BOB BURNS AND BERANGER.

SAM LOVER AND OVIDIUS NASO.

BY FATHER PROUT.

TO THE EDITOR OF BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.

Sir,—Under the above title I forward you two more scraps from Water-grass-hill.

The first is a glee in praise of poverty, a subject on which poets of every country have a common understanding. The Italian Berni, indeed, went a step farther when he sang the "comforts of being in debt,"—La laude del debito; but your enthusiast never knows where to stop. This MS. may suit in the present state of the money market,—a bill drawn by Burns and endorsed by Beranger. You can rely on the Scotchman's signature, experto crede Roberto; while there can be no doubt that the French songster's financial condition fully entitles him to join Burns in an attempt of this kind. Since, however, much spurious paper appears to be afloat, you will use your own discretion as to the foreign acceptance.

Of Scrap No. VI. I say nothing, Doctor Prout having left a note on the subject prefixed to the same. Yours, &c.

Rory O'Dryscull.

Water-grass-hill, April 20.

Scrap No. V.

I. 1.

Is there, Quoi! Pauvre honnête

For honest poverty, Baisser la tête?

That hangs his head Quoi! rougir de la sorte?

And a' that? Que l'âme basse

The coward slave S'éloigne et passe

We pass him by, Nous—soyons gueux! n'importe!

We dare be poor for a' that: Travail obscur—

For a' that, and a' that, N'importe!

Our toils obscure, Quand l'or est pur

And a' that; N'importe!

The rank is but Qu'il ne soit point

The guinea's stamp, Marqué au coin

The Man's the gowd for a' that. D'un noble rang—qu'importe!

II. 2.

What! though Quoiqu'on dût faire

On homely fare we dine, Bien maigre chère

Wear hidden grey, Et vêtir pauvre vêtement;

And a' that; Aux sots leur soie,

Give fools their silks, Leur vin, leur joie;

And knaves their wine, Ca fait'il L'Homme? eh, nullement!

A man's a Man for a' that: ' Luxe et grandeur—

For a' that, for a' that, Qu'importe!

Their tinsel show, Train et splendeur—

And a' that; Qu'importe!

The honest man, Cœurs vils et creux!

Though e'er so poor, Un noble gueux

Is king o' men for a' that. Vaut toute la cohorte!

III. 3.

Ye see Voyez ce fat—

Yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Un vain éclat

Wha struts and stares, L'entoure, et on l'encense,

And a' that; Mais après tout

Though hundreds worship Ce n'est qu'un fou,—

At his word, Un sot, quoiqu'il en pense;

He's but a coof for a' that: Terre et maison,

For a' that, for a' that, Qu'il pense—

His riband, star, Titre et blazon,

And a' that; Qu'il pense—

The man of Or et ducats,

Independent mind Non! ne font pas

Can look and laugh at a' that. La vraie indépendence!

IV. 4.

A king Un roi peut faire

Can make a belted knight, Duc, dignitaire,

A marquis, duke, Comte et marquis, journellement;

And a' that; Mais ce qu'on nomme

But an Honest Man Un Honnête Homme,

's aboon his might, Le peut-il faire? eh, nullement!

Guid faith he manna fa' that. Tristes faveurs!

For a' that, for a' that, Réellement;

Their dignities, Pauvres honneurs!

And a' that; Réellement;

The pith o' sense Le fier maintien

And pride o' warth Des gens de bien

Are higher ranks than a' that. Leur manque essentiellement.

V. 5.

Then let us pray Or faisons vœu

That come it may— Qu'à tous, sous peu,

As come it will Arrive un jour de jugement;—

For a' that— Amis, ce jour

That sense and warth, Aura son tour,

O'er all the earth, J'en prends, j'en prends, l'engagement.

May bear the gree, and a' that! Espoir et en-

For a' that, and a' that, couragement,

It's coming yet, Aux pauvres gens

For a' that, Soulagement;

That man to man, 'Lors sure la terre

The warld a' o'er, Vivrons en frères,

Shall brothers be, for a' that. Et librement, et sagement!

Scrap No. VI.

Possevino, in his History of the Gonzagas, (fol. Mantua, 1620,) tells us, at page 781, that a Polish army, having penetrated to the Euxine, found the ashes, with many MSS. of Ovid under a marble monument, which they transferred in pomp to Cracow, A.D. 1581. It is well known that the exiled Roman had written sundry poems in barbaric metre to gratify the Scythian and Getic literati with whom he was surrounded. We have his own words for it:

The following is a fair specimen, procured by the kindness of the late erudite Quaff-y-punchovitz, Keeper of the Archives of the Cracovian University. The rhythmic termination, called by the Greeks ομοιοτελεντον is here clearly traceable to a Northern origin. It would appear that the Scandinavian poets took great pride in the nicety and richness of these rhymes, by which they beguiled the tediousness of their winter nights:

Ovid first tried thus an experiment on his native tongue, which was duly followed up by the Church, not unwilling to indulge by any reasonable concession her barbarous converts in the sixth century. Of Mr. Lover's translation it were superfluous to point out the miraculous fidelity; delicate gallantry and well-sustained humour distinguish every line of his vernacular version, hardly to be surpassed by the Ars amandi of his Latin competitor.

TO THE HARD-HEARTED MOLLY AD MOLLISSIMAM PUELLAM, È GETICÂ

CAREW, THE LAMENT OF HER CARUARUM FAMILIÂ OVIDIUS

IRISH LOVER. NASO LAMENTATUR.

1. I.

Och hone! Heu! heu!

Oh! what will I do? Me tædet, me piget o!

Sure my love is all crost, Cor mihi riget o!

Like a bud in the frost ... Ut flos sub frigido ...

And there's no use at all Et nox ipsa mî, tum

In my going to bed; Cum vado dormitùm,

For 'tis dhrames, and not sleep, Infausta, insomnis,

That comes into my head ... Transcurritur omnis ...

And 'tis all about you, Hoc culpâ fit tuâ

My sweet Molly Carew, Mî, mollis Carùa,

And indeed 'tis a sin Sic mihi illudens,

And a shame.— Nec pudens.—

You're complater than nature Prodigum tu, re

In every feature; Es, verâ, naturæ,

The snow can't compare Candidor lacte;—

To your forehead so fair: Plus fronte cum hâc te,

And I rather would spy Cum istis ocellis,

Just one blink of your eye Plus omnibus stellis

Than the purtiest star Mehercule vellem.—

That shines out of the sky; Sed heu, me imbellem!

Tho'—by this and by that! A me, qui sum fidus,

For the matter o' that— Vel ultimum sidus

You're more distant by far Non distat te magis ...

Than that same. Quid agis!

Och hone, wierasthrew! Heu! heu! nisi tu

I am alone Me ames,

In this world without you! Pero! pillauleu!

2. II.

Och hone! Heu! heu!

But why should I speak Sed cur sequar laude

Of your forehead and eyes, Ocellos aut frontem

When your nose it defies Si NASI, cum fraude,

Paddy Blake the schoolmaster Prætereo pontem?...

To put it in rhyme?— Ast hic ego minùs

Though there's one Burke, Quàm ipse Longinus

He says, In verbis exprimem

Who would call it Snublime ... Hunc nasum sublimem ...

And then for your cheek, De floridâ genâ

Throth 'twould take him a week Vulgaris camœna

Its beauties to tell Cantaret in vanum

As he'd rather:— Per annum.—

Then your lips, O machree! Tum, tibi puella!

In their beautiful glow Sic tument labella

They a pattern might be Ut nil plus jucundum

For the cherries to grow.— Sit, aut ribicundum;

'Twas an apple that tempted Si primitùs homo

Our mother, we know; Collapsus est pomo,

For apples were scarce Si dolor et luctus

I suppose long ago: Venerunt per fructus,

But at this time o' day, Proh! ætas nunc serior

'Pon my conscience I'll say, Ne cadat, vereor,

Such cherries might tempt Icta tam bello

A man's father! Labello:

Och hone, wierasthrew! Heu! heu! nisi tu

I'm alone Me ames,

In this world without you! Pereo! pillaleu!

3. III.

Och hone! Heu! heu!

By the man in the moon! Per cornua lunæ

You teaze me all ways Perpetuò tu ne

That a woman can plaze; Me vexes impunè?...

For you dance twice as high I nunc choro salta

With that thief Pat Macghee (Mac-ghìus nam tecùm)

As when you take share Plantâ magis altâ

Of a jig, dear, with me; Quàm sueveris mecùm!...

Though the piper I bate, Tibicinem quando

For fear the ould chate Cogo fustigando

Wouldn't play you your Ne falsum det melus,

Favourite tune. Anhelus.—

And when you're at Mass A te in sacello

My devotion you crass, Vix mentem revello,

For 'tis thinking of you Heu! miserè scissam

I am, Molly Carew; Te inter et Missam;

While you wear on purpose Tu latitas vero

A bonnet so deep, Tam stricto galero

That I can't at your sweet Ut cernere vultum

Pretty face get a peep. Desiderem multùm.

Oh! lave off that bonnet, Et dubites jam, nùm

Or else I'll lave on it (Ob animæ damnum)

The loss of my wandering Sit fas hunc deberi

Sowl! Auferri!

Och hone! like an owl, Heu! heu! nisi tu

Day is night, Coràm sis,

Dear, to me without you! Cæcus sim: eleleu!

4. IV.

Och hone! Heu! heu!

Don't provoke me to do it; Non me provocato,

For there's girls by the score Nam virginum sat, o!

That loves me, and more. Stant mihi amato ...

And you'd look very queer, Et stuperes planè,

If some morning you'd meet Si aliquo manè

My wedding all marching Me sponsum videres;

In pride down the street. Hoc quomodo ferres?

Throth you'd open your eyes, Quid diceres, si cum

And you'd die of surprise Triumpho per vicum,

To think 'twasn't you Maritus it ibi,

Was come to it. Non tibi!

And 'faith! Katty Naile Et pol! Catherinæ

And her cow, I go bail, Cui vacca, (tu, sine)

Would jump if I'd say, Si proferem hymen

"Katty Naile, name the day." Grande esset discrimen;

And though you're fair and fresh Tu quamvis, hìc aio

As the blossoms in May, Sis blandior Maio,

And she's short and dark Et hæc calet rariùs

Like a cowld winter's day, Quàm Januarius;

Yet, if you don't repent Si non mutas brevi,

Before Easter,—when Lent Hanc mihi decrevi

Is over—I'll marry (Ut sic ultus forem)

For spite. Uxorem;

Och hone! and when I Tum posthâc diù

Die for you, Me spectrum

'Tis my ghost that you'll see every night! Verebere tu ... eleleu!