I feel my honest indignation rise, When, with affected air, a coxcomb cries: "The work, I own, has elegance and ease, But sure no modern should presume to please"; Thus for his favorite ancients dares to claim, Not pardon only, but rewards and fame. * * * * * Not to the illustrious dead his homage pays, But envious robs the living of their praise.--FRANCIS. On this subject the learned and ingenious Fontenelle expresses himself thus: "The whole of the question of pre-eminence between the ancients and moderns, being once well understood, reduces itself to this: Were the trees which formerly grew in the country larger than those of the present day? If they were, Homer, Plato, and Demosthenes cannot be equalled in these latter ages; but if our trees are as large as those of former times, then can we equal Homer, Plato, and Demosthenes. "But to clear up the paradox: If the ancients had stronger minds than ourselves, it must have been that the brains of those times were better disposed, were formed of firmer or more delicate fibres, or contained a larger portion of animal spirits. But how should the brains of those times have been better disposed? Had such been the case, the leaves would likewise have been larger and more beautiful; for if nature was then more youthful and vigorous, the trees, as well as the brains of men, would have borne testimony to that youth and vigor." With our illustrious academician's leave, this is by no means the state of the question. It is not asked whether nature can at the present day produce as great geniuses, and as good works, as those of Greek and Latin antiquity, but whether we really have such. It is doubtless possible that there are oaks in the forest of Chantilly as large as those of Dodona; but supposing that the oaks of Dodona could talk, it is quite clear that they had a great advantage over ours, which, it is probable, will never talk. La Motte, a man of wit and talent, who has merited applause in more than one kind of writing, has, in an ode full of happy lines, taken the part of the moderns. We give one of his stanzas: _Et pourquoi veut-on que j'encense_ _Ces prétendus Dieux dont je sors?_ _En moi la même intelligence_ _Fait mouvoir les mêmes ressorts._ _Croit-on la nature bizarre,_ _Pour nous aujourd'hui plus avare_ _Que pour les Grecs et les Romains?_ _De nos aînés mere idolâtre,_ _N'est-elle plus que la marâtre_ _Dure et grossière des humains?_ And pray, why must I bend the knee To these pretended Gods of ours? The same intelligence in me Gives vigor to the self-same powers. Think ye that nature is capricious, Or towards us more avaricious Than to our Greek and Roman sires-- To them an idolizing mother, While in their children she would smother The sparks of intellectual fires?