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Our task complete, like Hamet's,' shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar to-day; no common theme,
So eastera vision, no distemper'd dream
lospires-our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.

When Vice triumphant holds her sovereiga sway,
And men, through life her willing slaves, obey;
Wheo Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Cafolds her motley store to suit the time;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
When Justice halls, and Right begins to fail,
Ero then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by Satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.

Such is the force of Wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier band.
Still there are follies e'en for me to chase,
And yield at least amusement in the race:
Laugh when I laugh, I seek no other fame--
The cry is up, and Scribblers are my game;
Speed, Pegasus !-ye strains of great and small,
Ode, Epic, Elegy, have at you all!
I too can scrawl, and once upon a time
I pour d along the town a flood of rhyme-
A school-boy freak, unworthy praise or blame :
I printed-older children do the samc.
T is pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
A book 's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
Sot that a title's sounding charm can save
Oh srawl or scribbler from an equal grave :
This LAMBE must own, since his patrician name
Faild to preserve the spurious farce from shame,a
No matter, George continues still to write,3
Though now the name is veil'd from public sight.
Mored by the great example, I pursue
The self-same road, but make my own review:
Not seek great JEFFREY'S -yet, like him, will be
Self-consuluted judge of poesy.

A man must serve his time to every trade,
Sase censure-critics all are ready made.
Take backney'd jokes from MILLER, got by rote,
With just enough of learning to misquote;
å mind well skilld to find or forge a fault,
A turn for punning, call it Alric sall;
TO JEFFRET go, be silent and discreet,
His pas is just ten sterling pounds per

Fear not to lie, I will seem a lucky hit;
Shrink pot from blasphemy, 't will pass for wit;
Care not for feeling-pass your proper jest,
Aod stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.

and shall we owo such judgment? no-as soon
Seek roses in December, ice in June;
Hope constancy in wiod, or corn in chaff;
Beliere a woman, or an epitaph;

Or any other thing that's false, before
You trust in critics who themselves are sore;
Or yield one single thought to be misled
By JEFFREY's heart, or LAMBE's Bæotian head."

To these young tyrants,? by themselves misplaced,
Combined usurpers on the throne of Taste;
To these, when authors bend in humble awe,
And bail their voice as truth, their word as law;
While these are censors, 't would be sin to spare;
While such are critics, why should I forbear?
But yet, so near all modern worthies run,
'T is doubtful whom lo seek, or whom to shun;
Nor know we when to spare, or where to strike,
Our bards and censors are so much alike.

3 Then should you ask me, why I venture o'er
The path which Pope and GIFFORD trod before;
If not yet sickeu'd, you can still proceed :
Go on; my rlıyme will tell

you as


Time was, ere yet in these degenerate days
Ignoble themes obtain'd mistaken praise,
When Sense and Wit with poesy allied,
No fabled Graces, flourishi'd side by side,
From the same fount their inspiration drew,
And, reard by Taste, bloom'd fairer as they crew.
Then, in this happy isle, a Pope's pure strain
Sought the rape soul to charm, nor sought in vain;
A polish'd nation's praise aspired to claim,
And raised the people's, as the poet's fame.
Like him great Dryden poard the tide of song,
In stream less smooth, indeed, yet doubly strong.
Then CONGREVE's scenes could cheer, or Orway's mele
For nature then an English audience felt.
But why these names, or greater still, retrace,
When all to feebler bards resign their place?
Yet to such times our lingering looks are cast,
When taste and reason with those times are past.
Now look around, and turn each triling page,
Survey the precious works that please the age;
This truth at least let Satire's self allow,
No dearth of bards can be complain'd of now:
The loaded press beneath her labour groans,
And printers' devils shake their weary bones;
While Southey's epics cram the creaking shelves,
And Little's lyrics shine in hot-press'd twelves.

Thus saith the Preacher, 4 «nought beneath the sun
Is new :) yet sıill from change to change we run;
What varied wonders templ us as they pass ?
The cow-pox, tractors, galvanism, and gas,
In turns appear, to make the vulgar stare,
Till the swoln bubble bursts-and all is air!
Nor less new schools of poetry arise,
Where dull pretenders grapple for the prize :
O'er Taste awhile these pseudo-bards prevail;
Each country book club bows the knee to Baal,

"Cn A. BrusceLI promises repose to his pen in the last chapter of Dor Devots. Oh that our voluminous gentry would failsa the example of Cos Haxet BexasGELI!

* This ingenious youth is neationed more particularly, with his production, in agother place.

• Is tbe EduCN64 Revisw.

| Messrs Jernsey and Lange are the Alpha and Omega, the first
and last of the EDINBOAGA Review: the others are mentioned hore-
3. Stulta est clementia, com tot ubique
-occurras peritum parcere cbartæ,--Juvenal. Sar. I.

Car tamen boc potius libeat decurrure campo
Per quem magnus cques Aurunce Aoxit alumpus;

Si vacat, et placidi rationem admittitis, edam.o - Juv. Sat. 1. • Ecclesiastos, chap. I.

And, hurling lawful genius from the throne,

The gibbet or the field prepared to graceErects a shrine and idol of its own;

A mighty mixture of the great and base. Some leaden calf-but whom it matters not,

And think'st thou, Scurt! by vain conceit perchance, From soaring Southey down to groveling Stott.' On public taste to foist thy stale romance,

Though MURRAY with his MILLER may combine Behold! in various throngs the scribbling crew,

To yield thy inuse just half-a-crown per line! For notice cager, pass in long review:

No! when the sons of song descend to trade, Each spurs his jaded Pegasus apace,

Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. And rhyme and black maintain an equal race;

Let such forego the poct's sacred name, Sonnels on sonnets crowd, and ode on ode;

Who rack their brains for lucre, nol for fame : And tales of terror jostle on the road;

Low may they sink to merited contempt, Immeasurable measures move along;

And scorn remunerate the mean attempt! For simpering Folly loves a varied song,

Such be their meed, such still the just reward To strange mysterious Dulness still the friend,

Of prostituted muse and hireliny bard! Admires the strain she cannot comprehend.

For this we spurn Apollo's venal son,
Thus Lays of Minstrels 2-may they be the last !

And bid a long « good night to
On half-strung barps whine'mournful to the blast.
While mountain spirits prate to river sprites,

These are the themes that claim our plaudits now; That dames may listen to their sound at nights; These are the bards to whom the muse must bow: And goblin brats, of Gilpin Horner's 3 brood,

While Milton, DRYDEN, Pope, alike forgot, Decoy young border-nobles through the wood.

Resign their hallow'd bays to WALTER Scott. And skip ai every step, Lord knows how high, And frighten foolish babes, the Lord knows why; The time has been when yet the muse was young, While high-born ladies in their magic cell,

When Homer swept the lyre, and Maro sung, Forbidding knights to read who cannot spell,

An epic scarce ten centuries could claim, Dispatch a courier to a wizard's


While awe-struck nations hail'd the magic name : And fight with honest men to shield a knave.

The work of cach immortal bard appears

The single wonder of a thousand years."
Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan, Empires have moulder'd from the face of earth,
The golden-crested haughty Marmion,

Tongues have expired with those who gave them birth, Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight,

Without the glory such a strain can give, Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight;

As even in ruin bids the language live.

Not so with us, though minor hards, content, "Srorr, better known in the • Morning Post, by the name of On one great work a life of labour spent : Hariz. This personage is at present the most profound explorer of the bathos. I remember, to the reigning family of Portugal, a spe

With eagle pinions soaring to the skies, cial ode of Master Store's beginning ibus :

Behold the ballad-monger, Sotthey, rise!

To him let Camoens, Milton, Tasso, yield,
(Stott loquitur quoad Hibernia.)
• Princely offspring of Braganza,

Whose annual strains, like armies, take the field.
Erin greets tbve with a stanza, etc., etc.

First in the ranks see Joan of Arc advance,
Also a Sonnet to Rats, well worthy of the subject, and a most thu - The scourge of England, and the boast of France!
dering ode commencing as follows:

Though burnt by wicked bedford for a witch,
« Oh for a lay, loud as the surfe

Behold her statue placed in glory's niche;
That lashes Laplaud's sounding shore.»

Her fetters burst, and just released from prison,
Lord have mercy on us! the Lay of the Last Minstrel - was no-

A virgin Phænix from her aslies risen. thing to this.

Next see tremendous Thalaba come on, 3 * See the « Lay of the Last Minstrel,» passim. Never was any Arabia's monstrous, wild, and wondrous son; plan so incongruous and absurd as the ground work of this produc- | Domdaniel's dread destroyer, who o'erthrew tion. The entrance of Thunder and Lightning prologaising to Bayes' tragedy, unfortunately takes away the merit of originality Immortal bero! all thy focs o'ercome,

More mad magicians than the world e'er knew. from the dialogue between Messieurs the Spirits of Flood and Fell, in the first canto. Then we bave the amiable William of Deloraine, For ever reign-the rival of Tom Thumb! - a stark moss-trooper;» videlicet, a happy compound of poacher, Since startled metre tled before thy face, sboep-stealer, and highwayman. Tbo propriety of his magical la- Well wert thou dcom'd the last of all thy race! dy's iojunction not to read can only be equalled by his candid acknowledgment of bis independence of the trammels of spelling,

Well might triumphant Genii bear thee hence, although, to use his 8wn elegant phrase, - 't was luis neck-verso at Illustrious conqueror of common sense! Hairibee, i.e. the gallows.

3 The Biography of Gilpin Horner, and the marvellous pedestrian . Good night to Marmion,--the pathetic and also prophetic erpage, who travelled twice as fast as his master's horse, without the clamation of Hasar BLouny, Esquire, on the death of honest Narmion. aid of seven-leagued boots, are chefs-d'ruvre in the improvement 2 As the Odyssey is so closely cooneciou with the story of the of taste. For incident we have the invisible, but by no means spa- Iliad, they may almost be classed as one grand bistorical Poem. ring, box on the car bestowed on the page, and the entrance of a alluding to MILTON and Tisso, we consider the Paradise Losts and Knicht and Charger into the castle, under the very natural disguise Gierusalemme Liberata. as their standard efforts, since Deither of a wain of hay. Marmion, the hero of the latter romance, is ex- ibe Jerusalem Conqueroil of the Italian, nor the • Paradise Reactly what William of Deloraine would have been, bad he been able gained of the English Bard, obtained a proportionate celebrity to 10 read or write. The Poem was manufactured for Messrs CONTA

their former poems. Query: Which of Mr Snormer's will survive FLE, Nuraar, and MILLER, worshipful Bucksellers, in consideration 3 Thalaba, Mr Souther's second poem, is written in open defiance of tbe receipt of a sum of money; and truly, considering the inspi- of precedent and poetry. Mr. S. wished to produce something ration, it is a very creditable production. If Mr Scott will write novel, and suc eeded to a miracle. Joan of Are was marvellous for bire, let him do his best for his paymasters, but not disgrace bis enough, but Thalaba was one of those poems « which in the words fenius, wbich is undoubtedly great, by a repetition of black-letter of Ponson) will be read when llomer and Virgil are forgotten, but imitations.

not till then.



That prose

Sor, last and greatest, Madoc spreads his sails, Yet none in lofty numbers can surpass
Cacique in Mexico, and Prince in Wales;

The bard who soars to elegize an ass.
Tells us strange tales, as other travellers do,

How well the subject suits his noble mind! More old than Mandeville's, and not so true.

« A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind!» Oh! SOUTHEY, SOUTHEY!* cease thy varied song! A Bard may chauot too often and too long :

Oh! wonder-working Lewis! Monk, or Bard, As thou art strong in verse, in mercy spare !

Who fain wouldst make Parnassus a church-yard ! A fourth, a las! were more than we could bear. Lo! wreaths of yew, not laurel, bind thy brow, But if, in spite of all the world can say,

Thy Muse a sprite, Apollo's sexton thou ! Thou still wilt verseward plod thy weary way,

Whether on ancient tombs thou tak'st thy stand, If still in Berkley ballads, most uncivil,

By gibbering spectres haild, thy kindred hand; Thou wilt devote old women to the devil,

Or tracest chaste descriptions on thy page, Tbe babe unborn thy dread intent may rue:

To please the females of our modest age, «God help thee, » SOUTHEY, and thy readers too.3 All hail, M. P.!· from whose infernal brain

Thin-sheeted phantoms glide, a grisly train ; Xeit comes the dull disciple of thy school,

At whose command « grim women » throng in crowds, That mild apostate from poetic rule,

And kings of fire, of water, and of clouds, The simple Wordsworth, framer of a lay

With « small grey men,»-« will yager's,» and what not, As soft as evening in his favourite May;

To crown with honour thee and WALTER Scort:
Who sarns his friend « to shake off toil and trouble, Again, all hail! Jf tales like thine may please,
Aod quit his books, for fear of growing double ;»4 St Luke alone can vanquish the disease;
Who, both by precept and example, shows

Even Satan's self with thee miglit dread to dwell, is verse, and verse is merely prose,

And in thy skull discern a deeper hell.
Conviscing all, by demonstration plain,
Porue souls delight in prose insane;

Who in soft guise, surrounded by a choir
And Christmas stories, tortured into rhyme,

Of virgins melting, pot to Vesta's tire, Contain the essence of the true sublime:

With sparkling eyes, and cheek by passion flushd, Thus when he tells the tale of Belly Foy,

Strikes his wild lyre, whilst listening dames are hush'd ? The idiot mother of « an idiot Boy;»

'T is Little! young Catullus of his day, A moon-struck silly lad who lost his way,

As sweet, but as immoral in his lay! And, like bis bard, confounded night with day, Grieved to condemn, the Muse must still be just, So close on each pathetic part he dwells,

Nor spare melodious advocates of lusi. And each adventure so sublimely tells,

Pure is the tjame which o'er her altar burns; That all who view the « idiot in bis glory,»

From grosser incense with disgust she turns : Coaceive the bard the hero of the story.

Yet, kind to youth, this expiation o'er, Shall gentle COLERIDGE pass unnoticed here,

She bids thee « mend thy line and sin no more.» To turgid ode, and tumid stanza dear?

For thee, translator of the tinsel song, Though themes of innocence amuse him best,

To whom such glittering ornaments belong, Yet still obscurity 's a welcome guest.

Hibernian STRANGFORD! with thine eyes

of blue, If Inspiration should her aid refuse

And boasted locks of red, or auburn hue, To him who takes a Pixy for a Muse, 6

Whose plaintive strain each love-sick Miss admires, Webeg Mr SOCIREr's pardon : « Mado: disdains the degraded. And o'er harmonious fustian half expires, title of epic.. See bis preface. Why is epic degraded? and by Learn, if thou canst, to yield thine author's sense; wbaar iertaioly the late Romaonts of Masters Cottle, Laureat Nor vend thy sonnets on a false pretence. Prk, OIL**, Horte, and gentle Mistress Cowler, have not exalted ibe £pic Wave; but as Mr Sousner's poem • disdains the appella- Think'st thou to gain thy verse a higher place tian," allow us to ask-has he sabstituted any ibing better in its By dressing Camoens in a suit of lace? steed? or must be be content to rival Sir Richard BLacanons, in the Mend, STRANGFORD! mend thy morals and thy taste; quaality as well as quality of his verse.

Be warm,


be amorous, but be chaste :
* See The old woman of Berkley, a Ballad by Mr SOUTRET, where-
ia 29 aged gentlewoman is carriul away by Beelzebub, on a bigh-Cease to deceive; thy pilfer'd harp restore,
trott og borse.

Nor teach the Lusian Bard to copy MOORE. * The last line, . God help thee,, is an evident plagiarism from ibe Asti-Iacobie to Mr SOUTHET on his Dactylics :

In many marble-cover'd volumes view . God help thee, silly one.. - Poetry of the Anti-jacobin, p. 23. * Lyrical Ballads, page 4.-. The tables turned. Stanza i.

Hayley, in vain attempting something new :
• I'p, up, my frieds, and clear your looks -

Whether lie spio his comedies in rlıyme,
Wby all ibis toil and trouble?

Or scrawl, as Wood and Barclay walk, 'gainst time,
Up, up, my friend, and quit your books,

His style in youth or age is still the same,
Or surely you 'll grow double..

For ever feeble and for ever tame. • Mr W., in bis preface, labours hard to prove tbat prose and verse Triumpliant first see « Temper's Triumphs » shioe ! are much the same, and certainly bis precepts and practice are trialy conformable:

At least, I'm sure, they triumph'd over mine. • And thng to Betty's questions he

1. For every one knows little Mat's an M.P. --See a Poem to Made answer like a traveller bold;

Mr LEWI6, in Tae STATESMAN, supposed to be written by Mr JEKYLL. Tbe cock did crow to-wbo, to-w boo,

* The reader, who may wish for an explanation of this, may refer Aed tbe sun did sbine so cold, . etc., etc.

to • STRANGFORD: CANOENS, - page 127, note to page 56, or to the last Lyrical Ballads, page 129. page of the Edinburgh Review of STHANGFUBD'S CAMOENS. It is also • CALDst': Poems, page 1. Songs of the Pixies, i. e. Devon- to be remarked, that the things given to the public as Poems of i shire Fairias. Page 42, we have . Lines to a Young Lady; and, p. Camoens, are no more to be found in tbe original Portuguese than 52, Lines 10 , Young Ass.

in the Song of Solomon,

Of « Music's Triumphs » all who read may swear But if some new-born whim, or larger bribe,
That luckless Music never triumph d there.'

Prompt thy crude brain, and claim thee for a scribe;

If chance some bard, though once by dunces fear'd, Moravians, rise! bestow some meet reward

Now, prone in dust, can only be revered ; On dull Devotion-lo! the Sabbath Bard

If Pope, whose fame and genius from the first Sepulchral GRAAME, pours bis notes sublime

Have foild the best of critics, needs the worst, Jo maogled prose, nor e'eo aspires to rhyme,

Do thou essay; each fault, each failing scan; Breaks into blank the Gospel of St Luke,

The first of poets was, alas! but man! And boldly pilfers from the Pentateuch;

Rake from each ancient dunghill every pearl, And, undisturbed by conscientious qualms,

Consult Lord Fanny, and confide in CURlL;' Perverts the Prophets, and purloins the Psalms.' Let all the scandals of a former age

Perch on thy pen and flutter o'er thy page; Hail, Sympathy! thy soft idea brings

Affect a caudour which thou canst not feel, A thousand visions of a thousand things,

Clothe envy in the garb of honest zeal; And shows, dissolved in thine own melting tears,

Write as if Si Jolin's soui could still inspire, The maudlin prince of mournful sonneteers.

And do from hate what Mallet ? did for hire. And art thou not their prince, harmonious Bowles? Oh! badst thou lived in that congenial time, Thou first great oracle of tender souls!

To rave with Dennis, and with Ralph to rhyme, Whether in sighing winds thou seek'st relief,

Throny'd with the rest around his living head, Or consolation in a yellow leaf;

Not raised thy hoof against the lion dead, Whether thy muse most lamentably tells

A meet reward had crown'd thy glorious gains,
What merry sounds proceed from Oxford bells,3

And link'd thee to the Dunciad for thy pains.4
Or, still in bells delighting, finds a friend
In every chime that jingled from Ostend ?

Another Epic! who inflicts again
Ah ! how much juster were thy Muse's hap,

More books of blank upon the sons of men ! If to thy bells thou wouldst but add a cap!

Bæotian Cortle, rich Bristowa's boast, Delightful Bowles! still blessing and still blest, Imports old stories from the Cambrian coast, All love thy strain, but children like it best.

And sends his goods to market-all alive! "T is thine, with gentle Little's moral song,

Lines forty thousand, Captos twenty-five! To soothe the mania of the amorous throng!

Fresh fish from Helicon! who 'll buy? who 'll buy? With thee our nursery damsels shed their tears,

The precious bargain 's cheap-in faith not I.
Ere Miss as yet completes hier infant years :

Too much in turile Bristol's sons delight,
But in hier teens thy whining powers are vain: Too much o'er bowls of gack prolong the night:
She quits poor Bowles for Little's purer strain. Jf Commerce fills the purse, she clogs the brain,
Now to soft themes thou scornest to confine

And Amos Cottle strikes the lyre in vain.
The lofty numbers of a harp like thine:

In him an author's luckless lot behold! « Awake a louder and a loftier strain,»4

Condemo'd to make the books which once he sold. Such as none heard before, or will again;

Oh! Amos Cortle!- Phæbus! what a name Where all discoveries jumbled from the flood, To fill the speaking trump of future fame!Since first the leaky ark reposed in mud,

Oh! Amos Cottle! for a moment think By more or less, are sung in every book,

What meagre profils spread froin pen and ink! From Captain Noam down to Captain Cook.

Wheu thus devoted to poetic dreams, Nor this alone, but pausing on the road,

Who will peruse thy prostituted reams ?
The bard sighs forth a gentle episode ;5

Oh! pen perverted ! paper misapplied!
And gravely tells-attend each beautcous Miss ! - Had Cortle still adorn'd the counter's side,
When first Madeira trembled to a kiss.

Bent o'er the desk, or, born to useful toils,
Bowles! in thy memory let this precept dwell, Been taught to make the paper which he soils,
Stick to thy sonnets, man! at least they sell.

Plough'd, delved, or plied the oar with lusty limb, Ilarlar's two most notorious verse productions are, • Triumpho He had not sung of Wales, nor I of him. of Temper,» and « Triumphs of Music. He has also written much comedy in rhyme, Epistlus, etc., etc. As be is rather an elegant

As Sisyphus agaiost the infernal steep writer of notes and biography, let us recommend Pope's advico 10 Rolls the buge rock, whose motions ne'er may sleep, WYCHELET 10 Mr Ali's consideration ; viz. to convert bis poetry into prose.. which may be easily done by taking away the final syl- Corte is one of the heroes of the Danciad, and was a bookseller. lable of each couplet.

Lord Fanny is the poetical name of Lord Heavet, author of • Lises • Mr Grekine has poured forth two volumes of Cant, under the to the Imitator of Horace. name of Sabbath Walks.. and Biblical Pictures,

? Lord BOLINGAROKE hired MALLET to traduce Pore after his de • See Bowles's Sonnets, etc.-- Sonnet to Osford, and - Stanzas cease, because the poet had retained some copies of a work by Lord on hearing the Bells of Ostend.

BOLING PAOKE (the Patriot king), which that splendid but maligoaat • • Awake a louder, etc., etc., is the first line in Bowles's Spirit Genius bad ordered 10 bo destroyed. of Discovery;" a very spirited and pretty Dwarf Epic. Among other 3 Dennis ibe critic, and Racer the rhymester. exquisite lines we bave the following:

• Silence, yo wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls, A kiss

Mahing pigbt hideous-answer bim ye owls! - Dunciad. Stole on the list ning silence, never yet

* See Bowles's late edition of Pore's works, for which be received Here beard ; ibuy trembled even as if the power, etc., etc. 304 1. : tbus Mr B. has experienced how much easier it is to profit – That is, the woods of Madeira trembled to a kiss, very much asto- by Ibe reputation of another, than to clerate his own. nished, as well they inight be, at such a phenomenon.

5 Mr COTTLE, ANOS or JosePA, I don't know which, but one or • The episode above alluded to is the story of « Robert a Machin, both, once sellers of books they did not write, and now writers of aad Aona d'Arlei, a pair of constaat lovers, who performed the kiss books that do not sell, bave publishod a pair of Epics : Alfred, above-mentioned, that startled the woods of Madeira.

(poor Alfred ! Prs has been at him too:) and the Fall of Cambria.. So up thy hill, ambrosial Richmond! heayes

When Little's leadless pistol met his eye, Dull MAURICE' all his granite weight of leaves : And Bow-street myrmidons stood laughing by?' Smooth, solid monuments of mental pain !

O day disastrous ! on her firm-set rock,
The petri factions of a plodding brain,

Dunedin's castle felt a secret shock;
That ere they reach the top fall lumbering back again. Dark roll'd the sympathetic waves of Forth,

Low groan'd the startled whirlwinds of the north ; With broken lyre and cheek serenely pale,

Tweed ruftled half his wave to form a tear, Lo! sad Alc&us wanders down the vale!

The other half pursued its calm career; ? Though fair they rose, and might have bloom'd at last, Arthur's sleep summit nodded to its base, His bopes have perish'd by the northern blast: The surly Tolbooth scarcely kept her place; Nipp'd in the bud by Caledonian yales,

The Tolbooth fell-for marble sometimes can, His blossoms wither as the blast prevails !

On such occasions, feel as much as manO'er his lost works let classic SHEFFIELD weep

The Tolbooth fell defrauded of his charms May no rude hand disturb their early sleep!» JF JEFFREY died, except within her arms :3

Nay last, not least, on that portentous morn, Yet say! why should the Bard at once resign The sixteenth story, where himself was born, His claiin to favour from the sacred Nine ?

His patrimonial garret fell to ground, For ever startled by the midyled howl

And pale Edina shudder'd at the sound : Of northero wolves, that still in darkness prowl:

Strew'd were the streets around with milk-while reams, A coward brood, which mangle as they prey,

Flow'd all the Canongate with inky streams; By bellish instinct, all that cross their way;

This of bis candour seem'd the sable dew, Aged or young, the living or the dead,

That of his valour show'd the bloodless liue, No merey find-these harpies must be fed.

And all with justice deem'd the two combined Why do the injured unresisting yield

The mingled emblems of his mighty mind. The calm possession of their native field?

But Caledonia's Goddess hover'd o'er Wby tamely thus before their fangs retreat,

The field, and saved him from the wrath of Moore, Nor bast the bloodhounds back to Arthur's Seat ?3 From either pistol snatch'd the vengeful lead,

And straight restor'd it to her favourite's head:
Health to immortal JEFFREY! once, in name,

That head, with greater than magnetic power,
England could boast a judge almost the same: Caught it, as Danaë the golden shower;
In soul so like, so merciful, yet just,

And, though the thickening dross will scarce refine, Some think that Satan bas resigo'd his trust,

Augments its ore, and is itself a mine. And given the Spirit to the world again,

My son,» she cried, « ne'er thirst for gore again, To sentence letters as he sentenced men;

Resign the pistol, and resume the pen;
With band less mighty, but with heart as black, O'er politics and poesy preside,
With voice as willing to decree the rack;

Boast of thy country, and Britannia's guide !
Bred in tbe courts belimes, though all that law For long as Albion's heedless sops submit,
As yet hath taught him is to find a tlaw.

Or Scottish taste decides on English wit,
Siace well iostructed in the patriot school

So long shall last thine unmolested reign, To rail at party, though a party tool,

Nor any dare to take thy name in vain. Who knows, if chaoce bis patrons should restore Behold a chosen baod shall aid thy plan, Back to the sway they forfeited before,

And owo thee chieftain of the critic clan. His scribbling coils some recompense may meet, First in the ranks illustrious shall be seen Ånd raise this Daniel to the Judgment Seat.

The travellid Thane! Athenian Aberdeen. Let Jertries' sbade indulge the pious bope,

HERBERT shall wield Thor's hammer,5 and sometimes, And greeting thus, present him with a rope :

In gratitude, thou 'lt praise his rugged rhymes. e Heir to my virtues! man of equal mind!

'In 1806, Messrs Jurier and Moons met at Chalk-Farm. The Skilld 10 condema as to traduce mankind,

duel was prevented by the interference of the magistracy; and, on This cord receive--for thee reserved with care,

examination, the balls of the pistols, like the courage of the comTo yield in judgment, and at length to wear.» batants, were found to have evaporatod. This incident gave occa

sion to much waggery in the daily prints. Flealth to great JEFFREY! Heaven preserve his life,

: The Tweed here l'ehaved with proper decorum: it would have

been highly reprebepsible in the English balf of the river to have Te flourish on the feriile shores of life,

shown ibe smallest symptom of apprehension. And guard it sacred in his future wars,

• This display of sympathy on the part of the Tolbooth (the prinSiace authors sometimes seek the field of Mars ! cipal prison in Edinburgh), which truly seems to bave been most

affected on this occasion, is much to be commended. It was to be apCap pone remember that eventful day,

prehended, that the many unhappy criminals executed in the front That ever-glorious, almost fatal fray,

might have rendered the edifice more callous. She is said to be of

the softer sex, Iecause her delicacy of feeling on this day was truly fe"XrVience hath mapufactured the component parts of a pon

minine, though, like most feminine impulses, perhaps a little selfish. derous quarto, upon the beauties of « Richmond Hill, and the like: * His lordship has been much abroad, is a member of the Atheit also takes in a charming view of Turoham Green, Hammersmith, nian Society, and roviewer of Geu's Topography of Troy.. Brentford, Old and New, and the parts adjacent.

Mr Hestent is a translator of Icelandic and other Poetry. One * Peor Mestsoxar, though praised by every English Review, has of the principal pieces is a . Song on the Recovery of Thor's Hambeer bitterly reviled by ibe Evissunge. After all, the Bard of

mer. The translation is a pleasant chaunt in the vulgar tongue,

and ended tbus: Sheffield is a man of considerable genius: his « Wanderur of Switterized- is worib a thousand - Lyrical Ballads, and at least fifty

. Instead of money and rings, I wot, Degraded Epia..

The bammer's bruises were her lot ; * Aribur' Seat, the hill which overbangs Edinburgh.

Tbus Odin's son bis hammer got..

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