I saw two beings in the hues of youth But she in these fond feelings had no share : Of a time-honour'd race.-It was a name Which pleased him, and yet pleased him notand why? Time taught him a deep answer-when she loved And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear Was darken'd with her shadow, and she saw Was traced, and then it faded, as it came; IV. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. V. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. VI. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. Her face was fair, but was not that which made been But the old mansion, and the accustom'd hall, VII. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream, Had wander'd from its dwelling, and her eyes, VIII. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. • Mithridates of Pontus. And voices from the deep abyss reveal'd A marvel and a secret.-Be it so. IX. My dream was past; it had no further change. It was of a strange order, that the doom Of these two creatures should be thus traced out Almost like a reality-the one To end in madness-both in misery. LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL. And shall be more so; for the mind recoils We feel benumb'd, and wish to be no more. But in the after-silence on the shore, When all is lost, except a little life. I am too well avenged!—but 'twas my right! Whate'er my sins might be, thou wert not sent To be the Nemesis who should requite Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. Mercy is for the merciful!-if thou Hast been of such, 'twill be accorded now. Thy nights are banish'd from the realms of sleep! Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel I have had many foes, but none like thee; spare; And thus upon the world-trust in thy truth, And the wild fame of my ungovern'd youth On things that were not, and on things that are Even upon such a basis hast thou built Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart, Trafficking with them in a purpose cold, For present anger, and for future goldAnd buying other's grief at any price. And thus once enter'd into crooked ways, The early truth, which was thy proper praise, ALL my friends, learned and unlearned, have urged me not to publish this Satire with my name. If I were to be turned from the career of my humour by quibbles quick, and paper bullets of the brain,' I should have complied with their counsel; but I am not to be terrified by abuse, or bullied by reviewers, with or without arms. I can safely say that I have attacked none personally, who did not commence on the offensive. An author's works are public property: he who purchases may judge, and publish his opinion if he pleases; and the authors I have endeavoured to commemorate may do by me as I have done by them: I dare say they will succeed better in condemning my scribblings than in mending their own. But my object is not to prove that I can write well, but, if possible, to make others write better. As the poem has met with far more success than I expected, I have endeavoured in this edition to make some additions and alterations, to render it more worthy of public perusal. In the First Edition of this Satire, published anonymously, fourteen lines on the subject of Bowles's Pope were written by, and inserted at the request of, an ingenious friend of mine,*who has now in the press a volume of poetry. In the present edition they are erased, and some of my own substituted in their stead; my only reason for this being that which I conceive would operate with any other person in the same manner,-a determination not to publish with my name any production which was not entirely and exclusively my own composition. With regard to the real talents of many of the poetical persons whose performances are mentioned or alluded to in the following pages, it is presumed by the author that there can be little difference of opinion in the public at large; though, like other sectaries, each has his separate tabernacle of proselytes, by whom his abilities are overrated, his faults overlooked, and his metrical canons received without scruple and without consideration. But the unquestionable possession of considerable genius by several of the writers here censured, renders their mental prostitution more to be regretted. Imbecility may be pitied, or, at worst, laughed at and forgotten; perverted powers demand the most decided reprehension. No one can wish more than the author, that some known and able writer had undertaken their exposure; but Mr Gifford has devoted himself to Massinger, and in the absence of the regular physician, a country practitioner may, in cases of absolute necessity, be allowed to prescribe his nostrum to prevent the Mr Hobhouse. extension of so deplorable an epidemic, provided there be no quackery in his treatment of the malady. A caustic is here offered, as it is to be feared nothing short of actual cautery can recover the numerous patients afflicted with the present prevalent and distressing rabies for rhyming. As to the Edinburgh Reviewers, it would indeed require a Hercules to crush the Hydra; but if the author succeeds in merely bruising one of the heads of the serpent,' though his own hand should suffer in the encounter, he will be amply satisfied. STILL must I hear?-shall hoarse Fitzgerald | Still there are follies, e'en for me to chase, Prepare for rhyme-I'll publish, right or wrong: Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, is Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain. Such is the force of wit! but not belong • IMITATION: Semper ego auditor tantum? nunquamne reponam, Vexatus toties rauci Theseide Codri?'JUVENAL, Sat. 1. Mr Fitzgerald, facetiously termed by Cobbett the Small Beer Poet, inflicts his annual tribute of verse on the 'Literary Fund: not content with writing, he spouts in person, after the company have imbibed a reasonable quantity of bad port, to enable them to sustain the operation. + Cid Hamet Benengeli promises repose to his pen in the last chapter of Don Quixote. Oh that our voluminous gentry would follow the example of Cid Hamet Benengeli ! And yield at least amusement in the race: I too can scrawl, and once upon a time Fail'd to preserve the spurious farce from shame. A man must serve his time to every trade ཞལ་ To these, when authors bend in humble awe, In turns appear, to make the vulgar stare, 'Tis doubtful whom to seek, or whom to shun; Time was, ere yet in these degenerate days Ignoble themes obtain'd mistaken praise, When sense and wit with poesy allied, No fabled graces, flourish'd side by side; From the same fount their inspiration drew, And, rear'd by taste, bloom'd fairer as they grew. Then, in this happy isle, a Pope's pure strain Sought the rapt soul to charm, nor sought in vain ; A polish'd nation's praise aspired to claim, For nature then an English audience felt But why these names, or greater still, reu ace, 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 trifling page, Survey the precious works that please the age; This truth at least let satire's self allow, Nor less new schools of Poetry arise, Behold! in various throngs the scribbling For notice eager, pass in long review: [crew, Each spurs his jaded Pegasus apace, And rhyme and blank maintain an equal race; Sonnets on sonnets crowd, and ode on ode; And tales of terror jostle on the road; Immeasurable measures move along; For simpering folly loves a varied song, To strange mysterious dulness still the friend, Admires the strain she cannot comprehend. Thus Lays of Minstrels - may they be the last! + On half-strung harps whine mournful to the blast; While mountain spirits prate to river sprites, That dames may listen to the sound at nights; And goblin brats, of Gilpin Horner's brood,+ Decoy young border nobles through the wood, And skip at every step, Lord knows how high, And frighten foolish babes, the Lord knows why; Stott, better known in the Morning Post by the name of Hafiz. This person is at present the most profound explorer Portugal, a special ode of Master Stott's beginning thus of the bathos. I remember, when the reigning family left (Stott loquitur quoad Hibernia): 'Princely offspring of Braganza, Erin greets thee with a stanza,' &c. Also a sonnet to Rats, well worthy of the subject, and a most thundering ode, commencing as follows: Oh for a lay! loud as the surge That lashes Lapland's sounding shore!' Lord have mercy on us! the Lay of the Last Minstrel was nothing to this. See the Lay of the Last Minstrel, passim. Never was this production. The entrance of Thunder and Lightning any plan so incongruous and absurd as the groundwork of prologuising to Bayes' Tragedy, unfortunately takes away No dearth of bards can be complain'd of now. the merit of originality from the dialogue between Messieurs the Spirits of Flood and Fell in the first canto. Then we have The loaded press beneath her labour groans, the amiable William of Deloraine, a stark mosstrooper, And printer's devils shake their weary bones; videlicet, a happy compound of poacher, sheep-stealer, and highwayman. The propriety of his magical lady's injunction While Southey's epics cram the creaking shelves, not to read can only be equalled by his candid acknowledg And Little's § lyrics shine in hot-press'd twelves.ment of his independence of the trammels of spelling, although, Thus saith the preacher: 'Nought beneath the sun Is new;' yet still from change to change we What varied wonders tempt us as they pass! The cow-pox, tractors, galvanism, and gas, • IMITATION: 'Cur tamen hoc libeat potius decurrere campo Per quem magnus equos Auruncie flexit alumnus: Si vacat et placidi rationem admittitis, edam. to use his own elegant phrase, 'twas his neck-verse at Harribee, the gallows. [run: The biography of Gilpin Horner, and the marvellous horse, without the aid of seven-leagued boots, are chefs pedestrian page, who travelled twice as fast as his master's d'auvre in the improvement of taste. For incident we have the invisible, but by no means sparing box on the ear be stowed on the page, and the entrance of a knight and charger into the castle, under the very natural disguise of a wain of hay. Marmion, the hero of the latter romance, is exactly what William of Deloraine would have been, had he been able to read and write. The poem was manufactured for Messrs Constable, Murray, and Miller, worshipful book. sellers, in consideration of the receipt of a sum of money; and truly, considering the inspiration, it is a very creditable production. If Mr Scott will write for hire, let him do his best for his paymasters, but not disgrace his genius, which is undoubtedly great, by a repetition of black-letter ballad imita tions. JUVENAL, Sat. I. ↑ Dramatist; author of Love for Love, &c., &c. A dramatist; the author of Venice Preserved, &c., &c. T. Moore, who published at first under the name of Thomas Little. |