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And (Heaven be praised!) our tolerating times
Stint metamorphoses to pantomimes;

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 dyeing "heroines blue?" 1

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; 2
Where good and evil persons, right or wrong,
Rage, love, and aught but moralise, in song.
Hail, last memorial of our foreign friends,
Which Gaul allows, and still Hesperia lends !
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 "Fop's 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!

Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu Fabula, quæ posci vult et spectata reponi.

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3" 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 persona were usually Adam, Pater Coelestis, Faith, Vice," &c. &c. See Warton's History of English Poetry. [These, to modern eyes, wild, uncouth, and generally profane performances, were thought to contribute so much to the information and instruction of the people, that one of the popes granted a pardon of one thousand days to every person who resorted peaceably to the plays acted in the Whitsunweek at Chester, beginning with the "Creation," and ending with the "General Judgment." These were performed at the expense of the different trading companies of that city. The Creation" was performed by the drapers; the "Deluge" by the dyers; "Abraham, Melchisedec, and Lot" by the barbers; the "Purification" by the blacksmiths; the "Last Supper" by the bakers; the Resurrection" by the skinners; and the "Ascension" by the tailors. In Mr. Payne Collier's work on English Dramatic Poetry, the reader will find an abstract of the several collections of these mysteryplays, which is not only interesting for the light it throws on the early days of our drama, but instructive and valuable for the curious information it preserves with respect to the strangely debased notions of Scripture history that prevailed, almost universally, before translations of the Bible were in common use. See also the Quarterly Review, vol. xlvi. p. 477.]

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,3 (What harm, if David danced before the ark ?) 4 In Christmas revels, simple country folks Were pleased 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 5 suffers such a show; 6 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. 7 Then may Euphrosyne, who sped the past, Soothe thy life's scenes, nor leave thee in the last; But find in thine, like pagan Plato's bed, 8 Some merry manuscript of mimes, when dead.

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4 [Here follows in the original MS.

"Who did what Vestris-yet, at least, cannot,
And cut his kingly capers sans culotte."]

5 Benvolio does not bet; but every man who maintains race-horses is a promoter of all the concomitant evils of the turf. Avoiding to bet is a little pharisaical. Is it an exculpation? I think not. I never yet heard a bawd praised for chastity, because she herself did not commit fornication !

6 [For Benvolio we have, in the original MS., “Earl Grosvenor ; and for the next couplet

"Suppressing peer! to whom each vice gives place, Save gambling-for his Lordship loves a race." But we cannot trace the exact propriety of the allusions. Lord Grosvenor, now Marquis of Westminster, no doubt distinguished himself by some attack on the Sunday newspapers, or the like, at the same time that he was known to keep a stud at Newmarket - but why a long note on a subject certainly insignificant, and perhaps mistaken ?]

7 [In dedicating the fourth canto of "Childe Harold " to his fellow traveller, Lord Byron describes him as "one to whom he was indebted for the social advantages of an enlightened friendship; one whom he had long known, and accompanied far, whom he had found wakeful over his sickness and kind in his sorrow, glad in his prosperity and firm in his adversity, true in counsel and trusty in peril: "- while Mr. Hobhouse, in describing a short tour to Negroponte, in which his noble friend was unable to accompany him, regrets the absence of a companion," who, to quickness of observation and ingenuity of remark, united that gay good humour which keeps alive the attention under the pressure of fatigue, and softens the aspect of every difficulty and danger."]

8 Under Plato's pillow a volume of the Mimes of Sophron was found the day he died. Vide Barthélémi, De Pauw, or Diogenes Laërtius, if agreeable. De Pauw calls it a jestbook. Cumberland, in his Observer, terms it moral, like the sayings of Publius Syrus.

Now to the Drama let us bend our eyes,
Where fetter'd by whig Walpole low she lies; 1
Corruption foil'd her, for she fear'd her glance;
Decorum left her for an opera dance!

Yet Chesterfield 2, whose polish'd pen inveighs
'Gainst laughter, fought for freedom to our plays;
Uncheck'd by megrims of patrician brains,
And damning dulness of lord chamberlains.
Repeal that act 3! 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" 4 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; 5

[The following is a brief sketch of the origin of the Playhouse Bill: In 1735, Sir John Barnard brought in a bill "to restrain the number of houses for playing of interludes, and for the better regulating of common players." The minister, Sir Robert Walpole, conceiving this to be a favourable opportunity of checking the abuse of theatrical representation, proposed to insert a clause to ratify and confirm, if not enlarge, the power of the Lord Chamberlain in licensing plays; and at the same time insinuated, that unless this addition was made the king would not pass it. But Sir John Barnard strongly objected to this clause; contending that the power of that officer was already too great, and had been often wantonly exercised. He therefore withdrew his bill, rather than establish by law a power in a single officer so much under the direction of the Crown. In the course, however, of the session of 1737, an opportunity offered, which Sir Robert did not fail to seize. The manager of Goodman's Fields Theatre having brought to him a farce called "The Golden Rump," which had been proffered for exhibition, the minister paid the profits which might have accrued from the performance, and detained the copy. He then made extracts of the most exceptionable passages, abounding in profaneness, sedition, and blasphemy, read them to the house, and obtained leave to bring in a bill to limit the number of playhouses; to subject all dramatic writings to the inspection of the Lord Chamberlain; and to compel the proprietors to take out a license for every production before it could appear on the stage.]

2 His speech on the Licensing Act is one of his most eloquent efforts. [Though the Playhouse Bill is generally said to have been warmly opposed in both Houses, this speech of the Earl of Chesterfield is the only trace of that opposition to be found in the periodical publications of the times. The following passage, which relates to the powers of the Lord Chamberlain, will show the style of the oration:-"The bill is not only an encroachment upon liberty, but it is likewise an encroachment on property. Wit, my Lords, is a sort of property; it is the property of those who have it, and too often the only property they have to depend on. Thank God! my Lords, we have a dependence of another kind; we have a much less precarious support, and, therefore, cannot feel the inconveniences of the bill now before us; but it is our duty to encourage and protect wit, whosoever's property it may be. Those gentlemen who have any such property are all, I hope, our friends; do not let us subject them to any unnecessary or arbitrary restraint. I must own, I cannot easily agree to the laying of any tax upon wit; but by this bill it is to be heavily taxed, it is to be excised; for, if this bill passes, it cannot be retailed in a proper way without a permit: and the Lord Chamberlain is to have the honour of being chief gauger, supervisor, commissioner, judge, and jury. But, what is still more hard, though the poor author, the proprietor, I should say,- cannot, perhaps, dine till he has found out and agreed with a purchaser, yet, before he can propose to seek for a purchaser, he must patiently submit to have his goods rummaged at this new excise-office; where they may be detained for fourteen days, and even then he may find them returned as prohibited goods; by which his chief and best market will be for ever shut against him, without the least shadow of reason, either from the laws of his country or the laws of the stage. These hardships, this hazard, which every gentleman will be exposed to who writes anything for the stage, must certainly prevent every man of a generous and free spirit from attempting anything in that way; and as the stage has always been the proper channel for wit and humour, therefore, my Lords, when I speak against this bill, I must think I plead the cause of wit, I plead the cause of humour, I plead the cause of the British stage, and of 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

Ay, but Macheath's example-psha! - no more!
It form'd no thieves-the thief was form'd before;6
And, spite of puritans and Collier's curse, 7
Plays make mankind no better, and no worse.
Then spare our stage, ye methodistic men!
Nor burn damn'd Drury if it rise again. s
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 9 kicks, where Baxter only "shoves." 10

look upon the bill now before us as a step for introducing arbitrary power into this kingdom."]

3 ["Repeal that Act!"-After a lapse of nearly a century, the state of the laws affecting dramatic literature, and the performance of the drama, again became the subject of parliamentary inquiry and report.]

Michael Perez, the "Copper Captain," in "Rule a Wife and have a Wife."

.

[Of this "skill," Reynolds, 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 weeks' 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 out rageous at the moment, what power the doctor possessed of instantaneously terrifying him into obedience ?"" 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 (kus, Sir, thus!" Mr. Burke instantaneously averted his head; and, making no reply, evidently acknowledged this basilisk authority. This story was often related by the doctor himself.]

6 [Dr. Johnson was of the like opinion. Of the “Beggars' 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 frequent the playhouse, or mingle in any elegant diversion; nor is it possible for any one to imagine that he may rob with safety, because he sees Macheath reprieved upon the stage." On another occasion, the common question with regard to this opera having been introduced, he said,-"As to this matter, which has been very much contested, I myself am of opinion, that more influence has been ascribed to it than in reality it ever had; for I do not believe that any man was ever made a rogue by being present at that representation."- See Croker's Boswell, vol. iii. p. 242.]

7 Jerry Collier's controversy with Congreve, &c. on the subject of the drama, is too well known to require further

comment.

8 ["If it rise again."-When Lord Byron penned this couplet at Athens, he little imagined that 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.]

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9 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."-[The Rev. Charles Simeon, fellow of King's Col lege, Cambridge,-a zealous Calvinist, who, in consequence of his zeal, had been engaged in sundry warm disputations with other divines of the university. Besides many single sermons, he also published" Helps to Composition, or 200 Skeleton Sermons," in five volumes; and" Hora Homileticæ, or Discourses (in the form of skeletons) upon the whole Scripture," in eleven volumes.]

10 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 Granger as “a man famous for weakness of body and strength of mind; for

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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,
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 pass,
Unmatch'd 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 favourite 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 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 '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"?

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.
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 sinilis 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.

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 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 he should read, the Doctor replied, Any of them; they are all good."]

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, anything 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.

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, '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 1, to polish by the way?

Idcircone vager, scribamque licenter, ut omnes
Visuros peccata putem mea, tutus, et intra
Spem veniæ 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; sí modo ego et vos
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 fæcibus ora.
Post hunc persona pallæque repertor honestæ
Eschylus, et modicis instravit pulpita tignis,
Et docuit magnumque loqui, nítique cothurno.

Successit vetus his comoedia, 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 Ausi deserere, et celebrare domestica facta, Vel qui prætextas, vel qui docuere togatas. Nec virtute foret clarisve potentius armis,

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 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 the same year:-"I have at last lost all patience with the atrocious cant and nonsense about Pope with which our presents are overflowing, and am

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.

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;

Quam lingua, Latium, si non offenderet unum-
quemque poetarum limæ labor et mora. Vos, ô
Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod non
Multa dies et multa litura coercuit, atque
Præsectum 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,
Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam !
Non alius faceret meliora poemata: verum
Nil tanti est: ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum

determined to make such head against it as an individual can by prose or verse, and I will 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 the best cause of English literature." And again, in 1821 :-"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."]

["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, and elderly

But since (perhaps my feelings are too nice)
I cannot purchase fame at such a price,
I'll labour 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 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.

Sometimes a sprightly wit, and tale well told, Without much grace, or weight, or art, will hold

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 princípium 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; quæ
Partes in bellum missi ducis; ille profecto
Reddere persona scit convenientia cuique.
Respicere exemplar vitæ morumque jubebo
Doctum imitatorem, et vivas hinc ducere voces.
Interdum speciosa locis morataque recte

gentlemen who translate and imitate, and young ladies 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, imitated 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 gle berish, written in all metres, and in no language."- Bys Letters, 1819.- See also the two pamphlets against "Mr. Bowles, written at Ravenna in 1821, in which Lord Byra's enthusiastic reverence for Pope is the principal feature.)

2 As famous a tonsor as Licinus himself, and better paid. and may, like him, be one day a senator, having a better qu lification than one half of the heads he crops, viz.—indepen

dence.

3 ["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. Bayes. Now I write standing-that's one thing; and then another thing is, with what do you prepare yourself? Smith. Prepare myself! what the devil does the fool mean? Bayes. Why, I'll tell you what I do. If I am to write familiar things, as sonnets to Armida, and the like, I make use of stewed prunes only; bas when I have a grand design in hand, I ever take physic and let blood: for when you would have pure swiftness of thouget, and fiery flights of fancy, you must have a care of the pensive part. In fine, you must purge."—Rehearsal.]

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

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;

To" long and short" before they're taught to spell) For him reviews shall smile, for him o'erflow

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, 'Tis clear, are fit for anything 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 sage1, 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 Irus2, 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; Redundance places memory on the rack, For brains may be o'erloaded, like the back.

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 superat? poterat dixisse-Triens. Eu!
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 :

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 trovano

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

"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.

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

[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.]

As Mr. Pope took the liberty of damning Homer, to whom he was under 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

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 everything 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 withhold the spark, 1
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's 6 fate o'ertake him, who, for once,
Produced a play too dashing for a dunce:

Nec, quodcunque volet, poscat sibi fabula credi:
Neu pransa Lamia vivum puerum extrahat alvo.
Centuriæ seniorum agitant expertia frugis:
Celsi prætereunt austera poemata Rhamnes.
Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit 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; [mens,
Nam neque chorda sonum reddit quem vult manus et
Poscentique gravem persæpe remittit acutum ;

Nec semper feriet quodcunque minabitur arcus.
Verum ubi plura nítent in carmine, non ego paucis
Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,

Aut humana parum cavit natura. Quid ergo est ?
Ut scriptor sí 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,

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 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. -[" 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 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 tiewig, 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."]

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