called by the Italians ottava rima, which Boccacio adopted from the old French Chansons, and here first introduced among his countrymen. The story of this admirable production of the great Tuscan novelist is well known to the English reader, in consequence of its having been selected by Chaucer as the ground-work of his Knight's Tale, the finest of his poems, and the first conspicuous example of the English heroic couplet extant. "Dryden's paraphrase of this poem," says Warton, "is the most animated and harmonious piece of versification in the English Language." MILTON. It is well known, that in the bloom of youth, and when he pursued his studies at Cambridge, this poet was extremely handsome. Wandering one day during the summer far beyond the precincts of the University into the country, he became so heated and fatigued, that, reclining himself at the foot of a tree to rest, he soon fell asleep. Before he awoke, two ladies, who were foreigners, passed by in a carriage. Agreeably astonished at the loveliness of his appearance, they alighted, and having admired him (as they thought) unperceived for some time, the youngest, who was very beautiful, drew a pencil from her pocket, and having written some lines upon a piece of paper, put it with her trembling hands into his own. Immediately afterwards, they proceeded on their journey. Some of his acquaintances, who were in search of him, had observed this silent adventure, but at too great a distance to discover that the highly-favoured party in it was our illustrious bard. Approaching nearer, they saw their friend, to whom, being awakened, they mentioned what had happened. Milton opened the paper, and, with surprise, read these verses from Guarini: "Occhi, stelle mortali, "Ye eyes! ye human stars! ye authors of my liveliest pangs! if thus, when shut, ye wound me, what must have proved the consequence had ye been open?" Eager, from this moment, to find out the fair incognita, Milton travelled, but in vain, through every part of Italy. His poetic fervour became incessantly more and more heated by the idea which he had formed of his unknown admirer; and it is, in some degree, to her, that the world is indebted for several of the most powerful and highlywrought passages in "Paradise Lost." BELL-ROCK LIGHT-HOUSE. LATELY, a small party visited the Bell-Rock Light-house, and were highly gratified with its majestic appearance. In the library, the strangers found the appropriate volume of Robinson Crusoe;' and in the Album, which is presented to all visitors for the insertion of their names, remarks, &c., they distinguished the following lines, inscribed by the hand of the popular author of the Lady of the Lake:' "PHAROS LOQUITUR. "Far in the bosom of the deep, O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep ; A ruddy gem of changeful light, Bound on the dusky brow of night: The seaman bids my lustre hail, And scorns to strike his timorous sail. WALTER SCOTT, July 30, 1814." VOL. I. I RELIQUE OF BURNS. THE following verses, in the hand-writing of Burns, are copied from a bank-note in the possession of Mr. James F. Gracie, of Dumfries. The note is of the Bank of Scotland, and is dated so far back as the 1st of March, 1780. The lines exhibit marks of the poet's vigorous pen, and are, evidently, an extempore effusion o his characteristic feelings. They bear internal proof of their having been written at that interesting period of his life, when he was on the point of leaving the country on account of the unfavourable manner in which his proposals for marrying Bonny Jean,' (his fuur wife) were at first received by her parents. "Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf ! Fell source of a' my woe and grief ;— For lack of thee, I scrimp my glass. I see the children of affliction For lack o'thee, I leave this much-lov'd shore, AMBROSE PHILLIPS AND SWIFT. AMBROSE Phillips was a neat dresser, and very vain. In a conversation between him, Congreve, Swift, and others, the discourse ran a good while upon Julius Cæsar. After many things had been said to the purpose, Ambrose asked, what sort of person they supposed Cæsar was? He was answered, that, from medals, &c., it appeared that he was a small man and thin-faced. "Now, for my part," said Ambrose, "I should take him to have been of a lean make, pale complexion, extremely neat in his dress, and five feet seven inches high;"- an exact description of Phillips himself. Swift, who understood good breeding perfectly well, and would not interrupt any body while speaking, let him go on, and, when he had quite done, said:"And I, Mr. Phillips, should take him to have been a plump man, just five feet five inches high, and very neatly dressed in a black gown with pudding-sleeves." SPENCE. |