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The account of the Greek prepositions is very ingenious : but in common use they could not have been employed with that precision which Mr.Jones would intimate. In the following passages, diz governs both a genitive and an accusative noun, though in both it signifies the end to which the attention is directed :

Δια της επιγνώσεως του καλεσαντος ημας δια δοξης και αρετης, through the knowledge of him who hath called us to glory and virtue -the knowledge of bim being the means, glory and virtue the end, of our calling.

• As dva signifies the end to which the attention is directed, it governs an accusative noun. Δια την ελπιδα την αποκειμενην εν τοις ουράνους, with a view to the hopeon account of the hope-which is laid up for you in beaven, Col. i. 5.'

Is not the author's remark on John x. 8. an instance of hypercriticism?

• Our Lord having said, that he was the door, adds John x. 8. in reference to some false guides and impostors then living among his opponents, Παντες, όσοι προ εμου ηλθον, κλεπται ειδι και λησαι, all who are come before me (i. e. before the door) are thieves and robbers. Observe, he says so are, and not necey were ; which shews he meant some persons then living, and perhaps present, when this parable was deliver. ed. Their appearance as deceivers being already made, the verb 77.60, is properly put in the past tense.'

Mr. Jones's account of the formation of the perfect tense, and his subsequent inferences, well merit consideration ; and we may extend the same remark to his chapter on the Influence of Association on the Greek Language: which section we hope to see enlarged in a subsequent edition.

When the author apologizes for typographical errors, and other inadvertencies, which will strike the learned reader, are we to class the translation of Rom. xv. 5. among the latter, and that of a passage from Epictetus at p. 334, 5. ?

Mr. Jones's method of analyzing the Greek Language is new, and his application of it to the more easy attainment of that tongue is a material improvement. As a book for the use of a tutor in instructing a limited number of pupils, his grammar deserves our recommendation; and were the deficiencies which we have pointed out carefully supplied, it would then, both for the public and the private student, be intitled to a decided preference over others.

In the preface, the author states that, should this work meet with a favourable reception, he intends to publish a Grammar of the Latin Language on the same plan; and also a Treatise on Greek Pro:ody. He moreover intimates that he is employed in collecting materials for a Greek English Lexicon. From the abilities discovered in the production before us, to the consideration of which we have allotted much more space Rev. Jan. 1807. E


than such elementary works can usually demand, we have formed a high opinion of his qualifications for the plans which he here announces; and we shall look forwards with pleasure to his future publications.


ART. VII. The Penance of Hugo, a Vision on the French Revolu.

tion. In the Manner of Dante. In Four Cantos. Written on Occasion of the Death of Nicola Hugo de Basseville, Envoy from the French Republic at Rome, January 14, 1793. Translated from the original Italian of Vicenzo Monti into En. glish Verse. With iwo additional Cantos, by the Rev. Henry Boyd, A. M. 12mo. Pp. 190. 55. Boards. Longman and Co. N our notice of Mr. Mai hias's Italian Tracts, we adverted

in general terms to the nature and spirit of Monti's Poem, which here appears before us in a separate and augmented form, and is an English dress, and of which it may therefore be proper now to speak more circumstantially. It opens at the moment when the spirit of its hero, (if so he may be called,) on its removal to another world, is seized by a minister of the infernal regions, and very seasonably rescued by a guardian angel. From him, Hugo learns that he is destined to enjoy eternal happiness, but not until his native land has expiated the crimes of the revolution in which he had participated; and in the mean while, he is sentenced to contemplate and deplore the scenes of public guilt and misery which must still be exhibited in his devoted country. With this view, his spirit, conducted by the angel, hovers over Marseilles, while the mob were enjoying the spectacle of a victim offered up on the guillotine. she ghost of the murdered man joins Hugo, and informs him that, in the capacity of public executioner, he had been commanded by the mob to insult the image of Christ, by putting a halter round its neck; that he was condemned to death for refusing to perpetrate this act of sacri. lege ; and that his soul had found grace. The two spirits embrace, and then separate, Hugo continuing his penitential progress, still escorted by his guide. Blood, gibbets, sacrilege, and desolation every where meet their sight; and at lengih, they reach Paris on the very morning of the execution of Louis:

• Iu that dread moment to the funeral stage
The monarch comes, unmov'd by mortal rage,

And mounts unterrified, and looks around

* See Rev, N. S. Vol. xlviii. p. 13.

With inborn majesty, that spreads an awe
On them that scorn'd divine and human law,

And cruelty a short suspension found.
Behold a wonder! with Demonian wrath .
Four sons of darkness mount the stage of death

Like men, but each an hideous vizor wore,
With strange distorted looks. A strangling cord
Was twisted close around each neck abhorred,

And every hand a bloddy dagger bore.
O’er every visage hung with horrid shade
Their locks, like unshorn fields in ruin laid,

By Eurus in his rage : and every face
In characters of blood diselos'd a name
By justice doom'd to everlasting fame,

Foul regicides and foes of human race.
First Ankerstrom and Damiens met the sight.
Ravaillac next, a more infernal sprite,

But, with the shadow of his hand, the last
Conceal'd his title. Soon the Stygian band
Seiz'd on their victim with remorseless hand,

And bound him for his fate with cruel haste.
• Then like his Lord, who with his latest breath,
Pray'd for the cruel authors of his death,

And cry'd “O Father, why forsake thy son
Beneath the fatal edge, the fiend-like crew,
With force combin'd the royal victim drew,

Before his saintly orisons were done.
" Receive my spirit, Lord,” he cry'd aloud,
" And save my people, save this blinded crowd."

He could no more, for now a ruffian hand
Led him beneath the steel with fatal force ;
Aloft the steel was rais'd without remorse,

By a dark second of the bloody band.
'. His consecrated locks another held,
And downward to the fatal block compellid

The royal head ; a fourth the fatal i wine
Cut sheer, and down the forceful engine fell.
Earth shook, and ocean seem'd in rage to swell,

While Heav'n in thunder gave the fatal sign.' The soul of the injured monarch Alics to heaven, and is greet. ed by a host of Gallic Martyrs. Hugo then pierces through the crowd, and implores forgiveness of his earthly offences. Louis grants his suit, and enjoins him to protect the queen and the dauphin, and to stimulate the powers of Europe, particu larly the Pope, to avenge his death.- A band of demors and spectres, in the meantime, crowd around the royal body, to ** These beings are supposed to be seen only by the two spirits.'


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drink the blood, but are driven off by an angel with a fiery sword. This band is led by four regicides, and graced by Vol. taire, Diderot, Helvetius, Rousseau, &c. The Jansenists are stationed in the centre; and the Atheists, headed by the au. thor of Le Système de la Nature, bring up the rear. As Basseville was startled on beholding the ghost of Raynal, he is informed that, although that philosopher be still living, his spirit is among the damned, and his body animated by a fiend. Four angels next descend to the netlier world to rouse the nations to arms, and are encountered by two airy forms, on the vest of one of whom are figured the principal scenes of the revolution. All Europe prepares for war. 'Hugo asks how such extensive commotions are to terminate ; and the angel very wisely tells him that, if he comes with him, he shall know. Here ends the original poem.

In the succeeding cantos, Napoleon holds converse with a demon, in visions of the night, and learns his future destiny from witches. The Vices boil a cauldron, and produce a direful being, y-clept Anancus, or Necessiiy. The Corsican then proceeds victoriously, abolishes the Directory, and defeats the powers leagued against him.—The supplement, therefore, furnished by the translator, still leaves the story incomplete ; and the wandering spirit is dismissed with a vague assurance that truth shall finally prevail over error. Mr. Foyd's continuation of the poem likewise manifests less fertility of invention than the original cantos, and has a more pointed refer ence to the blood-stained career of Napoleon I. than to the destinies of Hugo de Basseville. The whole performance, irideed, is somewhat sombre and tiresome, and will probably enjoy only an ephemerous existence. Mr. Boyd betrays a decided propensity to dark allegory and solemn numbers: but we could wish that he had exercised his genius and talents on themes of greater magnitude than the murder of a French agent in the streets of Rome. His manner, we may adid, appears both more obscure and more' paraphrastic than accords with the simple severity of his prototype; while the structure of his mean sure is by no means calculated to relieve the languor with which we peruse a grave poem on the death of a person, who'was neither sufficiently conspicuous nor sufficiently vira iuous to arrest general sympathy. The music and majesty of his lines are frequently marred by inadmissible rhymes: but a few detached stanzas have considerable poctical merit.

To this poem is subjoined an imitation of Gray's Descens of Odin, intitled The Witch of Laplund, supposed to be written after the storm that drove the English feat from Brest, in


January, 1803. This minor piece, which possesses claims to praise, begins thus ;

• UPROSE the fiend of Gaul with specd,
And seiz'd his ficry-footed steed,
And over sea and land he few,
Till near the witches' den he drew;
The lofty rock, the gloomy cave
Echoed to Finland's roaring wave,
And far within the fiend's abode,
That rule the blasts and vex the food,
" Give me a wind,” the Demon cry'd,
* To sweep the broad Atlantic tide,
And drive away the British train,
That block our ports and guard the main :
A storm, a storm, to scour the sea,
And claim a noble gift from me ;
Grant me a storm, and name your price,

My pupil gives me large supplies.The Witch then asks what will be her reward ; and, though the demon proffers a store of human miseries, the inseparable attendants of war and oppression, she will be satisfied with aothing less than the hand of Nelson :

" I know the hand, I hate the name,"

The fiend reply'a, with eyes of flame,
And seaward soon he took his flight,
Borne on the dragon wing of night,
And oft he search'd the sca-wolf's jaw,
And oft the shark's voracious maw.
At length a shatter'd arm he found,

And bore to Lapland's stormy bound.
• The crone her crimson flag unfurld,
Dread signal to the vap'ry world,
And soon her elves, with sullen tune
Drew a dim halo round the moon,
Loud and long the tempest blew,
Uptackle ran the gallant crew,
The navy furl'd her sails in haste,
Half-yielding to the furious blast.
But mightier powers had render'd vain
The compact of the hellish train,
And soon like eagles, scatter'd far
By the rude rage of windy war,
The squadrons rallied to their post,
Lining with fate the trembling coast.
Storming with rage, the Demon finds

commandress of the winds,
And loud, with furious bans assail'd,
Demanding why her magic fail'd ?

'' Alass"

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