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We are happy, however, to find that so able a successor Iras resolved to follow his example.

This satirist has made a bold and vigorous effort to stem the tide of popular prejudice, by exhibiting the defects of some of the most popular productions of the present age. The Lay of the Last Minstrel is, one of the first poems which he thus analyses. He pays a just tribute to the genius of the author, but does what ought to be more acceptable to him- gives him some good and salutary advice. He then passes on to some of the minor bards, such as that murderer of English prose, Mr. Wordsworth, and his simple associates. He stops on the way to offer a monitory hint to Lord Strangford respecting his translation of the Lusiad of Camoens.

"Nor thee, translator of the tinsel song,
To whom such flattering ornaments belong,
Hibernian STRANGFORD! with thine eyes of blue *
And boasted locks of red, or auburn hue;
Whose plaintive strain each love-sick míss admires,
And o'er harmonious nonsense half expires;
Learn, if thou canst, to yield thine author's sense,
Nor vend thy sonnets on a false pretence.
Think'st thou to gain thy verse a higher place

By dressing Camoens in a suit of lace?

Mend, STRANGFORD, mend thy morals and thy taste;
Be warm, but pure; be amorous, but chaste;
Cease to deceive; thy pilfer'd harp restore,
Nor teach the Lusian bard to copy MOORE."

We pass over various shrewd remarks on versifiers of inferior note; and, notably, on Mr. Bowles the sonnetteer, who writes verses, it seems, not on belles but on bells-the bells of Ostend; and make a stand at the comments on the doughty Scotch champion of the Edinburgh Review.

"Health to immortal JEFFREY! once, in name,
England could boast a judge almost the same;
In soul so like, so merciful, yet just,
Some think that Saturn has resign'd his trust,
And given the Spirit to the world again,
To sentence letters, as he sentenc'd men."

*The reader who may wish. for an explanation, of this, may refer to "STRANGFORD'S CAMOENS," page 127, note to p. 56, or to the last page of the Edinburgh Review of STRANGFORD'S CAMOENS. It is also to be remarked, that the things given to the public as Poems of Camoens are no more to be found in the original Portuguese than in the Song of Solomon."

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. But we dare not pursue this quotation; for although Mr. Jeffrey has no mercy upon others, and has libelled most wickedly one of the most loyal of men, Don Pedro de Cevallos, for which he is execrated by every honest man in the country, we have no wish to libel him. Let our readers therefore consult the book itself, if they have a desire to see how this Edinburgh Critic is lashed by our Satirical Censor. But we have to beg Mr. Jeffrey's pardon, for on looking at the satire again, we find that the article respecting this worthy Spaniard was written by Mr. Brougham (Anglicè, Broom), the very man who was selected by "All the Talents" as a proper person to be sent on a kind of semi-diplomatic mission to Portugal! We now leave the critics for the company of their worthy patron.

"Illustrious HOLLAND! hard would be his lot,
His hirelings mention'd, and himself forgot!
HOLLAND, with HENRY PETTY at his back,
The whipper-in and huntsman of the pack.
Blest be the banquets spread at Holland House,
Where Scotchmen feed, and critics may carouse!
Lov'd, long, beneath that hospitable roof,
Shall Grub-street dine, whilst duns are kept aloof.
See honest HALLAM lay aside his fork,
Resume his pen, review his Lordship's work,
And, grateful to the founder of the feast,
Declare his landlord can translate, at least *!
Dunedin! view thy children with delight,
They write for food, and feed because they write ;
And least, when heated with th' unusual grape,
Some glowing thoughts should to the press escape,
And tinge with red the female reader's cheek,
My Lady skims the cream of each critique;
Breathes o'er the page her purity of soul,
Reforms each error and refines the whole +."

"* Lord Holland has translated some specimens of Lope de Vega, inserted in his Life of the Author; both are bepraised by his disinterested guests.

"+ Certain it is, her ladyship is suspected of having displayed her matchless wit in the Edinburgh Review: however that may be, we know, from good authority, that the manuscripts are submitted to her perusal -no doubt for correction."

Her ladyship's political associate, Lady Grenville, is said to have been as beneficially employed in displaying her matchless taste in architecture, by directing and superintending the magnificent and stupendous decorations, which the Speaker and his sapient committee of senators have thought proper to sanction, about the two Houses of Parliament, to the equal edification and delight of all passengers, and especially of all architectural perambulators.-Rev.

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The censure of the satirist is next directed against the wretched dramatists of the day, who have really laughed Common Sense out of countenance, and put Comedy herself to the blush. But who are to blame for this? Why truly the public, who can soberly tolerate the trash which the managers cram down their throats, but are base enough to applaud, they know not what nor why.

"Such we see her, ah! wherefore should we turn
To what our fathers were, unless to mourn?
Degenerate Britons! are ye dead to shame,
Or, kind to dulness, do you fear to blame?
Well may the nobles of our present race
Watch each distortion of a NALDI's face;
Well may they smile on Italy's buffoons,
And worship CATALANI's pantaloons *;
Since their own drama yields no fairer, trace
Of wit, than puns; of humour, than grimace."

There is none of the fiction of Poety here: it is all as lamentably true as if it were gravely asserted in sober prose. The diurnal dunces who scribble in some of the newspapers, do not escape the satirical lash.

"With you, ye Druids! rich in native lead,
Who daily scribble for your daily bread;
With you I war not;- GIFFORD'S heavy hand
Has crush'd, without remorse, your numerous band.
On "All the Talents" vent your venal spleen,
Want your defence, let pity be your screen;
Let monodies on Fox regale your crew,
And Melville's mantle + prove a blanket too!
One common Lethe waits each hapless bard,
And peace be with you! 'tis your best reward.
Such damning fame as Dunciads only give
Could bid y
your lines beyond a morning live;
But now at once your fleeting labours close,
With names of greater note in blest repose.
Far be❜t from me unkindly to upbraid
The lovely Rosa's prose in masquerade,
Whose strains, the faithful echoes of her mind,
Leave wondering comprehension far behind 1.

«NALDI and CATALANI require little notice for the visage of the one and the salary of the other will enable us long to recollect these amusing vagabonds; besides, we are still black and blue from the squeeze on the first night of the lady's appearance in trowsers.

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"Melville's mantle,' a parody on Elijah's Mantle,' a poem. This lovely little Jessica, the daughter of the noted Jew seems to be a follower of the Della Crusca school, and has

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Though BELL has lost his nightingales and owls,
MATILDA Snivels still, and HAFIZ howls,
And CRUSCA's spirit, rising from the dead,
Reviews in LAURA, QUIZ, and X. Y. Z*.”

The satirist proves, however, that censure is not his delight, and that he can praise with at least as much ability and taste as he displays when he blames. He calls, emphatically, on the Muses of Campbell and Rogers to stand forth, and assert their country's pre-eminence, and vindicate her character. His appeal to Mr. William Gifford will not, we trust, prove ineffectual.

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Why slumbers GIFFORD?" once was ask'd in vaint; 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?
Walks not gigantic Vice in every street?
Shall peers or princes tread Pollution's path,
And 'scapé alike the Law's and Muse's wrath?
Nor blaze with guilty glare, through future time,
Eternal beacons of consummate crime?

Arouse thee, GIFTORD! be thy promise claim'd,
Make bad men better, or at least asham'd."

If we thought that our voice could add any strength to this energetic appeal, it should be loudly exerted to second the meritorious effort of the satirist, to rouse this slum-" bering genius to action. The bard seems to think that there can be no affinity between poetry and mathematics, and that the mud of the Cam, which is highly conducive to the cultivation of the latter, is by no means favourable to the growth of the former;-and to say the truth, we cannot but think him right.

"Shall hoary Granta call her sable sons,

Expert in science, more expert at puns?

Shall these approach the Muse? ah no! she flies,
And even spurns the great Seatonian prize.

published two volumes of very respectable absurdities in rhyme, as times go; besides sundry novels in the style of the first edition of the Monk..

"* These are the signatures of various worthies who figure in the poetical departments of the newspapers.

"Mr. GIFFORD promised publicly that the Baviad and Mæviad should not be his last original works: let him remember -Mox in luctantes Dracones.'

No. 129. Vol. 32. Mar. 1809.

X

Though printers condescend the press to soil
With rhyme by HOARE, and epic blank by HOYLE.
Not him whose page, if still upheld by whist,
Repines on sacred flame to bid us list *.
Ye! who in Granta's honours would surpass,
Must mount her Pegasus-a full-grown ass;
A foal well-worthy of her ancient dam,
Where Helicon is duller than her Cam.
O dark asylum of a Vandal race+!
At once the boast of learning and disgrace;
So sunk in dulness and so lost in shame,

That SMYTHE and HODGSON Scarce redeem thy fame.
But where pure Isis rolls her purer wave,
The partial Muse delighted loves to lave;
On her green banks a greener wreath is wove,
To crown the bards that haunt her classic grove,
Where RICHARDS wakes a genuine poet's fires,
And modern Britons pertly praise their sires |."

These specimens will suffice to demonstrate the spirit with which the author wields the sword of satire. It will probably be thought by some, that his censure is too general, and sometimes misapplied: on the whole, however, an impartial reader will not hesitate to admit that he is deserving of public thanks for the masterly correction which he has inflicted on incorrigible dulness, and on obstinate maliguity.

POETRY.

The Resurrection, a Poem. By John Stewart, Esq. Author of " The Pleasures of Love." 8vo. pp. 253. Longman and Co. 1808. MR. STEWART certainly possesses respectable talents, but he

"The Games of Hoyle,' well known to the votary of whist, chess, &c. are not to be superseded by the vagaries of his poetical namesake, whose poem.comprised, as expressly stated in the advertisement, all the Plagues of Egypt."

"Into Cambridgeshire the Emperor Probus transported a considerable body of Vandals! Gibbon's Decline and Fall, p. 83. Vol. 2. There is no reason to doubt the truth of this assertion, as a large stock of the same breed is to be found there at this day.

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"This gentleman's name requires no praise; the man who in translation displays unquestionable genius, may well be expected to excel in original composition, of which it is to be hoped we shall soon see a splendid specimen.

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"The Aboriginal Britons,' an excellent poem by RICHARDS.

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