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The spoiler swept that soaring lyre away,
Which else had sounded an immortal lay.
Oh! what a noble heart was here undone,
When Science' self destroy'd her favourite son!
Yes, she too much indulged thy fond pursuit,
She sow'd the seeds, but death has reap'd the fruit.
'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow,
And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low:
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
View'd his own feather on the fatal dart,
And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart;
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel
He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel;
While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest
Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast. (1)

There be, who say, in these enlighten'd days, That splendid lies are all the poet's praise; That strain'd invention, ever on the wing, Alone impels the modern bard to sing: 'Tis true, that all who rhyme all who write, Shrink from that fatal word to genius-trite;

nay,

deal of cant, which in him was sincere (indeed it killed him, as you killed Joe Blackett), certes there is poesy and genius. I don't say this on account of my simile and rhymes; but surely he was beyond all the Bloomfields and Blacketts, and their collateral cobblers, whom Lofft and Pratt have or may kidnap from their calling into the service of the trade. Setting aside bigotry, he surely ranks next to Chatterton. It is astonishing how little he was known; and at Cambridge no one thought or heard of such a man till his death rendered all notices useless. For my part, I should have been most proud of such an acquaintance: his very prejudices were respectable."-E]

(1) Mr. Southey's delightful Life of Kirke White is in every one's hands.-E.

Yet Truth sometimes will lend her noblest fires,
And decorate the verse herself inspires:
This fact in Virtue's name let Crabbe (1) attest;
Though nature's sternest painter, yet the best. (2)

And here let Shee (3) and Genius find a place, Whose pen and pencil yield an equal grace; To guide whose hand the sister arts combine, And trace the poet's or the painter's line; Whose magic touch can bid the canvass glow, Or pour the easy rhyme's harmonious flow; While honours, doubly merited, attend The poet's rival, but the painter's friend.

Blest is the man who dares approach the bower Where dwelt the muses at their natal hour; Whose steps have press'd, whose eye has mark'd afar, The clime that nursed the sons of song and war, The scenes which glory still must hover o'er, Her place of birth, her own Achaian shore. But doubly blest is he whose heart expands With hallow'd feelings for those classic lands;

(1)" [I consider Crabbe and Coleridge as the first of these times, in point of power and genius."— B. 1816.]

(2) [This eminent poet and excellent man died at his rectory of Trowbridge, in February, 1832, aged seventy-eight. With the exception of the venerable Lord Stowell, he was the last surviving celebrated man mentioned by Boswell in connection with Johnson, who revised his poem of the "Village." His other works are the "Library," the " Newspaper," the "Borough," a collection of "Poems," which Charles Fox read in manuscript on his death-bed; "Tales," and, lastly, "Tales of the Hall." He has besides left various poetical pieces in MS., and a collective edition of his works is understood to be in preparation. -E]

(3) Mr. Shee, author of "Rhymes on Art," and "Elements of Art.”— [Now (1832) Sir Martin Shee, and President of the Royal Academy.-E.]

Who rends the veil of ages long gone by,
And views their remnants with a poet's eye!
Wright! (1) 'twas thy happy lot at once to view
Those shores of glory, and to sing them too;
And sure no common muse inspired thy pen
To hail the land of gods and godlike men.

And you, associate bards! (2) who snatch'd to light Those gems too long withheld from modern sight; Whose mingling taste combined to cull the wreath Where Attic flowers Aonian odours breathe, And all their renovated fragrance flung, To grace the beauties of your native tongue; Now let those minds, that nobly could transfuse The glorious spirit of the Grecian muse, Though soft the echo, scorn a borrow'd tone: Resign Achaia's lyre, and strike your own.

Let these, or such as these, with just applause, Restore the muse's violated laws;

But not in flimsy Darwin's pompous chime,
That mighty master of unmeaning rhyme,

(1) Waller Rodwell Wright, late consul-general for the Seven Islands, is author of a very beautiful poem, just published: it is entitled "Horæ Ionicæ," and is descriptive of the isles and the adjacent coast of Greece. — [To the third edition, which came out in 1816, was added an excellent translation of the "Oreste" of Alfieri. After his return to England, Mr. Wright was chosen Recorder of Bury St. Edmunds. — E.]

(2) The translators of the Anthology, Bland and Merivale, have since published separate poems, which evince genius that only requires opportunity to attain eminence. — [The late Rev. Robert Bland published, in conjunction with Mr. Merivale, "Collections from the Greek Anthology." He also wrote "Edwy and Elgiva," the "Four Slaves of Cythera," &c. In 1814, Mr. Merivale published "Orlando in Roncevalles ;" and in the

Whose gilded cymbals, more adorn'd than clear,
The eye delighted, but fatigued the ear;
In show the simple lyre could once surpass,
But now, worn down, appear in native brass;
While all his train of hovering sylphs around
Evaporate in similes and sound:

Him let them shun, with him let tinsel die :
False glare attracts, but more offends the eye. (1)

Yet let them not to vulgar Wordsworth stoop, The meanest object of the lowly group,

Whose verse, of all but childish prattle void,
Seems blessed harmony to Lamb and Lloyd : (2)}
Let them - but hold, my muse, nor dare to teach
A strain far, far beyond thy humble reach :
The native genius with their being given
Will point the path, and peal their notes to heaven.

And thou, too, Scott! (3) resign to minstrels rude The wilder slogan of a border feud :

following year, "An Ode on the Delivery of Europe." He is now one of the Commissioners of the new Bankruptcy Court. — E.]

(1) The neglect of the "Botanic Garden" is some proof of returning taste. The scenery is its sole recommendation.

(2) Messrs. Lamb and Lloyd, the most ignoble followers of Southey and Co. [In 1798, Charles Lamb and Charles Lloyd published in conjunction a volume, entitled, "Poems in Blank Verse." Mr. Lamb is also the author of "John Woodville," "Tales from Shakspeare," the "Essays of Elia," &c.; and Mr. Lloyd has since published "Edward Oliver," a novel, Nuga Canoræ," and a translation of Alfieri's Tragedies.-E.]

(3) By the bye, I hope that in Mr. Scott's next poem, his hero or heroine will be less addicted to " Gramarye, and more to grammar, than the Lady of the Lay and her bravo, William of Deloraine.

Let others spin their meagre lines for hire;
Enough for genius if itself inspire!

Let Southey sing, although his teeming muse,
Prolific every spring, be too profuse ;

Let simple Wordsworth (1) chime his childish verse,
And brother Coleridge lull the babe at nurse;
Let spectre-mongering Lewis aim, at most,
To rouse the galleries, or to raise a ghost;

Let Moore still sigh; let Strangford steal from
Moore,

And swear that Camoëns sang such notes of yore;
Let Hayley hobble on, Montgomery rave,
And godly Grahame chant a stupid stave ;
Let sonneteering Bowles his strains refine,
And whine and whimper to the fourteenth line;
Let Stott, Carlisle, (2) Matilda, and the rest
Of Grub-street, and of Grosvenor-place the best,

(1) ["Unjust."- B. 1816.]

(2) It may be asked, why I have censured the Earl of Carlisle, my guardian and relative, to whom I dedicated a volume of puerile poems a few years ago?—The guardianship was nominal, at least as far as I have been able to discover; the relationship I cannot help, and am very sorry for it; but as his lordship seemed to forget it on a very essential occasion to me, I shall not burden my memory with the recollection. I do not think that personal differences sanction the unjust condemnation of a brother scribbler; but I see no reason why they should act as a preventive, when the author, noble or ignoble, has, for a series of years, beguiled a "discerning public" (as the advertisements have it) with divers reams of most or. thodox, imperial nonsense. Besides, I do not step aside to vituperate the earl: no- his works come fairly in review with those of other patrician literati. If, before I escaped from my teens, I said any thing in favour of his lordship's paper books, it was in the way of dutiful dedication, and more from the advice of others than my own judgment, and I seize the first opportunity of pronouncing my sincere recantation. I have heard that some persons conceive me to be under obligations to Lord Carlisle: if so, I shall be most particularly happy to learn what they are, and when conferred, that they may be duly appreciated and publicly acknowledged. What I have humbly advanced as an opinion on his printed things, I am prepared

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