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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers

  1. 1Still must I hear?--shall hoarse FITZGERALD bawl
  2. 2His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
  3. 3And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch Reviews
  4. 4Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my Muse?
  5. 5Prepare for rhyme--I'll publish, right or wrong:
  6. 6Fools are my theme, let Satire be my song.
  1. 7Oh! Nature's noblest gift--my grey goose-quill!
  2. 8Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
  3. 9Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
  4. 10That mighty instrument of little men!
  5. 11The pen! foredoomed to aid the mental throes
  6. 12Of brains that labour, big with Verse or Prose;
  7. 13Though Nymphs forsake, and Critics may deride,
  8. 14The Lover's solace, and the Author's pride.
  9. 15What Wits! what Poets dost thou daily raise!
  10. 16How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
  11. 17Condemned at length to be forgotten quite,
  12. 18With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
  13. 19But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
  14. 20Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
  15. 21Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
  16. 22Though spurned by others, yet beloved by me:
  17. 23Then let us soar to-day; no common theme,
  18. 24No Eastern vision, no distempered dream
  19. 25Inspires--our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
  20. 26Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.
  1. 27When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
  2. 28Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
  3. 29When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
  4. 30Bedecks her cap with bells of every Clime;
  5. 31When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
  6. 32And weigh their Justice in a Golden Scale;
  7. 33E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
  8. 34Afraid of Shame, unknown to other fears,
  9. 35More darkly sin, by Satire kept in awe,
  10. 36And shrink from Ridicule, though not from Law.
  1. 37Such is the force of Wit! I but not belong
  2. 38To me the arrows of satiric song;
  3. 39The royal vices of our age demand
  4. 40A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.
  5. 41Still there are follies, e'en for me to chase,
  6. 42And yield at least amusement in the race:
  7. 43Laugh when I laugh, I seek no other fame,
  8. 44The cry is up, and scribblers are my game:
  9. 45Speed, Pegasus!--ye strains of great and small,
  10. 46Ode! Epic! Elegy!--have at you all!
  11. 47I, too, can scrawl, and once upon a time
  12. 48I poured along the town a flood of rhyme,
  13. 49A schoolboy freak, unworthy praise or blame;
  14. 50I printed--older children do the same.
  15. 51'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
  16. 52A Book's a Book, altho' there's nothing in't.
  17. 53Not that a Title's sounding charm can save
  18. 54Or scrawl or scribbler from an equal grave:
  19. 55This LAMB [6] must own, since his patrician name
  20. 56Failed to preserve the spurious Farce from shame.
  21. 57No matter, GEORGE continues still to write,
  22. 58Tho' now the name is veiled from public sight.
  23. 59Moved by the great example, I pursue
  24. 60The self-same road, but make my own review:
  25. 61Not seek great JEFFREY'S, yet like him will be
  26. 62Self-constituted Judge of Poesy.
  1. 63A man must serve his time to every trade
  2. 64Save Censure--Critics all are ready made.
  3. 65Take hackneyed jokes from MILLER, got by rote,
  4. 66With just enough of learning to misquote;
  5. 67A man well skilled to find, or forge a fault;
  6. 68A turn for punning--call it Attic salt;
  7. 69To JEFFREY go, be silent and discreet,
  8. 70His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet:
  9. 71Fear not to lie,'twill seem a sharper hit;
  10. 72Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit;
  11. 73Care not for feeling--pass your proper jest,
  12. 74And stand a Critic, hated yet caress'd.
  1. 75And shall we own such judgment? no--as soon
  2. 76Seek roses in December--ice in June;
  3. 77Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff,
  4. 78Believe a woman or an epitaph,
  5. 79Or any other thing that's false, before
  6. 80You trust in Critics, who themselves are sore;
  7. 81Or yield one single thought to be misled
  8. 82By JEFFREY'S heart, or LAMB'S Boeotian head.
  9. 83To these young tyrants, by themselves misplaced,
  10. 84Combined usurpers on the Throne of Taste;
  11. 85To these, when Authors bend in humble awe,
  12. 86And hail their voice as Truth, their word as Law;
  13. 87While these are Censors, 'twould be sin to spare;
  14. 88While such are Critics, why should I forbear?
  15. 89But yet, so near all modern worthies run,
  16. 90'Tis doubtful whom to seek, or whom to shun;
  17. 91Nor know we when to spare, or where to strike,
  18. 92Our Bards and Censors are so much alike.
  19. 93Then should you ask me, why I venture o'er
  20. 94The path which POPE and GIFFORD trod before;
  21. 95If not yet sickened, you can still proceed;
  22. 96Go on; my rhyme will tell you as you read.
  23. 97"But hold!" exclaims a friend,--"here's some neglect:
  24. 98This--that--and t'other line seem incorrect."
  25. 99What then? the self-same blunder Pope has got,
  26. 100And careless Dryden--"Aye, but Pye has not:"--
  27. 101Indeed!--'tis granted, faith!--but what care I?
  28. 102Better to err with POPE, than shine with PYE.
  1. 103Time was, ere yet in these degenerate days
  2. 104Ignoble themes obtained mistaken praise,
  3. 105When Sense and Wit with Poesy allied,
  4. 106No fabled Graces, flourished side by side,
  5. 107From the same fount their inspiration drew,
  6. 108And, reared by Taste, bloomed fairer as they grew.
  7. 109Then, in this happy Isle, a POPE'S pure strain
  8. 110Sought the rapt soul to charm, nor sought in vain;
  9. 111A polished nation's praise aspired to claim,
  10. 112And raised the people's, as the poet's fame.
  11. 113Like him great DRYDEN poured the tide of song,
  12. 114In stream less smooth, indeed, yet doubly strong.
  13. 115Then CONGREVE'S scenes could cheer, or OTWAY'S melt;
  14. 116For Nature then an English audience felt--
  15. 117But why these names, or greater still, retrace,
  16. 118When all to feebler Bards resign their place?
  17. 119Yet to such times our lingering looks are cast,
  18. 120When taste and reason with those times are past.
  19. 121Now look around, and turn each trifling page,
  20. 122Survey the precious works that please the age;
  21. 123This truth at least let Satire's self allow,
  22. 124No dearth of Bards can be complained of now.
  23. 125The loaded Press beneath her labour groans,
  24. 126And Printers' devils shake their weary bones;
  25. 127While SOUTHEY'S Epics cram the creaking shelves,
  26. 128And LITTLE'S Lyrics shine in hot-pressed twelves.
  27. 129Thus saith the Preacher: "Nought beneath the sun
  28. 130Is new," yet still from change to change we run.
  29. 131What varied wonders tempt us as they pass!
  30. 132The Cow-pox, Tractors, Galvanism, and Gas,
  31. 133In turns appear, to make the vulgar stare,
  32. 134Till the swoln bubble bursts--and all is air!
  33. 135Nor less new schools of Poetry arise,
  34. 136Where dull pretenders grapple for the prize:
  35. 137O'er Taste awhile these Pseudo-bards prevail;
  36. 138Each country Book-club bows the knee to Baal,
  37. 139And, hurling lawful Genius from the throne,
  38. 140Erects a shrine and idol of its own;
  39. 141Some leaden calf--but whom it matters not,
  40. 142From soaring SOUTHEY, down to groveling STOTT.
  1. 143Behold! in various throngs the scribbling crew,
  2. 144For notice eager, pass in long review:
  3. 145Each spurs his jaded Pegasus apace,
  4. 146And Rhyme and Blank maintain an equal race;
  5. 147Sonnets on sonnets crowd, and ode on ode;
  6. 148And Tales of Terror jostle on the road;
  7. 149Immeasurable measures move along;
  8. 150For simpering Folly loves a varied song,
  9. 151To strange, mysterious Dulness still the friend,
  10. 152Admires the strain she cannot comprehend.
  11. 153Thus Lays of Minstrels --may they be the last!--
  12. 154On half-strung harps whine mournful to the blast.
  13. 155While mountain spirits prate to river sprites,
  14. 156That dames may listen to the sound at nights;
  15. 157And goblin brats, of Gilpin Horner's brood
  16. 158Decoy young Border-nobles through the wood,
  17. 159And skip at every step, Lord knows how high,
  18. 160And frighten foolish babes, the Lord knows why;
  19. 161While high-born ladies in their magic cell,
  20. 162Forbidding Knights to read who cannot spell,
  21. 163Despatch a courier to a wizard's grave,
  22. 164And fight with honest men to shield a knave.
  1. 165Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan,
  2. 166The golden-crested haughty Marmion,
  3. 167Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight,
  4. 168Not quite a Felon, yet but half a Knight.
  5. 169The gibbet or the field prepared to grace;
  6. 170A mighty mixture of the great and base.
  7. 171And think'st thou, SCOTT! by vain conceit perchance,
  8. 172On public taste to foist thy stale romance,
  9. 173Though MURRAY with his MILLER may combine
  10. 174To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line?
  11. 175No! when the sons of song descend to trade,
  12. 176Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade,
  13. 177Let such forego the poet's sacred name,
  14. 178Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame:
  15. 179Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain!
  16. 180And sadly gaze on Gold they cannot gain!
  17. 181Such be their meed, such still the just reward
  18. 182Of prostituted Muse and hireling bard!
  19. 183For this we spurn Apollo's venal son,
  20. 184And bid a long "good night to Marmion."
  1. 185These are the themes that claim our plaudits now;
  2. 186These are the Bards to whom the Muse must bow;
  3. 187While MILTON, DRYDEN, POPE, alike forgot,
  4. 188Resign their hallowed Bays to WALTER SCOTT.
  1. 189The time has been, when yet the Muse was young,
  2. 190When HOMER swept the lyre, and MARO sung,
  3. 191An Epic scarce ten centuries could claim,
  4. 192While awe-struck nations hailed the magic name:
  5. 193The work of each immortal Bard appears
  6. 194The single wonder of a thousand years.
  7. 195Empires have mouldered from the face of earth,
  8. 196Tongues have expired with those who gave them birth,
  9. 197Without the glory such a strain can give,
  10. 198As even in ruin bids the language live.
  11. 199Not so with us, though minor Bards, content,
  12. 200On one great work a life of labour spent:
  13. 201With eagle pinion soaring to the skies,
  14. 202Behold the Ballad-monger SOUTHEY rise!
  15. 203To him let CAMOËNS, MILTON, TASSO yield,
  16. 204Whose annual strains, like armies, take the field.
  17. 205First in the ranks see Joan of Arc advance,
  18. 206The scourge of England and the boast of France!
  19. 207Though burnt by wicked BEDFORD for a witch,
  20. 208Behold her statue placed in Glory's niche;
  21. 209Her fetters burst, and just released from prison,
  22. 210A virgin Phoenix from her ashes risen.
  23. 211Next see tremendous Thalaba come on,
  24. 212Arabia's monstrous, wild, and wond'rous son;
  25. 213Domdaniel's dread destroyer, who o'erthrew
  26. 214More mad magicians than the world e'er knew.
  27. 215Immortal Hero! all thy foes o'ercome,
  28. 216For ever reign--the rival of Tom Thumb!
  29. 217Since startled Metre fled before thy face,
  30. 218Well wert thou doomed the last of all thy race!
  31. 219Well might triumphant Genii bear thee hence,
  32. 220Illustrious conqueror of common sense!
  33. 221Now, last and greatest, Madoc spreads his sails,
  34. 222Cacique in Mexico, and Prince in Wales;
  35. 223Tells us strange tales, as other travellers do,
  36. 224More old than Mandeville's, and not so true.
  37. 225Oh, SOUTHEY! SOUTHEY! cease thy varied song!
  38. 226A bard may chaunt too often and too long:
  39. 227As thou art strong in verse, in mercy, spare!
  40. 228A fourth, alas! were more than we could bear.
  41. 229But if, in spite of all the world can say,
  42. 230Thou still wilt verseward plod thy weary way;
  43. 231If still in Berkeley-Ballads most uncivil,
  44. 232Thou wilt devote old women to the devil,
  45. 233The babe unborn thy dread intent may rue:
  46. 234"God help thee," SOUTHEY, and thy readers too.
  1. 235Next comes the dull disciple of thy school,
  2. 236That mild apostate from poetic rule,
  3. 237The simple WORDSWORTH, framer of a lay
  4. 238As soft as evening in his favourite May,
  5. 239Who warns his friend "to shake off toil and trouble,
  6. 240And quit his books, for fear of growing double;"
  7. 241Who, both by precept and example, shows
  8. 242That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose;
  9. 243Convincing all, by demonstration plain,
  10. 244Poetic souls delight in prose insane;
  11. 245And Christmas stories tortured into rhyme
  12. 246Contain the essence of the true sublime.
  13. 247Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy,
  14. 248The idiot mother of "an idiot Boy;"
  15. 249A moon-struck, silly lad, who lost his way,
  16. 250And, like his bard, confounded night with day
  17. 251So close on each pathetic part he dwells,
  18. 252And each adventure so sublimely tells,
  19. 253That all who view the "idiot in his glory"
  20. 254Conceive the Bard the hero of the story.
  1. 255Shall gentle COLERIDGE pass unnoticed here,
  2. 256To turgid ode and tumid stanza dear?
  3. 257Though themes of innocence amuse him best,
  4. 258Yet still Obscurity's a welcome guest.
  5. 259If Inspiration should her aid refuse
  6. 260To him who takes a Pixy for a muse,
  7. 261Yet none in lofty numbers can surpass
  8. 262The bard who soars to elegize an ass:
  9. 263So well the subject suits his noble mind,
  10. 264He brays, the Laureate of the long-eared kind.
  1. 265Oh! wonder-working LEWIS! Monk, or Bard,
  2. 266Who fain would make Parnassus a church-yard!
  3. 267Lo! wreaths of yew, not laurel, bind thy brow,
  4. 268Thy Muse a Sprite, Apollo's sexton thou!
  5. 269Whether on ancient tombs thou tak'st thy stand,
  6. 270By gibb'ring spectres hailed, thy kindred band;
  7. 271Or tracest chaste descriptions on thy page,
  8. 272To please the females of our modest age;
  9. 273All hail, M.P.! from whose infernal brain
  10. 274Thin-sheeted phantoms glide, a grisly train;
  11. 275At whose command "grim women" throng in crowds,
  12. 276And kings of fire, of water, and of clouds,
  13. 277With "small grey men,"--"wild yagers," and what not,
  14. 278To crown with honour thee and WALTER SCOTT:
  15. 279Again, all hail! if tales like thine may please,
  16. 280St. Luke alone can vanquish the disease:
  17. 281Even Satan's self with thee might dread to dwell,
  18. 282And in thy skull discern a deeper Hell.
  1. 283Who in soft guise, surrounded by a choir
  2. 284Of virgins melting, not to Vesta's fire,
  3. 285With sparkling eyes, and cheek by passion flushed
  4. 286Strikes his wild lyre, whilst listening dames are hushed?
  5. 287'Tis LITTLE! young Catullus of his day,
  6. 288As sweet, but as immoral, in his Lay!
  7. 289Grieved to condemn, the Muse must still be just,
  8. 290Nor spare melodious advocates of lust.
  9. 291Pure is the flame which o'er her altar burns;
  10. 292From grosser incense with disgust she turns
  11. 293Yet kind to youth, this expiation o'er,
  12. 294She bids thee "mend thy line, and sin no more."
  1. 295For thee, translator of the tinsel song,
  2. 296To whom such glittering ornaments belong,
  3. 297Hibernian STRANGFORD! with thine eyes of blue,
  4. 298And boasted locks of red or auburn hue,
  5. 299Whose plaintive strain each love-sick Miss admires,
  6. 300And o'er harmonious fustian half expires,
  7. 301Learn, if thou canst, to yield thine author's sense,
  8. 302Nor vend thy sonnets on a false pretence.
  9. 303Think'st thou to gain thy verse a higher place,
  10. 304By dressing Camoëns in a suit of lace?
  11. 305Mend, STRANGFORD! mend thy morals and thy taste;
  12. 306Be warm, but pure; be amorous, but be chaste:
  13. 307Cease to deceive; thy pilfered harp restore,
  14. 308Nor teach the Lusian Bard to copy MOORE.
  1. 309Behold--Ye Tarts!--one moment spare the text!--
  2. 310HAYLEY'S last work, and worst--until his next;
  3. 311Whether he spin poor couplets into plays,
  4. 312Or damn the dead with purgatorial praise, ]
  5. 313His style in youth or age is still the same,
  6. 314For ever feeble and for ever tame.
  7. 315Triumphant first see "Temper's Triumphs" shine!
  8. 316At least I'm sure they triumphed over mine.
  9. 317Of "Music's Triumphs," all who read may swear
  10. 318That luckless Music never triumph'd there.
  1. 319Moravians, rise! bestow some meet reward
  2. 320On dull devotion--Lo! the Sabbath Bard,
  3. 321Sepulchral GRAHAME, pours his notes sublime
  4. 322In mangled prose, nor e'en aspires to rhyme;
  5. 323Breaks into blank the Gospel of St. Luke,
  6. 324And boldly pilfers from the Pentateuch;
  7. 325And, undisturbed by conscientious qualms,
  8. 326Perverts the Prophets, and purloins the Psalms.
  1. 327Hail, Sympathy! thy soft idea brings"
  2. 328A thousand visions of a thousand things,
  3. 329And shows, still whimpering thro' threescore of years,
  4. 330The maudlin prince of mournful sonneteers.
  5. 331And art thou not their prince, harmonious Bowles!
  6. 332Thou first, great oracle of tender souls?
  7. 333Whether them sing'st with equal ease, and grief,
  8. 334The fall of empires, or a yellow leaf;
  9. 335Whether thy muse most lamentably tells
  10. 336What merry sounds proceed from Oxford bells,
  11. 337Or, still in bells delighting, finds a friend
  12. 338In every chime that jingled from Ostend;
  13. 339Ah! how much juster were thy Muse's hap,
  14. 340If to thy bells thou would'st but add a cap!
  15. 341Delightful BOWLES! still blessing and still blest,
  16. 342All love thy strain, but children like it best.
  17. 343'Tis thine, with gentle LITTLE'S moral song,
  18. 344To soothe the mania of the amorous throng!
  19. 345With thee our nursery damsels shed their tears,
  20. 346Ere Miss as yet completes her infant years:
  21. 347But in her teens thy whining powers are vain;
  22. 348She quits poor BOWLES for LITTLE'S purer strain.
  23. 349Now to soft themes thou scornest to confine
  24. 350The lofty numbers of a harp like thine;
  25. 351"Awake a louder and a loftier strain,"
  26. 352Such as none heard before, or will again!
  27. 353Where all discoveries jumbled from the flood,
  28. 354Since first the leaky ark reposed in mud,
  29. 355By more or less, are sung in every book,
  30. 356From Captain Noah down to Captain Cook.
  31. 357Nor this alone--but, pausing on the road,
  32. 358The Bard sighs forth a gentle episode,
  33. 359And gravely tells--attend, each beauteous Miss!--
  34. 360When first Madeira trembled to a kiss.
  35. 361Bowles! in thy memory let this precept dwell,
  36. 362Stick to thy Sonnets, Man!--at least they sell.
  37. 363But if some new-born whim, or larger bribe,
  38. 364Prompt thy crude brain, and claim thee for a scribe:
  39. 365If 'chance some bard, though once by dunces feared,
  40. 366Now, prone in dust, can only be revered;
  41. 367If Pope, whose fame and genius, from the first,
  42. 368Have foiled the best of critics, needs the worst,
  43. 369Do thou essay: each fault, each failing scan;
  44. 370The first of poets was, alas! but man.
  45. 371Rake from each ancient dunghill ev'ry pearl,
  46. 372Consult Lord Fanny, and confide in CURLL;
  47. 373Let all the scandals of a former age
  48. 374Perch on thy pen, and flutter o'er thy page;
  49. 375Affect a candour which thou canst not feel,
  50. 376Clothe envy in a garb of honest zeal;
  51. 377Write, as if St. John's soul could still inspire,
  52. 378And do from hate what MALLET did for hire.
  53. 379Oh! hadst thou lived in that congenial time,
  54. 380To rave with DENNIS, and with RALPH to rhyme;
  55. 381Thronged with the rest around his living head,
  56. 382Not raised thy hoof against the lion dead,
  57. 383A meet reward had crowned thy glorious gains,
  58. 384And linked thee to the Dunciad for thy pains.
  1. 385Another Epic! Who inflicts again
  2. 386More books of blank upon the sons of men?
  3. 387Boeotian COTTLE, rich Bristowa's boast,
  4. 388Imports old stories from the Cambrian coast,
  5. 389And sends his goods to market--all alive!
  6. 390Lines forty thousand, Cantos twenty-five!
  7. 391Fresh fish from Hippocrene! who'll buy? who'll buy?
  8. 392The precious bargain's cheap--in faith, not I.
  9. 393Your turtle-feeder's verse must needs be flat,
  10. 394Though Bristol bloat him with the verdant fat;
  11. 395If Commerce fills the purse, she clogs the brain,
  12. 396And AMOS COTTLE strikes the Lyre in vain.
  13. 397In him an author's luckless lot behold!
  14. 398Condemned to make the books which once he sold.
  15. 399Oh, AMOS COTTLE!--Phoebus! what a name
  16. 400To fill the speaking-trump of future fame!--
  17. 401Oh, AMOS COTTLE! for a moment think
  18. 402What meagre profits spring from pen and ink!
  19. 403When thus devoted to poetic dreams,
  20. 404Who will peruse thy prostituted reams?
  21. 405Oh! pen perverted! paper misapplied!
  22. 406Had COTTLE still adorned the counter's side,
  23. 407Bent o'er the desk, or, born to useful toils,
  24. 408Been taught to make the paper which he soils,
  25. 409Ploughed, delved, or plied the oar with lusty limb,
  26. 410He had not sung of Wales, nor I of him.
  1. 411As Sisyphus against the infernal steep
  2. 412Rolls the huge rock whose motions ne'er may sleep,
  3. 413So up thy hill, ambrosial Richmond! heaves
  4. 414Dull MAURICE all his granite weight of leaves:
  5. 415Smooth, solid monuments of mental pain!
  6. 416The petrifactions of a plodding brain,
  7. 417That, ere they reach the top, fall lumbering back again.
  1. 418With broken lyre and cheek serenely pale,
  2. 419Lo! sad Alcæus wanders down the vale;
  3. 420Though fair they rose, and might have bloomed at last,
  4. 421His hopes have perished by the northern blast:
  5. 422Nipped in the bud by Caledonian gales,
  6. 423His blossoms wither as the blast prevails!
  7. 424O'er his lost works let classic SHEFFIELD weep;
  8. 425May no rude hand disturb their early sleep!
  1. 426Yet say! why should the Bard, at once, resign
  2. 427His claim to favour from the sacred Nine?
  3. 428For ever startled by the mingled howl
  4. 429Of Northern Wolves, that still in darkness prowl;
  5. 430A coward Brood, which mangle as they prey,
  6. 431By hellish instinct, all that cross their way;
  7. 432Aged or young, the living or the dead,"
  8. 433No mercy find-these harpies must be fed.
  9. 434Why do the injured unresisting yield
  10. 435The calm possession of their native field?
  11. 436Why tamely thus before their fangs retreat,
  12. 437Nor hunt the blood-hounds back to Arthur's Seat?
  1. 438Health to immortal JEFFREY! once, in name,
  2. 439England could boast a judge almost the same;
  3. 440In soul so like, so merciful, yet just,
  4. 441Some think that Satan has resigned his trust,
  5. 442And given the Spirit to the world again,
  6. 443To sentence Letters, as he sentenced men.
  7. 444With hand less mighty, but with heart as black,
  8. 445With voice as willing to decree the rack;
  9. 446Bred in the Courts betimes, though all that law
  10. 447As yet hath taught him is to find a flaw,--
  11. 448Since well instructed in the patriot school
  12. 449To rail at party, though a party tool--
  13. 450Who knows? if chance his patrons should restore
  14. 451Back to the sway they forfeited before,
  15. 452His scribbling toils some recompense may meet,
  16. 453And raise this Daniel to the Judgment-Seat.
  17. 454Let JEFFREY'S shade indulge the pious hope,
  18. 455And greeting thus, present him with a rope:
  19. 456"Heir to my virtues! man of equal mind!
  20. 457Skilled to condemn as to traduce mankind,
  21. 458This cord receive! for thee reserved with care,
  22. 459To wield in judgment, and at length to wear."
  1. 460Health to great JEFFREY! Heaven preserve his life,
  2. 461To flourish on the fertile shores of Fife,
  3. 462And guard it sacred in its future wars,
  4. 463Since authors sometimes seek the field of Mars!
  5. 464Can none remember that eventful day,
  6. 465That ever-glorious, almost fatal fray,
  7. 466When LITTLE'S leadless pistol met his eye,
  8. 467And Bow-street Myrmidons stood laughing by?
  9. 468Oh, day disastrous! on her firm-set rock,
  10. 469Dunedin'scastle felt a secret shock;
  11. 470Dark rolled the sympathetic waves of Forth,
  12. 471Low groaned the startled whirlwinds of the north;
  13. 472TWEED ruffled half his waves to form a tear,
  14. 473The other half pursued his calm career;
  15. 474ARTHUR'S steep summit nodded to its base,
  16. 475The surly Tolbooth scarcely kept her place.
  17. 476The Tolbooth felt--for marble sometimes can,
  18. 477On such occasions, feel as much as man--
  19. 478The Tolbooth felt defrauded of his charms,
  20. 479If JEFFREY died, except within her arms:
  21. 480Nay last, not least, on that portentous morn,
  22. 481The sixteenth story, where himself was born,
  23. 482His patrimonial garret, fell to ground,
  24. 483And pale Edina shuddered at the sound:
  25. 484Strewed were the streets around with milk-white reams,
  26. 485Flowed all the Canongate with inky streams;
  27. 486This of his candour seemed the sable dew,
  28. 487That of his valour showed the bloodless hue;
  29. 488And all with justice deemed the two combined
  30. 489The mingled emblems of his mighty mind.
  31. 490But Caledonia's goddess hovered o'er
  32. 491The field, and saved him from the wrath of Moore;
  33. 492From either pistol snatched the vengeful lead,
  34. 493And straight restored it to her favourite's head;
  35. 494That head, with greater than magnetic power,
  36. 495Caught it, as Danäe caught the golden shower,
  37. 496And, though the thickening dross will scarce refine,
  38. 497Augments its ore, and is itself a mine.
  39. 498"My son," she cried, "ne'er thirst for gore again,
  40. 499Resign the pistol and resume the pen;
  41. 500O'er politics and poesy preside,
  42. 501Boast of thy country, and Britannia's guide!
  43. 502For long as Albion's heedless sons submit,
  44. 503Or Scottish taste decides on English wit,
  45. 504So long shall last thine unmolested reign,
  46. 505Nor any dare to take thy name in vain.
  47. 506Behold, a chosen band shall aid thy plan,
  48. 507And own thee chieftain of the critic clan.
  49. 508First in the oat-fed phalanx shall be seen
  50. 509The travelled Thane, Athenian Aberdeen.
  51. 510HERBERT shall wield THOR'S hammer, and sometimes
  52. 511In gratitude, thou'lt praise his rugged rhymes.
  53. 512Smug SYDNEY too thy bitter page shall seek,
  54. 513And classic HALLAM, much renowned for Greek;
  55. 514SCOTT may perchance his name and influence lend,
  56. 515And paltry PILLANS shall traduce his friend;
  57. 516While gay Thalia's luckless votary, LAMB,
  58. 517Damned like the Devil--Devil-like will damn.
  59. 518Known be thy name! unbounded be thy sway!
  60. 519Thy HOLLAND'S banquets shall each toil repay!
  61. 520While grateful Britain yields the praise she owes
  62. 521To HOLLAND'S hirelings and to Learning's foes.
  63. 522Yet mark one caution ere thy next Review
  64. 523Spread its light wings of Saffron and of Blue,
  65. 524Beware lest blundering BROUGHAM destroy the sale,
  66. 525Turn Beef to Bannocks, Cauliflowers to Kail."
  67. 526Thus having said, the kilted Goddess kist
  68. 527Her son, and vanished in a Scottish mist.
  1. 528Then prosper, JEFFREY! pertest of the train
  2. 529Whom Scotland pampers with her fiery grain!
  3. 530Whatever blessing waits a genuine Scot,
  4. 531In double portion swells thy glorious lot;
  5. 532For thee Edina culls her evening sweets,
  6. 533And showers their odours on thy candid sheets,
  7. 534Whose Hue and Fragrance to thy work adhere--
  8. 535This scents its pages, and that gilds its rear.
  9. 536Lo! blushing Itch, coy nymph, enamoured grown,
  10. 537Forsakes the rest, and cleaves to thee alone,
  11. 538And, too unjust to other Pictish men,
  12. 539Enjoys thy person, and inspires thy pen!
  1. 540Illustrious HOLLAND! hard would be his lot,
  2. 541His hirelings mentioned, and himself forgot!
  3. 542HOLLAND, with HENRY PETTY at his back,
  4. 543The whipper-in and huntsman of the pack.
  5. 544Blest be the banquets spread at Holland House,
  6. 545Where Scotchmen feed, and Critics may carouse!
  7. 546Long, long beneath that hospitable roof
  8. 547Shall Grub-street dine, while duns are kept aloof.
  9. 548See honest HALLAM [78] lay aside his fork,
  10. 549Resume his pen, review his Lordship's work,
  11. 550And, grateful for the dainties on his plate,
  12. 551Declare his landlord can at least translate!
  13. 552Dunedin! view thy children with delight,
  14. 553They write for food--and feed because they write:
  15. 554And lest, when heated with the unusual grape,
  16. 555Some glowing thoughts should to the press escape,
  17. 556And tinge with red the female reader's cheek,
  18. 557My lady skims the cream of each critique;
  19. 558Breathes o'er the page her purity of soul,
  20. 559Reforms each error, and refines the whole.
  1. 560Now to the Drama turn--Oh! motley sight!
  2. 561What precious scenes the wondering eyes invite:
  3. 562Puns, and a Prince within a barrel pent,
  4. 563And Dibdin's nonsense yield complete content.
  5. 564Though now, thank Heaven! the Rosciomania's o'er.
  6. 565And full-grown actors are endured once more;
  7. 566Yet what avail their vain attempts to please,
  8. 567While British critics suffer scenes like these;
  9. 568While REYNOLDS vents his "'dammes!'" "poohs!" and
  10. 569"zounds!"
  1. 570And common-place and common sense confounds?
  2. 571While KENNEY'S "World"--ah! where is KENNEY'S wit?--
  3. 572Tires the sad gallery, lulls the listless Pit;
  4. 573And BEAUMONT'S pilfered Caratach affords
  5. 574A tragedy complete in all but words?
  6. 575Who but must mourn, while these are all the rage
  7. 576The degradation of our vaunted stage?
  8. 577Heavens! is all sense of shame and talent gone?
  9. 578Have we no living Bard of merit?--none?
  10. 579Awake, GEORGE COLMAN! CUMBERLAND, awake!
  11. 580Ring the alarum bell! let folly quake!
  12. 581Oh! SHERIDAN! if aught can move thy pen,
  13. 582Let Comedy assume her throne again;
  14. 583Abjure the mummery of German schools;
  15. 584Leave new Pizarros to translating fools;
  16. 585Give, as thy last memorial to the age,
  17. 586One classic drama, and reform the stage.
  18. 587Gods! o'er those boards shall Folly rear her head,
  19. 588Where GARRICK trod, and SIDDONS lives to tread?
  20. 589On those shall Farce display buffoonery's mask,
  21. 590And HOOK conceal his heroes in a cask? [90]
  22. 591Shall sapient managers new scenes produce
  23. 592From CHERRY, SKEFFINGTON, and Mother GOOSE?
  24. 593While SHAKESPEARE, OTWAY, MASSINGER, forgot,
  25. 594On stalls must moulder, or in closets rot?
  26. 595Lo! with what pomp the daily prints proclaim
  27. 596The rival candidates for Attic fame!
  28. 597In grim array though LEWIS' spectres rise,
  29. 598Still SKEFFINGTON and GOOSE divide the prize.
  30. 599And sure 'great' Skeffington must claim our praise,
  31. 600For skirtless coats and skeletons of plays
  32. 601Renowned alike; whose genius ne'er confines
  33. 602Her flight to garnish Greenwood's gay designs;
  34. 603Nor sleeps with "Sleeping Beauties," but anon
  35. 604In five facetious acts comes thundering on.
  36. 605While poor John Bull, bewildered with the scene,
  37. 606Stares, wondering what the devil it can mean;
  38. 607But as some hands applaud, a venal few!
  39. 608Rather than sleep, why John applauds it too.
  1. 609Such are we now. Ah! wherefore should we turn
  2. 610To what our fathers were, unless to mourn?
  3. 611Degenerate Britons! are ye dead to shame,
  4. 612Or, kind to dulness, do you fear to blame?
  5. 613Well may the nobles of our present race
  6. 614Watch each distortion of a NALDI'S face;
  7. 615Well may they smile on Italy's buffoons,
  8. 616And worship CATALANI's pantaloons,
  9. 617Since their own Drama yields no fairer trace
  10. 618Of wit than puns, of humour than grimace.
  1. 619Then let Ausonia, skill'd in every art
  2. 620To soften manners, but corrupt the heart,
  3. 621Pour her exotic follies o'er the town,
  4. 622To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down:
  5. 623Let wedded strumpets languish o'er DESHAYES,
  6. 624And bless the promise which his form displays;
  7. 625While Gayton bounds before th' enraptured looks
  8. 626Of hoary Marquises, and stripling Dukes:
  9. 627Let high-born lechers eye the lively Presle
  10. 628Twirl her light limbs, that spurn the needless veil;
  11. 629Let Angiolini bare her breast of snow,
  12. 630Wave the white arm, and point the pliant toe;
  13. 631Collini trill her love-inspiring song,
  14. 632Strain her fair neck, and charm the listening throng!
  15. 633Whet not your scythe, Suppressors of our Vice!
  16. 634Reforming Saints! too delicately nice!
  17. 635By whose decrees, our sinful souls to save,
  18. 636No Sunday tankards foam, no barbers shave;
  19. 637And beer undrawn, and beards unmown, display
  20. 638Your holy reverence for the Sabbath-day.
  1. 639Or hail at once the patron and the pile
  2. 640Of vice and folly, Greville and Argyle!
  3. 641Where yon proud palace, Fashion's hallow'd fane,
  4. 642Spreads wide her portals for the motley train,
  5. 643Behold the new Petronius of the day,
  6. 644Our arbiter of pleasure and of play!
  7. 645There the hired eunuch, the Hesperian choir,
  8. 646The melting lute, the soft lascivious lyre,
  9. 647The song from Italy, the step from France,
  10. 648The midnight orgy, and the mazy dance,
  11. 649The smile of beauty, and the flush of wine,
  12. 650For fops, fools, gamesters, knaves, and Lords combine:
  13. 651Each to his humour--Comus all allows;
  14. 652Champaign, dice, music, or your neighbour's spouse.
  15. 653Talk not to us, ye starving sons of trade!
  16. 654Of piteous ruin, which ourselves have made;
  17. 655In Plenty's sunshine Fortune's minions bask,
  18. 656Nor think of Poverty, except "en masque,"
  19. 657When for the night some lately titled ass
  20. 658Appears the beggar which his grandsire was,
  21. 659The curtain dropped, the gay Burletta o'er,
  22. 660The audience take their turn upon the floor:
  23. 661Now round the room the circling dow'gers sweep,
  24. 662Now in loose waltz the thin-clad daughters leap;
  25. 663The first in lengthened line majestic swim,
  26. 664The last display the free unfettered limb!
  27. 665Those for Hibernia's lusty sons repair
  28. 666With art the charms which Nature could not spare;
  29. 667These after husbands wing their eager flight,
  30. 668Nor leave much mystery for the nuptial night.
  1. 669Oh! blest retreats of infamy and ease,
  2. 670Where, all forgotten but the power to please,
  3. 671Each maid may give a loose to genial thought,
  4. 672Each swain may teach new systems, or be taught:
  5. 673There the blithe youngster, just returned from Spain,
  6. 674Cuts the light pack, or calls the rattling main;
  7. 675The jovial Caster's set, and seven's the Nick,
  8. 676Or--done!--a thousand on the coming trick!
  9. 677If, mad with loss, existence 'gins to tire,
  10. 678And all your hope or wish is to expire,
  11. 679Here's POWELL'S pistol ready for your life,
  12. 680And, kinder still, two PAGETS for your wife:
  13. 681Fit consummation of an earthly race
  14. 682Begun in folly, ended in disgrace,
  15. 683While none but menials o'er the bed of death,
  16. 684Wash thy red wounds, or watch thy wavering breath;
  17. 685Traduced by liars, and forgot by all,
  18. 686The mangled victim of a drunken brawl,
  19. 687To live like CLODIUS, and like FALKLAND fall.
  1. 688Truth! rouse some genuine Bard, and guide his hand
  2. 689To drive this pestilence from out the land.
  3. 690E'en I--least thinking of a thoughtless throng,
  4. 691Just skilled to know the right and choose the wrong,
  5. 692Freed at that age when Reason's shield is lost,
  6. 693To fight my course through Passion's countless host,
  7. 694Whom every path of Pleasure's flow'ry way
  8. 695Has lured in turn, and all have led astray--
  9. 696E'en I must raise my voice, e'en I must feel
  10. 697Such scenes, such men, destroy the public weal:
  11. 698Altho' some kind, censorious friend will say,
  12. 699"What art thou better, meddling fool, than they?"
  13. 700And every Brother Rake will smile to see
  14. 701That miracle, a Moralist in me.
  15. 702No matter--when some Bard in virtue strong,
  16. 703Gifford perchance, shall raise the chastening song,
  17. 704Then sleep my pen for ever! and my voice
  18. 705Be only heard to hail him, and rejoice,
  19. 706Rejoice, and yield my feeble praise, though I
  20. 707May feel the lash that Virtue must apply.
  1. 708As for the smaller fry, who swarm in shoals
  2. 709From silly HAFIZ up to simple BOWLES,
  3. 710Why should we call them from their dark abode,
  4. 711In Broad St. Giles's or Tottenham-Road?
  5. 712Or (since some men of fashion nobly dare
  6. 713To scrawl in verse) from Bond-street or the Square?
  7. 714If things of Ton their harmless lays indite,
  8. 715Most wisely doomed to shun the public sight,
  9. 716What harm? in spite of every critic elf,
  10. 717Sir T. may read his stanzas to himself;
  11. 718MILES ANDREWS still his strength in couplets try,
  12. 719And live in prologues, though his dramas die.
  13. 720Lords too are Bards: such things at times befall,
  14. 721And 'tis some praise in Peers to write at all.
  15. 722Yet, did or Taste or Reason sway the times,
  16. 723Ah! who would take their titles with their rhymes?
  17. 724ROSCOMMON! SHEFFIELD! with your spirits fled,
  18. 725No future laurels deck a noble head;
  19. 726No Muse will cheer, with renovating smile,
  20. 727The paralytic puling of CARLISLE.
  21. 728The puny schoolboy and his early lay
  22. 729Men pardon, if his follies pass away;
  23. 730But who forgives the Senior's ceaseless verse,
  24. 731Whose hairs grow hoary as his rhymes grow worse?
  25. 732What heterogeneous honours deck the Peer!
  26. 733Lord, rhymester, petit-maître, pamphleteer!
  27. 734So dull in youth, so drivelling in his age,
  28. 735His scenes alone had damned our sinking stage;
  29. 736But Managers for once cried, "Hold, enough!"
  30. 737Nor drugged their audience with the tragic stuff.
  31. 738Yet at their judgment let his Lordship laugh,
  32. 739And case his volumes in congenial calf;
  33. 740Yes! doff that covering, where Morocco shines,
  34. 741And hang a calf-skin on those recreant lines.
  1. 742With you, ye Druids! rich in native lead,
  2. 743Who daily scribble for your daily bread:
  3. 744With you I war not: GIFFORD'S heavy hand
  4. 745Has crushed, without remorse, your numerous band.
  5. 746On "All the Talents" vent your venal spleen;
  6. 747Want is your plea, let Pity be your screen.
  7. 748Let Monodies on Fox regale your crew,
  8. 749And Melville's Mantle prove a Blanket too!
  9. 750One common Lethe waits each hapless Bard,
  10. 751And, peace be with you! 'tis your best reward.
  11. 752Such damning fame; as Dunciads only give
  12. 753Could bid your lines beyond a morning live;
  13. 754But now at once your fleeting labours close,
  14. 755With names of greater note in blest repose.
  15. 756Far be't from me unkindly to upbraid
  16. 757The lovely ROSA'S prose in masquerade,
  17. 758Whose strains, the faithful echoes of her mind,
  18. 759Leave wondering comprehension far behind.
  19. 760Though Crusca's bards no more our journals fill,
  20. 761Some stragglers skirmish round the columns still;
  21. 762Last of the howling host which once was Bell's,
  22. 763Matilda snivels yet, and Hafiz yells;
  23. 764And Merry's metaphors appear anew,
  24. 765Chained to the signature of O. P. Q.
  25. 766When some brisk youth, the tenant of a stall,
  26. 767Employs a pen less pointed than his awl,
  27. 768Leaves his snug shop, forsakes his store of shoes,
  28. 769St. Crispin quits, and cobbles for the Muse,
  29. 770Heavens! how the vulgar stare! how crowds applaud!
  30. 771How ladies read, and Literati laud!
  31. 772If chance some wicked wag should pass his jest,
  32. 773'Tis sheer ill-nature--don't the world know best?
  33. 774Genius must guide when wits admire the rhyme,
  34. 775And CAPEL LOFFT declares 'tis quite sublime.
  35. 776Hear, then, ye happy sons of needless trade!
  36. 777Swains! quit the plough, resign the useless spade!
  37. 778Lo! BURNS and BLOOMFIELD, nay, a greater far,
  38. 779GIFFORD was born beneath an adverse star,
  39. 780Forsook the labours of a servile state,
  40. 781Stemmed the rude storm, and triumphed over Fate:
  41. 782Then why no more? if Phoebus smiled on you,
  42. 783BLOOMFIELD! why not on brother Nathan too?
  43. 784Him too the Mania, not the Muse, has seized;
  44. 785Not inspiration, but a mind diseased:
  45. 786And now no Boor can seek his last abode,
  46. 787No common be inclosed without an ode.
  47. 788Oh! since increased refinement deigns to smile
  48. 789On Britain's sons, and bless our genial Isle,
  49. 790Let Poesy go forth, pervade the whole,
  50. 791Alike the rustic, and mechanic soul!
  51. 792Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong,
  52. 793Compose at once a slipper and a song;
  53. 794So shall the fair your handywork peruse,
  54. 795Your sonnets sure shall please--perhaps your shoes.
  55. 796May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill,
  56. 797And tailors' lays be longer than their bill!
  57. 798While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes,
  58. 799And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.
  1. 800To the famed throng now paid the tribute due,
  2. 801Neglected Genius! let me turn to you.
  3. 802Come forth, oh CAMPBELL! give thy talents scope;
  4. 803Who dares aspire if thou must cease to hope?
  5. 804And thou, melodious ROGERS! rise at last,
  6. 805Recall the pleasing memory of the past;
  7. 806Arise! let blest remembrance still inspire,
  8. 807And strike to wonted tones thy hallowed lyre;
  9. 808Restore Apollo to his vacant throne,
  10. 809Assert thy country's honour and thine own.
  11. 810What! must deserted Poesy still weep
  12. 811Where her last hopes with pious COWPER sleep?
  13. 812Unless, perchance, from his cold bier she turns,
  14. 813To deck the turf that wraps her minstrel, BURNS!
  15. 814No! though contempt hath marked the spurious brood,
  16. 815The race who rhyme from folly, or for food,
  17. 816Yet still some genuine sons 'tis hers to boast,
  18. 817Who, least affecting, still affect the most:
  19. 818Feel as they write, and write but as they feel--
  20. 819Bear witness GIFFORD, SOTHEBY, MACNEIL.
  21. 820"Why slumbers GIFFORD?" once was asked in vain;
  22. 821Why slumbers GIFFORD? let us ask again.
  23. 822Are there no follies for his pen to purge?
  24. 823Are there no fools whose backs demand the scourge?
  25. 824Are there no sins for Satire's Bard to greet?
  26. 825Stalks not gigantic Vice in every street?
  27. 826Shall Peers or Princes tread pollution's path,
  28. 827And 'scape alike the Laws and Muse's wrath?
  29. 828Nor blaze with guilty glare through future time,
  30. 829Eternal beacons of consummate crime?
  31. 830Arouse thee, GIFFORD! be thy promise claimed,
  32. 831Make bad men better, or at least ashamed.
  1. 832Unhappy WHITE! while life was in its spring,
  2. 833And thy young Muse just waved her joyous wing,
  3. 834The Spoiler swept that soaring Lyre away,
  4. 835Which else had sounded an immortal lay.
  5. 836Oh! what a noble heart was here undone,
  6. 837When Science' self destroyed her favourite son!
  7. 838Yes, she too much indulged thy fond pursuit,
  8. 839She sowed the seeds, but Death has reaped the fruit.
  9. 840'Twas thine own Genius gave the final blow,
  10. 841And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low:
  11. 842So the struck Eagle, stretched upon the plain,
  12. 843No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
  13. 844Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,
  14. 845And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart;
  15. 846Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel
  16. 847He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel;
  17. 848While the same plumage that had warmed his nest
  18. 849Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
  1. 850There be who say, in these enlightened days,
  2. 851That splendid lies are all the poet's praise;
  3. 852That strained Invention, ever on the wing,
  4. 853Alone impels the modern Bard to sing:
  5. 854Tis true, that all who rhyme--nay, all who write,
  6. 855Shrink from that fatal word to Genius--Trite;
  7. 856Yet Truth sometimes will lend her noblest fires,
  8. 857And decorate the verse herself inspires:
  9. 858This fact in Virtue's name let CRABBE attest;
  10. 859Though Nature's sternest Painter, yet the best.
  1. 860And here let SHEE and Genius find a place,
  2. 861Whose pen and pencil yield an equal grace;
  3. 862To guide whose hand the sister Arts combine,
  4. 863And trace the Poet's or the Painter's line;
  5. 864Whose magic touch can bid the canvas glow,
  6. 865Or pour the easy rhyme's harmonious flow;
  7. 866While honours, doubly merited, attend
  8. 867The Poet's rival, but the Painter's friend.
  1. 868Blest is the man who dares approach the bower
  2. 869Where dwelt the Muses at their natal hour;
  3. 870Whose steps have pressed, whose eye has marked afar,
  4. 871The clime that nursed the sons of song and war,
  5. 872The scenes which Glory still must hover o'er,
  6. 873Her place of birth, her own Achaian shore.
  7. 874But doubly blest is he whose heart expands
  8. 875With hallowed feelings for those classic lands;
  9. 876Who rends the veil of ages long gone by,
  10. 877And views their remnants with a poet's eye!
  11. 878WRIGHT! 'twas thy happy lot at once to view
  12. 879Those shores of glory, and to sing them too;
  13. 880And sure no common Muse inspired thy pen
  14. 881To hail the land of Gods and Godlike men.
  1. 882And you, associate Bards! who snatched to light
  2. 883Those gems too long withheld from modern sight;
  3. 884Whose mingling taste combined to cull the wreath
  4. 885While Attic flowers Aonian odours breathe,
  5. 886And all their renovated fragrance flung,
  6. 887To grace the beauties of your native tongue;
  7. 888Now let those minds, that nobly could transfuse
  8. 889The glorious Spirit of the Grecian Muse,
  9. 890Though soft the echo, scorn a borrowed tone:
  10. 891Resign Achaia's lyre, and strike your own.
  1. 892Let these, or such as these, with just applause,
  2. 893Restore the Muse's violated laws;
  3. 894But not in flimsy DARWIN'S pompous chime,
  4. 895That mighty master of unmeaning rhyme,
  5. 896Whose gilded cymbals, more adorned than clear,
  6. 897The eye delighted, but fatigued the ear,
  7. 898In show the simple lyre could once surpass,
  8. 899But now, worn down, appear in native brass;
  9. 900While all his train of hovering sylphs around
  10. 901Evaporate in similes and sound:
  11. 902Him let them shun, with him let tinsel die:
  12. 903False glare attracts, but more offends the eye.
  1. 904Yet let them not to vulgar WORDSWORTH stoop,
  2. 905The meanest object of the lowly group,
  3. 906Whose verse, of all but childish prattle void,
  4. 907Seems blessed harmony to LAMB and LLOYD:
  5. 908Let them--but hold, my Muse, nor dare to teach
  6. 909A strain far, far beyond thy humble reach:
  7. 910The native genius with their being given
  8. 911Will point the path, and peal their notes to heaven.
  1. 912And thou, too, SCOTT! resign to minstrels rude
  2. 913The wilder Slogan of a Border feud:
  3. 914Let others spin their meagre lines for hire;
  4. 915Enough for Genius, if itself inspire!
  5. 916Let SOUTHEY sing, altho' his teeming muse,
  6. 917Prolific every spring, be too profuse;
  7. 918Let simple WORDSWORTH chime his childish verse,
  8. 919And brother COLERIDGE lull the babe at nurse
  9. 920Let Spectre-mongering LEWIS aim, at most,
  10. 921To rouse the Galleries, or to raise a ghost;
  11. 922Let MOORE still sigh; let STRANGFORD steal from MOORE,
  12. 923And swear that CAMOËNS sang such notes of yore;
  13. 924Let HAYLEY hobble on, MONTGOMERY rave,
  14. 925And godly GRAHAME chant a stupid stave;
  15. 926Let sonneteering BOWLES his strains refine,
  16. 927And whine and whimper to the fourteenth line;
  17. 928Let STOTT, CARLISLE, MATILDA, and the rest
  18. 929Of Grub Street, and of Grosvenor Place the best,
  19. 930Scrawl on, 'till death release us from the strain,
  20. 931Or Common Sense assert her rights again;
  21. 932But Thou, with powers that mock the aid of praise,
  22. 933Should'st leave to humbler Bards ignoble lays:
  23. 934Thy country's voice, the voice of all the Nine,
  24. 935Demand a hallowed harp--that harp is thine.
  25. 936Say! will not Caledonia's annals yield
  26. 937The glorious record of some nobler field,
  27. 938Than the vile foray of a plundering clan,
  28. 939Whose proudest deeds disgrace the name of man?
  29. 940Or Marmion's acts of darkness, fitter food
  30. 941For SHERWOOD'S outlaw tales of ROBIN HOOD?
  31. 942Scotland! still proudly claim thy native Bard,
  32. 943And be thy praise his first, his best reward!
  33. 944Yet not with thee alone his name should live,
  34. 945But own the vast renown a world can give;
  35. 946Be known, perchance, when Albion is no more,
  36. 947And tell the tale of what she was before;
  37. 948To future times her faded fame recall,
  38. 949And save her glory, though his country fall.
  1. 950Yet what avails the sanguine Poet's hope,
  2. 951To conquer ages, and with time to cope?
  3. 952New eras spread their wings, new nations rise,
  4. 953And other Victors fill th' applauding skies;
  5. 954A few brief generations fleet along,
  6. 955Whose sons forget the Poet and his song:
  7. 956E'en now, what once-loved Minstrels scarce may claim
  8. 957The transient mention of a dubious name!
  9. 958When Fame's loud trump hath blown its noblest blast,
  10. 959Though long the sound, the echo sleeps at last;
  11. 960And glory, like the Phoenix midst her fires,
  12. 961Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires.
  1. 962Shall hoary Granta call her sable sons,
  2. 963Expert in science, more expert at puns?
  3. 964Shall these approach the Muse? ah, no! she flies,
  4. 965Even from the tempting ore of Seaton's prize;
  5. 966Though Printers condescend the press to soil
  6. 967With rhyme by HOARE, and epic blank by HOYLE:
  7. 968Not him whose page, if still upheld by whist,
  8. 969Requires no sacred theme to bid us list.
  9. 970Ye! who in Granta's honours would surpass,
  10. 971Must mount her Pegasus, a full-grown ass;
  11. 972A foal well worthy of her ancient Dam,
  12. 973Whose Helicon is duller than her Cam.
  1. 974There CLARKE, still striving piteously "to please,"
  2. 975Forgetting doggerel leads not to degrees,
  3. 976A would-be satirist, a hired Buffoon,
  4. 977A monthly scribbler of some low Lampoon,
  5. 978Condemned to drudge, the meanest of the mean,
  6. 979And furbish falsehoods for a magazine,
  7. 980Devotes to scandal his congenial mind;
  8. 981Himself a living libel on mankind.
  1. 982Oh! dark asylum of a Vandal race!
  2. 983At once the boast of learning, and disgrace!
  3. 984So lost to Phoebus, that nor Hodgson's verse
  4. 985Can make thee better, nor poor Hewson's worse.
  5. 986But where fair Isis rolls her purer wave,
  6. 987The partial Muse delighted loves to lave;
  7. 988On her green banks a greener wreath she wove,
  8. 989To crown the Bards that haunt her classic grove;
  9. 990Where RICHARDS wakes a genuine poet's fires,
  10. 991And modern Britons glory in their Sires.
  1. 992For me, who, thus unasked, have dared to tell
  2. 993My country, what her sons should know too well,
  3. 994Zeal for her honour bade me here engage
  4. 995The host of idiots that infest her age;
  5. 996No just applause her honoured name shall lose,
  6. 997As first in freedom, dearest to the Muse.
  7. 998Oh! would thy bards but emulate thy fame,
  8. 999And rise more worthy, Albion, of thy name!
  9. 1000What Athens was in science, Rome in power,
  10. 1001What Tyre appeared in her meridian hour,
  11. 1002'Tis thine at once, fair Albion! to have been--
  12. 1003Earth's chief Dictatress, Ocean's lovely Queen:
  13. 1004But Rome decayed, and Athens strewed the plain,
  14. 1005And Tyre's proud piers lie shattered in the main;
  15. 1006Like these, thy strength may sink, in ruin hurled,
  16. 1007And Britain fall, the bulwark of the world.
  17. 1008But let me cease, and dread Cassandra's fate,
  18. 1009With warning ever scoffed at, till too late;
  19. 1010To themes less lofty still my lay confine,
  20. 1011And urge thy Bards to gain a name like thine.
  1. 1012Then, hapless Britain! be thy rulers blest,
  2. 1013The senate's oracles, the people's jest!
  3. 1014Still hear thy motley orators dispense
  4. 1015The flowers of rhetoric, though not of sense,
  5. 1016While CANNING'S colleagues hate him for his wit,
  6. 1017And old dame PORTLAND fills the place of PITT.
  1. 1018Yet once again, adieu! ere this the sail
  2. 1019That wafts me hence is shivering in the gale;
  3. 1020And Afric's coast and Calpe's adverse height,
  4. 1021And Stamboul's minarets must greet my sight:
  5. 1022Thence shall I stray through Beauty's native clime,
  6. 1023Where Kaff is clad in rocks, and crowned with snows sublime.
  7. 1024But should I back return, no tempting press
  8. 1025Shall drag my Journal from the desk's recess;
  9. 1026Let coxcombs, printing as they come from far,
  10. 1027Snatch his own wreath of Ridicule from Carr;
  11. 1028Let ABERDEEN and ELGIN [161] still pursue
  12. 1029The shade of fame through regions of Virtù;
  13. 1030Waste useless thousands on their Phidian freaks,
  14. 1031Misshapen monuments and maimed antiques;
  15. 1032And make their grand saloons a general mart
  16. 1033For all the mutilated blocks of art:
  17. 1034Of Dardan tours let Dilettanti tell,
  18. 1035I leave topography to rapid GELL;
  19. 1036And, quite content, no more shall interpose
  20. 1037To stun the public ear--at least with Prose.
  1. 1038Thus far I've held my undisturbed career,
  2. 1039Prepared for rancour, steeled 'gainst selfish fear;
  3. 1040This thing of rhyme I ne'er disdained to own--
  4. 1041Though not obtrusive, yet not quite unknown:
  5. 1042My voice was heard again, though not so loud,
  6. 1043My page, though nameless, never disavowed;
  7. 1044And now at once I tear the veil away:--
  8. 1045Cheer on the pack! the Quarry stands at bay,
  9. 1046Unscared by all the din of MELBOURNE house,
  10. 1047By LAMB'S resentment, or by HOLLAND'S spouse,
  11. 1048By JEFFREY'S harmless pistol, HALLAM'S rage,
  12. 1049Edina's brawny sons and brimstone page.
  13. 1050Our men in buckram shall have blows enough,
  14. 1051And feel they too are "penetrable stuff:"
  15. 1052And though I hope not hence unscathed to go,
  16. 1053Who conquers me shall find a stubborn foe.
  17. 1054The time hath been, when no harsh sound would fall
  18. 1055From lips that now may seem imbued with gall;
  19. 1056Nor fools nor follies tempt me to despise
  20. 1057The meanest thing that crawled beneath my eyes:
  21. 1058But now, so callous grown, so changed since youth,
  22. 1059I've learned to think, and sternly speak the truth;
  23. 1060Learned to deride the critic's starch decree,
  24. 1061And break him on the wheel he meant for me;
  25. 1062To spurn the rod a scribbler bids me kiss,
  26. 1063Nor care if courts and crowds applaud or hiss:
  27. 1064Nay more, though all my rival rhymesters frown,
  28. 1065I too can hunt a Poetaster down;
  29. 1066And, armed in proof, the gauntlet cast at once
  30. 1067To Scotch marauder, and to Southern dunce.
  31. 1068Thus much I've dared; if my incondite lay
  32. 1069Hath wronged these righteous times, let others say:
  33. 1070This, let the world, which knows not how to spare,
  34. 1071Yet rarely blames unjustly, now declare.