So close on each pathetic part he dwells,
And each adventure so sublimely tells,
That all who view the "idiot in his glory,"
Conceive the bard the hero of the story.

Shall gentle COLERIDGE pass unnoticed here,
To turgid ode, and tumid stanza dear?
Though themes of innocence amuse him best,
Yet still Obscurity's a welcome guest.
If Inspiration should her aid refuse,
To him who takes a Pixy for a Muse,"
Yet none in lofty numbers can surpass
The Bard who soars to eulogize an ass.
How well the subject suits his noble mind!
"A fellow feeling makes us wond'rous kind."

Oh! wonder-working LEWIS! Monk, or Bard,
Who fain would'st make Parnassus a church yard!
Lo! wreaths of yew, not laurel, bind thy brow,
Thy Muse a sprite, Apollo's sexton thou!
Whether on ancient tombs thou tak'st thy stand,
By gibb'ring spectres hailed, thy kindred band;
Or tracest chaste descriptions on thy page,
To please the females of our modest age,
All hail, M. P, !t from whose infernal brain
Thin sheeted phantoms glide, a grisly train;

At whose command," grim women" throng in crowds,
And kings of fire, of water, and of clouds,

With" small grey men,"-" wild yagers," and what-not,
To crown with honour, thee, and WALTER SCOTT:
Again all hail! iftales like thine may please,

St. Luke alone can vanquish the disease;

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270

* Coleridge's poems, page 11. Songs of the Pixies, i. e. Devonshire Fairies: page 42, we have "Lines to a Young Lady" and page 52," Lines to a young Ass."

For every one knows little Matt's an M. P."-See a Poem to Mr. Lewis, in The Statesman, supposed to be written by Mr. Jekyll.

Even Satan's self with thee might dread to dwell,
And in thy skull discern a deeper hell.

Who in soft guise, surrounded by a choir

Of virgins melting, not to Vesta's fire,

With sparkling eyes, and cheeks by passion flushed, Strikes his wild Lyre, whilst listening dames are hushed? 280 'Tis LITTLE! young Catullus of his day,

As sweet, but as immoral in his lay!

Grieved to condemn, the Muse must still be just,

Nor spare melodious advocates of lust.

Pure is the flame which o'er her altar burns;

From grosser incense with disgust she turns:
Yet, kind to youth, this expiation o'er,

She bids thee," mend thy line and sin no more."

For thee, translator of the tinsel song,
To whom such glittering ornaments belong,
Hibernian STRANGFORD! with thine eyes of blue,*
And boasted locks of red or auburn hue,

Whose plaintive strain each love-sick Miss admires,
And o'er harmonious fustian half expires,
Learn, if thou canst, to yield thine author's sense,
Nor vend thy sonnets on a false pretence.
Think'st thou to gain thy verse a higher place
By dressing CAMOENS in a suit of lace?

Mend, STRANGFORD! mend thy morals and thy taste;
Be warm, but pure, be amorous, but be chaste:
Cease to deceive; thy piltered harp restore,
Nor teach the Lusian Bard to copy MOORE.

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300

The reader who may wish for an explanation of this, may refer to "Strangford's Camoens," page 127, note to page 56, or to the last page of the Edinburgh Review of Strang ford's Camoens.

It is also to be remarked, that the things given to the public as Poems of Camoens, are no more to be found in the or iginal Portuguese, than in the Song of Solomon.

In many marble-covered volumes view
HALEY, in vain attempting something new:
Whether he spin his comedies in rhyme,

Or scrawl, as WOOD and BARCLAY walk, 'gainst time,
His style in youth or age is still the same;
Forever feeble and forever tame.

Triumphant first see" Temper's Triumphs" shine!
At least I'm sure they triumphed over mine.
Of Music's Triumphs" all who read may swear
That luckless Music never triumphed there.*

Moravians rise! bestow some meet reward
On dull Devotion-lo! the Sabbath Bard,
Sepulchral Grahame, pours his notes sublime,
In mangled prose, nor e'en aspires to rhyme,
Breaks into blank the Gospel of St. Luke,
And boldly pilfers from the Pentateuch;
And, undisturbed by conscientious qualms,

310

Perverts the Prophets, and purloins the Psalms.t

320

Hail Sympathy! thy soft idea brings

A thousand visions of a thousand things,

And shows, dissolved in thine own melting tears,
The maudlin prince of mournful sonneteers.

And art thou not their Prince, harmonious BOWLES!
Thou first great oracle of tender souls?

Whether in sighing winds thou seek'st relief,
Or consolation in a yellow leaf;

Hayley's two most notorious verse productions are "Triumphs of Temper," and " Triumphs of Music." He has also written much Comedy in rhyme, Epistles, &c. &c. As he is rather an elegant writer of notes and biography, let us recommend Pope's Advice to Wycherley, to Mr, H's consideration; viz. to convert his poetry into prose," which may be easily done by taking away the final syllable orch couplet.

Mr. Grahame has poured forth two volumes of Cant, under the name of "Sabbath Walks," and "Biblical Pic tures."

Whether thy Muse most lamentably tells
What merry sounds proceed from Oxford bells,*
Or, still in bells delighting, finds a friend,
In every chime that jingled from Ostend?
Ah! how much juster were thy Muse's hap,
If to thy bells thou would'st but add a cap !
Delightful BOWLES! still blessing, and still blest,
All love thy strain, but children like it best.
'Tis thine with gentle LITTLE's moral song,
To sooth the mania of the amorous throng!
With thee our nursery damsels shed their tears,
Ere miss, as yet, completes her infant years;
But in her teens thy whining powers are vain;
She quits poor BOWLES, for LITTLE's purer strain.
Now to soft themes thou scornest to confine
The lofty numbers of a harp like thine:
"Awake a louder and a loftier strain,"
Such as none heard before, or will again;
Where all discoveries jumbled from the flood,
Since first the leaky ark reposed in mud,
By more or less, are sung in every book,
From captain NOAH down to captain COOK.
Nor this alone, but pausing on the road,
The bard sighs forth a gentle episode ;+

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340

350

* See Bowles's Sonnets, &c.-" Sonnet to Oxford," and "Stanzas on hearing the Bells of Ostend."

+Awake a louder," &c. &c. is the first line in Bowles's Spirit of Discovery; a very spirited and pretty dwar Epic. Among other exquisite lines we have the following:

"A kiss

"Stole on the list'ning silence, never yet

"Here heard; they trembled even as if the power," &

&c.

That is, the woods of Madeira trembled to a kiss, very much astonished, as well they might be, at such a phenou

enon.

The Episode, above alluded to, is the story of "Robert a Machin," and "Anna d'Arfet," a pair of constant lovers who performed the kiss abovementioned, that startled th woods of Madeira.

だ

And gravely tells-attend each beauteous miss!--
When first Madeira trembled to a kiss.

BOWLES! in thy memory let this precept dwell,
Stick to thy sonnets, man! at least they sell.
But if some new-born whim, or larger bribe
Prompt thy crude brain, and claim thee for a scribe,
If chance some bard, though once by dunces feared,
Now, prone in dust, can only be revered;

If POPE, whose fame and genius from the first
Have foiled the best of critics, needs the worst,
Do thou essay; each fault, each failing scan;
The first of poets was, alas! but man!
Rake from each ancient dunghill every pearl,
Consult lord FANNY, and confide in CURLL.*
Let all the scaudals of a former age,

Perch on thy pen, and flutter o'er thy page;
Affect a candour which thou ean'st not feel,
Clothe Envy in the garb of honest Zeal;
Write, as if St. John's soul could still inspire,
And do from hate, what MALLET did for hire.t
Oh! had'st thou lived in that congenial time,

To rave with DENNIS and with RALPH to rhyme,t
Thronged with the rest around his living head,
Not raised thy hoof against the lion dead.
A meet reward had crowned thy glorious gains,
And linked thee to the Dunciad for thy pains.§

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370

*Curl is one of the Heroes of the Dunciad, and was a bookseller. Lord Fanny is the poetical name of lord Hervy, author of " Lines to the Imitator of Horace."

+ Lord Bolingbroke hired Mallet to traduce Pope, after his decease, because the poet had retained some copies of a work by lord Bolingbroke, (The Patriot King) which that splendid, but malignant genius, had ordered to be destroyed. Dennis, the critic, and Ralph, the rhymester.

"Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls,
"Making night hideous! answer him ye owls!""

Dunciad.

See Bowles's late edition of Pope's Works, for which he received three hundred pounds: thus Mr. B. has experien ced, how much easier it is to profit by the reputation of another, than to elevate his own.