chus, as keeper of the Alexandrian library. He wrote treatises on the "Origin of Alexandria," and on "Cnidos;" and other works, which are lost. It is said that he was buried in the same monument as his master Callimachus, whom he is accused of having treated with ingratitude, and who revenged himself in a poem of invectives. But we have only the evidence of the Satire (at all times a suspicious kind of testimony) for the fact; and it is quite as likely that the one was jealous of the rising poet, as that the other was ungrateful.

It has been the singular fate of Apollonius to be secretly copied and openly neglected. Quintilian is evidently prejudiced by a Roman partiality; as he gives him the cold praise of "an equable middle style," and warmly extols Valerius Flaccus, his imitator, or rather translator. Longinus inquires, Because Apollonius never falls, would you rather be Apollonius than Homer?" But to affirm that Apollonius never rises, which is the obvious inference from this passage, were to betray an absolute, indifference

to all but one particular kind of poetry. If the sublime be the characteristic of Homer, the romantic is that of Apollonius; and in nature and tenderness he needs not shun a comparison even with Homer. No poet has ever excelled the Rhodian in the refined display of female character; in the gay amenities, the modest reserves, the delicate artifices, the conflicting uncertainties, and the poignant sensibilities of female love. Dido is but a feeble copy of the interesting and impassioned Medea. Elegance of style, picturesqueness of imagery, delicacy of imagination, Apollonius Rhodius may at least dispute with Virgil'; and he possesses also that fresh and vigorous simplicity which may be said to be almost peculiar to the poets of Greece. Yet Homer and Virgil are inseparably coupled together; and Apollonius, the model of the latter, and incontestably his superior in the noble faculty of invention, is scarcely mentioned but in incidental allusion, as to an obsolete and indifferent poet.

APOLLONIUS RHODIUS.

SAILING OF THE ARGO.

Now, when the morning, with her shining eyes,
Look'd forth on Pelion's lofty crags, and far
The verge serene of Ocean, rippling, dash'd
With sound of beating waves, as the fresh wind
Ruffled the sea; then Tiphys waked and roused
His friends, to climb the deck, and set their oars:
Then with wild din the Pegasæan bay
Re-echoed; and instinctive sounds arose
From Pelian Argo, hastening to depart:
For Pallas, from Dodona's vocal oaks,
Had in the keel infix'd a sacred beam.
They climb'd the benches in their order'd ranks:
Each rower's seat disposed by lot, and sate
In fair array, their weapons ranged beside;
Ancæus in the midst; and in his strength,
Huge Hercules; his club beside him lean'd:
Beneath his feet sank down the hollow keel.

Then were the oars outstretch'd, and the sweet wine
Was pour'd upon the surface of the sea;
And Jason turn'd his eyes, that swam with tears,
From his dear country's shores. As youths, that form
The dances of Apollo, midst the groves
Of Delphos, or in Delos' isle, or near
Ismenus' wave, and to the chiming harp
With rapid feet, elastic, strike the ground
Circling his altar; so to Orpheus' lyre
They smote the turbid billows of the sea
With cadenced oars. The ruffling surges dash'd;

The dark brine leap'd in foam from side to side;
Deep-murmuring to the strong impetuous strokes
From men of might. As on the galley row'd,
Their armour glitter'd in the sun like fire:
The wave's long track froth'd whitening, and a path
Of foam appear'd through the green watery plain;
And on that day lean'd all the Gods from heaven
To look upon the ship, and see the strength
Of demi-gods, who there with valour high
Travell'd the deep: and from high Pelion's tops
The Nymphs gazed wondering down; and saw
the work