I can form no conjecture as to the meaning of Mr Alison's objections. He quotes a few fine lines from the "Praise of Italy," and then one line which he calls prosaic, and would have us to hold up our hands in wonder at the lame and impotent conclusion—at the sudden transformation of Virgil the poet into Virgil the most prosaic of Prosers. You have said enough already, sir, to prove that he is in error even on his own showing;—but how can this fragmentary—this piecemeal mode of quotation—so common among critics of the lower school, and so unworthy of those of the higher—have found favour with Mr Alison, one of the most candid and most enlightened of men? Some accidental prejudice from mere carelessness—but, once formed, retained in spite of the fine and true Taste which, unfettered, would have felt the fallacy, and vindicated his admired Virgil.
NORTH.
The "Laudes"—to which the Poet is brought by the preceding bold, sweeping, winged, and poetical strain about the indigenous vines of Italy—have two-fold root—Trees and the glory of Lands. Virgil kindles on the double suggestion—the trees of Italy compared to the trees of other regions. They are the trees of primary human service and gladness—Oil and Wine. For see at once the deep, sound natural ground in human wants—the bounty of Nature—of Mother Earth—"whatever Earth, all-bearing Mother, yields"—to her human children. That is the gate of entrance; but not prosaically—but two gate-posts of a most poetical mythus-fed husbandman. For we have Jason's fire-mouthed Bulls ploughing, and Cadmus-sown teeth of the dragon springing up in armed men. Then comes, instead, mild, benign, Man-loving Italy—"gravidæ fruges"—the heavy-eared corn—or rather big-teeming—the juice of Bacchus—the Olives, and the "broad herds of Cattle." Note—ye Virgilians—the Corn of Book First—the Oil and Wine of Book Second—and the Cattle of Book Third—for the sustaining Thought—the organic life of his Work moves in his heart.
BULLER.
And the Fourth—Bees—honey—and honey-makers are like Milkers—in a way small Milch-cows.
NORTH.
They are. Once a-foot—or a-wing—he hurries and rushes along, all through the "Laudes." The majestic victim-Bull of the Clitumnus—the incipient Spring—the double Summer—the absence of all envenomed and deadly broods—tigers—lions—aconite—serpents. This is Nature's Favour. Then Man's Works—cities and forts—(rock-fortresses)—the great lakes of Northern Italy—showing Man again in their vast edifications. Then Nature in veins of metals precious or useful—then Nature in her production of Man—the Marsi—the Sabellian youth—the Ligurian inured to labour—and the Volscian darters—then single mighty shapes and powers of Man—Romans—the Decii, the Marii, the Camilli,
"Scipiadas duros bello, et te, maxime Cæsar."
The King of Men—the Lord of the Earth—the pacificator of the distracted Empire—which, to a Roman, is as much as to say the World. Then—hail Saturnian Land! Mother of Corn! Saturnian, because golden Saturn had reigned there—Mother, I suppose the rather because in his time corn sprung unsown—sine semine—She gave it from out of her own loving and cherishing bosom. To Thee, Italy, sing I my Ascræan or Hesiodic song. The Works and Days—the Greek Georgics are his avowed prototype—rude prototype to magnificence—like the Arab of the Desert transplanted to rear his empire of dazzling and picturesque civilisation in the Pyrenean Peninsula.
BULLER.