The original Greek epigram was merely, as its name imports, an inscription, containing a single thought, simply turned and expressed. It was generally some moral sentence, or some plain fact relating to the particular subject of the inscription; and its sole merit consisted in propriety of expression, and harmony of versification. In short, let critics as much as they please affect to admire the simplicity of the Greek epigram, it was certainly a very insipid piece of composition. Martial, first of any writer whose works are descended to our time, changed the nature of the epigram, by introducing unusual thoughts, and artificial turns of sentiment. Some of his epigrams exactly answer the idea of fine writing before given; consisting of natural, but uncommon thoughts, and exciting rather a calm admiration and applause, than a sudden surprise. To these, the term of ingenious, may, I think, be properly applied. The following examples are translated from

When all the blandishments of life are gone,

The coward creeps to death; the brave lives on.

I offer love, but thou respect wilt have ;
Take, Sextus, all thy pride and folly crave,
But know I can be no man's friend and slave.

He's grave and sober-well, what's that to me?
Such let my slave, not my companion be.

Add this of Prior,

Blest be the princes who have fought
For pompous names, or wide dominion;
Since by their error we are taught

That happiness is but opinion.

If with these the following instances be carefully compared, it will perhaps go nearer than abstract definitions can do, to give a just notion of the gradation from fine writing and ingenuity, to wit.

The golden hair that Galla wears

Is her's; who would have thought it?
She swears 'tis her's, and true she swears,
For I know where she bought it.

Whilst in the dark on thy soft hand I hung,
And heard the tempting Syren in thy tongue,
What flames, what darts, what anguish I endur'd!
But when the candle enter'd, I was cur'd.

Cinna cries out, I am not worth a groat;

And is, plague on him! what he would be thought.

On his death-bed poor Lubin lies,

His spouse is in despair,

With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,
They both express their care.

A diff'rent cause, says parson Sly,
The same effect may give;

Poor Lubin fears that he shall die;
His wife, that he may live.

On a LADY'S PATCH.

That envious speck upon your

face

Had been a foil on one less fair,
On you it hides a charming grace,
And you, in mercy, placed it there.

She gazes all around her,

And wins a thousand hearts;

But Cupid cannot wound her,

For she has all his darts.

In all these, an unexpected conclusion from the premises, or accounting for effects by fanciful causes, excites that sudden emotion of surprise, which is the surest mark of a witty conception,

I have purposely selected some ludicrous and some serious instances, to show that in this branch of wit, as well as in that arising from comparison, the effect may vary without essentially altering its quality.

These brief observations on the nature of wit in general, are not offered either as new, or as sufficient for the accurate discussion of so nice a subject; but they appeared necessary to introduce our particular remarks upon the class of witty and ingenious songs; and I shall now proceed to them.

An artificial turn of thought was at one time so much the fashion in songwriting, that, as before observed, Mr. Phillips seems to consider it as essential to this species of composition. This unavoidably led him to take notice of the difficulty in distinguishing between song

and epigrnm, yet he has done nothing to

wards removing it. like manner as the

The truth is, that in passionate song is sometimes entirely the same with the amorous ode, so the witty end ingenious song is entirely the same with the epigram. Yet, in this case, as well as in the former, there are peculiar characters of each, which in general render it sufficiently obvious what name to apply.

The epigram is a single piece of wit, put into verse. Its perfection consits in great brevity, ease and perspicuity of language, and in such a manner of conducting the thought as to conclude with that striking turn which constitutes the point of wit. Its most happy subject seems to be laughable satire, and the species of wit most proper to it, that depending upon the artificial turn of a thought within itself, and not a figure of comparison. A song has been defined to consist also of a single thought, but divided into returning portions of measure, so as to be fitted for music. Its subject has been in general restricted to love and gaiety, and its