

contemporary work ; for his own mind must be influenced by the same temporary circumstances that have formed the genius of the writer, so that he looks favourably on those fashions of thought and speech that may possibly militate against the attraction of the work with another generation. An hebdomadal reviewer has a further disadvantage : he must give his first judgment, whatever it may be, without the opportunity of bringing the work reviewed to the test of a second perusal, which is the next best touchstone to time. Tried by this criterion, so far as our means enable it to be applied, the Lays of Ancient Rome will be found wanting. The greatest effect, as with all flashy things, is the first effect ; and, so far as we have been able to try, it seems to pall with each reperusal.

The prose as well as the poetry is not devoid of mark and merit ; and may be read with as much pleasure, or by some people with more. We intended to have touched upon several of its points ; but our space is exhausted, and we must be content with remarking, that whilst many of its general positions are true, the reasons assigned for the conclusions do not always bear them out,—as if the writer got at truth by haphazard, not by art.