The Sun.
London, England, 1838-01-01 00:00:00

FRASER'S MAGAZINE.

The cleverness and variety of this Number will make up
for a great many drowsy ones that Oliver Yorke has lately
turned out. The, first article is from the pen of Dr. Ma-
ginn. It is intitied " Homeric Ballads," and after stoutly
insisting—as every lover of high and rare genius is bound
to do—on the unity of Homer, in opposition to the wild
theory of Wolfe,the Doctor proceeds to give us some spirited
translations, in the old ballad metre, of certain detached
passages in the Odyssey. His article is amusing, though
too much made up of quotations, as if the author had been
" to a feast of learning, and carried away all the scraps,"
and puts forth but one remark to which objection may be
made. Dr. Maginn says, that the Spenserian metre is that
best adapted for a translation of the Iliad. Now, we must
demur to this, for,the measure in question is a heavy and
an elaborate one, and therefore no better calculated to give
the English reader an idea of Homer's fire, and vigour,
and rapidity, when he comes upon battle ground, than the
splendid, but monotonous versification of Pope. The
rhythm of Scott in the closing cantos of Marmion is the
only appropriate metre for the Iliad ; we agree, however,
with the Doctor, that the Spenserian stanza would admirably
befit the more sober, mellow Odyssey, which has far more
repose of manner about it than the Iliad. By the bye,
Alaginn hints that he may be tempted, some day or other,
to give us a translation of these poems. Let him set about
the task forthwith, for no man alive is better qualified to
do it justice. He has fancy, feeling, learning, and a great
command of language—in short, all the requisites for a
Homeric translator. " Blue Friar Pleasantries" are truly
what their title imports, a collection of pleasant trifles dashed
off in easy, slip-shod verse. They are excellent Magazine
reading. " Our Batch of Novels for Christmas" is a
rambling, satirical articl, whose strictures however, severe
as they are, contain much justice. The justest criticism is
that on Miss Landon's " Ethel Churchill." The " Por-
traits of Spanish Carlist Chiefs" is entertaining, but too
highly coloured. The praise is laid on with a trowel.
From the " Newspaper Press of Franee"—the production
of a writer who evidently understands what he is Writing
about—we select the following judicious remarks :

• The Debats, like all other daily journals in France, is published every
day, Sunday included. The only holidays its editors have in the course
of the year are Christmas Day, Good Friday, the Pentecost, the An.
minciation of the Virgin Mary, and one of the " three days" of July,
'this is the work of a galley-slave, and rather worse. It partially ac_
counts for the fact, that there is less talent in the Paris than in the
London press. Man is made to work, but not to groan. He earns his
bread by the sweat of his brow; but one.seventh portion of his time is
granted him to wipe that sweat away. In France it is not so, and the
consequence is natural—ttse editors are soon jaded to death ; and there
is little vigour, little soul in their compositions, Nature will not be
cheated, though God may he dishonoured. If a man will not take
enough sleep fur his body, his mind will fail him. Nature will have
her way; and as the proprietors of the Paris daily press will " make
haste to get rich," it very often happens that poverty overtakes them.
Of all the practical reforms to be made in the French daily press, this
this would be the first and the greatest ; and the editors would certainly
erect pillars of marble and of brass to the daring man, who should ven-
ture to proclaim that in future, on Sundays, his paper would not appear.
For a few days it would make a vast commotion ; but the French may
be habituated to anything by firmness and decision—as Napoleon
taught them to become habituated to the conscription, the censorship,
absolute government, and military despotism.

TAIT'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
Simpkin and Marshall.
Tait's Magazine is more than usually clever this month.
In no other periodical do we find a happier blending of the
prose and poetry of life. A judicious and unweni ied regard
to the wants and cravings of our moral and intellectual
nature has, from its commencement, marked the career of
our honest radical contemporary. While the Utilitarian
will find in the article on " Lord Brougham's Education
Bill," ample proofs of an earnest desire to promote the mo-
ral improvement of the most indigent among the working
classes, the reader of less practical, but more refined lite-
rary tastes and feelings, has only to turn to the " Weird of
the Douglas" for a metrical tale of the imagination, which
would not discredit the genius of Maturin or Beckford.
" Dives and Lazarus" is a sketch equally powerful and
affecting. Should th;s our brief notice of it fall into the
hands of an Irish absentee, we pray him to lose not an in-
stant of making it the subject of an hour's reflection, and
we can assure him beforehand that he was never likely to
spend an hour more profitably. The " London Peripatetic"
is clever, but of its truth we can offer neither a denial nor
a confirmation, having never in our byes assisted at the
meeting of the " Sons and Daughters of ILrmony"—vul-
. garly called Cock and lien Clubs. There is deep pathos
in the following extract from it. The less abandoned fre-
quenters of the Harmonic Saloon at the" Cock and Bottle,"
Seven Dials, are separating for the night :—" A girl, scarce
• sixteen, who has obtained leave to go to the play, is paesing
out ; her arm locked in that of you bloated teflon, of forty.
11er eyes look wild—for she has drank liquor for the first
1
; her cheek is crimsoned—for she lanciys every eye
reads what has passed in her own mind, and every car has.
heard what hers alone drank in. Her companion, with half

dosed eyes, and bead bowed down towards his breast,
walks calmly beside her. He has made sure work of it :
it is too lute for her to return to her home. Her one
glance of agony at the clock over the bar is terrible. The
man soothes her—she drinks again—Reader, you know the
rest of her history !" From graver we turn to gayer sub-
jects—to the contemplation of the joy with which Hanover
will hail the fulfilment of the Satanic prediction herein-
after set forth in the closing stanza of the " Devil in Er-
nest :"

In his cabinet chair, King Ernest sat,
Doing the statesman, and all that;
O'er Ernest's shoulder, with earnest gaze,
Peered his old Mephistophes ;
By his " hoof and horn," you might see full quick
'Twas only Fe! ule's mask di-guised Old Nick;
And, glancing from face to face, you'd swear
That h—l never mated a likelier pair!

" Oh, ho!" quoth Satan, " and so it appears
You'll summon the States just once in three years."
" But only for three months at time."
" Ho, ho!" quoth Saran, " a law s,blime!"
" And with the three months I'll soon dispense."
" Ila: ha!" quoth Satan, " that's d—d good sense!"
" And, to shcw," rejoined Ernest, " I mean to be civil,
I'll blow the whole beggarly crew to the devil!"
Amazement erected Lucifer's horn;
his eyes of their light for a space were shorn;
And the goose-quill blazed in Ernest's hand,
As though 'twere a genuine hell-fire bratid:
O'er " CONSTITUTION," one stroke he drew,
And cried, " 'Tis extinct! Le Roi to veut
Then, with his sublime excitement pal.,
Ile nodded; and ?'other fiend wagged his tail?
" Extinct :" roared Lucifer; " new, by this hoof !
And that is a curse would rend h—l's roof—
Mock-modesty's not your fau't, I see;
For this bangs Bannagher ; that bangs me!
My heart warms towards you ; so does h—l—
clearly in ERNEST nosy—farewell:"
Then, paw upon shoulder, and tongue in check,
Ile muttered, " Old cock, you'll be mine next week :"

John Galt has given the economists a nut to crack in " the
Speculawtor," a tale of the North, illustrative of the mo-
dern principles of commerce. John, as they say in Paisley,
is a " clever bit of a body," and though we cannot always see
so clearly as he would wish the moral drift of his stories,
we will not say that they would please us better even if
we did. The fact is, that we never in our lives could find
fault with a good story, simply because those wiseacres
who delight in moralizing upon every thing, failed in diseo-
vering the moral which they concluded it must be intended
to convey. A hearty laugh--a feeling of mysterious awe—
or the satisfaction derived from learning that a pair of sensi-
tive souls (such figure best in plaintive tale or mournful
ditty) have been made happy, is all we care for. In addi-
tion to the other articles, there are a number of very well
written reviews, which give both interest and variety to
'f'ail's opening columns for the New Year.