Boreäna,
I hear the rolling of the mill,
Boreäna.
Chapter II.
My poor friend had always within him a certain classical fondness of the ancient style of poetry; none of your vulgar Alcaics and Sapphics—“These,” he used to remark, “Horace, Tibullus, or any fellow of that calibre could manage; but the glorious hexameters and pentameters of Homer, Virgil, and Ovid,—they’re the things, my boy!” His delight in this species of composition was so great that at school we used to call him, as a nickname, “Professor Long-and-short-fellow.” It curdles my blood to think that some obscure person in America, who has latterly been indulging in dactyllic and spondaic metre, has dared to name himself partly in imitation of the sobriquét by which we designated our friend.
Recollecting poor Pellucid’s warm admiration of the hexameter then, I have made strict search among his papers, on the chance of finding some classical Latin or Greek poem of his composition, but without success. At one time a ray of hope darted through me, as I came upon a paper carefully folded, and docketted, “Notions for a Fight between Hector and Achilles;” I unfolded it eagerly, but, alas! it was only a fragment, the words “Arma virumque cano” were legibly inscribed in my friend’s neat hand, but it was evident that he had either been called away, or that the Muse had deserted him at the critical moment, as he had left it without another word. At length I chanced to find the following poem, descriptive of a picnic at Cliefden and its consequences, in the true classical verse, but, before submitting it to the world, I must remark that on the outside cover of the MS. is written, in pencil, and in a hand very similar to that of Mr. B⸺, the publisher, of F⸺ Street, “Query? Evang’⸺;” the rest of the word is illegible, and I could never comprehend the meaning of the comment.
PICNIC-ALINE.
These are the green woods of Cliefden. The glorious oaks and the chestnuts
All appertain to the Duke, whose residence stands in the distance—
Stands like a toyhouse of childhood, besprinkled all over with windows—