If, ere the first, dull, whining scene be past, Then, Coleridge, will I bless " our favor'd clime;' Then, and then only, call thy Play sublime. Others there are, who say the Drama's store 840 NOTES. MATILDA. Oh, where, ye Heavens! Where was your justice then? And died he there? ST. VAL. 'Twas not his lot to find a distant grave. MATILDA. Where, where? Oh, speak! release me from the rack! ST. VAL. Where did he fall! Nor Pagan swords, nor slavery's galling chain, Nor murderous daggers, Afric's burning clime, Toils, storms, nor shipwrecks killed him- here he fell! Grief burst his heart-here in this spot he fell! [He falls to the ground.] Yes, when, in grave debate for staggering sots, The Commons voted against Pewter Pots, He called the Chymist, 'inid the mighty din, To prove Galvanic properties of Tin Gave to the Beer, within the Tankard plac'd, 865 A tarter flavour, and a livelier taste. Last see the Nobles, who, with eager joy, Who gaze enraptur'd on a Sign-Post scrawl, NOTES. * The extraordinary infatuation which has lately exhibited itself among antiquated book-collectors and young noblemen, in the purchase of those early specimens of (principally British) Typography, whose value can consist only in the avidity with Each marvels how no Fury could destroy 875 The "Recupeuil of the Historye of Troye;" NOTES. which they are sought after by the admirers of Gothic crudities, as their rarity must have greatly decreased by the numbers in which they are found in the libraries of the curious, evinces a sickly taste for the fopperies of the Bibliomaniac, which is a bad omen for the Republic of Letters: for if the "quaynte conceytes" and learned fooleries of monkish historians, and the marvellous and bungling Romances of pedantic " Rhymers," are to prefer their claim to renown, for ages to come, merely as they have been written for the perusal of ages past, the tales of our childhood, the achievements of Jack the Giant Killer, the adventures of Thomas Thumb,-the prowess of the Seven Champions, and the heroism of Earl Guy of Warwick, will descend to our posterity, as indeed they came to us, by oral tradition; but with increasing honors, and, perhaps, in fac-similes of illuminated MSS.-Were any thing of real value to be thus rescued by the munificence of wealth, or the patronage of genius, from that oblivion into which the emanations of talent had sunk equally with the productions of dulness, it would, indeed, derive additional claim to our veneration, from its antiquity; and the newlydiscovered Optics of Ptolemy, wonderful as they intrinsically are, And bends, with rev'rence, and exulting glee, NOTES. we peruse with still greater delight, when we reflect that they are consecrated by the veil of two thousand years! But shall the idle nonsense of a heavy monk (for to his Order in these times, Learning, such as it was, appears to have been confined) be singled out and bought up with rapture by opulent Bigots to the magic term between 1470 and 1530, to the detriment of those enlightened compositions of the last Century that have astonished Europe and illuminated the world? A Dunce, who happened to live four ages ago, is not therefore entitled to our admiration; and Bavius and Mævius stand execrated to eternity. A grossly indecent jest book, possessing, indeed, poignant wit,-il Decaineroni di Boccacio,—of which a copy, equally old, was in possession of a nobleman, but wanting the title page; a complete one was sold at a late Duke's sale, at the enormous price of £ 2260! Oh Boccace! hadst thou foreseen this, thou wouldst have offered the whole of Astolpho's territory for such a sum! I subjoin this extract from Mr. Nicoll's catalogue of the 2d Day of the Duke of Roxburgh's sale, to prove to those, who flatter themselves that the fate of dulness is oblivion, and contempt, the meed of igno Then thousands mount up for a title page, That tells, oh, glorious prize! a jest book's age. 880 NOTES. rance, how mistaken such calculations are in an age, when nonsense heed only be old to be adored, and pedantry be printed in black-letter, to grace the shelves of nobility. I particularly notice the Romances, to show that assertions, though advanced by genius and enforced by eloquence, may be ill-grounded; (for who is to believe Burke," that the age of Chivalry is past," when the fortunes of Princes are expended in the purchase of descriptions of Tournaments?) and I submit these observations to demonstrate, that while I reverence the genius of antiquity, which has fostered the sublimest productions of human intellect, I would deprecate the respect paid to the jargon of clerical authorship, that has truly produced the abortions of distempered imaginations. 66 The Recuyeuil of the Historye of Trope," by Raoule le Ferie, translated and printed by William Caxton, fol. blue moroc. Colen. 1473, the only copy of the first book printed in the English language, and had belonged to Elizabeth Grey, Queen of Edward the IVth, bought by the Duke of Devonshire for £ 1060 10s. This purchase seems to have enhanced the value of all the succeeding |