Yet, if you only prize your favourite thought, As the Scotch fiddle, with its touching tune, While such a minstrel, muttering fustian, strays Vir bonus et prudens versus reprehendet inertes: VOL. I. R Though this has happen'd to more bards than one; I'll tell you Budgell's story,-and have done. Budgell, a rogue and rhymester, for no good, Small thanks from him who loathes the life he leaves; Nor is it certain that some sorts of verse Fatal at once to simpleton or wit: But him, unhappy! whom he seizes,-him Probes to the quick where'er he makes his breach, Si quis curet opem ferre, et demittere funem, Or low Dubost-as once the world has seen IN an English newspaper, which finds its way abroad wherever there are Englishmen, I read an account of this dirty dauber's caricature of Mr. Has a "beast," and the consequent action, &c. The circumstance is, probably, too well known to require further comment.-[Thomas Hope, Esq., the author of "Anastasius," having offended Dubost, that unprincipled painter revenged himself by a picture called "Beauty and the Beast," in which Mr. Hope and his lady were represented according to the well-known fairy story. The exhibition of it is said to have fetched thirty pounds in a day. A brother of Mrs. Hope thrust his sword through the canvass; and M. Dubost had the consolation to get five pounds damages.] 2.-Page 213, line 11. Believe me, Moschus, like that picture seems ["Moschus."-In the original MS., "Hobhouse."] 3.-Page 213, line 15. Poets and painters, as all artists know, ["All artists."-Originally, "We scribblers."] 4.-Page 214, line 12. To paint a rainbow, or-the river Thames. 5.-Page 214, line 18. Whose wit is never troublesome till-true. [This is pointed, and felicitously expressed.-MOORE.] 6.-Page 215, line 10. But coats must claim another artisan. Mere common mortals were commonly content with one tailor and with one bill, but the more particular gentlemen found it impossible to I confide their lower garments to the makers of their body clothes. speak of the beginning of 1809: what reform may have since taken place I neither know, nor desire to know. 7.-Page 215, line 12. As Vulcan's feet to bear Apollo's frame; 8.-Page 216, line 7. (As Pitt has furnish'd us a word or two, Mr. Pitt was liberal in his additions to our parliamentary tongue; as may be seen in many publications, particularly the Edinburgh Review. 9.-Page 217, line 7. True, some decay, yet not a few revive; Old ballads, old plays, and old women's stories, are at present in as much request as old wine or new speeches. In fact, this is the millennium of black letter: thanks to our Hebers, Webers, and Scotts!-[Weber was a poor German hack, a mere amanuensis of Sir Walter Scott.] 10.-Page 217, line 22. You doubt-see Dryden, Pope, St. Patrick's dean. "Mac Flecknoe," the "Dunciad," and all Swift's lampooning ballads. Whatever their other works may be, these originated in personal feelings, and angry retort on unworthy rivals; and though the ability of these satires elevates the poetical, their poignancy detracts from the personal character of the writers. 11.-Page 218, line 4. For jest and pun in very middling prose. With all the vulgar applause and critical abhorrence of puns, they have Aristotle on their side; who permits them to orators, and gives them consequence by a grave disquisition. ["Cicero also," says Addison, "has sprinkled several of his works with them; and, in his book on Oratory, quotes abundance of sayings as pieces of wit, which, upon exa. mination, prove arrant puns."] 12.-Page 218, line 14. Where angry Townly lifts his voice on high. [In Vanbrugh's comedy of the "Provoked Husband."] 13.-Page 218, line 18. To "hollowing Hotspur" and his sceptred sire. "And in his ear I'll hollow, Mortimer!"-1 Henry IV. 14.-Page 220, line 5. If some Drawcansir you aspire to draw, ["Johnson. Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that Drawcansir? Bayes. Why, Sir, a great hero, that frights his mistress, snubs up kings, baffles armies, and does what he will, without regard to numbers, good sense, or justice."-Rehearsal.] 15.-Page 220, line 26. Beware-for God's sake, don't begin like Bowles! About two years ago a young man, named Townsend, was announced by Mr. Cumberland, in a review (since deceased) as being engaged in an epic poem to be entitled "Armageddon." The plan and specimen promise much; but I hope neither to offend Mr. Townsend, nor his friends, by recommending to his attention the lines of Horace to which these rhymes allude. If Mr. Townsend succeeds in his undertaking, as there is reason to hope, how much will the world be indebted to Mr. Cumberland for bringing him before the public! But, till that eventful day arrives, it may be doubted whether the premature display of his plan (sublime as the ideas confessedly are) has not,-by raising expecta tion too high, or diminishing curiosity, by developing his argument,rather incurred the hazard of injuring Mr. Townsend's future prospects. Mr. Cumberland (whose talents I shall not depreciate by the humble tribute of my praise) and Mr. Towrsend must not suppose me actuated by unworthy motives in this suggestion. wish the author all the success he can wish himself, and shall be truly happy to see epic poetry weighed up from the bathos where it lies sunken with Southey, Cottle, Cowley (Mrs. or Abraham), Ogilvy, Wilkie, Pye, and all the "dull of past and present days." Even if he is not a Milton, he may be better than Blackmore; if not a Homer, an Antimachus. I should deem myself presumptuous, as a young man, in offering advice, were it not addressed to one still younger. Mr. Townsend has the greatest difficulties to encounter: but in conquering them he will find employment; in having conquered them, his reward. I know too well "the scribbler's scoff, the critic's contumely;" and I am afraid time will teach Mr. Townsend to know them better. Those who succeed, and those who do not, must bear this alike, and it is hard to say which have most of it. İ trust that Mr. Townsend's share will be from envy; he will soon know mankind well enough not to attribute this expression to malice. [This note Lord Byron says was penned at Athens, before he was aware of Mr. Cumberland's death in May, 1811. On his return to England Lord B. wrote to a friend:-"There is a sucking epic poet at Granta, a Mr. Townsend, protégé of the late Cumberland. Did you ever hear of him and his 'Armageddon?' I think his plan (the man I don't know) borders on the sublime; though, perhaps, the anticipation of the 'Last Day' is a little too daring; at least, it looks like telling the Almighty what he is to do; and might remind an ill-natured person of the line 'And fools rush in where angels fear to tread.'' To gratify the curiosity which had been excited, Mr. Townsend, in 1815, was induced to publish eight out of the twelve books, and their eception realised Lord Byron's ominous predictions.] |