poets, and by far the most popular writer of the Frisian tongue. Whether or not he introduced a new orthography, or adopted that which had obtained currency in his time, we have no means of knowing, but the difference in the manner of spelling gives a very changed appearance to the language, and seems to show more extensive modifications than the progress of two centuries would have probably brought with them. It is very likely, however, that even in Japicx's time the idiom was little used in social correspondence, as it was certainly little employed for literary compositions. With no established standard, or recognized mode of spelling, the few persons who wrote in the Frisian followed therefore their own caprices. Gysbert Japicx was a school-master at Bolsward; and his fame as a writer led Fr. Junius to visit and to dwell with him for some time. The subjects of his poetry are not very ambitious or sublime. His is

'the talk

Man holds with common man in the daily walk

Of the mind's business.'

And his is a gentle and a joyous humanity-living in an atmosphere of peace and friendship-springing up to the sounds of gladness, and echoing them back with vigorous eloquence. He was a good and a happy man,-whose religion, though serious, was cheerful,—whose wit, though playful, was chaste,—and who was not "led astray " by that "light from heaven" which he has described in one strangely concatenated word: the

'Gaest-glanz-hymmel-silligh-fjoer.'

It would seem as if it were destined that every two hundred years there should be a Frisian revival. The thirteenth century gave the Frisian hymns and many of the most interesting of the Frisian laws,-and then there is a dreary vacancy for two centuries,-after which the Cammingha volume appears. Two other centuries pass, producing nothing; and then Gysbert Japicx appears on the stage himself, creating an era. He is no sooner dead, than the language seems abandoned and forgotten, till the nineteenth century ushers in a number of new candidates, who appear likely to obtain for the Frisian tongue an attention to which it is undoubtedly entitled, and which it has seldom received,

The appearance of the Translation of the Merchant of Venice and Julius Cæsar is really a very interesting event in the history of Frisian literature. It is the work of Mr. Posthumus, a clergyman of the Reformed religion, living at Waaxens, a small village in the neighbourhood of Leeuwarden, where almost shut out from literary intercourse with the world, he has acquired so

profound and thorough a knowledge of our language, as to have given a version of our Oergreate Sjonger, surpassed in correctness by none that has ever appeared. In the Julius Cæsar the versification of the original is preserved,-not so in the Merchant of Venice,—a circumstance to be regretted, as Mr. Posthumus has undoubtedly proved his capability to adapt the Frisian to the English rhythms. In glancing over the version, no one error, in the right understanding of the original, has been observed. As a specimen of the language, we will give a passage from each of the plays. The beautiful description of mercy-The quality of mercy is not strained,' is thus rendered:

'Port. Genade wirt naat uut de minske wrongen, jae dript az de mijlde rein uut de loft op de pleats oender her. Jae iz ien doebbel lok. Jae makket him lokkig, dij jouwt, in him, dij krijt. Jae iz it machtigste ijn de machtigste. Jae stiet de keuning op sijn troon moaier az sijn kroon. Sijn schepter wijst it geweld fen wrâdske macht oon, de eigenschip fen ontsjoch in majesteit, werijn de schrik in freese foar keuningen sit. Mar genade giet dit schepterswaaien to boppe; jae sit op her troon ijn de herten fen keuningen; jae iz ien eigenschip fen God sels. In ierdske macht lijkket dan it measte op Gods macht, az genade mei rjuechtfirdigens pearet. Dearom, howol dijn pleit rjuechtfirdig iz, betink, Jood, dat nei de gong fen it rjuecht nin ien fen uus behâden wirde kin. Wij bidde om genade in dat selle bidden leert uus alle om de dieden fen genade mei genade to foarjilden.'

From Julius Cæsar we give the commencement of the 2nd Scene of the 2nd Act. It will be found admirable in every. respect.

Ces.

'Tonger in bliksim. Cesar komt ir ijn sijn
nachtklean oon.

Hijmmel, nog ierde, wiern' tonacht ijn rest.
Calphurnia roap trijeris ijn 'e sliep:
Hui! Help! Jae moardje Cesar.'

Slaaf. Mijn heer!

Ces.

Iz hier ien ?

Ten slaaf komt ir oon.

Siz oon de presters, dat jae oafferje, in
Bring mij her miening, ho 't trijbelje sil.

Slaaf. Mijn heer! ik sil it dwaan.

(Hij giet hinne.

Calphurnia komt ir oon.

Calph. Wat mien jo, Cesar? Tink jo uut to gean
Jo sette joed jou foet naat boetten door!
Cesar sil uut. De dingen, dij mij nou

Ces.

So drijge, sægen' nooit oors az mijn reg:
Jae rinn' wei, az jae Cesars aansicht sjean'.
Calph. Cesar! ik ljeauwde nooit ijn foargespins,

Ces.

Mar 't makket mij nou bang. Hier 'z ien oon hoes,
Dij boetten dat, wat wij heard habbe in sjoen,
Oerfremde wonders uus foartelt, dij 'e wacht
Sæg. Ien lieuwinn' jonge op de striette, in eak
Gappene græven, joene her deaden oer.
Moedgreate in gleaune fjuechtljue, bij elkoar
Op rijggels ijn de wolken set, so az 't
Heart ijn de slag, habb' dear so slein, dat sels
It bloed deldript iz op it Capitool:

It fjuechtgeraas trograttele de loft,

In hijnzers wrinsgen', in ljue, dij dear ijn
It stearren laaien', suchten' swier, in trog

De strietten habbe schijnsils schriemd in goeld.
O Cesar! dizze dingen geane fier

Boetten alle oenderfijnninge. In 'k frees her.
Wa kin 't ontrinne, wat barre sil nei
De wille fen uus Goden, great ijn macht?
Cesar sil dogs uutgean: Want dit foarsiz
Jilt al de wrâd neat minder az Cesar.
Calph. Az bidlers stearr', dan wirt nin stirtstier sjoen.
Mar 'e Goden sels foarsizze prinsen' dead.
Altijd stearr' bange ljue jamk foar her dead:
Mar tijge mannen prieuwe 'e dead mar iens.
Fen al de wonders, dij ik ooit hab heard,
Iz 't mij it fremdst', dat mannen freese kinn',
Dear jae sjogg', dat de dead, it ein, dat men
Naat kin ontkomme, komme sil, az hij
Sil in wol komme.'

Ces.

But as a means of verbal comparison between the present state of the English and Frisian idioms we extract a verse from the dedication to Dr. Bowring; it is certainly a very striking example of affinity.

Lijk az Gods sinne swiet uus wrâd oerschijnt,

Like as God's sun sweetly our world o'ershines,

Her warmtme in ljeacht in groed in libben schinkt;
Her warmth and light and growth and life sends;

Lijk az de mijlde rein elke eker fijnt :

Like as the mild rain each acre finds :

So dogt eak dat, wat ijn uus, minsken, tinkt.
So does eke that, what in us, men, thinks.
Dij sprankel fen Gods fjoer, ijn uus lein, jouwt
That sparkle of God's fire, in us laid, gives
Oeral eak ljeacht in freugde oon Adams team,
O'erall eke light and joy on Adam's train

Wer dij wenn't, hulken, oaf paleisen bouwt,
Where they dwelt, hulk (cottage) or palaces build,
In fen wat folk hij iz, ho hij him

neam.

And of what folk he is, how he him (self) names.

Of this verse it will be observed, that of fifty-two words fiftyone are still preserved, and very slightly changed in the English language, while only one (Freugde) has been superseded by a word of Norman origin.

And for the sake of the liberal and generous sentiments they breathe, the following verses are transferred to these pages in an English form.

To Anglo-saxon blood so near allied *

The Frisian with your reverence, reverence brings
To your great Alfred; sharing in your pride,

When Cadmon, Shakspeare, or when Milton sings;
Their songs sound sweetly, as when Gysbert's strains
Are sung by thee! whose verse midst English friends,
For foreign hymns a welcoming audit gains;

And Friesland's genius with thine England's blends.
Thou hast seen Friesland-Friesland hast thou known,
Who hast seen many a land, used many a tongue;
All have their faults and virtues; we our own;
Yet know to good the Frisian heart is strung.
And Friesland sheds its rays of glory bright,
Has had has still, how many a noble name!
Names that have shone like stars thro' mist and night,
Sacred to memory's records and to fame.

Thou hast seen this-see here thy Shakspeare stand,
Uttering in Frisian words his tuneful thought;

De Fries, dij de Angel-Saks so nei ijn 't bloed
Besibd iz, eer't mei jou de oergreate foarst,
Jou ALFRED; CEDMONS, SHAKSPEARES, MILTONS, loed
Klinkt swiet bij uus, lijkke az 't loed uut de boarst
Fen uus ijnljeave GIJSBERT 't ear ijnrint

Fen jou, mijn BOWRING! dij oon 't Ingels' folk,
Oors, az wa 't eigen mooi mar prijs't, besind
Uus Frieslanz wit in kinst foarklearje az tolk.

Dat Frieslan habb' jo sjoen in 't kinnen leerd:
Jo, dij rju naasjes sægen', talen sprekk',
Witt', dat de Fries sijn goed heeg acht't in eer't,
Howol naat blijn foar eigen lek in brek.
Ja, Frieslanz stip joeg eak sijn ljeacht al mei
Oon ooren: 't Hie, 't het Jiett' sijn greate lie,
Dij mist in nacht foardreauwen, in drieuw' wei.
Wa 't dan eak naat woll' sjean, wat Frieslan die,

Jo, dij dit sjoch, sjean' hier jou SHAKSPEARE stean,
In hear him sjongen mei ien Frieske tong':

Stretch to a Frisian brother, friendship's hand,
Oh, as a stranger pass thy Shakspeare not.
While courtly cunning, and state treachery
Divide and murder nations-O may art,
May science, blend mankind in unity,

And glad with light and favor every heart.

Nothing can be better in the way of translation than many of Mr. Posthumus's verses from Pope's Universal Prayer, with which his volume closes; as for example:

Jo habb' jiett' me ijn dizz' nacht 't eak joon

It goe uut 't kwea to sjean :

Jo habb' natuur oon 't needlot boon:
In litte uus will' betjean.

*

Gong ik rjuechtuut, jouw jou genaad',
Opdat 'k dat paad hâd ijn!

O leer mijn hert! bin 't op 't kroem paad,
Dat ik 't rjuecht paad wer fijn.

Joed wez mijn diel in brea in rest!

Oaf al, wat jo oors kin jaan,

Goed, oaf tjoed, foar me iz, wit jo best:
Jouw, dat 'k jou will' mei dwaan !*

The Lapekoer is the joint production of the two brothers, Halbertsma, one a minister at Deventer, the other a medical man at Grouw in Friesland. It is, as it professes to be, a sort of upgathering of scraps, both of prose and of poetry, and independently of its interest as a specimen of language, has real literary merit. But it was rather to give some examples of the present state of the Frisian tongue, than to criticise the works

Jo sjean' him hier, uus broer, ijn Frieske klean.
'k Winsk, dat jo naat az fremde' him foarbijgong'!
Wijlst de ijnsloegslimme steatskinst, hoafske list,
De folken schiede in moardje: Mei de kinst
Mei wittenschip, dij folken ien't, naat twist't,
Uus all' foarmeitse mei her jeacht in ginst!

* Yet gave me in this dark estate
To see the good from ill,
And, binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.

This day be bread and peace my lot,

All else beneath the sun,

Thou know'st if best bestowed or not,
And may thy will be done.

VOL. XII.-Westminster Review.