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And MERRY's metaphors appear anew,
When some brisk youth, the tenant of a stall, Employs a pen less pointed than his awl, Leaves his snug shop, forsakes his store of shoes,
St. Crispin quits, and cobbles for the Muse,
How ladies read, and
Genius must guide when wits admire the
And CAPEL LOFFT declares 'tis quite sublime. Hear, then, ye happy sons of needless trade! Swains! quit the plough, resign the useless spade:
Lo! BURNS and BLOOMFIELD,nay,a greater far, GIFFORD was born beneath an adverse star, Forsook the labours of a servile state, Stemm'd the rude storm and triumph'd over Fate:
Then why no more? ifPhœbus smiled on you, BLOOMFIELD! why not on brother Nathan too?
Him too the Mania, not the Muse, has seized;
On Britain's sons, and bless our genial Isle,
MayMoorland-weavers boast Pindaric skill,
And pay for poems-when they pay for coats.
To the famed throng now paid the tribute due,
Neglected Genius! let me turn to you. Come forth, oh CAMPBELL! give thy talents scope;
Who dares aspire if thou must cease to hope?
Unless, perchance, from his cold bier sho
To deck the turf that wraps her minstrel, BURNS!
No! tho' contempt hath mark'd the spurlous brood,
The race who rhyme from folly,or for food Yet still some genuine sons 'tis hers to boast, Who, least affecting, still affect the most Feel as they write, and write but as they feel
Bear witness GIFFORD, SOTHEBY, MAONEIL,
"Why slumbers GIFFORD?"
once was ask'd in vain: Why slumbers GIFFORD? let us ask again; Are there no follies for his pen to purge' Are there no fools whose backs demand the scourge?
Are there no sins for Satire's Bard to greet? Stalks not gigantic Vice in every street? Shall peers or princes tread Pollution's path, And 'scape alike theLaw's and Muse's wrath? Nor blaze with guilty glare through future time,
Eternal beacons of consummate crime? Arouse thee, GIFFORD! be thy promise claim'd,
Make bad men better, or at least ashamed.
Unhappy WHITE! while life was in its
spring. And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing,
The spoiler came, and all thy promise fair Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science self destroyed 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
Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding
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,
Shrink from that fatal word to Genius
Yet truth sometimes will lend her noblest
And decorate the verse herself inspires:
Whose gilded cymbals, more adorn'd than
The eye delighted, but fatigued the ear,
Evaporate in similies and sound:
Yet let them not to vulgar WORDSWORTH stoop,
And here let SHEE and Genius find a place, Whose pen and pencil yield an equal grace; | The meanest object of the lowly group, To guide whose hand the sister-arts combine, Whose verse,of all but childish prattle void, And trace the poet's or the painter's line; Seems blessed harmony to LAMB and LLOYD: Whose magic touch can bid the canvass Let them -- but hold, my muse, nor dare to glow, teach
Or pour the easy rhyme's harmonious flow,
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
The scenes which glory still must hover o'er,
Who rends the veil of ages long gone by,
And you, associate Bards! who snatch'd to light Those gems too long withheld from modern sight;
Whose mingling taste combined to cull
Where Attic flowers Aonian odours breathe,
The glorious spirit of the Grecian muse,
A strain far, far beyond thy humble reach;
And thou, too, ScorT! resign to minstrels
The wilder Slogan of a Border-fend:
Prolific every spring, be too profuse;
And brotherCOLERIDGE lull the babe at nurse;
And swear that CAMOENS sang such notes
Let HAYLEY hobble on, MONTGOMERY rave,
Let STOTT, CARLISLE, MATILDA, and the rest
Scrawl on, 'till death release us from the strain,
Or common-sense assert her rights again; But thou, with powers that mock the aid of praise,
Shouldst leave to humbler bards ignoble
Thy country's voice,the voice of all the Nine,
Let these, or such as these, with just The glorious record of some nobler field,
Restore the Muse's violated laws:
Than the vile foray of a plundering clan, Whose proudest deeds disgrace the name of man?
Or Marmion's acts of darkness, fitter food
For outlaw'd SHERWOOD's tales of Robin To crown the bards that haunt her classic Hood? grove,
Scotland! still proudly claim thy native Where RICHARDS wakes a genuine poet's
And modern Britons justly praise their sires.
For me, who thus unask'd have dared
My country what her sons should know
Zeal for her honour bade me here engage
As first in freedom, dearest to the Muse.
Then, hapless Britain! be thy rulers blest,
Not him whose page,if still upheld by whist,
Yet once again adieu! ere this the sail That wafts me hence is shivering in the gale: And Afric's coast and Calpe's adverse height, And Stamboul's minarets must greet my sight:
Thence shall I stray through beauty's native clime,
Where Kaff is clad in rocks, and crown'd
Let vain VALENTIA rival luckless CARR,
Misshapen monuments and maim'd antiques ;
And make their grand saloons a general | And though I hope not hence unscathed to go,
For all the mutilated blocks of art:
Thus far I've held my undisturb'd career, Prepared for rancour, steel'd 'gainst selfish fear:
This thing of rhyme I ne'er disdain'd to
Though not obtrusive, yet not quite unknown:
My voice was heard again, though not so loud;
Who conquers me shall find a stubborn foe. The time hath been, when no harsh sound would fall
From lips that now may seem imbued with gall,
Nor fools nor follies tempt me to despise The meanest thing that crawl'd beneath my eyes:
But now, so callous grown, so changed since youth,
I've learned to think and sternly speak the
Learn'd to deride the critic's starch decree,
Nay, more, though all my rival rhymesters
My page, though nameless, never disavow'd;
And feel they too are "penetrable stuff:” Yet rarely blames unjustly, now declare.
-Pallas te hac vulnere, Pallas
SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race
Along Morea's hills the setting sun:
On old Egina's rock, and Idra's isle,
And tenderest tints, along their summits
On such an eve, his palest beam he cast, When, Athens! here thy wisest look'd his last:
How watch'd thy better sons his farewell ray,
Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour,
But ere he sunk below Citharon's head,
The cup of woe was quaff'd—the spirit fled;
Not such as erst, by her divine command,
Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,
But, lo! from high Hymettus to the plain, | Her helm was deep indented, and her lance Seem'd weak and shaftless, e'en to mortal
The queen of night asserts her silent reign;
With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams Shrunk from her touch and wither'd in her
There the white column greets her grateful
ray, And bright around, with quivering beams beset,
And,ah! though still the brightest of the sky,
And mourn'd his mistress with a shriek
Her emblem sparkles o'er the minaret:
AndGlory knew no clime beyond her Greece.
Check'd by thy columns, fell more sadly fair
Thrills the lone heart like echoes from
Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both!
What more I owe let gratitude attest-
Th' insulted wall sustains his hated name.
But basely stole what less barbarians won!
The last base brute securely gnaws the bone.
See here what Elgin won, and what he lost!
She ceased awhile, and thus I dared reply, To soothe the vengeance kindling in her