Scrapes wealth, o'er each departing penny grieves,
And avarice seizes all ambition leaves;
Counts cent. per cent., and smiles, or vainly frets,
O'er hoards diminish'd by young Hopeful's debts;
Weighs well and wisely what to sell or buy,
Complete in all life's lessons-but to die;
Peevish and spiteful, doting, hard to please,
Commending every time, save times like these;
Crazed, querulous, forsaken, half forgot,
Expires unwept-is buried-let him rot!
But from the drama let me not digress,
Nor spare my precepts, though they please you less.
Though women weep, and hardest hearts are stirr'd,
When what is done is rather seen than heard,
Yet many deeds preserved in history's page
Are better told than acted on the stage;
The ear sustains what shocks the timid eye,
And horror thus subsides to sympathy.
True Briton all besides, I here am French-
Bloodshed 'tis surely better to retrench;
The gladiatorial blood we teach to flow
In tragic scene disgusts, though but in show:
We hate the carnage while we see the trick,
And find small sympathy in being sick.
Not on the stage the regicide Macbeth
Appals an audience with a monarch's death;
To gaze when sable Hubert threats to sear
Young Arthur's eyes, can ours, or nature bear?
A halter'd heroine Johnson sought to slay-
We saved Irene, but half damn'd the play.
And (Heaven be praised!) our tolerating times
Stint metamorphoses to pantomines,
And Lewis' self, with all his sprites, would quake
To change Earl Osmond's negro to a snake!
Because, in scenes exciting joy or grief,
We loathe the action which exceeds belief:
And yet, God knows! what may not authors do,
Whose postscripts prate of dying "heroines blue?"+
Above all things, Dan Poet, if you can,
Eke out your acts, I pray, with mortal man;
Nor call a ghost, unless some cursed scrape
Must open ten trap-doors for your escape.
Of all the monstrous things I'd fain forbid,
I loathe an opera worse than Dennis did;
Where good and evil persons, right or wrong,
Rage, love, and aught but moralize, in song.
Hail, last memorial of our foreign friends,
Which Gaul allows, and still Hesperia lends!
Multa senem conveniunt incommoda; vel quod Quærit, et inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti; Vel quod res omnes timide gelideque ministrat, Dilator, spe longus, iners, avidusque futuri; Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti Se puero, castigator censorque minorum. Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, Multa recedentes adimunt. Ne forte seniles Mandentur juveni partes, pueroque viriles, Semper in adjunctis, ævoque morabimur aptis. Aut agitur res in scenis, aut acta refertur. Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem
"Irene had to speak two lines with the bowstring round her neck; but the audience cried out Murder !' and she was obliged to be carried off the stage."-Boswell's Life of Johnson.
In the postscript to the "Casle Spectre" Mr. Lewis tells us, that though blacks were unknown in England at the period of his action, vet he has made
Napoleon's edicts no embargo lay
On whores, spies, singers, wisely shipp'd away.
Our giant capital, whose squares are spread
Where rustics earn'd, and now may beg, their bread
In all, iniquity is grown so nice,
It scorns amusements which are not of price.
Hence the pert shopkeeper, whose throbbing ear
Aches with orchestras which he pays to hear,
Whom shame, not sympathy, forbids to snore,
His anguish doubling by his own "encore;"
Squeezed in "Fops Alley," jostled by the beaux,
Teased with his hat, and trembling for his toes;
Scarce wrestles through the night, nor tastes of ease,
Till the dropp'd curtain gives a glad release:
Why this, and more, he suffers-can ye guess?—
Because it costs him dear, and makes him dress!
So prosper eunuchs from Etruscan schools;
Give us but fiddlers, and they're sure of fools!
Ere scenes were play'd by many a reverend clerk,
(What harm, if David danced before the ark?)
In Christmas revels, simple country folks
Were pleas'd with morrice-mumm'ry and coarse
jokes.
Improving years, with things no longer known,
Produced blithe Punch and merry Madame Joan,
Who still frisk on with feats so lewdly low,
'Tis strange Benvolio suffers such a show;t
Suppressing peer! to whom each vice gives place,
Oaths, boxing, begging, all, save rout and race.
Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime,
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, nor spared the best,
And turn'd some very serious things to jest.
Nor church nor state escaped his public sneers,
Arms nor the gown, priests, lawyers, volunteers:
"Alas, poor Yorick!" now.for ever mute!
Whoever loves a laugh must sigh for Foote.
We smile, perforce, when histrionic scenes
Ape the swoln dialogue of kings and queens,
When "Chrononhotonthologos must die,"
And Arthur struts in mimic majesty.
Moschus! with whom once more I hope to sit
And smile at folly, if we can't at wit;
Yes, friend! for thee I'll quit my cynic cell,
And bear Swift's motto, "Vive la bagatelle!"
Which charm'd our days in each Ægean clime,
As oft at home, with revelry and rhyme.
Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quæ
Ipse sibi tradit spectator. Non tamen intus
Digna geri promes in scenam; multaque tolles
Ex oculis, quæ mox narret facundia præsens.
Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet;
Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus;
Aut in avem Progne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem.
Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi.
Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu
Fabula, quæ posci vult et spectata reponi.
Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus
Inciderit.
• "The first theatrical representations, entitled 'Mysteries and Moralities,' were generally enacted at Christmas, by monks, (as the only persons who could read,) and latterly by the clergy and students of the universities. The dramatis persone were usually Adam, Pater Caelestis, Faith, Vice," & &c.-Vide Warton's History of English Poetry.
† Benvolio does not bet; but every man who maintains race-horses is the anachronism to set off the scene: and if he could have produced the promoter of all the concomitant evils of the turf. Avoiding to bet is a littl affect "by making his heroine t ve "-I quote him-"blue he would have pharisalcal. Is it an exculpation? I think not. I never yet heard a land made her!" praised for chastity because she herself did not commit fornication.
Then may Euphrosyne, who sped the past,
Soothe thy life's scene's nor leave thee in the last;
But find in thine, like pagan* Plato's bed,
Some merry manuscript of mimes, when dead.
Now to the Drama let us bend our eyes,
Where fetter'd by whig Walpole low she lies;
Corruption foil'd her, for she fear'd her glance;
Decorum left her for an opera dance!
Yet +Chesterfield, whose polish'd pen inveighs
'Gainst laughter, fought for freedom to our plays;
Uncheck'd by megrims of patrician brains,
And damning dullness of lord chamberlains.
Repeal that act! again let Humor roam
Wild o'er the stage-we've time for tears at home;
Let "Archer" plant the horns on "Sullen's" brows,
And "Estifania" gull her "Copper "I spouse;
The moral's scant-but that may be excused,
Men go not to be lectured, but amused.
He whom our plays dispose to good or ill
Must wear a head in want of Willis' skill;
Ay, but Macheath's example-psha!—no more!
It form'd no thieves-the thief was form'd before,
And spite of puritans and Collier's curse,§
Plays make mankind no better, and no worse.
Then spare our stage, ye methodistic men!
Nor burn damn'd Drury if it rise again.
But why to brain-scorch'd bigots thus appeal!
Can heavenly mercy dwell with earthly zeal ?
For times of fire and fagot let them hope:
Times dear alike to puritan or pope.
As pious Calvin saw Servetus blaze,
So would new sects on newer victims gaze,
E'en now the songs of Solyma begin;
Faith cants, perplex'd apologist of sin!
While the Lord's servant chastens whom he loves,
And Simeon kicks, where ||Baxter only "shoves."
Whom nature guides, so writes, that every dunce
Enraptured, thinks to do the same at once;
But after inky thumbs and bitten nails,
And twenty scatter'd quires, the coxcomb fails.
Let pastoral be dumb; for who can hope
To match the youthful eclogues of our Pope?
Yet his and Phillips' faults, of different kind,
For art too rude, for nature too refined,
Ex noto fictum carmen sequar, ut sibi quivis Speret idem: sudet multum frustraque laboret Ausus idem: tantum series juncturaque pollet; Tantum de medio sumtis accedit honoris.
Silvis deducti caveant, me judice, Fauni, Ne, velut innati triviis ac pene forenses, Aut nimium teneris juvenentur versibus unquam, Aut immunda crepent, ignominiosaque dicta. [res: Offenduntur enim, quibus est equus, et pater, et Nec, si quid fricti ciceris probat et nucis emtor,
• Under Plato's pillow a volume of the Mimes of Sophron was found the day he died.-Vide Barthelemi, De Pauw, or Diogenes Laertius, if agreeable. De Pauw calls it a jest book.-Cumberland, in his Observer, terms it moral, like the sayings of "Publins Cyrus."
↑ His speech on the licensing act is one of his most eloquent efforts. Michael Perez, the "Copper Captain," in "Rule a Wife and have a Wife."
§ Jerry Collier's controversy with Congreve, &c. on the subject of the drama, is too well known to require further comment.
"Baxter's shove to heavy-a-d Christians." The veritable title of a book once in good repute, and likely enough to be so again.--Mr. Simeon is the very bully of beliefs, and castigator of "good works." He is ably sup ported by John Stickles, a laborer in the same vineyard :-but I say no more, er according to Johnny in full congregation, "No hope for them as Bughs,"
[Instruct how hard the medium 'tis to hit "Twixt too much polish and too coarse a wit
A vulgar scribbler, certes, stands disgraced
In this nice age, when all aspire to taste;
The dirty language, and the noisome jest,
Which pleased in Swift of yore, we now detest;
Proscribed not only in the world polite,
But even too nasty for a city knight!
Peace to Swift's faults! his wit hath made them
Unmatched by all, save matchless Hudibras!
Whose author is perhaps the first we meet,
Who from our couplet lopp'd two final feet;
Nor less in merit than the longer line,
This measure moves a favorite of the Nine.
Though at first view eight feet may seem in vain
Form'd, save in ode, to bear a serious strain,
Yet Scott has shown our wondering isle of late,
This measure shrinks not from a theme of weight
And, varied skillfully, surpasses far
Heroic rhyme, but most in love and war,
Whose fluctuations, tender or sublime,
Are curb'd too much by long-recurring rhyme
But many a skilful judge abhors to see,
What few admire-irregularity.
This some vouchsafe to pardon; but 'tis hard,
When such a word contents a British bard.
And must the bard his glowing thoughts confine,
Lest censure hover o'er some faulty line?
Remove whate'er a critic may suspect,
To gain the paltry suffrage of "correct?”
Or
To fly from error, not to merit praise?
the spirit of each daring phrase,
prune
Ye who seek finish'd models, never cease,
By day and night, to read the works of Greece.
But our good fathers never bent their brains
To heathen Greek, content with native strains.
The few who read a page, or used a pen,
Were satisfied with Chaucer and old Ben;
The jokes and numbers suited to their taste
Were quaint and careless, any thing but chaste,
Yet whether right or wrong the ancient rules,
It will not do to call our fathers fools!
Equis accipiunt animis, donantve corona.
Syllaba longa brevi subjecta vocatur iambus,
Pes citus: unde etiam trimetris accrescere jussit
Nomen iambeis, cum senos redderet ictus,
Primus ad extremum similis sibi: non ita pridem
Tardior ut paulo graviorque veniret ad aures,
Spondeos stabiles in jura paterna recepit
Commodus et patiens; non ut de sede secundâ
Cederet aut quarta socialiter. Hic et in Acci
Nobilibus trimetris apparet rarus, et Enni.
In scenam missos magno cum pondere versus,
Aut operæ celeris nimium curaque carentis,
Aut ignoratæ premit artis crimine turpi.
Non quivis videt immodulata poemata judex;
Et data Romanis venia est indigna poetis.
Idcircone vager, scribamque licenter, ut omnes
Visuros peccata putem mea, tutus, et intra
Spem venia cautus? vitavi denique culpam,
Non laudem merui. Vos exemplaria Græca
Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna.
At vestri proavi Plautinos et numeros et
Laudavere sales; nimium patienter utrumque,
Ne dicam stulte, mirati; si modo ego et vos
Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto.
Though you and I, who eruditely know
To separate the elegant and low,
Can also, when a hobbling line appears,
Detect with fingers in default of ears.
In sooth I do not know or greatly care
To learn, who our first English strollers were;
Or if, till roofs recived the vagrant art,
Our muse, like that of Thespis, kept a cart.
But this is certain, since our Shakspeare's days,
There's pomp enough, if little else, in plays;
Nor will Melpomene ascend her throne
With little rhyme, less reason, if you please,
The name of poet may be got with ease,
So that not tuns of helleboric juice
Shall ever turn your head to any use;
Write but like Wordsworth, live beside a lake,
And keep your bushy locks a year from Blake;❤
Then print your book, once more return to town,
And boys shall hunt your bardship up and down.
Am I not wise, if such some poets' plight,
To purge in spring (like Bayes) before I write?
If this precaution soften'd not my bile,
I know no scribbler, with a madder style;
Without high heels, white plume, and Bristol stone. But since (perhaps my feelings are too nice),
Old comedies still meet with much applause,
Though too licentious for dramatic laws:
At least, we moderns, wisely, 'tis confest,
Curtail, or silence, the lascivious jest.
Whate'er their follies, and their faults beside,
Our enterprising bards pass nought untried;
Nor do they merit slight applause who choose
An English subject for an English muse,
And leave to minds which never dare invent
French flippancy and German sentiment.
Where is that living language which could claim
Poetic more, as philosophic, fame,
If all our bards, more patient of delay,
Would stop, like Pope, to polish by the way?
Lords of the quill, whose critical assaults
O'erthrow whole quartos with their quires of faults,
Who soon detect, and mark where'er we fail,
And prove our marble with too nice a nail!
Democritus himself was not so bad;
He only thought, but you would make us mad!
But, truth to say, most rhymers rarely guard
Against that ridicule they deem so hard;
In person negligent, they wear, from sloth,
Beards of a week, and nails of annual growth;
Reside in garrets, fly from those they meet,
And walk in alleys, rather than the street.
Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus et aure. Ignotum tragicæ genus invenisse Camena Dicitur, et plaustris vexisse poemata Thespis, Quæ canerent agerentque peruncti fæcibus ora. Post hunc personæ pallæque repertor honestæ Eschylus, et modicis instravit pulpita tignis, Et docuit magnumque loqui, nitique cothurno. Successit vetus his comedia, non sine multa Laude; sed in vitium libertas excidit, et vim Dignam lege regi; lex est accepta; chorusque Turpiter obticuit, sublato jure noecndi.
Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetæ ; Nec minimum meruere decus, vestigia Græca Ausi deserere, et celebrare domestica facta, Vel qui prætextas, vel qui docuere togatas. Nec virtute foret clarisve potentius armis, Quam lingua, Latium, si non offenderet unumquemque poetarum limæ labor et mora. Vos, ô Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod non Multa dies et multa litura coercuit, atque Preæsectum decies non castigavit ad unguem. Ingenium misera quia fortunatius arte Credit, et excludit sanos Helicone poetas Democritus; bona pars non ungues ponere curat Non barbam; secreta petit loca, balnea vitat. Nanciscetur enim pretium nomenque poetæ, Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile nunquam Tonsori Licino commiserit. O ego lævus,
I cannot purchase fame at such a price,
I'll labor gratis as a grinder's wheel,
And, blunt myself, give edge to others' steel,
Nor write at all, unless to teach the art,
To those rehearsing for the poet's part;
From Horace show the pleasing paths of song,
And from my own example, what is wrong.
Though modern practice sometimes differs quite,
'Tis just as well to think before you write;
Let every book that suits your theme be read,
So shall you trace it to the fountain-head.
He who has learnt the duty which he owes
To friend and country, and to pardon foes;
Who models his deportment as may best
Accord with brother, sire, or stranger guest;
Who takes our laws and worship as they are,
Nor roars reform for senate, church, and bar;
In practice, rather than loud precept, wise,
Bids not his tongue, but heart, philosophize:
Such is the man the poet should rehearse,
As joint exemplar of his life and verse.
Sometimes a sprightly wit and tale well told,
Without much grace, or weight, or art, will hold
A longer empire o'er the public mind
Than sounding trifles, empty, though refined.
Unhappy Greece! thy sons of ancient days,
The muse may celebrate with perfect praise,
Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam!
Non alius faceret meliora poemata: verum
Nil tanti est: ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum
Reddere quæ ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi:
Munus et officium, nil scribens ipse, docebo;
Unde parentur opes; quid alat formetque poetam
Quid deceat, quid non; quo virtus, quo ferat error
Scribendi recte sapere est et principium et fons Rem tibi Socraticæ poterunt ostendere chartæ: Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur. Quid didicit patriæ quid debeat, et quid amicis; Quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus, et hospes ;
Quod sit conscripti, quod judicis officium; quae Partes in bellum missi ducis; ille profecto Reddere personæ scit convenientia cuique. Respicere exemplar vitæ morumque jubebo Doctum imitatorem, et vivas hinc ducere voces. Interdum speciosa locis morataque recte Fabula, nullius veneris, sine pondere et arte, Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur, Quam, versus inopes rerum, nugæque canora. Graiis ingenium, Graiis dedit ore rotundo Musa loqui, præter laudem nullius avaris.
• As famous a tonsor as Licinus himself, and better paid, and may, like him, be one day a senator, having a better qualification than one half of thi heads he crops, viz.-independence.
Whose generous children narrow'd not their hearts |Through three long weeks the taste of London lead With commerce, given alone to arms and arts. And cross St. George's Channel and the Tweed.
Rem poteris servare tuam. Redit uncia: quid fit?
Semis. An hæc animos ærugo et cura peculi
Cum semel imbuerit, speramus carmina fingi
Posse linenda cedro, et levi servanda cupresso?
Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare poetæ ;
Aut simul et jucunda et idonea dicere vitæ.
Quidquid præcipies, esto brevis: ut cito dicta
Percipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles.
Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat.
Ficta voluptatis causa sint proxima veris :
Nec, quodcunque volet, poscat sibi fabula credi:
Neu pranse Lamiæ vivum puerum extrahat alvo.
Centuræ seniorum agitant expertia frugis:
Celsi prætereunt austera poemata Rhamnes.
Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci,
* I have not the original by me, but the Italian translation runs as follows: E una cosa a mio credere molto stravagante, che un padredesideri, e permetta, che suo figliuolo coltiri e perfezioni questo talento." A little further : "Si trovano di rado nel Parnaso le miniere d'oro e d'argento."-Educazione dei Fanciulli del Signor Locke. Venetian edition.
"Iro pauperior:" this is the same beggar who boxed with Ulysses for pound of kid's fry, which he lost, and half a dozen teeth besides.-See Odyssey, p. 18.
But every thing has faults, nor is't unknown
That harps and fiddles often lose their tone,
And wayward voices, at their owner's call,
With all his best endeavors, only squall;
Dogs blink their cover, flints withhold their spara,
And double-barrels (damn them!) miss their mark.
Where frequent beauties strike the reader's view
We must not quarrel for a blot or two;
But pardon equally to books or men,
The slips of human nature, and the pen.
Yet if an author, spite of foe or friend,
Despises all advice too much to mend,
But ever twangs the same discordant string,
Give him no quarter, howsoe'er he sing.
Let Havard'st fate o'ertake him, who for once
Produced a play too dashing for a dunce:
At first none deem'd it his, but when his name
Announced the fact-what then?-it lost its fame
Though all deplore when Milton deigns to doze,
In a long work'tis fair to steal repose.
As pictures, so shall poems be; some stand
The critic eye, and please when near at hand;
But others at a distance strike the sight;
This seeks the shade, but that demands the light
Nor dreads the connoisseur's fastidious view,
But, ten times scrutinized, is ten times new.
Parnassian pilgrims! ye whom chance or choice
Hath led to listen to the muse's voice,
Receive this counsel, and be timely wise;
Few reach the summit which before you lies.
Our church and state, our courts and camps, con
cede
Reward to very moderate heads indeed!
In these plain common sense will travel far;
All are not Erskines who mislead the bar:
Lectorem delectando pariterque monendo.
Hic meret æra liber Sosiis; hic et mare transit,
Et longum noto scriptori prorogat ævum.
Sunt delicta tamen, quibus ignovisse velimus; Nam neque chorda sonum reddit quem vult manus et mens,
Poscentique gravem persæpe remittit acutum ;
Nec semper feriet quodcunque minabitur arcus.
Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis
Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
Aut humana parum cavit natura. Quid ergo est?
Ut scriptor si peccat idem librarius usque,
Quamvis est monitus, venia caret; et citharœdus
Ridetur, chorda qui semper oberrat eadem:
Sic mihi, qui multum cessat, fit Chœrilus ille,
Quem bis terque bonum cum risu miror; et idem
Indignor, quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus.
Verum operi longo fas est obrepere somnum.
Ut pictura, poesis: erit quæ, si propius stes, Te capiet magis; et quædam, si longius abstes: Hæc amat obscurum; volet hæc sub luce videri, Judicis argutum quæ non formidat acumen :
• As Mr. Pope took the liberty of damning Homer, to whom he was undes great obligations—“And Homer (damn him !) calls"—it may be presumed that any body or any thing may be damned in verse by poetical license; and, in case of accident, I beg leave to plead so illustrious a precedent,
For the story of Billy Havard's tragedy, see "Davies's Life of Gan rick." I believe it is "Regulus," or "Charles the First." The moment
The Irish gold mine of Wicklow, which yields just ore enough to swear was known to be his the theatre thinned, and the bookseller refused to give by, or gild & bad guinea.
the customary sum for the copyright.
But poesy between the best and worst
No medium knows; you must be last or first;
For middling poets' miserable volumes,
What then?-Edina starves some lanker son,
To write an article thou canst not shun:
Some less fastidious Scotchman shall be found,
Are damn'd alike by gods, and men, and columns.As bold în Billingsgate, though less renown'd.
Again, my Jeffrey !-as that sound inspires,
How wakes my bosom to its wonted fires!
Fires, such as gentle Caledonians feel,
When Southrons writhe upon their critic wheel,
Or mild Eclectics, when some, worse than Turks,
Would rob poor Faith to decorate "good works."
Such are the genial feelings thou canst claim-
My falcon flies not at ignoble game.
Mightiest of all Dunedin's beasts of chase!
For thee my Pegasus would mend his pace.
Arise, my Jeffrey! or my inkless pen
Shall never blunt its edge on meaner men;
Till thee or thine mine evil eye discerns,
Alas! I cannot "strike at wretched kernes."
Inhuman Saxon! wilt thou then resign
A muse and heart by choice so wholly thine?
Dear, d-d contemner of my schoolboy songs,
Hast thou no vengeance for my manhood's wrongs?
If unprovoked thou once couldst bid me bleed,
Hast thou no weapon for my daring deed?
What! not a word-and am I then so low?
Wilt thou forbear, who never spared a foe?
Hast thou no wrath, or wish to give it vent?
No wits for nobles, dunces by descent?
No jest on "minors," quibbles on a name,
Nor one facetious paragraph of blame?
Is it for this on Ilion I have stood,
And thought of Homer less than Holyrood?
On shore of Euxine or Egean sea,
My hate, untravell'd, fondly turned to thee.
Ah! let me cease! in vain my bosom burns,
From Corydon unkind Alexix† turns:
Thy rhymes are vain; thy Jeffrey then forego,
Nor woo that anger which he will not show.
Hæc placuit semel; hæc decies repetita placebit.
O major juvenum, quamvis et voce paterna
Fingeris ad rectum, et per te sapis, hoc tibi dictum
Tolle memor: certis medium et tolerabile rebus
Recte concedi: consultus juris, et actor
Causarum mediocris, abest virtute diserti
Messalæ, nec scit quantum Cascellius Aulus:
Sed tamen in pretio est: mediocribus esse poetis
Non homines, non Di, non concessere columnæ.
As if at table some discordant dish
Should shock our optics, such as frogs for fish ;
As oil in lieu of butter men decry,
And poppies please not in a modern pie;
If all such mixtures then be half a crime,
We must have excellence to relish rhyme.
Mere roast and boil'd no epicure invites ;
Thus poetry disgusts, or else delights.
Who shoot not flying rarely touch a gun;
Will he who swims not to the river run?
And men unpractised in exchanging knocks
Must go to Jackson ere they dare to box.
Whate'er the weapon, cudgel, fist, or foil,
None reach expertness without years of toil;
But fifty dunces can, with perfect ease,
Tag twenty thousand couplets when they please.
Why not?-shall I, thus qualified to sit
For rotten boroughs, never show my wit?
Shall I, whose fathers with the quorum sate,
And lived in freedom on a fair estate;
Who left me heir, with stables, kennels, packs,
To all their income, and to twice its tax;
Whose form and pedigree have scarce a fault,
Shall I, I say, suppress my attic salt?
Thus think "the mob of gentlemen;" but you,
Besides all this, must have some genius too.
Be this your sober judgment, and a rule,
And print not piping hot from Southey's school,
Who (ere another Thalaba appears),
I trust will spare us for at least nine years.
And hark'ye, Southey! pray-but don't be vext-
Burn all your last three works-and half the next.
Ut gratas inter mensas symphonia discors,
Et crassum unguentum, et Sardo cum melle
Offendunt, poterat duci quia cœna sine istis;
Sic animis natum inventumque poema juvandis,
Si paulum a summo decessit, vergit ad imum.
Ludere qui nescit, campestribus abstinet armis,
Indoctusque pilæ, discive, trochive, quiescit,
Ne spissæ risum tollant impune coronæ :
Qui nescit, versus tamen audet fingere!-Quidni?
Liber et ingenuus præsertim census equestrem
Summam nummorum, vitioque remotus ab omni.
Tu nihil invita dices faciesve Minerva :
Id tibi judicium est, ea mens; si quid tamen olim
Scripseris, in Metii descendat judicis aures,
Et patris, et nostras, nonumque prematur in
Membranis intus positis. Delere licebit
Quod non edideris; nescit vox missa reverti.
Sylvestres homines sacer interpresque deorum
To the Eclectic or Christian Reviewers I have to return thanks for the fervor of that charity which in 1809 induced them to express a hope, that a thing then published by me might lead to certain consequences, which, all though natural enough, surely came but rashly from reverend lips. I refer them to their own pages, where they congratulated themselves on the pros pect of a tilt between Mr. Jeffrey and myself, from which some great good was to accrue, provided one or both were knocked on the head. Having survived two years and a half those "Elegies" which they were kindly preparing to seview, I have no peculiar gusto to give them "so joyful a trouble," except, deed, "upon compulsion, Hal;" but if, as David says in the "Rivals,” it should come to "bloody sword and gun fighting," we "won't run, will we, Sir Lucius ?" I do not know what I had done to these Eclectic gentlemen: my works are their lawful perquisite, to be hewn in pieces like Agug, if it should seem meet unto them; but why they should be in such a hurry to kill • Mr. Southey has lately tied another canister to his tail in the "Curse of off their author, I am ignorant. "The race is not always to the swift nor the Kehama," maugre the neglect of Madoc, &c., and has in one instance had battle to the strong;" and now, as these Christians have "smote me on one a wonderful effect. A literary friend of mine, walking out one lovely erea cheek," I hold them up the other; and in return for their good wishes, give ing last summer, on the eleventh bridge of the Paddington canal, wa them an opportunity of repeating them. Had any other set of men expressed alarmed by the cry of "one in jeopardy:" he rushed along, collected a such sentiments, I should have smiled, and left them to the "recording body of Irish haymakers (supping on buttermilk in an adjacent paddock,) proangel," but from the pharisees of Christianity decency might be expected. cured three rakes, one eel-spear, and a landing-net, and at last (horreate can assure these brethren, that, publican and sinner as I am, I would not referens) pulled out-his own publisher. The unfortunate man was gone for have treated "mine enemy's dog thus," To show them the superiority of ever, and so was a large quarto wherewith he had taken the leap, which my brotherly love, if ever the Reverend Messrs. Simeon or Ramsden should be engaged in such a conflict as that in which they requested me to fall, I hope hey may escape with being "winged" only, and that Heaviside may be at and to extract the ball.
† lavenies alium, si te hic fastidit, Alexin.
proved, on inquiry, to have been Mr. Southey's last work. Its "alacrity a sinking" was so great that it has never since been heard of, though some maintain that it is at this moment concealed at Alderman Birch's pastry premises, Cornhill. Be this as it may, the coroner's inquest brought in a ver dict of "Felo de bibliopola" against a “quarto unknown;" and circumstan
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