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terious gloom and frowning horrors) into a jeweller's toy, to be set upon a lady's toilette. In proof of this, see above " the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,” &c. The description of Mokanna in the fight, though it has spirit and grandeur of effect, has still a great alloy of the mock-heroic in it. The route of blood and death, which is otherwise well marked, is infested with a swarm of “ fire-fly” fancies.
“ In vain Mokanna, 'midst the general flight,
Stands, like the red moon, in some stormy night,
Leave only her unshaken in the sky." This simile is fine, and would have been perfect, but that the moon is not red, and that she seems to hurry by the clouds, not they by her.
The description of the warrior's youthful adversary,
" Whose coming seems A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams ” is fantastic and enervated—a field of battle has nothing to do with dreams :-and again, the two lines immediately after,
“ And every sword, true as o’er billows dim
The needle tracks the load-star, following him”— are a mere piece of enigmatical ingenuity and scientific mimminee-pimminee.
We cannot except the Irish Melodies from the same censure. If these national airs do indeed express the soul of impassioned feeling in his countrymen, the
case of Ireland is hopeless. If these prettinesses pass for patriotism, if a country can heave from its heart's core only these vapid, varnished sentiments, lip-deep, and let its tears of blood evaporate in an empty conceit, let it be governed as it has been. There are here no tones to waken Liberty, to console Humanity. Mr. Moore converts the wild harp of Erin into a musical snuff-box* !-We do except from this censure the author's political squibs, and the “ Twopenny Post-bag.” These are essences, are
nests of spicery,” bitter and sweet, honey and gall together. No one can so well describe the set speech of a dull formalist *, or the flowing locks of a Dowager,
“ In the manner of Ackermann's dresses for May.” His light, agreeable, polished style pierces through the body of the court-hits off the faded graces of “ an Adonis of fifty,” weighs the vanity of fashion in tremulous scales, mimics the grimace of affectation
* Compare his songs with Burns's. * “ There was a little man, and he had a little soul,
And he said, Little soul, let us try,” &c. Parody on
“ There was a little man, and he had a little gun.”One should think this exquisite ridicule of a pedantic effusion might have silenced for ever the automaton that delivered it: but the official personage in question at the close of the Session addressed an extra-official congratulation to the Prince Regent on a bill that had not passed-as if to repeat and insist upon our errors were to justify them.
and folly, shows up the littleness of the great, and spears a phalanx of statesmen with its glittering point as with a diamond broach.
“ In choosing songs the Regent named,
Had I a heart for falsehood fram'd :'
and sore afraid.”
Nothing in Pope or Prior ever surpassed the delicate insinuation and adroit satire of these lines, and hundreds more of our author's composition. We wish he would not take pains to make us think of them with less pleasure than formerly.—The “ Fudge Family” is in the same spirit, but with a little falling-off. There is too great a mixture of undisguised Jacobinism and fashionable slang. The “ divine Fanny Bias” and “the mountains à la Russe" figure in somewhat quaintly with Buonaparte and the Bourbons. The poet also launches the lightning of political indignation ; but it rather plays round and illumines his own pen than reaches the devoted heads at which it is aimed !
Mr. Moore is in private life an amiable and estimable man. The embellished and voluptuous style of his poetry, his unpretending origin, and his mignon figure, soon introduced him to the notice of the great, and his gaiety, his wit, his good-humour, and
many agreeable accomplishments fixed him there, the darling of his friends and the idol of fashion. If he is
no longer familiar with Royalty as with his garter, the fault is not his—his adherence to his principles caused the separation-his love of his country was the cloud that intercepted the sunshine of courtfavour. This is so far well. Mr. Moore vindicates his own dignity; but the sense of intrinsic worth, of wide-spread fame, and of the intimacy of the great makes him perhaps a little too fastidious and exigeant as to the pretensions of others. He has been so long accustomed to the society of Whig Lords, and so enchanted with the smile of beauty and fashion, that he really fancies himself one of the set, to which he is admitted on sufferance, and tries very unnecessarily to keep others out of it. He talks familiarly of works that are or are not read “ in our circle ;” and seated smiling and at his ease in a coronet-coach, enlivening the owner by his brisk sallies and Attic conceits, is shocked, as he passes, to see a Peer of the realm shake hands with a poet. There is a little indulgence of spleen and envy, a little servility and pandering to aristocratic pride in this proceeding. Is Mr. Moore bound to advise a Noble Poet to get as fast as possible out of a certain publication, lest he should not be able to give an account at Holland or at Lansdown House, how his friend Lord B- had associated himself with his friend L. H- ? Is he afraid that the “Spirit of Monarchy” will eclipse the “ Fables for the Holy Alliance” in virulence and plain speaking? Or are the members of the “Fudge Family" to secure a monopoly for the abuse of the Bourbons and the doctrine of Divine Right? Because he is genteel and sarcastic, may not others be paradoxical and argumentative ? Or must no one bark at a Minister or General, unless they have been first dandled, like a little French pug-dog, in the lap of a lady of quality ? Does Mr. Moore insist on the double claim of birth and genius as a title to respectability in all advocates of the popular side—but himself? Or is he anxious to keep the pretensions of his patrician and plebeian friends quite separate, so as to be himself the only point of union, a sort of double meaning, between the two? It is idle to think of setting bounds to the weakness and illusions of self-love as long as it is confined to a man's own breast; but it ought not to be made a plea for holding back the powerful. hand that is stretched out to save another struggling with the tide of popular prejudice, who has suffered shipwreck of health, fame and fortune in a common cause, and who has deserved the aid and the good wishes of all who are (on principle) embarked in the same cause by equal zeal and honesty, if not by equal talents to support and to adorn it !
We shall conclude the present article with a short notice of an individual who, in the cast of his mind and in political principle, bears no very remote resemblance to the patriot and wit just spoken of, and on whose merits we should descant at greater length, but that personal intimacy might be supposed