curtain just enough to disgust him if we let him see how the highest standard of intellect united to excellence in art and refinement of manners, is unable, without higher assistance, to save a people from shameless depravity then we give him a most impressive lesson of the necessity of Christianity.

But it is time to come to the play which stands at the head of our article, lest we should be suspected of having lost sight of it altogether. The Birds is the sixth in chronological order of the extant Aristophanic camedies. It was exhibited during the second campaign in Sicily, and has been generally supposed to ridicule the Athenian projects of universal dominion, particularly as then manifested in the Sicilian expedition; an opinion from which we see no stringent reason for dissenting, although Prof. Felton doubts it, and Müller somewhat generally describes the piece as "a satire on Athenian folly and credulity, on that building of castles in the air, and that dreaming expectation of a life of luxury and ease, to which the Athenian people gave themselves up in the mass." The play is opened by the appearance ot two old Athenians, Pisthetærus and Euelpides (Persuader and Good-hope), the former a plausible and visionary demagogue, the latter a sort of Sancho Panza to him. Disgusted with the litigiousness and fickleness of their countrymen, and not thinking it likely that they shall much better themselves in any other part of Greece (observe how Aristophanes, with all his abuse of his compatriots, is intensely native when it comes to making comparisons), they have resolved to travel away from men altogether, and accordingly, under guidance of a raven and jackdaw (or jay), are going in quest of the country of the birds and the court of King Epops (the Hoopoe), who was formerly a man, Tereus of Thrace, and connected by marriage with the Athenians. They have come pretty much to the world's end without finding any signs of the king or of his courtiers and are pathetically lamenting (as many a stupid young man about town might do) that "they want to go to the devil and can't find the way." At length the road terminates in a rocky barrier, at which, being unable to advance further, they knock. A servant of the Hoopoe makes his appearance, and is induced to summon his master, to whom the travellers communicate their design,

and also a great scheme which they have on hand for the aggrandizement of the birds. King Hoopoe, much struck with the project, desires his consort, the nightingale, to assist him in calling his subjects to council. This nightingale was a celebrated female flute-player, and a delightful solo from her was added to the magnificent lyric which Epops sings here. Down came the birds, one after another, κλαγγηδον προκαθίζοντες, like their fellows in Homer, all sorts, sizes, and colors, and a funny sight they must have been on the stage. But great is their rage and consternation as they become aware of two mortal men, the sight of whom is necessarily associated in their minds with ideas of traps and cages, plucking and roasting. Forthwith they resolve to do justice on the intruders after the fashion in vogue south of Mason and Dixon's Line, tearing them to pieces first, and hearing what they have to say afterwards. But the old gentlemen have not lived in Athens so long or travelled so far for nothing; they have a fair appreciation of their rights, and a proper resolution to maintain them. Their baggage and kitchen equipage are converted into a rampart, their spits into spears, &c., and so formidable a front do they present, that the birds are brought to parley. Pisthetærus seizes the favorable moment, and makes them a speech. He explains to them that the feathered race were originally prior in age and superior in rank, not only to men, but even to the gods; that this position is still their right, though they have heen unjustly deprived of it, and that it is in their power to recover it. (All these points are supported by most comical and ingenious arguments, a capital burlesque on such as usually go down with a popular audience.) As a means of doing so he proposes that they shall build a city in the air, thus cutting off the communication between gods and men, and equally preventing the fat savor of sacrifices from going up to heaven, and the gay celestials from coming down to visit the ladies to whom they are attentive on earth, while the birds are to assume the place of gods to men, which they can do at a much cheaper rate than the present deities. The oration is completely successful, the strangers are at once received into full favor, and, after singing a magnificent parabasis, which is a half serious and half burlesque synopsis of the

ancient cosmogony and theogony, the birds go off, under superintendence of Euelpides, to build the fortifications, while Pisthetærus remains to sacrifice for the welfare of the new city, Cuckoocloudland. The sacrifice, which is to the various birds instead of the various gods, is interrupted by the arrival of sundry pettifogging officials, informers, reformers, and other nuisances, who are very summarily disposed of, being in most instances kicked out headlong

a most commendable precedent for disposing of such people and then comes in a messenger-bird, in great haste and flutter, with the astounding intelligence that the fortifications are completed, at which Pisthetærus himself is taken aback. But soon another messenger arrives, announcing that some one from heaven is trespassing in the city. It proves to be Iris. How she has flown through the walls does not exactly appear, but where the whole piece is a gigantic lie, it is not well to be too particular about slight inconsistencies. However, Pisthetærus bullies her back by sheer force of slang, after the usual manner of demagogues, and at the same time the herald who had been despatched to the lower world returns with the report that all the Athenians have gone bird-mad. Some more emigrants and visitors are disposed of, and then enters Prometheus disguised and concealed under an umbrella. He has come down on the sly to betray the starving and desperate condition of the gods, and his information is soon verified by the appearance of an embassy from heaven, consisting of Neptune, Hercules, and a certain barbarian divinity, one of the Triballi. The terms demanded by Pisthetærus are sufficiently exacting, no less than that Jupiter shall give up to the birds the sovereignty of the world, and to himself his favorite queen (not his wife, whom the Thunderer might have been too glad to get rid of) in marriage. Neptune is for going back re infectâ, but the premier of Cuckoocloudland, with an eye to the wellknown love of good cheer which characterizes the stage Hercules, has a savory banquet in preparation. The son of Alcmene is overcome by the order, he bullies the Triballian (who cannot speak plain Greek, and is altogether a very slow specimen of a divinity) into voting with him, the treaty is concluded, and the play ends with a grand apotheosis of Pisthetærus and his bride. It was put on the stage

without regard to expense, but only gained the second prize, probably from political reasons.

The Birds is very amusing throughout, and not so difficult as some of the other Aristophanic comedies. Professor Felton has, on the whole, performed his editorial task very well, as, indeed, might have been suspected from his previous success with the Clouds. Whatever diversity of opinion there may be as to his transactions with Eschylus, we have never heard it denied that he takes hold of Aristophanes in a workman-like manner. It is evidently a labor of love with him; he has a hearty sympathy with his author that carries him through triumphantly. The few observations we have to make refer generally to sins of omission rather than of commission. Thus we should have said something on v. 150; on 7000à, v. 425; on vv. 479, 817 (лávu ye), 961, 989, 1140, 1396, 1663 (where Dindorf's suggestion, & un βατίζει γ' [=ἀλλὰ βατίζει], instead of the common reading, Badise, seems to us the only way of making anything like sense of the passage); and generally we think there is not sufficient explanation of the proverbs and the parodies, particularly as some of the translations and other parts of the notes are not absolutely necessary, and might easily be dispensed with if there was any fear of making the work too bulky. At the end of v. 537 there should be a comma between ὑμῶν and αυτῶν (we entreat T. L. not to be angry, but we cannot afford to put a full stop to our points just yet, even for him; by the way, will he oblige us by observing that Professor Felton puts a full-sized comma between xavayekãs μov and dios el, v. 1393?), otherwise the position and construction of the latter word are ambiguous. On the contrary, the first comma in v. 771 should be omitted; as it now stands zúzvou would be the vocative instead of the nominative. The professor's note on v. 543 is “Eл' ¿uoỡ, in any case, i. e. here, to my harm." This is a confusion of two different readings and renderings. Most of the editions have εn' uov, in my time, opposed to προγόνων παραδόντων in the previous line; Bothe wishes to substitute en uò, which reading the translation to my harm (or more literally against me) requires. But the old reading, with the old explanation, does not involve a solecism or anachronism, any more than the

very first sentence in Thucydides does; it is in accordance with a common Greek idiom, which, indeed, would be a bull in any modern language, but is perfectly good Attic nevertheless. Κάμηλον ἀμνόν τιν', νν. 1544, 1545, we should translate a camel by way of a lamb, like Theocritus, Idyll. xiv. 17, Βολβος τις κοχλίας ἐξηρέθη, α shell-fish was chosen by way of relish. It is but fair to add, however, that both passages are much disputed.

There! we have finished our observations without saying much about τοι, or γε, or πως, or any of those particles which it is, indeed, a small thing for a scholar to understand, but which it is a still smaller thing (pace T. L. again) for one professing scholarship to be ignorant of. And, in concluding, we have one suggestion to offer to Professor Felton. Aristophanes may be very pleasantly and usefully illustrated from Athenæus. Mitchell has tried this, but his extracts were too wholesale and indiscriminate, and being unaccompanied by translations or explanations, their length and dificulty generally prevent the student from making much use of them. Judicious selections, with translations attached, embodied in the notes, would do much towards making Aristophanes more intelligible and more interesting to our collegians.

THE 'WALTER MAPES' POEMS. * Knickerbocker, April 1850.

FRIENDS AND READERS OF 'OLD KNICK.':

LAST May I submitted to your notice a certain translation, promising at the same time to present you, in the very next number, with some observations explanatory of it, and of the collection of poems whence it was taken. But 'man proposes,' and it is otherwise disposed for him: since then I have been terris jactatus

*The Latin Poems commonly attributed to WALTER MAPES. Collected and edited by THOMAS WRIGHT, Esq. London: printed for the Camden Society. 1841.