OXENFORD 3 8 BOOK OF FRENCH SONGS. *

Flaxen poetry has never become naturalized in England ; not only has it not been popular—cela va sans dire of every foreign litera- ture—but it has never established itself as a cherished exotic,—as Italian poetry, for instance, among the literary men of Elizabeth's reign, or as German poetry among the same class in our own time. It scarcely exercised even a passing influence over the poets of the later Stuart period, when French manners and morals were im- ported by the court and aristocracy on their return from exile. Even that res mblance, slight as it is, which may be found between the English and French poets of the eighteenth and latter part of the seventeenth century, may be fairly attributed in a great degree to their both drawing from the same well, the Latin poets of the Empire. Broadly speaking, there is far closer connexion between our poetical literature and that of Italy, Spain, and Ger- many, than any that appears between us and our nearest Conti- nental neighbour. It would not be a very satisfying explanation

• The Illustrated Book of French Songs, from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century. Translated and edited by John Oxenford, Esq. Published by Ingram aRi Co.

Qf this fact to refer it to the political relations of the two countries, especially as in other branches of literature we observe quite a differ- ent state of things. It appears rather to depend on antipathies of na- tional character, which mutual acquaintance and better knowledge may soften, and which under a continuance of favourable circum- stances may blend into a harmony of opposites, but which are very well marked, and lie deep down in or beyond the con- sciousness of individuals. Perhaps the most compendious expres. sion of the fundamental difference would be to note that gayety and sentiment characterize the French nature, melancholy and passion the English ; that understanding and fancy—inferential and comparing powers—are the mental faculties in our neighbours which answer to the direct intuitive powers reason and imagination in ourselves.

We are not unaware that in making this comparison we are arrogating to our own country the higher qualities; but it is the verdict given on the evidence by literary Europe, and it is the verdict that any intelligent reader of Mr. Oxenford's volume would at once give on comparing with it the book of English Songs pub- lished some years ago by the same firm. Other differences arising from the external circumstances of the two countries strike one also forcibly on running through the two volumes. In the French collection there are no hunting-songs, no sea-songs ; in the Eng- lish we miss those charming strains which paint the joyous and beautiful life possible to the poor artisan in French towns and cities : the grisette is a figure quite unknown to genuine English song, as to English life; sentimental epicurism has never seemed within the reach of homebred Englishmen—they are either moral or de- bauched.

We have a rooted prejudice against translated poetry ; the bou- quet escapes in the process, and generally the goodness and flavour too ; but Mr. Oxenford has for the most part succeeded, so far as success is possible. That is, he gives us the exact meaning of his original in verse that frequently produces on the ear a close resem- blance to its general effect, allowing for the difference of language, He has executed his task with painstaking assiduity, and the skill of a practised verseman. If the English public can be taught to care for French songs, this volume will certainly help powerfully to this end ; and if not, they will at least learn in it what French songs are like, and may read in the introduction a short but full and sensible account of the progress of this branch of literature, and become acquainted with the leading names which have adorned it.

We subjoin as a specimen of Mr. Ozenford's performance a song by " the Abbe de Lattaignant—born 1690, died 1779."

" Oh, my dearest ! " Ma mie, Oh, my fairest ! Ma douce amie, For thy favour I implore. Beponds I mes amours. I will be Fidele True to thee, A cette belle, I will love thee evermore. Je l'aimerai toujours.

" If I had an hundred hearts, Never should one stray from thee; If I had an hundred hearts

Every one should feel thy darts. Oh, my dearest! &c.

" If an hundred eyes were mine, Thee alone those eyes would see ; If an hundred eyes were mine, Every one on thee would shine. Oh, my dearest! &c.

" If an hundred tongues I had, They should speak of nought but thee ; If an hundred tongues I had, All should talk of thee like mad. Oh, my dearest ! &c.

" If I were a potent god,

Then immortal thou shouldst be ; If 1 were a potent god, All should worship at thy nod. Oh, my dearest! &c.

" If Ove hundred souls you were, You for her should rivals be; If five hundred souls you were, All should love this beauty rare. Oh, my dearest! &o.

" Had you reached your hundredth jeer,

Young with her would Nestor be; Had you reached your hundredth year, Spring through her would reappear. Oh, my dearest! &c."

With the exception of the line

" All should talk of thee like mad,"

where the original is free from any such vulgarism, this strikes us as very happily translated.

" Si j'avais cent ensure, lie ne seraient remplis que d'elle ; Si j'avais cent mews, Aucun d'euz n'simerait ailleuta Ma mie, &b.

Si j'avais cent yetis, Da seraient tous fixes sue elle; Si j'avais tent yens,

Ea ne verraientqu'elle en touslisuL Ma mie, ire.

" Si j'avais cent voix, lilies ne parleraient qua d'elle;

Si j'avais cent vois Toutee rediraient a la foie..

Ma mie.,18(e.

" Si I etais un dieu,

Je voudrais la rendre immortaile; Sil6tais un dieu, On l'adorerait en tout lien.

Ma mie, &c.

" Fuseiez-vous dug cents, Vous aeries tons riven.; pros d'elle; Fuasiez-voua cinq cents, Vous voudriez en etre arnanta.

Mamie, &c.

" Eussies-vous cent ins,

Nestor rajeunirait pour elle; RURRiPZ- VOUB cent ans,

Vous retrouveriez le printemps.

Ma mie, &c."

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