especially with the Moso-Gothic and the Icelandic. Its grammar is very regular, offering few anomalies in its rules; but, although as ancient as the Chinese, Sanscrit literature is inferior to the Chinese in all that relates to history, geography, and the physical sciences. After the literature of China, Arabia, and Persia, the Sanscrit is the richest in Asia, being distinguished especially by its works on philosophy, morality, grammar, arithmetic, astronomy, and poetry. Its most ancient books are the Vedas, and their antiquity has been perhaps exaggerated. They embrace all the branches of human knowledge, from theology even down to music: then, the laws of Menou, and the epic poems of the Mahabharata and the Ramayana; the former containing the most important events in the history of India. The Sanscrit alphabet, called Devanagari, is composed of fifty-two letters and a great number of signs; it is written from left to right, and it is the model after which are formed several alphabets peculiar to different idioms of the peninsula, as well as the alphabet of Thibet, and the alphabets which are used in writing several of the Indo-Chinese languages. Of late years, the conviction of the importance of the Sanscrit language has led to the institution of classes, where it is publicly taught in France, Prussia, Russia, and England. Sanscrit appears to have been spoken, in ancient times, in the greater part of India; but for many ages it is no longer spoken, and at present, only the most learned brahmins acquire it. It is the language of religion, of the laws, and of a great number of books; and even yet the most learned brahmins compose their highest literature in Sanscrit.

"The Pali language may be considered as a sister to Sanscrit. In ancient times, it was spoken in Bahar, the cradle of Buddha. Prior to the birth of Christ, it was spread extensively in India, but, when the Buddists were expelled from India this language became extinct and for many ages Pali has ceased to be spoken. Even yet it is the language of the liturgy and of the literature of the great islands of Ceylon, Bali, Madura, and Java, as well as of all the indo-Chinese countries, and it is also the sacred language of the innumerable worshippers of Buddha, both in China and in Japan. The Pali language has the strength, richness and harmony of the Sanscrit. Its literature is very rich, and learned people acquire it it is, however, very little known to European scholars. Its various dialects in different countries are written with alphabets derived from the Devanagari.

"The living languages of the Sanscrit Family are thirty-eight in number; some learned Indians call them Pracrit. In some, one half of the words are pure Sanscrit, and the rest are derived either from foreign sources, especially Persia, or else from Sanscrit corrupted by a regular system of permutation.

"The particular languages which do not belong to the Sanscrit family, are all involved in the deepest mystery, even the names of them being scarcely known to us. They are all spoken by tribes who are more or less uncultivated, several of whom appear to be the aboriginal inhabitants of the fertile countries of India: those which seem to merit the most particular attention are eight in number."

Dr. Gilchrist, whose death at an advanced age has been lately announced, was one of the first Europeans who excited an interest in

the languages of India, far beyond what had been previously deemed necessary for mere official purposes, or for the government of the country. Since the commencement of his exertions, great progress has been made in the study of its literary antiquities, and its philology; nor, in closing this paper are we unwarranted when connecting his name with that of Miss Roberts as eminent benefactors of millions of the human race.

ART. II.-The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore. Vols. III and IV. London: Longman.

WE just had time to notice the publication of the third volume of these collected works before the last sheet of our January number went to press; and although like its immediate predecessor, we have found it to be more sparing of anecdote and autobiographical matter, in its prefaces and notes, than was to be wished from such a charming gossip, a poet so eminent and popular, and a man whose opportunities and experience have been so various and rich, yet there are enough of novelty and striking things in that portion of the collection to occasion a recurrence to its pages.

Our readers on turning to our former brief announcement will see that the third volume contains "Corruption," "Intolerance," and "The Sceptic," satires which Mr. Moore talks of as attempts in "the stately Juvenalian style ;" and other pieces, generally of a lighter or more brilliant and graceful character. The wit in the more dignified style is often not less happy, while it is more weighty, than what distinguishes the sparkling thrusts; but still the small sword told better, or at least, its execution was more admired and has been longer remembered by the public, by those who quote pungencies, than the onslaught on Royalty, the Court, the Government, and rampant Toryism, dealt by his claymore. In the latter species too the poet, although he were not more effective on account of force, appears to have, for the most part, written when in a more serious mood, when more indignant, and moved by emotions of nationality less under his controul than when he scattered his small shot. Still it was proper that he should make most use of the lighter missiles, and of what he calls "squib-warfare," seeing that these hit the keenest; while, considering the temperament of the writer, his scorn, and his bitter wrath, he naturally sought utterance in lightsome looking ridicule, an overflow of playfulness, and the exhaustless resources of glittering fancies. How often too is there pathos in apparent levity, and terrible earnestness in him that laughs!

To be sure the poet himself tells us, in his preface to the third volume, that in most instances he wrote his satires with an “unembittered spirit," and with a "freedom from all real malice." It may have been so with many of the lighter missiles which he launch

ed, although we may suppose that the mellowing effect of time, and the obliterations in a buoyant nature wrought by lapse of years, must have modified his judgment and his recollections. At any rate from his graver and more stately attempts, it is easy to extract passages which could not possibly be conceived by such a sensitive person, but when his heart was swelling, and his soul ready to burst with the sentiments he utters; and were the condition of Ireland at this day as desperate, as deeply scored with wrong, as she was when the following lines were written, we believe that the poet would rehearse them with unabated energy and accumulated bitterness:

"Yes, my dear friend, wert thou but near me now,

To see how Spring lights up on Erin's brow

Smiles that shine out, unconquerably fair,

Even through the blood-marks left by C-md-n there,-
Could'st thou but see what verdure paints the sod
Which none but tyrants and their slaves have trod,
And didst thou know the spirit, kind and brave,
That warms the soul of each insulted slave,
Who, tired with struggling, sinks beneath his lot,
And seems by all but watchful France forgot-
Thy heart would burn-yes, even thy Pittite heart
Would burn, to think that such a blooming part
Of the world's garden, rich in nature's charms,
And fill'd with social souls and vigorous arms,
Should be the victim of that canting crew,

So smooth, so godly,-yet so devilish too;

Who, arm'd at once with prayer-books and with whips,
Blood on their hands, and Scripture on their lips,

Tyrants by creed, and torturers by text,

Make this life hell, in honour of the next!

Your R-desd-les, P-rc-v-ls,-great, glorious Heaven,
If I'm presumptuous, be my tongue forgiven,
When here. I swear, by my soul's hope of rest,
I'd rather have been born, ere man was blest
With the pure dawn of Revelation's light,
Yes, rather plunge me back in Pagan night,
And take my chance with Socrates for bliss,
Than be the Christian of a faith like this,
Which builds on heavenly cant its earthly sway,
And in a convert mourns to lose a prey;
Which, grasping human hearts with double hold,-
Like Danäe's lover mixing god and gold,-

Corrupts both state and church, and makes an oath
The knave and atheist's passport into both;
Which, while it dooms dissenting souls to know,
Nor bliss above nor liberty below,

Adds the slave's suffering to the sinner's fear,
And, lest he 'scape hereafter, racks him here!

VOL. I. (1841.) No. III.

But no-far other faith, far milder beams
Of heavenly justice warms the Christian's dreams;
His creed is writ on Mercy's page above,
By the pure hands of all-atoning Love;
He weeps to see abused Religion twine

Round Tyranny's coarse brow her wreath divine;
And he, while round him sects and nation's raise
To the one God their varying notes of praise,
Blesses each voice, whate'er its tones may be,

That serves to swell the general harmony."

Mr. Moore cherishes not only a Hibernian warmth of patriotism, but he is evidently, like the best specimens of his countrymen, remarkably placable and forgiving; and to the ascendency at the moment of writing his notes of any one of these characteristics may, perhaps, be attributed certain apparent contradictions in his explanations in the volume still in question. It would be, however, a thankless task were we to attempt pointing out such inconsistencies. or to enter upon the office of reconciliation, when such delightful explanations and anecdotes as the poet has illustrated even this volume are at hand. Take a few sentences of the sort:

"In the numerous attacks from the government press, which my vollies of small shot against the Court used to draw down upon me, it was constantly alleged, as an aggravation of my misdeeds, that I had been indebted to the Royal personage thus assailed by me for many kind and substantial services. Luckily, the list of the benefits showered upon me from that high quarter may be despatched in a few sentences. At the request of Lord Moira, one of my earliest and best friends, his Royal Highness graciously permitted me to dedicate to him my Translation of the Odes of Anacreon. I was twice, I think, admitted to the honour of dining at Carlton House; and when the Prince, on his being made Regent in 1811, gave his memorable fète, I was one of the crowd-about 1500, I believe, in number -who enjoyed the privilege of being his guests on the occasion. There occur some allusions, indeed, in the Twopenny Post Bag, to the absurd taste displayed in the ornaments of the Royal supper table at that fête ; and this violation-for such, to a certain extent, I allow it to have been-of the reverence due to the rites of the Hospitable Jove, which, whether administered by prince or peasant, ought to be sacred from such exposure, I am by no means disposed to defend. But whatever may be thought of the taste or prudence of some of these satires, there exists no longer, I apprehend, much difference of opinion respecting the character of the Royal personage against whom they were aimed."

We quote a few particulars more, with an anecdote, connected with the "vollies of small shot" :

"One of the first and most successful of the numerous trifles I wrote at that period, was the Parody on the Regent's celebrated Letter announcing

to the world that he had no predilections,' &c. This very opportune squib was, at first, circulated privately; my friend, Mr. Perry, having for some time hesitated to publish it. He got some copies of it, however, printed off for me, which I sent round to several members of the Whig party; and, having to meet a number of them at dinner immediately after, found it no easy matter to keep my countenance while they were discussing among them the merits of the Parody. One of the party, I recollect, having quoted to me the following description of the state of both King and Regent at that moment,

A straight-waistcoat on him, and restrictions on me, A more limited monarchy could not well be, grew rather provoked with me for not enjoying the fun of the parody as much as himself."

Now, we like this easy, self-complacent gossipry; and could every writer of verses, however indifferent these might be, enlarge his volumes with such pleasant talk, we should be thankful to him. Mr. Moore wittily jokes upon this same note-writing practice, saying that it" appears to me rather a happy invention; as it supplies us with a mode of turning dull poetry to account; and as horses too heavy for the saddle may yet serve well enough to draw lumber, so Poems of this kind make excellent beasts of burden, and will bear notes, though they may not bear reading."

The Fourth volume contains the "Irish Melodies," the first numbers of which appeared in the Third, the whole of the "National Airs," and "Sacred Songs;" a collection of the sweetest and most highly polished lyrics that ever appeared. Search all the volumes in our language, and we question if there could be culled from them an equal number of beautiful and popular effusions. Certainly no one poet ever approached Mr. Moore in the number of fascinating verses married to national music; although excelled by Burns in depth and variety of power. Still, there was this in common between them,-love of country inspired both, without which to write national songs would be an impossibility, an absurdity. Both also were imbued with the essence and the perfection of national character: each was best adapted for his own sphere, and yet possessed so much of the universal, that every soul must respond with alacrity to the charmer, whatever be the land of the reader's birth, whatever his years, or era.

While the volume is the sweetest in respect of lyrical poetry, the most sparkling and brilliant in respect of imagery and finish, it is by far the richest of the four of this edition that have yet been published, in respect of prefatory matter, anecdote, and autobiographical notices. It is not alone that we are made acquainted with the circumstances which directed the minstrel to the music of his country, and with the origin and occasions of his lyrics; or that we