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Yet show me, in this elemental strife,
Another, who would barter wealth for life!→→→
Few GAIN TO LIVE, Corvinus, few or none,
But, blind with avarice, LIVE TO GAIN alone.
Now had the deep devour'd their richest store,
Nor seems their safety nearer than before:
The last resource alone was unexplored-
To cut the mast and rigging by the board;
Haply the vessel so might steadier ride,
O'er the vex'd surface of the raging tide. [trest,
Dire threats th' impending blow, when, thus dis-
We sacrifice a part to save the rest!

Go now, fond man, the faithless ocean brave,
Commit thy fortunes to the wind and wave;
Trust to a plank, and draw precarious breath,
At most, seven inches from the jaws of death!

improbable that Catullus should really have in his possession dishes, &c. which once belonged to the Macedonian king.

VER. 66. Yet show me, &c.] This is a very strange passage, to say no worse of it. Bentley observes, in his notes on Horace, that the two last lines, Non propter vitam, &c. are the insertion of some meddling copyist. The poetry indeed is wretched enough, but the sense of them is full as good as that of the two preceding ones, to which he does not object. I wish I had the least autho rity for omitting the whole,

VER. 81. At most, seven inches &c.] Ritterhusius strenuously maintains that Juvenal took this from Anacharsis the Scythian, The thought, however, does not seem to surpass the acknowledged extent of our author's own powers; and, such as it is, probably occurred to the first poor savage who crossed a brook on a log.

There is a passage in one of Seneca's letters, that pleases me much better than this medicum of wisdom, which, to say the truth, the poets had worn threadbare long before our author picked it up. Erras, si navigatione tantum existimas minimum esse, quo a morte vita diducitur; in omni loco æque tenue intercallum est.

Go; but forget not, with thy wine and cake,
Against a storm, the needful axe to take.

[main
And now the winds were hush'd; the wearied
Sunk to repose, a calm unruffled plain;
For fate, superiour to the tempest's power,
Averted from my friend the mortal hour:
A whiter thread the cheerful Sisters spun,
And lo, with favouring hands their spindles run!
Mild as the breeze of eve, a rising gale
Rippled the wave, and fill'd their only sail;
Others the crew supplied, of vests combined,
And spread to catch each vagrant breath of wind;
By aids like these, slow o'er the deep impell'd,
The shatter'd bark her course for Ostia held;
While the glad sun uprose, supremely bright,
And hope return'd with the returning light.

At length the heights, where, from Lavinum Iülus built the city which he loved, [moved,

VER. 98. At length the heights, &c.] He means the eminence on which the son of Eneas, after quitting the residence of his step-mother, Lavinia, founded Alba longa, and which, though near twenty miles from the coast, formed a conspicuous landmark for vessels bound to Ostia. For the white sow see p. 177. The lines which follow, contain a description of the mole and port of Ostia, at the mouth of the Tiber. Addison, who visited the ruins, says that they gave him no idea of the original plan: it

*My curiosity led me also to Ostia, (1789,) and I walked between the piers, now covered with grass. The land has gained considerably on the west as well as the east coast of Italy; the bottom of the old harbour, on which we now walk, is therefore much raised: yet the arms are still so high above it, as to intercept the view of the adjoining country. The extremities of the old arms towards the sea must have fallen in ; for, in their present state, they are but short, and a sandy coast stretches out far beyond them.

Burst on the view; auspicious heights! whose

name,

From a white sow and thirty sucklings came.
And now, the port they gain; the tower, whose ray
Guides the poor wanderer o'er the watery way,
And the huge mole, whose arms the waves embrace,
And stretching, an immeasurable space,
Far into Ocean's bosom, leave the coast,
Till, in the distance, Italy is lost!—
Less wonderful the bays which Nature forms,
And less secure against assailing storms:
Here rides the wave-worn bark, devoid of fear;
For Baian skiffs might ply with safety here.
The joyful crew, with shaven crowns, relate
Their timely rescue from the jaws of fate;

was, however, a very magnificent one. This gentleman has an engraving from a medal struck by Nero, which, according to him, represents the port as it formerly stood, and "agrees wonderfully with the descriptiou before us." Ital. Trav. 174. I see no such agreement. The Pharos of Juvenal is, in the print, a colossal statue this, Mr. Addison, whose reading, perhaps, was not very extensive, terms correct. If he had looked into Dio, who is sufficiently explicit on the subject; or indeed into Suetonius, who agrees with him in almost every particular, he would have found his errour: Portum Ostia extruxit, circumducto dextra sinistraque brachio, et ad introitum profundo jam solo mole objecta; quam quo stabilius fundaret, navem ante demersit, qua magnus obeliscus ex Egypto fuerat advectus, congestisque pilis superposuit altissimam turrim in exemplum Alexandrini Phari, ut ad nocturnos ignes cursum navigia dirigerent. Claud. 20.

Dio gives a very rational account of the motives which induced Claudius to execute this stupendous work; which seems to have been highly necessary for ensuring the regular supply of Rome.

VER. 112. The joyful crew, with shaven crowns, &c.] It was anciently supposed that the gods would accept life for life; in other words, that the voluntary devotement of one person, would preserve another from the fate which hung over him: for it should

On every ill a pomp of words bestow,
And dwell delighted on the tale of wo.

Go then, my boys; but let no boding strains
Break on the sacred silence, dress the fanes
With garlands, bind the sod with ribands gay,
And on the knives the salted offering lay:
That done, I'll speed, myself, the rites to share,
And finish what remains, with pious care.
Then, hastening home, where chaplets of sweet
flowers

Bedeck my Lares, dear, domestick Powers,

I'll offer incense there, and at the shrine
Of highest Jove, my father's god, and mine;
There will I scatter every bud that blows,
And every tint the various violet knows.
All savours here of joy: luxuriant bay
O'ershades my portal, while the taper's ray
Anticipates the feast, and chides the tardy day.

be observed, that absolute forgiveness was never deemed an attribute of the heathen divinities.

As the world grew older it grew more foolish: the gods, it was now imagined, might be shuffled off with somewhat less than full payment; and this persuasion gave rise to a thousand absurdities, such as the maiming and wounding still practised in barbarous countries, the sacrifice of some personal beauty, the vowing of hecatombs, and I know not what. The hair was a "personal beauty:" it was cherished with uncommon care and affection, and therefore not thought unworthy to be tendered in a calamity like this, as a kind of vicarial offering for life. This I believe to be the true history of these vows.

VER. 129. the taper's ray &c.] "It seems extraordinary," says my learned friend Mr. Drummond, "that Persius should sneer at the Jews for lighting lamps at their festivals, as a similar practice was common to the Romans. Even upon occasions of domestick rejoicing, the doors of the house were hung with

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Nor think, Corvinus, interest fires my breast: Catullus, for whose sake my house is drest, Has three sweet boys, who all such hopes destroy, And nobler views excite my boundless joy. Yet who besides, on such a barren friend, Would waste a sickly pullet? who would spend So vast a treasure, where no hopes prevail, Or for a FATHER sacrifice a quail ?— But should the symptoms of a slight disease The childless Paccius or Gallita seize, Legions of flatterers to the fanes repair, And hang, in rows, their vótive tablets there.

laurels, and illuminated with lamps. Juvenal in a beautiful satire thus expresses himself,

Longos erexit janua ramos

"Et matutinis operitur festa lucernis."

It appears from Tertullian, that the Christians soon adopted this practice:" (rather, perhaps, continued it after their conversion from paganism :)" Sed luceant, inquit (Christus) opera vestra. At nunc lucent tabernæ et januæ nostræ: plures jam invenies Ethnicorum fores sine lucernis et laureis quam Christianorum." Trans. of Pers. 170.

I had written a great deal on this custom, before I perceived that my note was swelling to an essay; ibi omnis—Briefly, this solemn lighting of lamps was, undoubtedly, the primal indication of idolatry; the first profane ceremony which took place when men fell from worshipping the Father of Light, to the adoration of the noblest material object, the sun; of which those artificial fires were the most obvious symbol. The institution itself, that of the Festival of Lamps, shows the universality of this specious worship; as it would be difficult to point out a region, in which it has not, at one period or other, prevailed. It extends even now, though the origin and object of it have been forgotten for ages, over more than half the habitable globe.

The transition of this illumination, from a mark of veneration to a simple type of joy and festivity, is neither singular nor difficult to explain; but I must have done with the subject,

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