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Lords of the quill, whose critical assaults O'erthrow whole quartos with their quires of faults, Who soon detect, and mark where'er we fail, And prove our marble with too nice a nail ! Democritus himself was not so bad ; He only thought, but you would make, us mad !

But since (perhaps my feelings are too nice)
I cannot purchase fame at such a price,
I'll labour gratis as a grinder's wheel,
And, blunt myself, give edge to others' stecl,
Nor write at all, unless to teach the art
To those rehearsing for the poet's part;
From Horace show the pleasing paths of song,
And from my own example -- what is wrong.

But truth to say, most rhymers rarely guard Against that ridicule they deem so hard ; In person negligent, they wear, from sloth, Beards of a weck, and nails of annual growth ; Reside in garrets, fly from those they meet, And walk in alleys, rather than the street.

Though modern practice sometimes differs quite, 'Tis just as well to think before you write ; Let every book that suits your theme be read, So shall you trace it to the fountain-head.

With little rhyme, less reason, if you please, The name of poet may be got with ease, So that not tuns of helleboric juice Shall ever turn your head to any use ; Writc but like Wordsworth, live beside a Lake, ! And keep your bushy locks a year from Blake ; ? Then print your book, once more return to town, And boys shall hunt your bardship up and down.

He who has leam'd the duty which he owes To friends and country, and to pardon foes ; Who models his deportment as may best Accord with brother, sire, or stranger guest; Who takes our laws and worship as they are, Nor roars reform for senate, church, and bar; In practice, rather than loud precept, wise, Bids not his tongue, but heart, philosophise: Such is the man the poet should rehearse, As joint exemplar of his life and verse.

Am I not wise, if such some poets' plight,
To purge in spring- like Bayes 3 — before I write ?
If this precaution soften'd not my bile,
I know no scribbler with a madder style ;

Quam lingua, Latium, si non offenderet unum.
quemque poetarum limæ labor et mora. Vos, o
Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod non
Muita dies et multa litura coercuit, atque
Presectum decies non castigavit ad unguem.

Ingenium misera quia fortunatius arte
Credit, et excludit sanos Helicone poetas
Democritus ; bona pars non ungues ponere curat,
Non barbam ; secreta petit loca, balnea vitat.
Nanciscetur enim pretium nomenque poetæ,
Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile nunquam
Tonsori Licino commiserit. O ego lævus,
Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam !
Non alius faceret meliora poemata : verum
Nil tanti est : ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum

Sometimes a sprightly wit, and tale well told, Without much grace, or weight, or art, will hold

Reddere quæ ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi :
Munus et officium, nil scribens ipse, docebo;
Unde parentur opes ; quid alat formetque poetam ;
Quid deceat, quid non ; quo virtus, quo ferat error.

Scribendi recte sapere est et principium et fons.
Rem tibi Socraticæ poterunt ostendere chartæ:
Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur,
Quid didicit patriæ quid debeat, et quid amicis ;
Quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus, et hospes ;
Quod sit conscripti, quod judicis officium ; quæ
Partes in bellum missi ducis ; ille profecto
Reddere personæ scit convenientia cuique.
Respicere exemplar vitæ morumque jubebo
Doctum imitatorem, et vivas hinc ducere voces.

Interdum speciosa locis morataque recte

determined to make such head against it as an individual can by prose or verse, and I will at least do it with good will. There is no bearing it any longer ; and, if it goes on, it will destros what little good writing or taste remains amongst us. I hope there are still a few men of taste to second me; but if not, I'll battle it alone, convinced that it is the best cause of English literature." And again, in 1821:-"Neither time, nor distance, nor grief, nor age, can ever diminish my veneration for him who is the great moral poet of all times, of all climes, of all feelings, and of all stages of existence. The delight of my boyhood, the study of my manhood, perhaps (if allowed toʻme to attain it) he may be the consolation of my age. His poetry is the book of life. Without canting, and yet without neglecting religion, he has assembled all that a good and great man can gather together of moral wisdom clothed in con. summate beauty, Sir William Temple observes, that of all the members of mankind that live within the compass of a thousand years, for one man that is born capable of making a great poei, there may be a thousand born capable of making as great generals and ministers of state as any in story.' Here is a statesman's opinion of poetry; it is honourable to him and to the art. sech a 'poet of a thousand years' was Pope. A thousand years will roll away before such another can be hoped for in our literature. But it can want them; he is himself a literature.")

! (" That this is the age of the decline of Eriglish poetry, will be doubled by few who have calmly considered the subject. That there are men of genius among the present poets, makes little against the fact ; because it has been well said, that, .next to him who forms the taste of his country, the greatest genius is he who corrupts it.' No one has ever de. nied genius to Marini, who corrupted, not merely the taste of Italy, but that of all Europe, for nearly a century. The great cause of the present deplorable state of English poetry is to be attributed to that absurd and systematic depreciation of Pope, in which, for the last few years, there has been a kind of epidemic concurrence.

The Lakers and their school, and every body clse with their school, and eren Moore witho'it a school, and dilettanti lectures, at institutions, and elderly

gentlemen who translate and imitate, and young ladies who listen and repeat, and baronets who draw indifferent frontis. pieces for bad poets, and noblemen who let them dine with them in the country, the small body of the wits and the great body of the blues, have latterly united in a depreciation, of which their forefathers would have been as much ashamed as their children will be. In the mean time, what have we got instead? The Lake School, which began with an epic poem *written in six weeks,' (so‘Joan of Arc' proclaimed herself,) and finished with a ballad composed in twenty years, as 'Peter Bell's' creator takes care to inform the few who will inquire. What have we got instead? A deluge of flimsy and unin. telligible romances, imitated from Scott and myself, who have both made the best of our bad materials and erroneous system. What have we got instead ? Madoc, which is neither an epic nor any thing else, Thalaba, Kehama, Gebir, and such gib berish, written in all metres, and in no language."- Byron Letters, 1819.- See also the two pamphlets against Mr. Boxles, written at Ravenna in 1821, in which Lord Byron's enthusiastic reverence for P'ope is the principal feature.)

2 As famous a tonsor as Licinus himself, and better paid, and may, like him, be one day a senator, having a better quick lification than one half of the heads he crops, viz. - indepen. dence.

3 [" Bayes. Pray, Sir, how do you do when you write ? Smith. Faith, Sir, for the most part I'm in pretty good health. Boyes. I mean, what do you do when you write? Smith. I take pen, ink, and paper, and sit down. Bayes. Now I write standingthat's one thing; and then another thing is, with what do you prepare yourself? Smith. Prepare myself ! what the devil does the rool mean? Bayes. Why, I'll tell you what I do. If I am to write familiar things, as sonnets to Armida, and the like. I make use of stewed prunes only; but when I have a grand design in hand, Terer take physic and let blood : for when you would have pure swiftness of thought, and fiery lights of fancy, you must have a care of the pensive part. In ane, you musi purge." - Thearsa.]

A longer empire o'er the public mind

Fiction docs best when taught to look like truth, Than sounding trifles, empty, though refined.

And fairy fables bubble none but youth:

Expect no credit for too wondrous tales, Unhappy Greece! thy sons of ancient days Since Jonas only springs alive from whales ! The muse may celebrate with perfect praise,

Young men with aught but elegance dispense; Whose generous children narrow'd not their hearts With commerce, given alone to arms and arts.

Maturer years require a little sense.

To end at once : — that bard for all is fit
Our boys (save those whom public schools compel
To " long and short ” before they 're taught to spell) For him reviews shall smile, for him o'erflow

Who mingles well instruction with his wit;
From frugal fathers soon imbibe by rote,

The patronage of Paternoster-row; “A penny saved, my lad, 's a penny got."

His book, with Longman's liberal aid, shall pass Babe of a city birth I from sixpence take

(Who ne'er despises books that bring him brass); The third, how much will the remainder make ? “ A groat." "Ah, bravo ! Dick hath done the sum !

Through three long wecks the taste of London lead, He 'll swell my fifty thousand to a plum.”

And cross St. George's Channel and the Tweed.

But every thing has faults, nor is 't unknown They whose young souls receive this rust betimes,

That harps and fiddles often lose their tone, 'Tis clear, are fit for any thing but rhymes;

And wayward voices, at their owner's call, And Locke will tell you, that the father's right

With all his best endeavours, only squall ; Who hides all verses from his children's sight;

Dogs blink their covey, flints withhold the spark, + For poets (says this sage !, and many more,)

And double-barrels (damn them !) miss their mark. 5 Make sad mechanics with their lyric lore; And Delphi now, however rich of old,

Where frequent beauties strike the reader's view, Discovers little silver, and less gold,

We must not quarrel for a blot or two; Because Parnassus, though a mount divine,

But pardon equally to books or men, Is poor as Irus 2, or an Irish mine, 3

The slips of human nature, and the pen. Tvro objects always should the poet move,

Yet if an author, spite of foe or friend, Or one or both, - to please or to improve.

Despises all advice too much to mend, Whate'er you teach, be bricf, if you design

But ever twangs the same discordant string, For our remembrance your didactic line;

Give him no quarter, howsoe'er he sing. Redundance places memory on the rack,

Let Havard's 6 fate o'ertake him, who, for once, For brains may be o'erloaded, like the back.

Produced a play too dashing for a dunce:

Fabula, nullius veneris, sine pondere et arte,
Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur,
Quam, versus inopes rerum, nugæque canore.

Graiis ingenium, Graiis dedit ore rotundo
Musa loqui, præter laudem nullius avaris.
Romani pueri longis rationibus assem
Discunt in partes centum diducere: dicat
Fllius Albini, Si de quincunce remota est
Uncia, quid superat ? poterat dixisse - Triens. Eu!
Rein poteris servare tuam. Redit uncia : quid fit ?
Semis. An hxc animos ærugo et cura pecull
Cum semel imbuerit, speramus carmina fingi
Posse linenda cedro, et levi servanda cupresso ?

Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare poetæ ;
Aut simul et jucunda et idonea dicere vitæ.
Quidquid præcipies, esto brevis : ut cito dicta
Percipiant' animi dociles, teneantque fideles.
Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat.

Ficta voluptatis causa sint proxima veris :

Nec, quodcunque volet, poscat sibi fabula credi :
Neu pransæ Lamiæ vivum puerum extrahat alvo.

Centuriæ seniorum agitant expertia frugis :
Celsi prætereunt austera poemata Rhamnes.
Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci,
Lectorem delectando pariterque monendo.
Hic meret æra liber Sosiis ; hic et mare transit,
Et longum noto scriptori prorogat ævum.

Sunt delicta tamen, quibus ignovisse velimus ; [mens,
Nam neque chorda sonum reddit quem vult manus et
Poscentique gravem persæpe remittit acutum ;
Nec semper feriet quodcunque minabitur arcus.
Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis
Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria sudit,
Aut humana parum cavit natura. Quid ergo est ?
Ut scriptor si peccat idem librarius usque,
Quamvis est monitus, senia caret ; et citharadus
Ridetur, chorda qui semper oberrat cadem :
Sic mihi, qui multum cessat, fic Chærilus ille,

! I have not the original by me, but the Italian translation runs as follows:- E una cosa a mio credere molto stravagante, che un padre desideri, o permetta, che suo figliuolo coltivi e perfezioni questo talento." A little further on : "Si trovano di rado nel Parnaso le miniere d'oro e d'argento." - Educa. zione dei Fanciulli del Signor Locke. ("If the child have a poetic vein, it is to me the strangest thing in the world, that the father should desire or suffer it to be cherished or improved."-" It is very seldom seen, that any one discovers mines of gold or silver on Parnassus.")

? "Iro pauperior :"this is the same beggar who boxed with Ulysses for a pound of kid's fry, which he lost, and half a dozen teeth besides. - See Odyssey, b. 18.

3 The Irish gold mine of Wicklow, which gields just ore enough to swear by, or gild a bad guinea.

[This couplet is amusingly characteristic of that mixture of fun and bitterness with which their author sometimes spoke in conversation ; so much so, that those who knew him might almost fancy they hear him ulter the words. — Moore.)

5 As Mr. Pope took the liberty of damning Homer, to whom he was under great obligations-" And Ilomer (damn him!) calls" - it may be presumed that any body or any thing may be damned in rerse by poctical license; and, in

case of accident, I beg leave to plead so illustrious a precedent.

For the story of Billy Hararu's tragedy, see “ Daries's Life of Garrick." I believe it is " Regulus," or " Charles the First." The moment it was known to be his the theatre thinned, and the bookseller refused to give the customary sum for the copyright. - " Havard,” says Davies, " was roduced to great straits, and in order to retrieve his affairs, the story of Charles the First was proposed to him as a proper subject to engage the public attention. Havard's desire of ease was known to be superior to his thirst for fame or money; and Giffard, the manager, insisted upon the power of locking him up till the work was finished. To this he consented ; and Giffard actually turned the key upon him, and let him out at his pleasure, till the play was completed. It was acted with great emolument to the manager, and some degree of reputation, as well as gain, to the author. It drew large crowds to the theatre ; curiosity was excited with respect to the author: that was a secret to be kept from the people; but Havard's love of fame would not suffer it to be concealed longer than the tenth or twelfth night of acting the play. The moment Havard put on the sword and ties wig, the genteel dress of the times, and professed himself to be the writer of Charles the First,''the auctiences were thinned, and the bookseller refused to give the usual sum of a hundred pounds for the copyright."']

At first none deem'd it his; but when his name
Announced the fact - what then ? it lost its fame.
Though all deplore when Milton deigns to doze,
In a long work 't is fair to steal repose.

As pictures, so shall poems be ; some stand
The critic eye, and please when near at hand;
But others at a distance strike the sight;
This seeks the shade, but that demands the light,
Nor drcads the connoisseur's fastidious view,
But, ten times scrutinised, is ten times new.

Parnassian pilgrims ! ye whom chance, or choice, Hath led to listen to the Muse's voice, Receive this counsel, and be timely wise ; Few reach the summit which before you lies. Our church and state, our courts and camps, concede Reward to very moderate heads indeed ! In these plain common sense will travel far ; All are not Erskines who mislead the bar; But poesy between the best and worst No medium knows; you must be last or first; For middling poets' miserable volumes Are damp'd alike by gods, and men, and columns.!

Again, my Jeffrey !-- as that sound inspires,
How wakes my bosom to its wonted fires !
Fires, such as gentle Caledonians feel
When Southrons writhe upon their critic wheel,
Or mild Eclectics 2, when some, worse than Turks,
Would rob poor Faith to decorate “ good works."
Such are the genial feelings thou canst claim
My falcon flies not at ignoble game.
Mightiest of all Dunedin's beasts of chase !
For thee my Pegasus would mend his pace.
Arise, my Jeffrey ! or my inkless pen
Shall never blunt its edge on meaner men ;
Till thee or thine mine evil eye discerns,
Alas! I cannot “strike at wretched kernes."3
Inhuman Saxon! wilt thou then resign
A muse and heart by choice so wholly thine ?
Dear, d-d contemner of my schoolboy songs,
Hast thou no vengeance for my manbood's

If unprovoked thou once could bid me bleed,
Hast thou no weapon for my daring deed ?
What! not a word !- and am I then so low ?
Wilt thou forbear, who never spared a foe?

Quem bis terque bonum cum risu miror ; et idem Indignor, quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus. Verun operi longo fas est obrepere somnum.

Ut pictura, poesis : erit que, si propius stes, Te capiet magis ; et quædam, si longius abstes: Ilæc amat obscurum ; volet hæc sub luce videri, Judicis argutum quæ non formidat acumen : Hæc placuit semel ; hæc deces repetita placebit.

O major juvenum, quamvis et roce paterna Fingeris ad rectum, et per te sapis, hoc tibi dictum Tolle memor: certis medium et tolerabile rebus Recte concedi: consultus juris, et actor Causaruin mediocris, abest virtute diserti Messuæ, nec scit quantum Cascellius Aulus : Sed tamen in pretio est : mediocribus esse poetis Nor homines, non Di, non concessere coluicuæ.

! (Here, in the original MS., we find the following couplet and note:

" Though what. Gods, men, and columns' interdict,

The Devil and Jeffrey pardon - in a Pict. “ The Devil and Jeffrey are here placed antithetically to gods and men, such being their usual position, and their due one - according to the facetious saying, 'If God iron't take you, the Devil must;' and I am sure no one durst object to his taking the poetry which, rejected by Horace, is accepted by Jeffrey. That these gentlemen are ia soine cases kinder, - the one to countrymen, and the other from his odd propensity to prefer evil to good, – than the 'gods, men, and columns' of llorace, may be seen by a reference to the review of Campbell's 'Gertrude of Wyoming;' and in No. 31. of the Edinburgh Review (given to me the other day by the captain of an English frigate ofr Sularnis), there is a siinilar concession to the mediocrity of Jamie Graham's • British Georgics. It is fortunate for Campbell, that his fame neither depends on his last poem, nor the puff of the Edinburgh Review. The catalogues of cur English are also less fastidious than the pillars of the Roman librarians. - A word nore with the author of Gertrude of Wyoming.' At the end of a poem, and even of a couples, we have generally 'that untreaning thing we call a thought;' so Mr. Campbell conclu:les with a thought in such a manner as to fulfil the whole of Pope's prescription, and be as 'unmeaning' as the best of his brethrea:

* Because I may not stain with grief

The death-song of an Indian chief.' When I was in the fifth form, I carried to my master the translation of a chorus in Prometheus, wherein was a pes. tilent expression about staining a voice,' which met with no quarter. Little did I think that Mr. Campbell would have adopted my tifth form sublime' - at least in so conspicuous a situation. • Sorrow' has een dry' (in proverbs), and

wet' (in sonnets), this many a day; and now it stains,' and stains a sound, of all feasible things! To be sure, deathsongs might have been stained with that same grief to very good purpose, if Qutalissi had clapped down his stanzas oa wholesome paper for the Edinburgh Evening Post, or any other given hyperborean gazette ; or if the said Outalissi had beca troubled with the slightest second sight of his own notes embodied on the last proot of an overcharged quarto : but as he is supposed to have been an improrisatore on this occasion, and probably to the last tune he ever chanced in this world, it would have donc him no discrc it to have muc his exit with a inouthful of common sense. Talking of staining' (as Caleb Quotem says) ' puts me in mind' or a certain

couplet, rhich Mr. Campbell will find in a writer for whom he, and his school, have no small contempt ;

• E'cn copious Dryden wanted, or forgot,

The last and greatest art - the art to blot!'"] ! To the Eclectic or Christian Reviewers I hare to return thanks for the fervour of that charity which, in 1809, induced them to express a hope that a thing then published by me might lead to certain consequences, which, although natural enough, surely came but rashly from reverend lips. I refer them to their own pages, where they congratulated theinselves on the prospect of a tilt between Mr. Jeffrey and myself, from which some great good was to accrue, provided one or both were knocked on the head. Having survived two years and a half those“ Elegies” which they were kindly preparing to review, I have no peculiar gusto to give them * so joytul a trouble," except, indeed," upon compulsion, Hal;'

but, if, as David says in the “* Rivals," it should come to "bloody sword and gun fighting," we “won't run, will we, Sir Lucius?" I do not know what I had done to these Eclectic gentlemen : my works are their lawful perquisite, to be hewn in pieces like Agag, if it seem meet unto them : but why they should be in such a hurry to kill off their author, I am ignorant. " The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong:" and now, as these Christians have

smote me on one check," I hold them up the other; and, in return for their good wishes, give them an opportunity of repeating them. Had any other set of mcp expressed such sentiments, I should have smiled, and left them to the “re. cording angel ; " but from the pharisees of Christianity decency might be expected. I can assure these brethren, that, publican and sinner as I am, I would not have treated "mine enemy's dog thus." To show them the superiority of my brotherly love, if ever the Reverend Messrs. Simeon or Ramsden should be engaged in such a conflict as that in which they requested me to tall, I hope they may escape with being " winged "only, and that Heaviside may be at hand to extract the ball. – [The following is the charitable passage in the Eclectic Review of which Lord Byron speaks :- " If the noble lord and the learned advocate have the courage requisite to sustain their mutual insults, we shall probably soon hear the explosions of another kind of paper-war, alter the fashion of the ever memorable duel which the latter is said to have fought, or seemed to fight, with. Little Moore.' We confess there is sufficient provocation, if not in the cri. tique, at least in the satire, to urge a man of honour' to deiy his assailant to mortal combat. of this we shall no doubt hear more in due time.")

3 (" Alas! I cannot strike at wretched kernes." - Vac. bcth.]


Hast thou no wrath, or wish to give it vent?
No wit for nobles, dunces by descent ?
No jest on “minors," quibbles on a name,
Nor one facetious paragraph of blame ?
Is it for this on Ilion I have stood,
And thought of Homer less than Holyrood ?
On shore of Euxine or gean sea
My hate, untravell'd, fondly turn'd to thee.
Ab! let me cease ; in vain my bosom burns,
From Corydon unkind Alexis turns :
Thy rhymes are vain; thy Jeffrey then forego
Nor woo that anger which he will not show,
What then ? - Edina starves some lanker son,
To write an article thou canst not shun;
Some less fastidious Scotchman shall be found,
As bold in Billingsgate, though less renown'd.

And men unpractised in exchanging knocks
Must go to Jackson 3 ere they dare to box.
Whate'er the weapon, cudgel, fist, or foil,
None reach expertness without years of toil ;
But fifty dunces can, with perfect case,
Tag twenty thousand couplets, when they please.
Why not ? — shall I, thus qualified to sit
For rotten boroughs, never show my wit ?
Shall I, whose fathers with the quorum sate,
And lived in freedom on a fair estate ;
Who left me heir, with stables, kennels, packs,
To all their income, and to twice its tax;
Whose form and pedigree have scarce a faut,
Shall I, I say, suppress my attic salt ?


As if at table some discordant dish Should shock our optics, such as frogs for fish; As oil in lieu of butter men decry, And poppies please not in a modern pic; If all such mixtures then be half a crime, We must have excellence to relish rhyme. Mere roast and boil'd no epicure invites; Thus poetry disgusts, or else delights.

Thus think “ the mob of gentlemen;" but you, Besides all this, must have some genius tvo. Be this your sober judgment, and a rule, And print not piping hot from Southey's school, Who (ere another Thalaba appears), I trust, will spare us for at least nine years. And hark 'ye, Southey +! pray - but don't be

vex'd — Burn all your last three works — and half the next. But why this vain advice ? once published, books Can never be recallid — from pastry-cooks! Though “ Madoc," with “ Pucelle 5," instead of punk, May travel back to Quito - on a trunk ! 6

Who shoot not flying rarely touch a gun: Will he who swims not to the river run ?

Ut gratas inter mensas symphonia discors,
Et crassum unguentum, et Sardo cum melle papaver
Offendunt, poterat duci quia cena sine istis ;
Sic animis natum inventumque poema juvandis,
Si paulum a summo decessit, vergit ad imum.

Ludere qui nescit, campestribus abstinet arnis,
Indoctusque pilæ, discive, trochire, quiescit,
Ne spissæ risum tollant impune coronæ :
Qui nescit, versus tamen audet fingere ! - Quidni ?
Liber et ingenuus præsertim census equestrem

Summam nummorum, vitioque remotus ab omni.
Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva :
Id tibi judicium est, ca mens; si quid tamen olim
Scripseris, in Metii descendat judicis aures,
Et patris, et nostras, nonumque prematur in annum,
Membranis intus positis. Delere licebit
Quod non edideris ; nescit vox missa reverti.

Sylvestres homines sacer interpresque deorum
Cædibus et victu fædo deterruit Orpheus :
Dictus ob hoc lenire tigres, rabidosque leones :

! (See the memorable critique of the Edinburgh Review on “ Tlours of Idleness," antè, p. 419.]

? Invenies alium, si te hic fastidit Alexin.

* (Lord Byron's taste for boxing brought him acquainted, at an early period, with this distinguished, and, it is not too inuch to say, respected, professor of the art ; for whom, throughout life, he continued to entertain a sincere regard. In a note to the eleventh canto of Don Juan, he calls him " his old friend, and corporeal pastor and master."']

• Mr. Southey has lately tied another canister to his tail in the “ Curse of kehama," "maugre the neglect of Madoc, &c., and has in one instance had a wonderful effect. A literary friend of mine, walking out one lovely evening last summer, on the eleventh bridge of the Paddington canal, was alarmeil by the cry of "' one in jeopardy:" he rushed along, collected a body of Irish haymakers (supping on butter-milk in an adjaceni paddock), procured three rakes, one eel-spear, and a landing-net, and at last (horresco referens) pulled out – his own publisher. The unfortunate man was gone for ever, and so was a large quarto whcrewith he had taken the leap, which proved, on inquiry, to have been Mr. Southey's last work. Its * alacrity of sinking " was so great, that it has rever since been heard of; though some maintain that it is at this moment concealed at Alderman Birch's pastry premises, Cornhill. Be this as it may, the coroner's inquest brought in a verdict of“ Fclo de bibliopola" against a “quarto unknown;" and circumstantial evidence being since strong against the “ Curse of kehama" (of which the above words are an exact description), it will be tried by its peers next session, in Grub-streer. -- Arthur, Alfred, Davideis, Richard Cuur de Lion, Exodus, Exodia, Epigoniad, Calvary, Fall of Cambria, Siege of Acre, Don Roderick, and Tom Thumb the Great, are the names of the twelve jurors. The judges are Pye, Bowles, and the bellman of St. Sepulchre's. The samne advocates, pro and con, will be employed as are now engaged in Sir Francis Burdett's celebrated cause in the Scotch courts, The public anxiously await the result, and all live publishers will be subpoenaed as witnesses. – But BIr. Southey has published the " Curse of hchana," inviting title to quibblers. By the bye, it is a good deal beneath Scott and Campbell, and not much above Southey, to allow the booby Ballantyne to entitle them, in the Edin

burgh Annual Register (of which, by the bye, Southey is editor) " the grand poetical triumvirate of the day." But, on second thoughts, it can be no great degree of praise to be the one-eyed leaders of the blind, though they inight as well keep to themselves“ Scott's thirty thousand copies sold,” which must sadly discomfit poor Southey's unsaleables. , Poor Southey, it should seem, is the " Lepidus" of this poetical triumvirate. I am only surprised to see him in such good company.

“ Such things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,

But wonder how the devil he came there." The trio are well defined in the sixth proposition of Euclid: " Because, in the triangles DBC, ACB, D B is equal to A C, and B C common to both; the two sides DB, BC, are equal to the two AC, CB, each to each, and the angle DBC is equal to the angle A CB: therefore, the base DC is equal to the base AB, and the triangle DBC (Mr. Southey) is equal to the triangle A CB, the less to the greater, which is absurd," &c. - The editor of the Edinburgh Register will find the rest of the theorem hard by his stabling; he has only to cross the river ; 't is the first turnpike t'other side

Pons Asinorum.".

5 Voltaire's “ Pucelle" is not quite so immaculate as Mr. Southey's " Joan of Arc," and yet I am afraid the Frenchman has both more truth and poetry too on his side - (they rarely go together)-than our patriotic minstrel, whose first essay was in praise of a fanatical French strumpet, whose title of witch would be correct with the change of the first letter.

6 Like Sir Bland Burges's “ Richard;" the tenth book of which I read at Malta, on a trunk of Eyre's, 19. Cockspur. street. If this be doubted, I shall buy a portmanteau to quote from.


* This Latin has sorely puzzled the t'niversity of Edinburgh. Ballantyne said it meant the “ Bridge of Berwick," but Southey claimed it as half English ; Scott swore it was the “ Brig o Stirling ;" he had just passed two King James's and a dozen Douglasses over it. At last it was decided by Jefffey, that it meant nothing more nor less than the counter of Archy Constable's shop.

Though without genius, and a native vein
Of wit, we loathe an artificial strain -
Yet art and nature join'd will win the prize,
Unless they act like us and our allies.

Orpheus, we learn from Ovid and Lempriere,
Led all wild beasts but women by the ear ;
And had he fiddled at the present hour,
We'd seen the lions waltzing in the Tower ;
And old Amphion, such were minstrels then,
Had built St. Paul's without the aid of Wren.
Verse too was justice, and the bards of Greece
L'id more than constables to keep the peace;
Abolish'd cuckoldom with much applause,
Call'd county meetings, and enforced the laws,
Cut down crown influence with reforming scythes,
And served the church - without demanding tithes;
And hence, throughout all Hellas and the East,
Each poet was a prophet and a priest,
Whose old-establish'd board of joint controls
Included kingdoms in the cure of souls.

Next rose the martial Homer, Epic's prince,
And fighting 's been in fashion ever since,
And old 'Tyrtæus, when the Spartans warr'd,
(A limping leader, but a lofty baru,)
Though wall’d Ithome had resisted long,
Reduced the fortress by the force of song.

When oracles prevail'd, in times of old,
In song alone Apollo's will was told :
Then if your verse is what all verse should be,
And gods were not ashamed on't, why should we ?

The Muse, like mortal females, may be woo'd;
In turns she'll seem a Paphian, or a prude ;
Fierce as a bride when first she feels affright,
Mild as the same upon the second night;
Wild as the wife of alderman or peer,
Now for his grace, and now a grenadier !
Her eyes beseem, her heart belies, her zone,
Ice in a crowd, and lava when alone.

If verse be studied with some show of art,
Kind Nature always will perform her part;

The youth who trains to ride, or run a race, Must bear privations with unruffled face, Be callid to labour when he thinks to dine, And, harder still, leave wenching and his wine. Ladies who sing, at least who sing at sight, Have followed music through her farthest flight; But rhymers tell you neither more nor less, “I've got a pretty poem for the press;”. And that's enough; then write and print so fast; If Satan take the hindmost, who'd be last? They storm the types, they publish, one and all, They leap the counter, and they leave the stall. Provincial maidens, men of high command, Yea, baronets have ink'd the bloody hand ! Cash cannot quell them; Pollio 3 play'd this prank, (Then Phæbus first found crcdit in a bank !) Not all the living only, but the dead, Fool on, as fluent as an Orpheus' head; + Damn'd all their days, they posthumously thrive — Dug up from dust, though buried when alive! Reviews record this epidemic crime, Those Boks of Martyrs to the rage for rhyme. Alas! woe worth the scribbler! often seen In Morning Post, or Monthly Magazine. There lurk his earlier lays; but soon, hot-pressid, Behold a quarto ! - Tarts must tell the rest. Then leave, ye wise, the lyre's precarious chords To muse-mad baronets, or madder lords, Or country Crispins, now grown somewhat stale, Twin Doric minstrels, drunk with Doric ale ! Hark to those notes, narcotically soft The cobbler-laureats 5 sing to Capel Lofft: 6 Till, lo! that modern Midas, as he hears, Adds an ell growth to his egregious ears !

Sit tibi Musa lyræ solers, et cantor Apollo.

Natura fieret laudabile carmen, an arte, Quæsitum est : ego nec studium sine divite rena, Nec rude quid prosit video ingenium ; alterius sic Altera poscit opem res, et conjurat amice. Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, Multa tulit fecitque puer ; sudavit et alsit ; Abstinuit Venere et vino : qui Pythia cantat Tibicen, didicit prius, extimuitque magistrum. Nunc satis est dixisse ; Ego mira poemata pango: Occupet extremum scabies ; mihi turpe relinqui est, Et quod non didici, sane nescire fateri.


Dictus et Amphion, Thebanæ conditor arcis,
Saxa morere sono testudinis, et prece blanda
Ducere quo vellet : fuit hæc sapientia quondam,
Publica privatis secernere ; sacra profanis ;
Concubito prohibere vago; dare jura maritis ;
Oppida moliri ; leges incidere ligno.
Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque
Carminibus venit. Post hos insignis Homerus
Tyrtæusque mares animos in Martia bella
Versibus exacuit; dictæ per carmina sortes,
Et vitæ monstrata via est : et gratia regum
Pieriis tentata modis : ludusque repertus,
Et longorum operum finis : ne forte pudori
(Lord Byron had originally written -

" As lame as I am, but a better bard." The reader of Mr. Moore's Notices will appreciate the feeling which, no doubt, influenced Lord Byron's alteration of the manuscript line.)

3 [The red hand of Ulster, introduced generally in a canton, marks the shield of a baronet of the United Kingdom.]

3 [" Pollio." - In the original MS. Rogers.”]
** Tum quoque marmorea caput a cervice revulsum,

Gurgite cum medio portans (Eagrius Hebrus,
Volveret Eurydicen vox ipsa, et frigida lingua ;
Ah, miseram Eurydicen ! anima fugiente vocabat ;
Eurydicen toto reierebant Humine ripæ.”

Georgic. iv. 523. $ I beg Nathaniel's pardon : he is not a cobbler; it is a tailur, but begged Capel Lotlt to sink the profession in his preface to two pair of panta-psha!- of cantos, which he wished the public to try on ; but the siere of a patron let it out, and so far saved the expense of an advertisement to his country customers. - Merry's “ Moortields whine". was nothing to all this. The Della Cruscans" were people of

some education, and no profession ; but these Arcadians (" Arcades ambo" - bumpkins both) send out their native nonsense without the smallest alloy, and leave all the shoes and smallclothes in the parish unrepaired, to patch up Elegies on Enclosures and Pæans to Gunpowrier. Sitting on a shopboard, they describe fields of battle, when the only blond they ever saw was shed from the finger ; and an “ Essay on War" is produced by the ninth part of a “ poet."

“ And own that nine such poets made a Tate." Did Nathan ever read that line of Pope ? and if he did, why not take it as his motto ? — (See antè, p. 432. note.]

6 This well meaning gentleman has spoiled some excellent shoemakers, and been accessory to the poetical undoing of many of the industrious poor. Nathaniel Bloomfield and his brother Bobby have set all Somersetshire singing ; nor has the malady confined itself to one county. Pratt too (who once was wiser) has caught the contagion of patronage, and decored a poor fellow named Blackett into poetry; but he died during the operation, leaving one child and two rolumes of “ Remains" utterly destitute. The girl, if she don't take a poetical twist, and come forth as a shoe-making Sappho, may do well; but the “ tragedies" are as ricketty as if they had been the offspring of an Earl or a Seatonian

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