ther of the fresh, native products of the
people, independent as far as possible of antiquity, and altogether
unaffected by learned studies. The latter is mainly lyric in its
character, and has often a wild beauty, which is none the less
attractive because it is purely natural. These songs deal more with
nature than those of the Sclavonic tribes, with which Mrs. Robinson has
made us so well acquainted. The brooks, the hills, the sky, the birds,
appear in them, and for human interest, some adventurous _Klepht_, some
fighting and dying robber, is brought upon the scene.

The best of the Romaic literature is no doubt the dramatic. This is
natural, for the Greeks are still a representative and dramatic people.
Until comparatively lately the poets confined themselves, if not to
modern subjects, at least to the modern genius of their language. Their
dramas were written in rhyme, and with a total disregard of the antique
principles of rhythm. Quantity was supplanted by following the accents,
and the exterior of the piece was more that of a French play than like
the drama of any other nation. The specimen of this style most
accessible to American students is the _Aspasia_ of Rizos, published in
Boston some twenty years ago, a tragedy, by the way, well worth reading.
But latterly, the antique tendency prevailing, plays are written in the
old measures, and with all the old machinery. This is in fact a
revolutionary proceeding, but we hope may not be without its use, for
Greece is not now rich enough to make useless experiments. One of these
plays has been translated into German, and thus made accessible to those
of the readers of that language whose studies have not reached into the
musical Romaic. It is called _The Wedding of Kutrulis_, an Aristophanic
Comedy, by Alexandros Rhisos Rhangawis. The form used by the great
Athenian satirist is perfectly reproduced, and an original and hearty
wit is not wanting. The Aristophanic dress is justified by the poet in
some lines which we thus render into the rudeness of English:

Though he trimeters boldly arranges together, and anapaests weaves
with each other,
'Tis not weakness in words that compels him, nor fear at the rhymes'
double ringing;
In spans he can syllables harness with skill, as a fledgling should do
of the muses,
And where thoughts and poetic ideas there are none, words can heap up in
[Greek: ia] and [Greek: azei],
But mid the v