4 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade. Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield; Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys and destiny obscure; The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death? Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire; But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, Some village Hampden, that, with dantless breast, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. The applause of listening senates to command, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone, The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide, With incense kindled at the muse's flame. Far from the maddening crowd's ignoble strife, They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet even these bones from insult to protect, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, Their names, their years, spelled by the unlettered Muse, And many a holy text around she strews, For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned;- On some fond breast the parting soul relies; For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored de Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply, some hoary-headed swain may say, "There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, "Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn, Or crazed with care, or crossed with hopeless love. "One morn I missed him on the accustomed hill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he: "The next with dirges due, in sad array, Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere; He gained from Heaven -'t was all he wished No farther seek his merits to disclose, Nor draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they, alike, in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. LXXIX. OF THE HIGHER SPECIES OF POETRY. The higher species of poetry embraces the three following divisions, namely: 1. Tales and Romances. 2. Epic and Dramatic Poetry. 3. Didactic and Descriptive Poetry.* A Tale is, literally, any thing that is told, and may relate either real or fictitious events. When the events related in a tale are believed really to have happened, the tale is termed history. A Romance is a tale of interesting, or wonderful adventures; and has its name from those that were recited by the Troubadours, (that is, inventors,) or wandering minstrels, of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The tales of the Troubadours related principally to the military achievements of the crusading knights, their gallantry, and fidelity They were delivered in a corrupted Latin dialect, called Provençal, or Provincial, by the inhabitants of Rome, and Romanzo, or Romish, by the Gothic nations, and hence the tale itself was called a Romance. Some of them were prose, some in verse, and some in a miscellaneous union of prose narrative and song. But in neither form were they in all cases worthy of the name of poems. Novels, (literally, something new,) are the adventures of imaginary persons, in which supernatural beings are not introduced. The novel is generally also in prose. Whenever a power is introduced superior to that of mortals, the novel is properly a romance. "The Epicurean," by Moore, is an example of this kind, which, although in the form of prose, is highly poetical in its character. It is full of imaginative power, and abounds in figures of the most beautiful kind, dressed in the most glowing colors. That power, which the poet introduces, whatever it may be, to accomplish what mere human agency cannot effect, is called the machinery of the poem. An Epic poem is a poetical, romantic tale, embracing many personages and many incidents. One general and important design must be apparent in its construction, to which every separate actor and action must be subservient. The accounts of these subordinate actions are called episodes, and should not be extended to a great length. Examples of epic poems may be seen in the "Iliad," and "Odyssey," of Homer, (translated by Pope,) the "Eneid," of Virgil, (translated by Dryden,) the "Pharsalia," of Lucan, (translated by Rowe,) and the "Paradise Lost" of Milton. Epic poems are rare productions, and scarcely any nation can boast of more than one. The word epic literally means nothing more than a tale. It is, however, a tale concerning a hero or heroes, and hence epic poetry is also See the piece entitled "The Empire of Poetry," by Fontenelle, page 133, under the head of Allegory. called heroic verse. Epopea, or Epopœia, is merely a learned name for epic poem. A Drama is a poem of the epic kind; but so compressed and adapted, that the whole tale, instead of requiring to be read or recited at intervals, by an individual, may be exhib ited as actually passing before our eyes. Every actor in the poem has his representative on the stage, who speaks the language of the poet, as if it were his own; and every action is literally performed or imitated, as if it were of natural oc currence. As a dramatic writer, Shakspeare stands unrivalled, among English authors, and it may well be questioned, whether any nation has produced his superior. In the construction of a Drama, rules have been laid down by critics, the principal of which relate to the three Unities, as they are called, of action, of time, and of place. Unity of action requires, that a single object should be kept in view. No underplot, or secondary action is allowable, unless it tend to advance the prominent purpose. Unity of time requires, that the events should be limited to a short period; seldom if ever more than a single day. Unity of place requires the confinement of the actions represented within narrow geographical limits. Another rule of dramatic criticism is termed poetical justice; by which it is understood, that the personages shall be rewarded or punished, according to their respective desert. A regular drama is an historical picture, in which we perceive unity of design, and compare every portion of the composition, as harmonizing with the whole. Dramatic compositions are of two kinds, Tragedy and Comedy. Tragedy is designed to fill the mind of the spectators with pity and terror; comedy to represent some amusing and connected tale. The muse of tragedy, therefore, deals in desolation and death, that of comedy is surrounded by the humorous, the witty, and the gay. It is to tragedy that we chiefly look for poetical embellishment, and it is there only that we look for the sublime. Accordingly, it is, with few exceptions, still composed of measured lines, while comedy is now written wholly in prose. A Prologue is a short poem, designed as an introduction to a discourse or performance, chiefly the discourse or poem spoken before a dramatic performance or play begins. An Epilogue is a speech, or short poem, addressed to the spectators by one of the actors, after the conclusion of a dramatic performance. Sometimes it contains a recapitulation of the chief incidents of the play. Farce is the caricature of comedy, and is restrained by no law, not even those of probability and nature. Its object is to excite mirth and uproarous laughter. But, in some of its |