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Yes, far from me, whate'er their birth or place, lists* by the reappearance of some of the scattered
These long-ear'd judges of the Phrygian race ; enemy.
Their censure and their praise alike I scorn, It was not enough that the stream of folly flowed
And hate the laurel by their followers worn! more sparingly in the Oracle than before ; I was
Let such (a task congenial to their powers) determined
At sales and auctions waste the morning hours, “ To have the current in that place damm'd up;"
While the dull noon away in Rumford's fane,

and accordingly began the present poem-for which, And snore the evening out at Drury-lane.

indeed, I had by this time other reasons. I had
been told that there were still a few admirers of
the Cruscan school, who thought the contempt ex-

pressed for it was not sufficiently justified by the
THE MÆVIAD.

few passages produced in the Baviad. I thought

it best, therefore, to exhibit the tribe of Bell once Qui Bavium non odit, amet lua carmina, Mævi. more ; and, as they passed in review before me, to

make such additional extractst from their works, INTRODUCTION.

as should put their demerits beyond the power of In the INTRODUCTION to the preceding pages, a

future question. brief account is given of the rise and progress of

I remembered that this great critic, in his excel. that spurious species of poetry which lately infest- lent remarks on the Baviad, had charged the author ed this metropolis, and gave occasion to the BAVIAD. with“ bespattering nearly all the poetical eminence

I was not ignorant of what I exposed myself to of the day.” Anxious, therefore, to do impartial
by the publication of that work. If abuse could justice, I ran for the ALBUM, to discover who had
bave affected me, I should not probably have made been spared. Here I read, “ In this collection are
a set of people my enemies, habituated to ill lan- names whom genius will ever look upon as its best
guage, and possessed of such convenient vehicles* supporters! Sheridan"-what, is · Saul also among
for its dissemination. But I never regarded it from the prophets!'—“Sheridan, Merry, Parsons, Cowley,
such hands, and, indeed, deprecated nothing but Andrews, Jerningham, Greathead, Topham, Robin-
their praise. I respect, in common with every man
of sense, the censure of the wise and good ; but the

Thus furnished with ALL the poetical emineare angry ebullitions of folly unmasked, and vanity of the day," I proceeded, as Mr. Bell says, to bemortified, pass by me “like the idle wind,” or, if spatter it; taking, for the vehicle of my design, a noticed, serve merely to grace succeeding editions satire of Horace-to which I was led by its supply. of the Baviad.

iug me (amid many happy allusions) with an op I confess, however, that the work was received portunity of briefly noticing the wretched state of more favourably than I expected. Bell, indeed, dramatic poetry among us. and a few others, whose craft was touched, vented their indignation in prose and verse ; but, on the

* I hope no one will do me tho injustice to suppose that whole, the clamour against me was not loud, and I imagine myself another Hercules contending with hy. was lost by insensible degrees the applauses of dras, &c. Far from it. My enemies cannot well havo such as I was truly ambitious to please.

an humbler opinion of me than I have of myself; and yet, Thus supported, the good effects of the satire (glo." if I am not ashamed of them, I am a soused gurnel." riose loquor) were not long in manifesting them- Mere pecora inertia! The contest is without danger, selves. Della Crusca appeared no more in the Ora- and the victory without glory. At the same time, I de

clare against any undue advantage being taken of those cle, and, if any of his followers ventured to treat concessions. Though I knew the impotence of these the town with a soft sonnet, it was not, as before, literary Askaparts, the town did not; and many a inan, introduced by a pom pous preface. Pope and Mil- / who now affects to pity me for wasting my strength upon tog resumed their superiority; and Este and his imresisting imbecility, would, not long since, have heard madjutors silently acquiesced in the growing opi- their poems with applause, and their praises with delight. Dion of their incompetency, and showed some sense

+ It will now be said that I have done it usque ad nauof shame.

seam. I confess it; and for the reason given above.

And yet I can honestly assure the reader, that most, if With this I was satisfied. I had taken up my pen

not all, of the trash here quoted, passed with the authors for no other end, and was quietly retiring, with the for superlative beauties, every second word being printed idea that I had “done the state some service," and either in italics or capitals. purposing to abandon for ever the cæstus, which a II know not if the stage has been so low. since the days Tespeciable critic fancies I wielded " with too much of Gammer Gurton, as at this hour. It seems as if all the severity," when I was once more called into the blockheads in the kingdom had started up, and exclaimed,

with one voice, Come! let us write for the theatres. In

this there is nothing, perhaps, allogether new; the strik * Most of these fashionable writers were connected ing and peculiar novelty of the times seems to be, that with the public prints. Della Crusca was a worthy coadjut :p of the mad and malignant idiot who conducted cerned in this business, the writers and the managers

ALL' they write is received. Of the three parties conthe World. Arno and Lorenzo were either proprietors seem the least culpable. If the town will feed on husko, or editors of another paper. Edwin and Anna Matilda extraordinary paing need not be taken to find them any were favoured contributors to several ; and Laura Maria, thing more palatable. But what shall we say of the from the sums squandered on puffs, could command a corner in all. This wretched woman, indeed, in the people ? The lower orders are so brutified loy the lamentaFane of her beauty, fell into merited poverty, exchanged

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1 I recollect but two exceptions. Merry's idiotical opera, and Mrs. Ro poetry for politics, and wrote abusive trash against the government, at the rate of two guineas a week, for the ceeded, argues a degree of stupidity scarcely credible. Surely “ignorace Morning Post

itself is a planeth over the beroes and heroines of the Baviad.

binson's more idiotical farce. To have failed where Miles Androw mo

When the MÆVIAD, so I call the present poem, That Arno's “easy strains” were coarse and rough, was nearly brought to a conclusion, I laid it aside. And Edwin's “ matchless numbers" woful stuff. The times seemed unfavourable to such produc- And who-forgive, O gentle Bell, the word, tions. Events of real importance were momenta- For it must out-who, prithee, so absurd, rily claiming the attention of the public, and the So mulishly absurd, as not to join still voice of the muses was not likely to be listened In this with me, save always THEE and THINE! to amid the din of arms. After an interval of two Yet still, the soul of candour! I allow'd years, however, circumstances, which it is not Their jingling elegies amused the crowd; material to mention, have induced me to finish, and That lords hung blubbering o'er each woful line, trust it, without more preface, to the candour to That lady-critics wept, and cried, “ divine !" which I am already so highly indebted for the kind That love-lorn priests reclined the pensive head, reception of the Baviad.

And sentimental ensigns, as they read,

Wiped the sad drops of pity from their eye, Yes, I DID say that Crusca's* “ true sublime”

And burst between a hiccup and a sigh. Lack'd tasle, and sense, and every thing but rhyme; Yet, not content, like horse-leeches they come,

And split my head with one eternal hum ble follies of O'Keefe, and Cobbe, and Pilon, and I know For“ more! more! more!" Away! for should I grant not who-Sardi venales, each worse than the other- The full, the unreserved applause ye wanı, that they have lost all relish for simplicity and genuine St. John* might then my partial voice accuse, humour; nay, ignorance itself, unless it be gross and And claim my suffrage for his tragic muso ; glaring, cannot hope for “ their most sweet voices." And Greathead,t rising from his short disgrace, And the higher ranks so mawkishly mild, that they lake with a placid simper whatever comes before them; Fling the forgotten “ Regent” in my face, or, if they now and then experience a slight fit of disgush, have not resolution enough to express it, but sit yawning man in the present instances, yet I observe such acuteand gaping in each other's faces for a litle encourage.ness of perception in his general criticism, that I should ment in their culpable forbearance.

have styled him the " profound” inblead of the “gentle When this was written, I thought the town had" sound. Bell, if I had not previously applied the epithet to a still ed,” as Shakspeare says, " the very bass string of humi- greater man, (absit invidia dicto,) toMr. T. Vaughan. lity;" but it has since appeared, that the lowest point of I trust that this incidental preference will create no degradation had not then been reached. The force of jealousy-fur though, as Virgil properly remarks, “ an English folly, indeed, could go no farther, and so far I oaken slatf each merits," yet I need not inform a gentle. was right; but the auxiliary supplies of Germany were man, who, like Mr. Bell, reads Shakspeare every day at hand, and the taste, vitiated by the lively nonsense of after dinner, that“ if two men ride upon a horse, one of O'Keefe and Co., was destined to be utterly destroyed by them must ride behind.” successive importations of the heavy, lumbering, mono

* St. John, &c. Having already observed in the Introtonous stupidity of Kotzebue and Schiller.

duction, that the Mæviad was nearly finished two years The object of these writers has been detailed with such since, and consequently before the death of this gentleforce and precision in the introduction to“The Rovers,” | man, I have only to add here, that though I should not that nothing remains to be said on that head-indeed the

have introduced any of the heroes of the Baviad, quorum simple perusal of " The Rovers” would supersede the Flaminia tegitur cinis, atque Latina, yet I scarcely think necessity of any critique on the merits of the German

it necessary to make any changes for the sake of omit. drama in general; since there is not a folly, however ling such as have passed ad plures, in the interval between gross, an absurdity, however monstrous, to be found in writing and publishing. thal charming jeu d'esprit, that I would not undertake lo

The reader will find, p. 181, another instance of my parallel from one or other of the most admired works of small pretensions to prophecy, and probably regret it ihe German Shakspeares. Why it has not been produced more than the present. on the stage is to me a matter of astonishment, since it unites the beauties of “ The Stranger” and “Pizarro;” “recommended to the world” by the monthly reviewers

† Greathead's Regent.--Or this tragedy, which was and, though perfectly German in its sentiments, is Eng. and others, as "the work of a SCHOLAR," I want words to lish in its language-intelligible English ; which is infinitely more than can be said of the translation from express my just contempt. The plot of it is childish, 'ne Kotzebue, go maliciously attributed to Mr. Sheridan.

conduct absurd, the language unintelligible, the thoughts

false and unnatural, the metaphors incongruous, the In a word, if you take from the German dramas their

general style grovelling and base; and, to sum up all in horrid blasphemies, their wanton invocations of the sacrnd Name, and their minute and ridiculous stage direc

a word, the whole piece the most execrable abortion of Lions, which seem calculated to turn the whole into a

stupidity that ever disgraced the stage. pantomime, nothing will remain but a caput mortuum, a the influence which their opinions necessarily have on

It is to be wished that critics by profession, sensible of vapid and gloomy mass of matter, unenlightened by a single ray of genius or nature. If you leave them their ities when they sit down to the execution of, what I hope

the public taste, would divest themselves of their partial. blasphemies, &c., you have then a nameless something, insipid though inmoral

, tedious though impius, and stu- they consider as, a slemn duly. We should not then pid though extravagant !-s, much so, that, as a judicious find them, as in the present instance, prostituting their writer well observes," it becomes a doube which are the applause on works that call for universal reprobation.

It is but fair, however, lo observe, that Mr. Parsons has greatest objects of contempt and scorn, those who con. ceived and wrote them, or those wh ) have the effrontery added his all-sufficient suffrage in that of the reviewers,

in favour of Mr. Greathead. to praise them." Yet" these be thy gods, O Israel!" and to these are sacrificed our laste, our sense, and our na.

"O bard! to whom belongs tional honour.

Each purest fount of poesy!

Who old Ilyssus' hallow'd dews * Crusca's "true sublime." The words between in

In his own Avon dare insuse. verted commas in this and the following verses, are Mr.

O favour'd clime ! O happy age ! Bell's. They contain, as the reader sees, a short character of the works to which they are respectively affixed.

That boasts, to save a sinking siage, Though I have the misfortune to differ from this gentle. When I first read these and other high sounding praises,

A Greathead!!!"-Gent. Mag. 1 So Kotzebue and Schiller are styled by the critical reviewer scattered over reviews, magazines, newspapers, and i

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Bid me my censure, as I may, deplore,

'Tis not enough to dole out Ahs! and Ohs! And, like my brother critics, cry Encore !"

Through Kemble's thorax, or through Bensley's Alas! my learned friends, for such ye are,

nose, As Bell will say, or, if ye ask it, swear;

To crowd our stage with scaffolds, or to fright Tis not enough, though this be somewhat too, Our wives with rapes, repeated thrice a night; And more, perhaps,* than Jerningham can do,- JUDGES--Not such as, self-created, sit

On that TREMENDOUS BENCH* which skirts the pit know not what, I was naturally led to conclude that Mr. Where idle Thespis nods, while Arnot dreams G. had succeeded better in his smaller pieces than in his Of Nereids “purling in ambrosial streams ;" tragedy, and thus justified in some degree the cry of his Where Este in rapture cons fantastic airs, learning," &c. &c. But no-all was a blank !

“Old Pistol riew revived” in Topham stares, Here are a few samples of the “Ilyssean dews infused jy Ms. Greathead into his oron Avon"-muddied, I sup. Johnson's worst frailties, rolls from side to side,

And Boswell, aping, with preposterous pride, pose, and debased by the home-bred streamlet of one Shakspeare.

His heavy head from hour to hour erects, " In fuller presence we descry,

Affects the fool, and is what he affects. 1'Mid mountain rocks-a deity

JUDGES of truth and sense, yet more demand
Than eye of man shall e'er behold

That art to nature lend a helping hand!
In living grace of sculptured gold."

That fables well devised be simply told,
More matter for a May morning!

Correct if new, and probable if old. "ODE ON APATHY.

When Mason leads Elfrida forth to view, * Accursed be dull lethargic Apathy,

Adorn'd with virtues which she never knew, Whether at eve she listless ride

I feel for every tear; while, borne along
In sluggish car by lortoise drawn-
With mimic air of senseless pride,

By the full tide of unresisted song,
She feebly throws on all her withering sight,

I stop not to inquire if all be just, While 100 observant of her sway,

But take her goodness, as her grief, on trust, Unmark'd her droning subjects lie,

Till calm reflection checks me, and I see Alike to her who murmur or obey."

The heroine as she was, and ought to be ;
I hope the reader understands it.

A bold, bad woman, wading to the throne
CODE TO DUBL.

Through seas of blood, and crimes till then un " Never didst thou appear

known:
While Tiber's sons gave law to all the world; Then, then I hate the magic that deceived,
Yel much they loved to desolate and slaughter,

And blush to think how fondly I believed.D
Carthage! allest my words.
To glut their sanguinary rage,
Not citizens but gladiators fall.
Slavery and vassalade,

There is a trait of scholarship in Mr. Jerningham's last And sa vage bruils 'twixt nobles are no more.

poem, which should not be overlooked; more especially Vanish thou likewise"

as it is the only one. Having occasion to mention “Agave And these are odes, good heavens! “After the manner

and her infant,'': he subjoins the following explanation of Pindar," I lake for granted.

“ Alluding to Agave, who in a delirium slew her child. Enough of Mr. Greathead. I have only to add, that I See Ovid.” No, I'll take Mr. Jerningham's word for it, am actuated by no personal dislike; for I can say with though I had iwenty Ovids before me. truth, (what, indeed, I can of all the heroes of the Maviad,) * When this was written, which was while the Opera that I have not the slightest knowledge of him. But the House was used for plays, the “learned justiceg" here daws have strutted too long: it is more than time to strip enumerated, logether with the others not yet taken, were them of their adventitious plumage ; and is, in doing it, I accustomed to flock nightly to this BENCH, from which should pluck off any feathers which originally belonged the unlettered vulgar were always scornfully repelled to them, they have only to thank their own vanity, or the

with an ouders a povons. forwardness of their injudicious friends.

I have not hearl whether the New Theatre be possessed * And more, perhaps, than Jerningham can do. No; of such a one ; I think not; for critics are no more gre. Hr. Jerningham has lately written a lragedy and a farce; garious than spiders. Like them, they might do great both extremely well spoken of by the reviewers, and both things in concert; but, like them too, they usually end gone to the “pastry-cooks."

with devouring one another. I once thought that I understood something of faces, † Arno.- The dreams of this gentleman, which continue but I must read my Lavater again, I find. That a gentle. to make their appearance in the Oracle, under the naine man with the physiognomie d'un mouton qui rêve" should of Thespis, are not always of Nereids. He dreamed one, kuddenly start forth a new Tyrius, and pour a dreadful night that Mr. Pope played Posthumus with less spirit Dole through a cracked war-trump, amazes me.-Well, than usual, and it was Mr. Johnston singing Gramma. FEONTI NULLA FIDEs shall henceforth be my motto. chree! Another night, that the Mourning Bride miche

In the pride of his heart Mr. Jerningham has taken the have been better cast, and lo! it was the Comedy of instrument from his mouth, and given me a smart stroke Errors that was played. on the head with it: this is fair,

This was rather unfortunate; but the reader must hare * Cedimus, inque vicem præbemus crura sagittis." already reflected, from the strange occupations of these He has also levelled a deadly blow at a gentleman who, self-created judges,” (here faithfully described,) that Dus assuredly, never dreamed of having our Drawcansir sleeping or waking, they were attentive to every thing for an antagonist: this, though not quite so fair, is nou

but what passed before their eyes. aluogether unprecedented;

Pauper videri cotta vult, et est pauper! 6 An eagle, lowering in his pride of place,

& Mr. Parsons' note on this passage is-"Did you beWas by a mousing owl hawk'd at !"

LIEVE ? could you possibly be so ignorant ?"-Even so.

But I humbly conceive that Mr. Mason, who seduced 1 These lines (Mr. Pirms says) are not Greathcad's." But they are my unsuspecting youth, is equally culpable with myself peblished with his name in the Album; which, exclusive of their stupidity, is theicnt authority for me. If our doughty enitie chooses to take them to sell, I can bave no objection; for, after all, pugna est de paupere regoo!

1 Sec his "Peace, Ignominy, and Destruction,” p. 15.

10

Not so, when Edgar,* made, in some strange plot, Forbid it, inspiration! Thus your pain
The hero of a day that knew him not,

Is void, and ye have lived, for them, in vain ; Struts from the field his enemy had won,

In vain for Crusca and his skipping school, On stately stilts, exulting and undone !

Cobbe, Reynolds, Andrews, and that nobler fool; Here I can only pity, only smile ;

Who naught but Laura's* tinkling trash admire, Where not one grace, one elegance of style, And the mad jangle of Matilda's* lyre. Redeems th' audacious folly of the rest, Truth sacrificed, and history made a jest.

* Laura's tinkling trash, &c.-I had amassed a world Let this, ye Cruscans,t if your heads be made

of this “tinkling trash" for the behoof of the reader, but Of penetrable stuff," let this persuade

having, fortunately for him, mislaid it, and not being Your husky tribes their wanderings to restrain, disposed to undertake again the drudgery of wading Nor hope what taste and Mason fail'd to gain. through Mr. Bell's collections, I can only offer the little

Then let your style be brief, your meaning clear, which occurs to my memory. Of this little, the merits Nor, like Lorenzo,f tire the labouring ear

must be principally shared among Mrs. Robinson, Mn. With a wild waste of words ; sound without sense,

Cowley, and Mr. Merry; And all the florid glare of impotence.

“ Et vos, O Lauri, carpam, et te, proxima Myrte,

Sic positæ quoniam suaves miscetis odores." Sull with your characters your language change,

6-0 let me fly From grave to gay, as nature dictates, range ;

Where Greenland darkness drinks the beamy sky;" Now droop in all the plaintiveness of wo,

“But O! beware how thou dost fling Now in glad numbers light and airy flow;

Thy hot pulse o'er the quivering string !" Now shake the stage with guilt's alarming tone,

“ Pluck from their dark and rocky bed And make the aching bosom all your own;

The yelling demons of the deep, Now- -But I sing in vain ; from first to last

Who, soaring o'er the comet's head, Your joy is fustian, and your grief bombast :

The bosom of the welkin sweep." Rhetoric has banish'd reason ; kings and queens “ And when the jolly full moon laughs, Vent in hy berboles their royal spleens ;

In her clear zenith to behold Guardsmen in metaphors express their hopes,

The envious stars withdraw their gleams of gold, And “ maidens in white linen," howl in tropes.

'Tis to thy health she stooping quaffs

The sapphire cup that fairy zephyrs bring !"
Reverent I greet the bards of other days :
Blest be your names, and lasting be your praise !

On considering these and the preceding lines, I was

lempted to indulge a wish that the Blue Stocking club From nature's varied face ye widely drew, would issue an immediate order to Mr. Bell 10 examine And following ages own'd the copies true. the cells of Bedlam. Certainly, if an accurate transcript 0! had our sots, who rhyme with headlong haste, were made from the “darkened walls” once or twice a And think reflection still a foe to taste,

quarter, an Album might be presented to the fashionable But brains your pregnant scenes to understand,

world, more poetical, and far more rational, than any And give us truth, though but at second hand,

which they have lately honoured with their applause. "Twere something yet! But no, they never look

u Why does thy stream of sweetest song

Foam on the mountain's murmuring side, Shall souls of fire, they cry, a tulor brook ?

Or through the vocal covert glide ? There is also one William Shakspeare, who, I am ready

" I heard a tuneful phantom in the wind, w take my oath, is a notorious offender in this way;

I saw it watch the rising moon afar, having led not only me, but divers others, into the most

Wet with the weeping of the iwilight star. gross and ridiculous errors; making us laugh, cry, &c., “The pilgrim who with tearful eye shall view for persons whom we ought to have known to be mere The moon's wan lustre in the midnight dew, bonentities.

Soothed by her light" But Mr. Parsons has happily obtained an obdurate and This is an admirable reason for his crying !—but what ! impassable head : let him, therefore, "give God thanks, Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire. Mr. and make no boast of it.” He is a wise and a wary Bell is in raptures with it, and very properly recommends reader, and follows the most judicious Bottom, who having, it to the admiration of Della Crusca, as being the produclike himself, too much sagacity to be imposed upon by a tion of “a congenial soul.” There is also another judi. feigned character, was laudably anxious to undeceive cious critic, one Dr. Tasker, (should it not be Dr. Trus the world. “No," quoth he, "let him thrust his face ler ?) who has given a decided opinion, it seems, in favour through the lion's neck, and say, if you think I come hither of the writer's abilities; which may console her for the as a lion, il were pity of my life—no, I am no such thing: sneers of fifty such envious scribblers as the author of I am a man, as other men are ;-and then, indeed, let the Baviad. him name his name, and tell them plainly he is SNUG And first you shall hear what Mrs. Robinson says of the joiner."

Dr. Tasker.-" The learned and ingenious Dr. Tasker, * Edgar Atheling.–See the “ Battle of Hastings," a in the third volume of his elegant and critical works, tragedy by Mr. Cumberland.

has PRONOUNCED some of Mrs. Robinson's poems superior + Ye Cruscans !

to those of Millon on the same subject, particularly her O voi, che della Crusca vi chiamate,

Address to the Nightingale. The praises of so competent Come quei che farina non avendo

and disinterested a judge, STAMPS celebrity that neither Di quella a tutto pasto vi saziate !

time nor envy can obliterate."-Oracle, Dec. 10. Lorenzo.-"A lamentable tragedy by Della Crusca,

Next you shall hear what Dr. Tasker says of Mrs. Ro

binson. mixed full of pleasant mirth.” The house laughed a-good at it, but Mr. Harris cried sadly. Here is another instance, “In ancient Greece by two fair forms were soen if it were wanted, of the bad effects of prostitute applause.

Wisdom's stern goddess, and Love's, smiling queen; Could Mr. Harris, if his mind had not been previously

Pallas presided over arms and arts, warped by the eternal puffs of Bell and his followers,

And Venus over gentle virgins' hearts; have supposed, for a moment, that a knack of stringing

But now both powers in one fair form combine, together“ hoar hills," and "rippling rills," and "red skies

And in famed Robinson united shine." glare,” and “thin, thin air," qualified a man for writing “This lady, equally celebrated in the pollte and literary tragedy?

circles, has honoured Mr."--Lo! the Dr. has dwindlea But Crusca still has merit, and may claim 'Tis just-for what three kindred souls have done, Nc humble station in the ranks of fame;

Is most unfairly charged, I ween, on one. He taught us first the language to refine,

Pardon, my learned friend ! With watery eyes, To crowd with beauties every sparkling line, Thy growing fame to truth I sacrifice ; Od phrases with new meanings to dispense, To many a sonnet call thy claims in doubt, Amuse the fancy, and confound the sense! And,“ at one entrance, shut thy glory out.” 0, void of reason! Is it thus you praise

Yet mewl thou still. Shall my lord's dormouse die, A linsey-Woolsey song, framed with such ease, And low in dust without a requiem lie? Such vacancy of thought, that every line

No, mewl thou still : and, while thy d- join Might tempt e'en Vaughan to whisper, " This is Their melancholy symphonies to thine, mine!”

My righteous verse shall labour to restore Vaughan! well remember'd.

He, good man, | The well earned fame it robb'd them of before : complains

Edwin, whatever elegies of wo That I afhx'd his name to Edwin's* strains : Drop from the gentle mouths of Vaughan and Co.,

To this or that, henceforth no more confined, into plain Mr. -"has honoured Mr. Tasker's poetical and cther productions with high and distinguished marks Shall

, like a surname, take in all the kind. of her approbation."'-Gazetteer, Jan. 16.

Right! cry the brethren. When the heavenWhy this is the very song of Prodicus, Ý XELP TNU XEL

born muse haengefor the rest, I trust my readers will readily Shames her descent, and, for low, earthly views, subscribe to the praises which these most " competent Hums o'er a beetle's bier the doleful stave, and disinterested judges” have reciprocally lavished upon Or sits chief mourner at a May-bug's grave, each other. But allons !

Satire should scourge her from the vile employ, "My hand, at night's fell noon,

And bring her back to friendship, love, and joy. Plucks from the tresses of the moon

But spare Cesario,* Carlos, Adelaide,
A sparkling crown of silvery hue,

The truest poetess! the truest maid !
Besprent with studs of frozen dew !"
*On the dizzy height inclined,
I listen to the passing wind,

laying before the public another effusion of the same exThat loves my mournful song to seize,

quisite pen.

It will be found, I flatter myself, not less beautiful And bears it to the mountain breeze."

than the former; and fully prove that the author, though Here we find that listening to the wind, and singing to it, ostensibly devoted to elegy, can, on a proper occasion, are one and the same thing; and that-but I can make

assume an air of gayety, and be “profound" with $28, Dothing of the rest.

and instructive with elegance. " When in black obtrusive clouds

Εδουιν προλογίζει.
The chilly moon her pale cheek shrouds,
I mark the twinkling starry train

Om the circumstance of a mastiff's running furioz!y Exulting glitter in her wane,

(sad dog!) toward lino young ladies, and, vpon comung And proudly gleam their borrow'd light

up to them, becoming instantly gentle (good dog ?) and To gem the sombre dome of night."

trartable." Whatan admirable observer of nature is this great poetess!

Tantum ad parrandum argumentum cst benignitas! The stars twinkling in a cloudy night, and gleaming " When Orpheus took his lyre to hell, their borrowed lustre, is superlatively good. I had almost

To fetch his rib away, forgot to observe that these and the preceding lines are

On that same thing he pleased so well, laken from the Ode to the Nightingale, so superior, in the

That devils learn'd to play. reverend judgment of Dr. Tasker, to one of a Mr. John “Besides, in books it may be read, Milton on the same subject.

That whilst he swept the lute,
-The lightning's rays

Grim Cerberus hung his savage head,
Leap through the night's scarce pervious gloom,

And lay astoundly mule. Attracted by". -(what! for a ducat ?)

“But here we can with justice say, Auracted by the rose's bloom!"

That nature rivals art ; "Let but thy lyre impatient seize

He sang a mastiff's rage away, Deparing twilight's filmy breeze,

You look'd one through the heart." That winds th' enchanting chords among

Fecil Edwin. In lingering labyrinths of song.

* Cesario. In the Baviad are a few stanzas of a most See in the clouds its mast the proud bark laves, delectable ode to an owl. They were ascribed to Arno; Scorning the aid of ocean's humble waves!"

nor was I conscious of any mistake, till I received a polite Fry in this it appears, that Mrs. Cowley imagines proud note from that gentleman, assuring me that he was not harks to float on their masts. It is proper to mention only not the author of them, but (horresco referens) that that the vessel takes such extraordinary state on herself, he thought them “execrable." Mr. Bell, on the other because she carries Della Crusca !

hand, affirms them to be “ admirable." * From a young grove's shade,

" Who shall decide when doctors disagree ?" Whose infant boughs but mock th' expecting glade! Sweet sounds stole forth, upborne upon the gale,

Be this as it may, I am happy to say that I have disco

vered the true author. They were written by Cesario; Press'd through the air, and broke upon the vale ;

and as I rather incline to Mr. Bell, pace Arno dixerim, Then silent walk'd the breezes of the plain,

I shall make no scruple of laying the remainder of this Or soar'd aloft, and seized the hovering strain."

Della Crusca.

“mellifluous piece" before the reader.

“ Slighted love the soul subduing, The force of folly can no farther go!

Silent sorrow chills the heart, * Edwin's strains.--If the reader will turn to the con.

Treacherous fancy still pursuing, clusion of the Banad, he will find a delicious EriTablov

Still repels the poison'd dart. on a lame mour,, Ly this gentleman. As it seemed to give universal en slaction, I embrace the opportunity of + See note t, 1st col. p. 178 I See note t, ib

it

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