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Ramler once gave me language, my Caesar a subject; and therefore I had my mouth then stuffed full; but I've been silent since that. Nothing, alas, can be said about me; I really can't furnish Matter enough to the Muse e'en for an epigram, small. Singular country! what excellent taste in its fountains and rivers In its people alone none have I ever yet found!

The latter had, however, also its particular school, in which each of the Greek and Roman poets found his imitator. Voss, for instance, took Homer for his model, Ramler, Horace, Gleim, Anacreon, Gessner, Theocritus, Cramer, Pindar, Lichtwer, AEsop, etc. The Germans, in the ridiculous attempt to set themselves up as Greeks, were, in truth, barbarians.

In all this he differed from his fellow- citizens, who, nevertheless, willingly put up with him on account of his good qualities, and the fine promise which he gave. He was usually commissioned with the poems which had become necessary on festive occasions. In the so-called "Ode," he followed the manner employed by Ramler, whom, however, it alone suited.

Reserves her best till night may have returned; Our lady swallows up by day the francs That she at night-time may have earned. The moon first swells, and then is once more lean, As surely as the month comes round; With Madame Ramler 'tis the same, I ween But she to need more time is found!

Admirably dry as the supplies of Ramler and the rest no doubt were, they had not substance enough to keep his mind at the high temperature it needed, and he would soon be driven to the cutting of green stuff from his own wood-lot, more rich in smoke than fire.

"Ramler," writes Georg Forster, "ist die Ziererei, die Eigenliebe die Eitelkeit in eigener Person." Lessing to Von Murr, 25th November, 1768. The whole letter is well worth reading. A favorite phrase of his, which Egbert has preserved for us with its Saxon accent, was, Es kommt doch nischt dabey heraus, implying that one might do something better for a constancy than shearing twine.

But Clodius, as an imitator, had especially marked the foreign words by means of which the poems of Ramler come forth with a majestic pomp, which, because it is conformable to the greatness of his subject and the rest of his poetic treatment, produces a very good effect on the ear, feelings, and imagination.

The war-songs started by Gleim maintain so high a rank among German poems, because they arose with and in the achievements which are their subject; and because, moreover, their felicitous form, just as if a fellow-combatant had produced them in the loftiest moments, makes us feel the most complete effectiveness. Ramler sings the deeds of his king in a different and most noble manner.

Her likeness Madame Ramler bids me find; I try to think in vain, to whom or how Beneath the moon there's nothing of the kind. I'll show she's like the moon, I vow! The moon she rouges, steals the sun's bright light, By eating stolen bread her living gets, Is also wont to paint her cheeks at night, While, with untiring ardor, she coquets. The moon for this may Herod give her thanks!