which means, if an off-hand version will suffice—
Mix with your cares a little folly,
’Tis pleasant sometimes to be jolly.
One of the most acceptable images, presented by Sir Walter Scott, is that of Counsellor Pleydell, perched upon the table, playing at high jinks, who compliments Colonel Mannering, by continuing the frolic, and telling him, that, if a fool had entered, instead of a man of sense, he should have come down immediately.
My New England readers would be very much surprised, if they had any personal knowledge of the late excellent and venerable Bishop Griswold, to be told, that, among his works, there was an edition of Mother Goose’s Melodies, with prolegomina, notæ, et variæ lectiones; well—there is no such thing there. But every one knows, that the comic romance of Bluebeard, as it is performed on the stage, was written by Bishop Heber, and is published in his works. Every one knows that Hannah More wrote tolerable plays, and was prevented, by nothing but her sex, from being a bishop. Every one knows that bishops and archbishops have done very funny things—in loco. And every one knows, that all this is quite as respectable, as being very reverently dull, and wearing the phylactery for life—stand off, for I am stupider than thou.
I have now before me a small octavo volume—a very bijou of a book, with the following title—Arundines Cami, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Lusus Canori, and bearing, for its motto—Equitare in arundine longa. This book is printed at Cambridge, England; and I have never seen a more beautiful specimen of typography. The work is edited by Henry Drury, Vicar of Wilton: and it contains a collection of Greek and Latin versions; by Mr. Drury himself, and by several good, holy, and learned men—Butler, late Bishop of Litchfield—Richard Porson—Hodgson, S. J. B. of Eton College—Vaughan, Principal of Harrow—Macaulay—Hallam—Law—and many others.
The third edition of this delightful book was published in 1846. And now the reader would know something of the originals, which these grave and learned men have thought it worthy of their talents and time, to turn into Greek and Latin. I scarcely know where to select a specimen, among articles, every one of which is prepared, with such exquisite taste, and such perfect knowledge of the capabilities of the language employed. Among the readers of the Transcript, I happen to know some fair scholars, who would relish a Greek epigram, on any subject, as highly, as others enjoy a pointed paragraph in English, on the subject of rum and molasses. Here is a Greek version of the ditty—“What care I how black I be,” by Mr. Hawtrey, Principal of Eton, which I would transcribe, were it not that a Greek word, now and then, presented in the common type, suggests to me, that you may not have a Greek font. It may be found by those, who are of the fancy, on page 49 of the work.
Here is a version by Mr. Hodgson—how the shrill, thready voice of my dear old nurse rings in my ears, while reading the original! God reward her kind, untiring spirit—she has gone where little Pickles cease from troubling, and where weary nurses are at rest:—
Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker’s man,
So I do, master, as fast as I can.
Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with C,
Then it will answer for Charley and me.
Tunde mihi dulcem pistor, mihi tunde farinam.
Tunditur, O rapida tunditur illa manu.
Punge decenter acu, tituloque inscribe magistri;
Sic mihi, Carolulo, sic erit esca meo.
The contributions of Mr. H. Drury, the editor, are inferior to none—
There was an old man in Tobago,
Who liv’d on rice gruel and sago;
Till, much to his bliss,
His physician said this:
‘To a leg, sir, of mutton you may go.’
Senex æger in Tarento
De oryxa et pulmento
Vili vixerat invento;
Donec medicus
Seni inquit valde læto,
‘Senex æger, o gaudeto,
Crus ovinum, jam non veto
Tibi benedicus.’