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Or more endowed all hearts to win,
Than the fair page young Fridolin.'

Of all this not one word, except the name of Fridolin, exists in the original, and the characterising lines which do exist there are altogether omitted.

Schiller makes us understand that the diligence of the page was the result of his religious veneration for his duties, and this harmonizes particularly with the sequel to the story. His anxiety to perform every appropriate service, made him a great favourite with the Countess. The 3rd stanza, has been rendered by Mr. Collier with some attention to the German original.

'Therefore above the household all*
Him did his lady raise,

And from her lovely lips would fall
His unexhausted praise.

As her own child, and not as page,
Did he his lady's heart engage;
While her bright eyes with purest pleasure
Upon his features dwelt at leisure.'

This is sufficiently close to English verse is respectable. part in Mr. J. W. Lake.

satisfy the most rigid critic, and the We now turn to the corresponding

'Above the empty pride of birth

The Countess saw and prized his worth,
She thought not of his low degree
But of his mind's nobility.
From fairy lips his praises fell,

The sweet rewards of doing well.'-p. 10.

In one word, the advantage is with the latest translator, he truly renders Grafinn by Countess (which Mr. Collyer makes HIS LADY;) this is positively the only word tolerably done in the

verses !

When Schiller describes the insidious surmises of Robert the Huntsman, he uses a good figurative expression. He scattered the seeds of suspicion upon his master's heart.

It has not seemed fit to Mr. Lake, to adopt any part of this phraseology.

'And one day in his master's ear.

Thus poured the subtle poison there.'-p. 11.

Drum vor den ganzen Dienextross
Die Grafinn ihn erhob;

Aus ihrem schönen Munder floss.
Sein unerschöpftes Lob.

Sie hielt ihn nicht als ihren knecht
Es gab sein Herz ihm Kindesrecht-
Ihr klares Auge mit Vergnügen
Hing an den wohlgestalten Zügen.

One of the best parts of the ballad, is the account of the Iron-Foundry to which the Lord of Savern rides down. With the quotation of this portion in each translation, we must conclude our examination of the more recent one.

With bursting heart and boiling blood,

The Count plunged in the neighbouring wood,
To where his iron-forgers bent

That metal from earth's caverns rent,
In flames, whose red terrific light
Perpetual glared thro' day and night;
Where fire, water, and man's skill
Subdued the stubborn steel at will,
The Count now beckoned to draw nigh
Two Cyclops, that had caught his eye.'

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Mr. Collier has in this case, as well as in the above quoted stanzas, succeeded much better than his competitor, possibly because he knows the language he undertakes to translate from. There may be some French Version of Fridolin in which Mr. Lake has placed undue confidence, and thereby lowered his own literary character; he can do better than he has done in this instance-a translation of a translation, however elegant, is but the shadow of a shade, the reflection of moonlight, an echo of the mock-bird's song:

The Count's ride to the Forest where his foundry was situated, is thus versified by Mr. Collier.

'Savern into the forest rode,

His fury look'd no more.
'There in a lofty furnace glow'd
The molten iron ore.

The vassals, with a busy hand,
To feed the fire around it stand;
Huge bellows blowing, sparks outflying,
As they the rocks were vitrifying.

The fire's rage, the water's force,
Were here united found:

The river, in its rushing course

The wheels whirled round and round,

The engines rattled day and night;

The hammers beat with measured might;

The stunning strokes repeated often

Compell'd the iron itself to soften.'

The English reader may form some idea of the deficiencies (we here mean omissions) of the first quoted description of the IronWorks, by making a comparison of it with that by which it is followed. Nothing will be found of the comparison of the labours of the Warders to those of the Vitrifiers of Rocks; the river which turns round the wheels of the rattling engines, or the monstrous

bellows and the huge hammers; but Mr. Lake has added the exquisite line in which Two Cyclops' are introduced.

Ön looking again to the third and sixth of the Outlines, we find that Retzsch has put two eyes into the heads of each of the attendants at the iron works; he, poor man, had no notion of representing creatures with one eye, and that in the middle of the forehead! How unworthy to illustrate a poet who has such an inventive translator! Moreover, in the very copies of the engraving of the German artist, to which his version is attached, we can see two organs of vision and a nasal prominence intervening-but inconsistency is the privilege and characteristic of genius, Mr. Lake must, therefore, avail himself of a defence, grounded on this principle.

ART. XII.-Essays on the Pursuit of Truth, on the Progress of Knowlodge, and on the Fundamental Principle of all Evidence and Expectation. By the Author of Essays on the Formation and Publication of Opinions. London: R. Hunter. 1829.

THE reason why the science of metaphysics is at present little cultivated in this country, is not easy to be assigned. Perhaps an unfounded prejudice against it, as if it were some way or another connected with unsound and dangerous opinions, may have some share in producing the singular neglect into which it has fallen; but it is probable that it ought to be traced rather to that indolent and luxurious habit of mind which now prevails, and seems to be the result of over-exertion, as rest and indulgence naturally succeed to labour. But this science is in its nature repulsive and forbidding to the generality. They cast a glance upon it, and it appears "a dim, disastrous champaign," with fears, doubts, and terrors of strange shape, stalking over it, and discouraging their approach. It is, in fact, a magic circle, in which none but great men can walk with safety and advantage.

The author of the present Essays, who, at least, does not want the courage to attempt an incursion into these dim regions, appears to have studied in a right spirit, and to have discovered for himself several important truths. We say discovered for himself, because, as far as we can perceive, he has advanced nothing absolutely new. Though we may possibly incur, by this remark, the risk of being included among those "dreaming critics," who look for that kind of originality which he supposes to be unattainable; but which we have sometimes believed ourselves to have found in certain of those old writers, who, according to this author, amuse second-rate minds. Setting aside, with justice, our author's claims to be considered an original writer, we are yet disposed to allow him the merit of having explained, in a clear and agreeable way, several useful truths. As it is possible that every person may not be convinced that the dissemination of every kind of truth is

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advantageous, or even that the discovery itself is beneficial to mankind; it is useful to demonstrate that truth can never be dangerous, that no truth is forbidden, and that it is the duty of all men, but especially of those who pretend to teach others, to endeavour to discover truth. This is done in the first Essay, in a plain, modest, and perspicuous manner.

Like many other writers engaged in the same pursuits, this author seems to apprehend more hostility on the part of mankind, than he is likely to meet with. This, however, is rather the suggestion of vanity than of any thing else. The world has too long been used to have its feelings shocked, and its opinions and prejudices called in question, to be alarmed at common indications of heterodoxy, on philosophical subjects; and there is now much more danger of neglect, than of odium or persecution. Sir William Drummond, when he published his Academical Questions, expressed the same fear, but experienced no molestation; and his work has at present scarcely an enemy, except the worms. The passage, in which the benefits conferred upon mankind, by the dissemination of truth are enumerated, and the imaginary dangers to the promulgator insinuated, is worth copying.

'To discover truth, is in fact to do good on a grand scale. The detection of an error, the establishment of a fact, the determination of a doubtful principle, may spread its benefits over large portions of the human race, and be the means of lessening the misery or increasing the happiness of myriads of unborn generations. The great interests of mankind then demand, that the way of discovery should be open, that there should be no obstructions to inquiry, that every facility and encouragement should be given to efforts which are directed to the detection of their errors; and yet one of the greatest discouragements which at present exists, is the state of their own moral sentiments. Although he who has achieved the discovery of truth in a matter of importance has the satisfaction of reflecting that he has conferred a benefit on his fellow men, to which time itself can prescribe no limits, the probability is, that instead of attracting sympathy and gratitude, he will meet with a considerable share of odium and persecution as the consequence of the perspicacity.'-pp. 9-10.

The condition of mind in which we ought to conduct our search after truth is well described, as are also those lets and hindrances to which we are all liable.

In entering on any inquiry, we may have desires and affections connected with the subject, or with the issue of the examination, and preconceived opinions, which will have a material influence on the result. We may feel, for instance, a lively affection for a doctrine, an irresistible desire to find it confirmed by investigation, and a conviction of its truth not the less strong for having no dependance on any process of reasoning; or, on the other hand, we may feel an entire indifference, and have no opinion at all on the subject.'-p. 14.

There is good sense and novelty of illustration in the following brief passages:

If a man

'One of the most striking of these is the sentiment of awe. is habitually labouring under this feeling in regard to the general subject, or to the issue of the investigation, it is astonishing how limited will be the range of his thoughts, how few and how monstrous the conceptions to which the subject will give rise.

Men are alarmed when, in departments of knowledge over which the solemnity of fear has diffused itself, they alight on any new ground, or in other words, on any doctrines at variance with received principles; and their wishes are usually pointed to a corroboration of the views with which they are already familiar, and which neither startle their timidity nor task their understandings.'-pp. 18, 19.

No person, who has ever reflected upon questions of vital importance to mankind, can have failed to observe that doubt and uncertainty produce an unpleasant state of mind. This unpleasantness may, however, be designed by Providence to promote the cause of truth: for, as we naturally desire to escape from every thing which is disagreeable, we inquire that we may be relieved from doubt, and thus, perhaps, arrive at truth. Should we, after all, be left in uncertainty, we shall, at least, possess the consolation. of having used every means within our power to arrive at truth, and this, in fact, is the only consolation of which so unhappy a condition is susceptible. On this question our author appears to think somewhat differently. He does not feel the misery of doubting, and seems incapable of conceiving it; as, in fact, all thorough dogmatists are.

The second essay, on the Progress of Knowledge, is in the form of dialogue, and every way inferior to the preceding. In the first place, the author seems to be incompetent to maintain an argument in this form. One of his personages appears from the commencement to be a mere parasite to the other; and when a third person is introduced, the matter is not mended. From several considerations he determined not to bring real persons upon the scene, as speakers, but to put the momentous questions under consideration, into the mouths of A and N, with whom B, an equally important member of the alphabet, is afterwards associated. But A is a silly, humble companion, and N a conceited coxcomb, to whom all former great minds (for this arrogant letter is evidently something great in its own conceit,) appear to have been mere dwarfs and pigmies. In this whole composition the author appears to be a mere thirdrate sophist, who, in imitation of Hobbes, affects a kind of disdain for the ordinary aids to intellectual superiority, and advances the absurd fancy that the human race, as it advances on the great high road of civilization, will become weary of its old masters, and drop them, one by one, upon the way. He seems to imagine, in short, that owing to the vast multiplication of books, there will come a time when such authors as Aristotle, Plato, Bacon, and Locké, will be forgotten; and that even now they are more talked of than read. They have always been more talked of than read; because, notwith

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