At the same time, we have -our doubts whether some chastised tastes may not prefer the simplicity of ARISTOPHANES; though it must not be concealed, that there are critics who think he meant a wicked stroke of ridicule at the PHILOCTETES of SOPHOCLES, when, in his own PLUTUS, he makes his sycophant, at the smell of roast meat, exclaim—
“Υυ, υυ, υυ, υυ, υυ, υυ!”
Which we shall render by an excellent interjection, first coined from the rich mint of MAJOR JOHN SCOTT, in his incomparable Ode—
“Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff,
sniff,
sniff, sniff.”
But whatever may be the comparative merits of these passages, ancient and modern, we are confident no future critic will dispute but that they are all excelled by the following exquisite couplet of our author:
Ha! ha!—this soothes me in severest woe;
Ho! ho!—ah! ah!—oh! oh!—ha! ah!—ho!—oh!!!
We have now seen the drummer quietly inurn’d, and sung our requiem over his grave: we hope, however, that
——He, dead corse, may yet, in complete calf,
Revisit oft the glimpses of the candle,
Making night chearful.
We had flattered ourselves with the hope of concluding the criticisms on the ROLLIAD with an ode of Mr. ROLLE himself, written in the original EX-MOOR dialect; but we have hitherto, owing to the eagerness with which that gentleman’s literary labours are sought after, unfortunately been unable to procure a copy. The learned Mr. DAINES BARRINGTON having, however, kindly hinted to us, that he thought he had once heard Sir JOHN HAWKINS say, that he believed there was something applicable to a drum in the possession of Mr. STEVENS, the erudite annotator on SHAKESPEARE, Sir JOSEPH BANKS kindly wrote to that gentleman; who, upon searching into his manuscripts at Hampstead, found the following epitaph, which is clearly designed for our drummer. Mr. STEVENS was so good as to accompany his kind and invaluable communication with a dissertation to prove that this FRANCIS of GLASTONBURY, from similarity of style and orthography, must have been the author of the epitaph which declares that celebrated outlaw, ROBIN HOOD, to have been a British peer. Mr. PEGGE too informs us, that the HARLEIAN MISCELLANY will be found to confirm this idea; and at the same time suggests, whether, as that dignified character, Mr. WARREN HASTINGS, has declared himself to be descended from an Earl of HUNTINGDON, and the late Earl and his family have, through some unaccountable fantasy, as constantly declined the honour of the affinity, this apparent difference of opinion may not be accounted for by supposing him to be descended from that Earl?—But, if we are to imagine any descendants of that exalted character to be still in existence, with great deference to Mr. PEGGE’s better judgment, might not Sir ALEXANDER HOOD, and his noble brother, from similarity of name, appear more likely to be descendants of this celebrated archer? and from him also inherit that skill which the gallant admiral, on a never to be forgotten occasion, so eminently displayed in drawing a long bow? We can only now lament, that we have not room for any minute enquiry into these various hypotheses, and that we are under the necessity of proceeding to the drummer’s epitaph, and the conclusion of our criticisms.
[Blackletter:
“A stalwart Saxon here doth lie,
Japeth nat, men of Normandie;
Rollo nought scoft his dyand wordes
Of poynt mo perrand than a swordis.
And leal folk of Englelonde
Shall haven hem yvir mo in honde.
Bot syn that in his life I trowe,
Of shepes skynnes he had ynowe,
For yvir he drommed thereupon:
Now he, pardie, is dede and gone,
May no man chese a shepis skynne
To wrappe his dyand wordes inne.”
Od. Frauncis of Glastonbury.]