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whole conception is contempt. Faust strives through science for superhuman power. He is disappointed, and, in consequence, disgusted with human power. Disgusted with the insufficiency of science and reason to elevate man above bis own sphere into that of superior spirits, he despises himself, the buman intellect, mankind. At this moment Mephistopheles is originated. The principle of contempt condenses into a fiend — into the arch-enemy of man. Impelled by the ungovernable impulse for power, which is the characteristic of his nature, he rushes beyond the charmed circle of human capability, and when beyond it, finds bimself in the power of the Demon.

All this is struck out with wonderful boldness and brilliancy in the dramatic form under which the dialogue between Faust, and the superior spirit who spurns him, is followed by the appearance of Mephistopheles, and by Faust's immediate compact with him. Contempt for the human intellect, disgust at the insufficiency of man, impels him to the compact with the spirit of contempt. To distraction, enjoyment, excitement, he devotes himself. With a sort of desperate enthusiasm he exclaims :

“Now in the deeps of senses' enjoyment,
Let me cool my glowing passions
Let me cast myself into the rushing of Time,
Into the rolling of events !
My bosom, that of knowledge-thirst is cured,
Shall lock no more its sorrows in itself -

To passions' tumult I devote myself.” And how much of the moral of the whole poem is concentrated into the sneering comment upon the enthusiasm of Faust with which Mephistopheles commences his soliloquy:

“ Yes -yes despise reason and science,
The very highest power of man;
Suffer yourself with blinding jugglery
To be encouraged by the lying fiend,

Then I have you without condition.There is not in fact, in the whole range of literature, a work which contains a sounder, deeper, or more healthy moral than this drama. It is, moreover, as we stated in the commencement, a poem, which embodies, as it were, the result of all Goethe's studies, actions, life. And it is for this reason that a study of this single work would give the reader a very comprehensive notion of his genius. Faust is a man who has violated the principle of humility, of tranquillity, of contentment with the limi

tations of the human intellect, which was the grand precept, the primary law of Goethe's life. The consequence to Faust of this violation, of this struggle to overleap the barrier, is destruction, damnation.

To make the most of present life, of present knowledge; to develop to the utmost the human intellect as it exists; and to look forward to their complete expansion, to their perfect development, in some future existence, with faith, with placid and unrepining hope; to be universal within the present limitations of humanity, and to trust for an universal and unbounded existence in a future sphere ; this, as we have repeated again and again, was -Goethe. The reverse of this — the embodiment of man, over-ambitious, disgusted with humanity, and “cursing patience ;' invoking and devoting himself to the fiend which slumbered as yet unformed and chaotic within his own nature - this is Faust.

It will be observed that in this exceedingly superficial notice of Faust, we have attempted to discuss nothing but the main principle which was at the bottom of the poem.

We have passed over the sublime “prologue in heaven.” We have not trusted ourselves to express our admiration of the colossal harmony of the archangels' chorus around the throne of God, ihat sublime strain in which the fabled music of the spheres seems actually to have been reduced into language, into poetry. Neither have we said any thing of the course of the story, of the exciting and wonderful whirl of adventure, which succeeds the departure of Faust from his study, and continues to the end. The bewitching creation of Margaret, the exquisite manner in which her passion is depicted and developed, the touching pathos of the catastrophe, the bewildering scenes on May-day night ; of all these we have purposely said nothing. We have sought, briefly and plainly as was in our power, to set forth the principle of the poem ; to show our reasons for the opinion that it is the poem of the age. As for selecting any passages of peculiar beauty or force, and placing them before the reader as specimens, nothing has been farther from our purpose. It is almost impossible to cull out fragments, to disonite a portion of the whole; every line of the poem grows out of the whole, is interwoven with the whole, and returns, like the branches of the Banian, into the roots and germ of the whole. The germ is the great principle which we have endeavored to develop, and which is at the roots of the whole poem. The

poem, though a fragment in form, exists only as a whole, and no extract can furnish an idea of its character. Besides, too, one of its minor excellences, as we before remarked, is the exquisite symmetry of the versification. Almost every species of verse, of rhyme, of melody, is to be found within its compass, and each the most perfect, the most polished of its kind. It is easy then to perceive how useless is, even in a minor sense, selection and translation.

We would also observe, that in speaking of Faust, we like to consider it as finished with the first part. Although a whole in itself, it is necessarily a fragment too. The human reason is a fragment, and a poem which, like Faust, is an embodiment of the different components of human reason, must necessarily be a fragment. Ending with the first part, it is a whole within itself- a fragment only to the eye of a superior intelligence; just as human reason is complete within itself, and fragmentary only in comparison with superior wisdom.

We must conclude abruptly, though it seems to us that we have but just approached the commencement of our subject.

One word, however, in defence of the plan we have pursued. We have left entirely unnoticed very many of Goethe's most remarkable productions. We have done this purposely. Το examine his works by the catalogue, and to bestow only a few comments upon each production, would be impossible in one article or a dozen. Of Goetz, of Egmont, of Tasso, still more of the exquisite Iphigenia, of Mahomet, of the Divan, of the countless and invaluable disquisitions on historical, archæological, and scientific subjects, which are a library in themselves, and which were the daily emanations of his most industrious and prolific genius — we have not trusted ourselves to say one word. Our object has been to generalize, to give, as far as possible, results; and from a private, and at any rate, not temporary observation of his general productions, to deduce as well as we were able the principles and the laws of his genius.

That we have been superficial when we ought to have been profound, no one can be better aware than ourselves. The magnitude of the subject which attracted in the outset, has disheartened us as we proceeded, and we can only conclude this long, and, at the same time, utterly incomplete paper, with the apology for Faust himself:

Er ist sich seiner Tollheit halb bewusst.

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Art. II.-Anthologia Græca ad Palatini codicis fidem edita.

Editio stereotypa. Lipsiæ : ex officina Car. Tauchnitii.

“Teach me the songs of a people, and I will tell you what were its laws,” is an aphorism, truer than that of Fletcher. That the poetry of a nation does react upon its character, and may reappear in its institutions, is true ; but obviously, it were more philosophic to consider both laws and lyrics, as effects rather than causes, or each, as being at once the result and the instrument, the significant development, and the evolving method of the National Spirit.

Viewed in this light, the Anthology of a great historical people, becomes an object of no secondary importance; it is seen to be a key, wherewith to unlock the most recondite secrets of their life ; a clue, whereby we may unravel the most complex of the spiritual agencies, by which their existence and destiny were determined ; it becomes the exponent of their manners, the interpreter of their laws, the symbol of their philosophy, and illuminated by, and illuminating these, may afford us a satisfactory explanation of the process by which their greatness was achieved, and of that by which their ruin was finally effected.

It is worthy of remark, that not until the history of the Greeks as a separate people, was about to be closed - that not until the reign of the last Seleucus — did Meleager, the Syrian, appear, to collect into his famous Garland the scattered and then perishing flowers of the Minor Greek Poetry.

The finest, perhaps, of these celebrated epigrams, were composed by Meleager himself, and are characteristic of the impressible and sympathetic genius that first conceived the beautiful idea of the Anthology - the Flower-collection. How appropriate, and how beautiful a word !

The most interesting of the collections, made subsequently to the death of Meleager, is that of Agathias, in the sixth century. The compositions of this poet, and those of his friend Paul, the Silentiary, - inferior to those of the earlier poets, but not destitute of spirit and elegance — mark, we think, an epoch.

We ought not to omit mention of Constantinus Cephalus, the friend and relative of the Emperor Leo, the philosopher, for we owe to him the preservation of all the Anthologies, of which he made in the tenth century, a complete collection, the NO. IX. - VOL. v.


same that was discovered in the seventeenth by Salmasius, and became the basis of that which we now possess.

The modern editions best known to us, are those of Brunck ; of Jacobs, illustrated by copious and valuable notes; and of De Bosch, accompanied by the Latin versions of Grotius.

More nearly within the means of most American students, is the homely German edition, the title of which we have placed at the head of this article. It contains merely the text, which is tolerably correct, and an Index Poetarum, which is sadly the

The editor, whoever he may be, seems not very proud of his performance, for his name is not prefixed. A few of the epigrams are among the poetical selections in the second volume of the Græca Majora, and of course within the reach of all students; but as those selections are few, and copies of the complete Anthology in this country scarce, we shall, in most instances, prefix to our translations the Greek text.

When we apply the word epigram to the poetic flowers of the Anthology, we must ask the English reader to divest himself entirely of the associations commonly connected with that term. In its primitive meaning, it corresponded exactly with our Anglo-Latin word inscription, and was applied by the Greeks to any sentence, a prayer it might be, or a sentiment of gratitude, written upon the gifts which they were used to place in the temples of the Gods. As, for example, the following, by Simonides, of Ceos, are epigrams in this primitive sense of the word.

On votive Arrows in the temple of Minerva.
Τόξα τάδε πτολέμοιο πεπαυμένα δακρυόεντος

νηώ 'Αθηναίης κειται υπωρόφια,
πολλακι δη στoνόεντα κατά κλόνον εν δαι φωτων
Περσών ιππομάχων αίματι λουσαμενα.

These arrows now from war,

from war, the tearful, resting,
Within Minerva's fane, are over-roof'd;
Erst, in the groaning rout of men contesting,

With blood of Persian horsemen bathed oft.
On a Spear placed against a column, in the temple of Jupiter.

Ούτω του μελία ταναν ποτι κίονα

ησο, Πανoμφαίο Ζηνί μένουσ' ερα.
ήδη γαρ χαλκός τε γέρων, αυτή τε τετρυσαι

πυκνά κραδαινομένα δηΐω εν πολέμω.
Thus ! — long Ash-spear! this column tall adorn,

And sacred to Oracular Jove remain !
Thy brass is old, and thou, so close in grain,

With brandishing in battle fierce, art worn.


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