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Uncheck'd by megrims of patrician brains,
And damning dulness of lord chamberlains.
Repeal that act! again let Humour 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 "(1) 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; (2)
"Ay, but Macheath's example"-Psha!-no more!
It form'd no thieves-the thief was form'd before; (3
And, spite of puritan's and Collier's curse, (4)
Plays make mankind no better, and no worse.
Then spare our stage, ye methodistic men!
Nor burn damn'd Drury if it rise again. (5)
But why to brain-scorch'd bigots thus appeal?
Can heavenly mercy dwell with earthly zeal ?
For times of fire and faggot 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(6) kicks, where Baxter only "shoves."(7)

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.

every gentleman of taste in the kingdom. The stage and the press, my Lords, are two of our out-sentries: if we remove them, if we hoodwink them, if we throw them in fetters, the enemy may surprise us. Therefore, I must look upon the bill now be fore us as a step for introducing arbitrary power into this kingdom."-E.]

Whom nature guides, so writes, that every dunee,
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 Philips' faults, of different kind,
For art too rude, for nature too refined,
Instruct how hard the medium 't is 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

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(1) Michael Perez, the "Copper Captain," in Rule a Wife and has been ascribed to it than in reality it ever had; for I do not have a Wife.

believe that any man was ever made a rogue by being present at that representation."-See Croker's Boswell, vol. iii. p. 242. -E.

(4) Jerry Collier's controversy with Congreve, etc. on the subject of the drama is too well known to require further comment. (5) "Ifit rise again."-When Lord Byron penned this couplet at Athens, he little imaginedthat he should so soon be called on to write an address to be spoken on the opening of New Drury, and become one of the committee for managing its concerns.-E.

(2) Of this "skill," Reynolds, the Dramatist, in his Life and Times, records a remarkable instance. The doctor had, it seems, an "eye like Mars, to threaten and command." Threaten, in every sense of the word; for his numerous patients stood as much in awe of this formidable weapon as of bars, chains, or strait-waistcoats. After a few week's attendance on the King, he allowed his Majesty a razor to shave himself, and a penknife to cut his nails. For this he was one evening charged by the other physicians, before a committee of the House of Commons, with rashness and imprudence. Mr. Burke was very severe on this point, and authoritatively demanded to know, "If the royal patient had become outrageous at the moment, what power the doctor possessed of instantaneously terrifying him into obe--[The Rev. Charles Simeon, fellow of King's College, Camdience?" "Place the candles between us, Mr. Burke," replied the doctor, in an equally authoritative tone, and I'll give you an answer. There, Sir! by the eye. I should have looked at him thus, Sir-thus!" Mr. Burke instantaneously averted bis head; and making no reply, evidently acknowledged this basilisk authority. This story was often related by the doctor himself.

-E.

(3) Dr. Johnson was of the like opinion. Of the Beggar's Opera he says, in his Life of Gay: "The play, like many others, was plainly written only to divert, without any moral purpose, and is, therefore, not likely to do good; nor can it be conceived, without more speculation than life requires or admits, to be productive of much evil. Highwaymen and housebreakers seldom

(6) Mr. Simeon is the very bully of beliefs, and castigator of "good works." He is ably supported by John Stickles, a labourer in the same vineyard :-but I say no more, for, according to Johnny in full congregation, "No hopes for them as laughs.”

bridge, a zealous Calvinist, who, in consequence of his zeal
has been engaged in sundry warm disputations with other divines
of the university. Besides many single sermons, he has published
Helps to Composition, or 800 Skeleton Sermons, in five vo-
lumes; and Hora Homileticæ, or Discourses (in the form of
skeletons) upon the whole Scripture, in eleven volumes.—E.]
(7) 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.-[Richard Baxter is described by Grainger as "a man
famous for weakness of body and strength of mind; for having
the strongest sense of religion himself, and exciting a sense of it
in the thoughtless and profligate; for preaching more sermons,
engaging in more controversies, and writing more books, than

Yet Scott has shown our wondering isle of late
This measure shrinks not from a theme of weight,
And, varied skilfully, 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 't is 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 prune the spirit of each daring phrase,
To fly from error, not to merit praise?

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! 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.

Offenduntur enim quibus est equus, et pater, et res : Nec, si quid fricti ciceris probat et nucis emtor, 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 secunda Cederet aut quarta socialiter. Hic et in Acci Nobilibus trimetris apparet rarus, et Enni.

In scenam missus magno cum pondere versus, Aut operæ celeris nimium curâque carentis, Aut ignoratæ premit artis crimine turpi. Non quivis videt immodulata poemata judex: El data Romanis venia est indigna poetis. Idcircone vager, scribamque licenter; an omnes Visuros peccata putem mea, tutus, et intra Spem veniæ cautus? Vitavi denique culpam, Non laudem merui. Vos exemplaria Græca Nocturna versate manu, versate diurnå.

"At vestri proavi Plautinos et numeros et Laudavere sales."— Nimium patienter utrumque, Ne dicam stulte, mirati; si modo ego et vos

any other non-conformist of his age." Dr. Barrow says that his practical writings were never mended, his controversial seldom confuted." On Boswell's asking Johnson which of them be should read, the Doctor replied. "Any of them: they are all good."-E.

(1)"They support Pope, I see, in the Quarterly,"-wrote Lord Byron in 1820 from Ravenna-"it is a sin, and a shame, and a

In sooth I do not know, or greatly care To learn, who our first English strollers were; Or if, till roofs received 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 Without high heels, white plume, and Bristol

stone.

Old comedies still meet with much applause,
Though too licentious for dramatic laws:
At least, we moderns, wisely, 't is 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, (1) 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!

Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod no
Malta dies et multa litura coercuit, atque
Perfectum decies non castigavit ad unguem.
Ingenium miserâ quia fortunatius arte
Credit, et excludit sanos Helicone poetas
Democritus; bona pars non ungues ponere curat,
Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto,
Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus et aure.

Ignotum tragicæ genus invenisse Camœnæ
Dicitur, et plaustris vexisse poemata Thespis,
Quæ canerent agerentque peruncti fæcibas ora.
Post hunc, personæ pallæque repertor honestæ,
Eschylus et modicis instravit pulpita tignis,
Et docuit magnumque loqui, nitique cothurno.
Successit vetus his comœdia, non sine multa
Laude; sed in vitium libertas excidit, et vim
Dignam lege regi: lex est accepta; chorusque
Turpiter obticuit, sublato jure nocendi.
Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetæ,
Nec minimum meruere decus, vestigia Græca
Ausí deserere, et celebrare domestica facta,
Vel qui prætextas, vel qui docuere togatas.
Nec virtute foret clarisve potentius armis,
Quam lingua Latium, si non offenderet unum-
quemque poetarum lima labor, et mora. Vos, ô

damnation, that Pope!! should require it: but he does. Those miserable mountebanks of the day, the poets, disgrace themselves, and deny God, in running down Pope, the most faultless of poets." Again, in situ, same year:-"I have at last, lost all patience with the atrocious cant and nonsense about Pope with which our present sare overflowing, and am determined to made such head against it as an individual can by prose or verse, and I will

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.

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, (1)
And keep your bushy locks a year from Blake; (2)
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 (3)-before I write? If this precaution soften'd not my bile, I know no scribbler with a madder style; But since (perhaps my feelings are too nice) I cannot purchase fame at such a price,

Non barbam; secreta petit loca; balnea vitat.
Nanciscetur enim pretium nomenque poetæ,
Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile nunquam
Tonsori Licino commiserit. O ego lævus,
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 ;

at least do it with good will. There is no bearing it any longer, and, if it goes on, it will destroy what little good writing or taste remains amongst us. I hope there are still a few men of taste to second me; but if not I'll battle it alone, convinced that it is in the best cause of English literature." Again, in 1824:-"Neither time, nor distance, nor grief, nor age, can ever diminish my veneration for him who is the great moral poet of all times, of all climes, of all feelings, and of all stages of existence. The delight of my boyhood, the study of my manhood, perhaps (if allowed to me to attain it) he may be the consolation of my age. His poetry is the book of life. Without canting, and yet without neglecting religion, he has assembled all that a good and great man can gather together of moral wisdom clothed in consummate beauty. Sir William Temple observes, that of all the members of mankind that live within the compass of a thousand years, for one man that is born capable of making a great poet, there may be a thousand born capable of making as great generals and ministers of state as any in story.' Here is a statesman's opinion of poetry; it is honourable to him and to the art. Such a 'poet of a thousand years' was Pope. A thousand years will roll away before such another can be hoped for in our literature. But it can want them he is himself a literature."-E.

(1) That this is the age of the decline of English poetry, will be doubted by few who have calmly considered the subject. That there are men of genius among the present poets, makes little against the fact; because it has been well said, 'that, next to him who forms the taste of his country, the greatest genius is he who corrupts it.' No one has ever denied genius to Marini, who corrupted, not merely the taste of Italy, but that of all Europe, for nearly a century. The great cause of the present deplorable state of English poetry is to be attributed to that absurd and systematic depreciation of Pope, in which, for the last few years, there has been a kind of epidemic concurrence. The Lakers and their school, and every body else with their school, and even Moore without a school, and dilettanti lecturers at institutions,

111 labour gratis at 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,
T is 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 learn'd the duty which he owes
To friends 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, philosophise:
Such is the man the poet should rehearse,
As joint exemplar of his life and verse.

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.

Qui didicit patriæ quid debeat, et quid amicis; Quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus, et hospes; Quod sit conscripti, quod judicis officium, quæ Partes in bellum missi ducis; ille profecto Reddere personæ sit convenientia cuique.

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and elderly gentlemen who translate and imitate, and young la dies who listen and repeat, and baronets who draw indifferent frontispieces for bad poets, and noblemen who let them dine with them in the country, the small body of the wits and the great body of the blues, have latterly united in a depreciation, of which their forefathers would have been as much ashamed as their children will be. In the mean time, what have we got instead? The Lake School, which began with an epic poem written in six weeks' (so Joan of Arc proclaimed herself), and finished with a ballad composed in twenty years, as Peter Bell's creator takes care to inform the few who will inquire. What have we got instead? A deluge of flimsy and unintelligible romances, im!tated from Scott and myself, who have both made the best of our bad materials and erroneous system. What have we got instead? Madoc, which is neither an epic nor any thing else; Thalaba, Kehama, Gebir, and such gibberish, written in all metres, and in no language." B. Letters, 1819.-See also the two pamphlets against Mr. Bowles, written at Ravenna in 1821, in which Lord Byron's enthusiastic reverence for Pope is the principal feature. -E.

(2) 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 the heads he crops, viz.-independence. (3) See the Rehearsal:

66

Bayes. Pray, Sir, how do you do when you write? "Smith. Faith, Sir, for the most part I'm in pretty good health.

"Bayes. I mean, what do you do when you write?

"Smith. I take pen, ink, and paper, and sit down.

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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, Whose generous children narrow'd not their hearts With commerce, given alone to arms and arts. Our boys (save those whom public schools compel To "long and short" before they 're taught to spell) From frugal fathers soon imbibe by rote, "A penny saved, my lad, 's a penny got." Babe of a city birth! from sixpence take The third, how much will the remainder make ?— "A groat."-"Ah, bravo! Dick hath done the sum! He 'll swell my fifty thousand to a plum."

They whose young souls receive this rust betimes, T is clear, are fit for any thing but rhymes; And Locke will tell you, that the father's right Who hides all verses from his children's sight; For poets, says this sage, (1) and many more, Make sad mechanics with their lyric lore; And Delphi now, however rich of old, Discovers little silver, and less gold, Because Parnassus, though a mount divine, Is poor as Irus, (2) or an Irish mine. (3)

Two objects always should the poet move,
Or one or both,-to please or to improve.
Whate'er you teach, be brief, if you design
For our remembrance your didactic line;

Respicere exemplar vitæ morumque jubebo
Doctum imitatorem, et veras 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 canoræ.
Graiis ingenium, Graiis dedit ore rotundo
Musa loqui, præter laudem nullius avaris.
Romani pueri longis rationibus assem
Discunt in partes centum diducere.-Dicat
Filius Albini, si de quincunce remota est
Uncia, quid superet? poteras dixisse, "Eriens."-Eu!
Rem poteris servare tuam. Redit uncia: quid fit?
"Semis."-An, hæc animos ærugo et cura pecull
Cum semel imbuerit, speramus carmina fingi
Posse linenda cedro, et lævi 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.

stewed prunes only; but when I have a grand design in hand, I ever take physic and let blood: for when you would have pure swiftness of thought, and fiery flights of fancy, yau must have a care of the pensive part. In fine, you must purge."—E.

(1) I have not the original by me, but the Italian translation runs as follows:-"E una cosa a mio credere molto stravagante, che un padre desideri, o permetta, che suo figliuolo coltivi e perfezioni questo talento." A little further on: "Si travano di rado nel Parnaso le miniere d'oro e d'argento." Educazione dei Fanciulli del Signor Locke.-["If the child have a poetic vein, it is to me the strangest thing in the world, that the father should desire or suffer it to be cherished or improved."-"It is

Redundance places memory on the rack,
For brains may be o'erloaded, like the back.
Fiction does best when taught to look like truth,
And fairy fables bubble none but youth:
Expect no credit for too-wondrous tales,
Since Jonas only springs alive from whales!
Young men with aught but elegance dispense;
Maturer years require a little sense.

To end at once:-that bard for all is fit

Who mingles well instruction with his wit;
For him reviews shall smile, for him o'erflow
The patronage of Paternoster-row;

His book, with Longman's liberal aid, shall pass;
(Who ne'er despises books that bring him brass);
Through three long weeks the taste of London lead,
And cross St. George's Channel and the Tweed.

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 endeavours, only squall;
Dogs blink their covey, flints with hold the spark, (4)
And double-barrels (damn them!) miss their mark.(5)
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.

Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat.
Ficta voluptatis causâ sint proxima veris:
Nec, quodcunque volet, sibi poscat fabula credi :
Neu pransa Lamiæ vivum puerum extrahat alvo.

Centuria seniorum agitant expertia frugis:
Celsi prætereunt austera poemata Rhamnes.
Omne tulit punctum, qui muscuit utile dulci,
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,
Quambis est monitus, veniâ caret; ut citharœdus
Ridetur, chorda qui semper oberrat eadem :

very seldom seen, that any one discovers mines of gold or silver on Parnassus."―E.]

(2) Iro pauperior:" this is the same beggar who boxed with Ulysses for a pound of kid's fry, which he lost, and half a dozen teeth besides.-See Odyssey, b. 18.

(3) The Irish gold-mine of Wicklow, which yields just ore enough to swear by, or gild a bad guinea.

(4) "This couplet is amusingly characteristic of that mixture of fun and bitterness with which their author sometimes spoke in conversation; so much so, that those who knew him might almost fancy they hear him utter the words." Moore.

(5) As Mr. Pope took the liberty of damning Homer, to whom

Let Havard's (1) 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 't is 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 scrutinised, 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.

Sic mihi qui multum cessat, fit Chœrilus ille,
Quem vis terve bonum cum risu miror; et idem
Indignor, quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus.
Verum operi longo fas est obrepere sumnum.

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 :
Hæc placuit semel; hæc decies repetita placebit.

he was under great obligations-And Homer (damn him!) calls" -it may be presumed than 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.

Our church and state, our courts and camps, concede
Reward to very moderate heads indeed!
In these plain common sense will travel far;
All are not Erskines who mislead the bar:
But poesy between the best and worst

No medium knows; you must be last or first;
For middling poets' miserable volumes

Are damn'd alike by gods, and men, and columns. (9)

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, (3) 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.

O major juvenum, quamvis et voce paternå
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.

of fame would not suffer it to be concealed longer than the tenth or twelfth night of acting the play. The moment Havard put on the sword and tie-wig, the genteel dress of the times, and professed himself to be the writer of Charles the First, the audiences were thinned, and the bookseller refused to give the usual sum of a hundred pounds for the copyright."—E.]

(2) Here, in the original MS., we find the following couplet and

(1) For the story of Billy Havard's tragedy, see Davies's Life of Garrick. I believe it is Regulus, or Charles the First. The moment it was known to be his the theatre thinned, and the bookseller refused to give the customary sum for the copyright.-note:["Havard," says Davies, "was reduced to great straits, and, in order to retrieve his affairs, the story of Charles the First was proposed to him as a proper subject to engage the public attention. Havard's desire of ease was known to be superior to his thirst for fame or money; and Giffard, the manager, insisted upon the power of locking him up till the work was finished. To this he consented; and Giffard actually turned the key upon him, and let him out at his pleasure, till the play was completed. It was acted with great emolument to the manager, and some degree of reputation, as well as gain, to the author. It drew large crowds to the theatre; curiosity was excited with respect to the author: that was a secret to be kept from the people; but Havard's love

"The Devil and Jeffrey are here placed antithetically to gods and men, such being their usual position, and their due one-ac cording to the facetious saying, 'If God won't take you, the Devil must; and I am sure no one durst object to his taking the poetry which, rejected by Horace, is accepted by Jeffrey. That these gentlemen are in some cases kinder,-the one to countrymen, and the other from his odd propensity to prefer evil to good,-than the gods, men, and columns' of Horace, may be seen by a reference to the review of Campbell's Gertrude of Wyoming; and in No. 31. of the Edinburgh Review (given to me the other day by the captain of an English frigate off Salamis), there is a similar concession to the mediocrity of Jamie Grahame's British Georgies. It is fortunate for Campbell, that his fame neither depends on his last poem, nor the puff of the Edinburgh Review. The catalogues of our English are also less fastidious than the pillars of the Roman librarians.-A word more with the author of Gertrude of Wyoming. At the end of a poem, and even of a couplet, we have generally that unmeaning thing we call a thought;' so Mr. Campbell concludes with a thought in such a manner as to fulfil the whole of Pope's prescription, and bé as unmeaning' as the best of his brethren :

'Because I may not stain with grief
The death-song of an Indian chief.'

"Though what gods, men, and columns' interdiet,
The Devil and Jeffrey pardon-in a Pict.”—E.

(3) To the Eclectic or Christian Reviewers I have to return thanks for the fervour 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, although natural enough, surely came but rashly from reverend lips. I refer them to their own pages, where they congratulated themselves on the prospect of a tilt between Mr. Jeffrey and myself, from which some great good be at hand to extract the ball.-[The following is the charitable passage in the Eclectic Review of which Lord Byron speaks:

When I was in the fifth form, I carried to my master the translation of a chorus in Prometheus, wherein was a pestilent expression about 'staining a voice,' which met with no quarter. Little did I think that Mr. Campbell would have adopted my fifth form 'sublime'—at least in so conspicuous a situation. 'Sorrow' has been dry' (in proverbs), and wet' (in sonnets), this many a day; and now it stains, and stains a sound, of all feasible things! To be sure, death-songs might have been stained with that same grief to very good purpose, if Outalissi had clappe down his stanzas on wholesome paper for the Edinburgh Evening Post, or any other given hyperborean gazette; or if the said Outalissi had been troubled with the slightest second sight of his own notes embodied on the last proof of an overcharged quarto: but as he is supposed to have been an improvisatore on this occasion, and probably to the last tune he ever chanted in this world, it would have done him no discredit to have made his exit with a mouthful of common sense. Talking of staining (as Caleb Quotem says) puts me in mind' of a certain couplet, which Mr. Campbell will find in a writer for whom he, and his school, have no small contempt :

'E'en copious Dryden wanted, or forgot,

The last and greatest art-the art to blot!". E.

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