CRITIQUE EXTRACTED FROM THE EDINBURGH REVIEW, NO. 22, FOR JANUARY 1808. Hours of Idleness; a Series of Poems, original and translated. By GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON, a Minor. Svo. pp. 200.-Newark, 1807. THE poesy of this young Lord belongs to the class which neither gods nor men are said to permit. Indeed, we do not recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few deviations in either direction from that exact standard. His effusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more get above or below the level, than if they were so much stagnant water, As an extenuation of this offence, the noble author is peculiarly forward in pleading minority. We have it in the title-page, and on the very back of the volume; it follows his name like a favourite part of his style. Much stress is laid upon it in the preface, and the poems are connected with this general statement of his case, by particular dates, substantiating the age at which each was written. Now, the law upon the point of minority we hold to be perfectly clear. It is a plea available only to the defendant; no plaintiff can offer it as a supplementary ground of action. Thus, if any suit could be brought against Lord Byron, for the purpose of compelling him to put into court a certain quantity of poetry, and if judgment were given against him, it is highly probable that an exception would be taken were he to deliver for poetry the contents of this volume. To this he might plead minority; but, as he now makes voluntary tender of the article, he hath no right to sue, on that ground, for the price in good current praise, should the goods be unmarketable. This is our view of the law on the point, and, we dare to say, so will it be ruled. Perhaps however, in reality, all that he tells us about his youth is rather with a view to increase our wonder, than to soften our censures. He possibly means to say, <«< See how a minor can write! This poem was actually composed by a young man of eighteen, and this by one of only sixteen!»-But, alas! we all remember the poetry of Cowley at ten, and Pope at twelve; and so far from hearing, with any degree of surprise, that very poor verses were written by a youth from his leaving school to his leaving college, inclusive, we really believe this to be the most common of all occurrences; that it happens in the life of nine men in ten who are educated in England; and that the tenth man writes better verse than Lord Byron. His other plea of privilege, our author rather brings forward in order to wave it. He certainly, however, does allude frequently to his family and ancestorssometimes in poetry, sometimes in notes; and while giving up his claim on the score of rank, he takes care to remember us of Dr Johnson's saying, that when a nobleman appears as an author, his merit should be handsomely acknowledged. In truth, it is this consideration only, that induces us to give Lord Byron's poems a place in our review, beside our desire to counsel him, that he do forthwith abandon poetry, and turn his talents, which are considerable, and his opportunities, which are great, to better account. With this view, we must beg leave seriously to assu him, that the mere rhyming of the final syllable, eve when accompanied by the presence of a certain numb of feet; nay, although (which does not always happe those feet should scan regularly, and have been counted accurately, upon the fingers,—it is not t whole art of poetry. We would entreat him to believ that a certain portion of liveliness, somewhat of fanc is necessary to constitute a poem, and that a poem the present day, to be read, must contain at least of thought, either in a little degree different from t ideas of former writers, or differently expressed. W put it to his candour, whether there is any thing so d serving the name of poetry in verses like the followin written in 1806; and whether, if a youth of eighte could say any thing so uninteresting to his ancestors, youth of nineteen should publish it : Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant, departing Where fancy yet joys to retrace the resemblance In like manner, the exquisite lines of Mr Rogers « O a Tear,» might have warned the noble author off those premises, and spared us a whole dozen such stanzas a the following: Mild Charity's glow, The man doom'd to sail, As he bends o'er the wave, And so of instances in which former poets had failed. Thus, we do not think Lord Byron was made for transLating, during his non-age, Adrian's Address to his Soul, when Pope succeeded so indifferently in the attempt. It our readers, however, are of another opinion, they * may look at it. Ah gentle, fleeting, wavering sprite, To what unknown region borac, But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn. However, be this as it may, we fear his translations and imitations are great favourites with Lord Byron. We have them of all kinds, from Anacreon to Ossian; aal, viewing them as school exercises, they may pass. Oy, why print them after they have had their day and served their turn? And why call the thing in p. 79, ¦ a translation, where two words (6ɛho hɛyɛcy) of the enal are expanded into four lines, and the other ag in p. 81,3 where pesovuztiots mo9'ò pats, is rendered by means of six hobbling verses? As to his Os ne poesy we are not very good judges, being, in truth, so moderately skilled in that species of compoturn, that we should, in all probability, be criticising some bit of the genuine Macpherson itself, were we to express our opinion of Lord Byron's rhapsodies. If, then, the following beginning of a << Song of Bards,» is by his Lontship, we venture to object to it, as far as we a compehend it. What form rises on the roar of als whose dark ghost gleams on the red stream of terijasta? His voice rolls on the thunder; 'tis Orla, the own chief of Oithona. He was,» etc. After detaining uns « brown chiefs some time, the bards conclude by giving bam their advice to raise his fair locks;» then * to « spread them on the arch of the rainbow;» and « to ok through the tears of the storm.>> Of this kind of haug there are no less than nine pages; and we can so far venture an opinion in their favour, that they look very like Macpherson; and we are positive they are pretty nearly as stupid and tiresome. It is sort of privilege of poets to be egotists; but the should use it as not abusing it;» and particuLelv en who piques himself (though indeed at the e of nineteen, of being an infaut bard.»The artless Helicon I boast is youth;»)-should either nat know, or should seem not to know, so much about 1 su bet try. Besides a poem above cited, on the famgly seat of the Byrous, we have another of eleven pages on the same subject, introduced with an pelo he certainly had no intention of inserting but really the particular request of some friends,>> de etc. It concludes with five stanzas on himself, « the last and youngest of a noble line.» There is a good deal also about his maternal ancestors, in a poem on Lachin y Gair, a mountain where he spent part of his youth, and might have learnt that pibroch is not a bagpipe, any more than duet means a fiddle. As the author has dedicated so large a part of his volume to immortalize his employments at school and college, we cannot possibly dismiss it without presenting the reader with a specimen of these ingenious effuIn an ode with a Greek motto, called Granta, we have the following magnificent stanzas: sions. - There, in apartments small and damp, Sits poring by the midnight lamp, - Renouncing every pleasing page, The square of the bypotbenuse. Still harmless are these occupations, Which bring together the imprudent.. We are sorry to hear so bad an account of the college psalmody as is contained in the following Attic stanzas: Our choir would scarcely be excused To such a set of croaking sinners. If David, when his toils were ended, Had heard these blockheads sing before him, In furious mood be would have tore 'em! But whatever judgment may be passed on the poems of this noble minor, it seems we must take them as we find them, and be content; for they are the last we shall ever have from him. He is, at best, he says, but an intruder into the groves of Parnassus; he never lived in a garret, like thorough-bred poets; and « though he once roved a careless mountaineer in the Highlands of Scotland,» he has not of late enjoyed this advantage. Moreover, he expects no profit from his publication ; and, whether it succeeds or not, « it is highly improbable, from his situation and pursuits hereafter,» that he should again condescend to become an author. Therefore, let us take what we get, and be thankful. What right have we poor devils to be nice? We are well off to have got so much from a man of this Lord's station, who does not live in a garret, but «< has the sway» of Newstead Abbey. Again, we say, let us be thankful; and, with honest Sancho, bid God bless the giver, nor look the gift horse in the mouth. English Bards and Scotch Reviewers; A SATIRE. I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew! Shakspeare. Such shameless Bards we have; and yet, 't is true. PREFACE.' ALL my friends, learned and unlearned, have urged me not to publish this Satire with my name. If I were to be << turned from the career of my humour by quibbles quick, and paper bullets of the brain,» I should have complied with their counsel. But I am not to be terrified by abuse, or bullied by reviewers, with or without arms. I can safely say that I have attacked none personally who did not commence on the offensive. An author's works are public property: he who purchases may judge, and publish his opinion if he pleases; and the authors I have endeavoured to commemorate may do by me as I have done by them: I dare say they will succeed better in condemning my scribblings, than in mending their own. But my object is not to prove that I can write well, but, if possible, to make others write better. As the Poem has met with far more success than I expected, I have endeavoured in this edition to make some additions and alterations, to render it more worthy of public perusal. In the first edition of this Satire, published anonymously, fourteen lines on the subject of Bowles's Pope were written and inserted at the request of an ingenious friend of mine, who has now in the press a volume of poetry. In the present edition they are erased, and some of my own substituted in their stead; my only reason for this being that which I conceive would operate with any other person in the same manner—a determination not to publish with my name any production which was not entirely and exclusively my own composition. Pope. than the author, that some known and able writer ha undertaken their exposure; but Mr GIFFORD has de voted himself to Massinger, and, in the absence of th regular physician, a country practitioner may, in case of absolute necessity, be allowed to prescribe his nos trum, to prevent the extension of so deplorable a epidemic, provided there be no quackery in his treat ment of the malady. A caustic is here offered, as it i to be feared nothing short of actual cautery can reco ver the numerous patients afflicted with the presen prevalent and distressing rabies for rhyming.—As to the Edinburgh Reviewers, it would indeed require Hercules to crush the Hydra; but if the author succeed in merely « bruising one of the heads of the serpent,› though his own hand should suffer in the encounter he will be amply satisfied. ENGLISH BARDS, etc. etc. STILL must I hear?-shall hoarse FITZGERALD' bawl is creaking couplets in a tavern hall, Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my Muse? Oh! Nature's noblest gift-my gray goose-quill! Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen, That mighty instrument of little men! The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes With regard to the real talents of many of the poet-Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose, ical persons whose performances are mentioned or alluded to in the following pages, it is presumed by the author that there can be little difference of opinion in the public at large; though, like other sectaries, each has his separate tabernacle of proselytes, by whom his abilities are overrated, his faults overlooked, and his metrical canons received without scruple and without consideration. But the unquestionable possession of considerable genius by several of the writers here censured, renders their mental prostitution more to be regretted. Imbecility may be pitied, or, at worst, laughed at and forgotten; perverted powers demand the most decided reprehension. No one can wish more 1 This Preface was written for the second edition of this Poem, and printed with it. Though nymphs forsake, and critics my deride IMITATION. . Semper ego auditor tantum nunquamne reponam Vexatus toties rauci Theseide Godril-Juvenal, Sat 1. Mr FITZGERALD, facetiously termed by CoETT the Small Be Poet, inflicts his annual tribute of verse on the Literary Fund not content with writing, be spouts in person, after the company have| imbibed a reasonable quantity of bad port, to enable them to sustain the operation. Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free; When Vice triumphant holds her sovereign sway, When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail, Such is the force of Wit! but not belong I too can scrawl, and once upon a time 1 pour'd along the town a flood of rhyme- A mars must serve his time to every trade, sheet : ↑ Suriak not from blasphemy, 't will pass for wit; And shall we own such judgment? no-as soon G Heart Bewage promises repose to his pen in the last chapf the Oc15018 Oh! that our voluminous gentry would follow avaraple of CAD Hamer Bevergete! *Tanime as youth is mentioned more particularly, with his 2 To these young tyrants, by themselves misplaced, 3 Then should you ask me, why I venture o'er Time was, ere yet in these degenerate days Thus saith the Preacher,4 « nought beneath the sun Is new;» yet still from change to change we run: What varied wonders tempt us as they pass! The cow-pox, tractors, galvanism, and gas, In turns appear, to make the vulgar stare, Till the swoln bubble bursts-and all is air! Nor less new schools of poetry arise, Where dull pretenders grapple for the prize: O'er Taste awhile these pseudo-bards prevail; Each country book-club bows the knee to Baal, 1 Messrs JEFFRET and LAMBE are the Alpha and Omega, the firs and last, of the EDINBURGH REVIEW: the others are mentioned hereafter. Stulta est clementia, cum tot ubique ---occurras periture parcere chaite.-Juvenal, Sat. 1. & IMITATION. Cur tamen hoc potius libeat decurrere campo Per quem magnus eques Aurunce flexit alumnus: Si vacat, et placidi rationem admitatis, edam.-Juvenal, Sat. 1. 4 Ecclesiastes, Cap. 1. And, hurling lawful genius from the throne, Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan, 1 Srort, better known in the Morning Posts by the name of Haris. This personage is at present the most profound explorer of the bathos. I remember, to the reigning family of Portugal, a special ode of Master Storr's, beginning thus: (Stott loquitur quoad Hibernia.) Princely offspring of Braganza, Frin greets thee with a stanza, etc, etc. Also a Sonnet to Rats, well worthy of the subject, and a most thuo- Oh for a lay loud as the surge That lashes Lapland's sounding shore.. The gibbet or the fieid prepared to grace A mighty mixture of the great and base. And think`st thou, Scorr! by vain conceit perchance good night to Marmion.»> These are the themes that claim our plandits now; The time has been when yet the muse was young. The single wonder of a thousand years.1 As even in ruin bids the language live. Lord have mercy on us! the Lay of the Last Minstrel, was nothing A virgin Phoenix from her ashes risen. to this. See the Lay of the Last Minstrel, passim. Never was any plan so incongruous and absurd as the ground-work of this production. The entrance of Thunder and Lightning prologuising to Bayes' tragedy, unfortunately takes away the merit of originality from the dialogue between Messieurs the Spirits of Flood and Fell, in the first anto, Then we have the amiable William of Deloraine, a stark moss-trooper, videlicet, a happy compound of poacher, sheep-stealer. and highwayman. The propriety of his magical lady's injunction not to read, can only be equal'ed by his candid acknowledgment of his independence of the trammels of spelling, although, to use his own elegant phrase, 'twas his neck-verse at hairibee, i. e. the Galloss. 1 The Biography of Gilpin Horner, and the marvellous pedestrian page who travelled twice as fast as his master's horse, without the aid of seven-leagued boots, are chefs-d'ouvre in the improvement of taste. For incident we have the invisible, but by no means sparing, box on the ear bestowed on the page, and the entrance of a Knight and Charger into the castle, under the very natural disguise of a wain of bay. Marmion, the hero of the latter romance, is exactly what William of Deloraine would have been, had he been able to read or write. The Poem was manufactured for Messrs ConSTABLE, MURRAT, and Miteur, worshipful Bocksellers, in consideration of the receipt of a sum of money, and, truly, considering the inspiration, it is a very credital'e production. If Mr. Scort will write for hire, let him do his best for his paymasters, bat net disgrace bis grains, which is undoubted y great, by a re, etition of blackletter balad imitations Next see tremendous Thalaba come on,3 1 Good night to Marmion-the pathetic and also prophetic es- then. 1 1 |