Praxiteles, who could not well be represented with a Manon having a
percussion lock, Chantrey is armed with a bow and arrows:

'En! trajecit aves una sagitta duas.'

In the Greek translation of _Parthenopaeus_, there are as few faults
as could reasonably be expected. But, first, one word as to the original
Latin poem: to whom does it belong? It is traced first to Lord Grenville,
who received it from his tutor (afterwards Bishop of London), who had
taken it as an anonymous poem from the 'Censor's book;' and with very
little probability, it is doubtfully assigned to 'Lewis of the War
Office,' meaning, no doubt, the father of Monk Lewis. By this anxiety in
tracing its pedigree, the reader is led to exaggerate the pretensions of
the little poem; these are inconsiderable: and there is a conspicuous
fault, which it is worth while noticing, because it is one peculiarly
besetting those who write modern verses with the help of a gradus, viz.
that the Pentameter is often a mere reverberation of the preceding
Hexameter. Thus, for instance--

'Parthenios inter saltus non amplius erro,
Non repeto Dryadum pascua laeta choris;'

and so of others, where the second line is but a variation of the first.
Even Ovid, with all his fertility, and partly in consequence of his
fertility, too often commits this fault. Where indeed the thought is
effectually varied, so that the second line acts as a musical _minor_,
succeeding to the _major_, in the first, there may happen to arise a
peculiar beauty. But I speak of the ordinary case, where the second is
merely the rebound of the first, presenting the same thought in a diluted
form. This is the commonest resource of feeble thinking, and is also a