go 
another, so that the sense by which they 
began the first, was completed only in 
the second—nor upon the possibility of 
according these suspensions of the poet’s 
meaning with the measure of the music 
and the steps of the dancers. All these 
difficulties have sufficiently exercised the 
learned; and many are yet unexplained. 
The history of the arts and sciences 
among the ancients, may be compared 
to an immense country, overspread with 
monuments and ruins—with specimens 
of the most finished architecture, inter- 
mingled with every symptom of decay 
and fallen splendour. The ancients them- 
selves have left us no traditions, by which 
we can ascertain the history of the origin 
and progress of art among them. They 
appear to have taken no precaution 
against time or future barbarity. It 
would seem, that they dreaded neither 
the one nor the other; and when we 
consider the long and brilliant part they 
acted in the annals of mankind, we can 
readily excuse their having been lulled 
into security, by this high opinicn of 
their glory, and the immortality of their 
works. ; 
When, in Italy, we hear a skilful Im- 
provisatore, preluding upon an instru- 
ment, sing a profusion of verses extem- 
peraneously upon a given subject—when 
we perceive him, as he advances, become 
more animated, and accelerate the move- 
ment of the air upon which he composes, 
and then produce ideas, images, senti- 
ments, and long strains of poetry and 
eloquence, of which he would have been 
incapable in moments of greater calm- 
ness, and sink at last into a state of ex- 
hanstion similar to that of the Pythian 
goddess,—we recognize that principle of 
mspiration and enthusiasm common. to 
the ancient poets; and are, at once, 
filled with astonishment and pity. With 
astonishment, to find those emotions real- 
ized, which once were deemed fabulous 
and with pity, to behold these efforts 
of nature employed upon a futile and 
evanescent art, from which the Improvi- 
gatore can claim no other success than 
the pleasure of having amused a few cu- 
rious auditors—while all the pictures, 
sentiments, and beautiful verses, which 
escaped him in the rapid moments of his 
delivery, are gone, and leave no other 
impression but the vibration produced by 
the sound of iis voice. It was thus, no 
doubt, that the ancient lyric poets were 
animated ; but their inspiration was more 
worthily and more usefully employed. 
They were net exposed tothe hazard of ex- 
Kh 
Lycaum of Ancient Literature—Lyric Poetry. [Feb. 1, 
temporary execution, nor were they com- 
pelled to the adoption of a subject steril, 
uninteresting, or frivolous. They medi- 
tated, beforehand, the subject of their 
songs; they proposed to themselves the 
most grave and sublime compositions; 
their enthusiasm was not excited to please 
a circle of idle auditors ; but, in the midst 
of armies, to the sound of warlike instru- 
ments, they sang of valour, the love of 
their country, the charms of freedom, the 
hope of victory, or the glory of dying in 
battle. It was among a people to whom 
they celebrated the majesty of laws and 
the empire of virtue—in funereal games, 
where, before a tomb covered with tro- 
plies and decorated with laurels, they re- 
commended to posterity the memory of 
some personage who had lived and died 
in the service of his country—in feasts, 
where, seated by the side of kings, they 
applauded the deeds of heroes, and sti- 
mulated the monarch to the laudable de- 
sire of. being celebrated in his turn by 
future poets equally eloquent—or in a 
temple, where the sacred bards seemed 
inspired by those gods whose power they 
exalted and whose goodness they pro- 
claimed. In a word, the idea that we 
are to form of an ancient lyric poet in 
the highest elevation of the ode, 1s that 
of a virtuous enthusiast, who, with the 
lyre in his hand, endeavoured to allay 
sedition—who, in a period of public 
disaster, gave hope to those who de- 
spaired, and courage to those who were 
ready to sink—whe, in the hour of suc- 
cess, recorded the exploits of his coun- 
trymen—whko, in the solemnity of a 
feast, augmented its interest and splen- 
dour—or who, in the games and exercises 
peculiar to his nation, excited the emu- 
lation of the candidates, by the hope of 
victory, and the certainty of reward. 
Such was the ode among the Greeks. 
With a people who worshipped their he- 
roes, even more than their gods, the 
character of a lyric poet could not fail 
to be highly important. He was revered 
as the friend of the Muses and the favou- 
rite of Apollo. The enthusiasm of the 
people stimulated that of the bard—and 
all the genius of the country was devoted 
to this divine art. But what contributed 
still more to the character of grandeur 
which it assumed, was the use which was 
made of it for political purposes, by con- 
necting it with the establishment of laws, 
and the reformation of manners. If we 
could suppose in the middle of Rome, 
Pergolese or Somelli, a lyre in his hand, 
with the voice of Timotheus and the elo- 
quence 
