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And Glory, like the phenix 'midst her fires,
Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires.

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,
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,
Requires no sacred theme 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,
Whose Helicon is duller than her Cam.

There Clarke, still striving piteously to please,'
Forgetting doggrel leads not to degrees,
A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon,
A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,
Condemned to drudge the meanest of the mean,
And furbish falsehoods for a magazine,
Devotes to scandal his congenial mind;
Himself a living libel on mankind.†

Oh, 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 Hodgsons scarce redeem thy fame !

* The Games of Hoyle,' well known to the votaries of whist, chess, &c. are not to be superseded by the vagaries of his poetical namesake, whose poem comprised, as expressly stated in the advertisement, all the 'Plagues of Egypt.'

↑ This person, who has lately betrayed the most rapid symptoms of confirmed authorship, is writer of a poem denominated the 'Art of Pleasing,' as 'Lucus a non lucendo,' containing little pleasantry, and less poetry. He also acts as monthly stipendiary and collector of calumnies for the 'Satirist.' If this unfortunate young man would exchange the magazines for the mathematics, and endeavour to take a decent degree in his university, it might eventually prove more serviceable than his present salary.

+ Into Cambridgeshire the Emperor Probus transported a considerable body of Vandals.'-Gibbon's Decline and Fall, page 83, vol. ii. There is no reason to doubt the truth of this assertion; the breed is still in high perfection.

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.

But where fair 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 justly praise their sires.*

For me, who thus unasked have dared to tell
My country what her sons should know too well,
Zeal for her honour bade me here engage
The host of idiots that infest her age.
No just applause her honoured name shall lose,
As first in freedom, dearest to the Muse.
Oh! would thy bards but emulate thy fame,
And rise more worthy, Albion, of thy name,
What Athens was in science, Rome in power,
What Tyre appeared in her meridian hour,
'Tis thine at once, fair Albion, to have been,
Earth's chief dictatress, Ocean's mighty queen :
But Rome decayed, and Athens strewed the plain,
And Tyre's proud piers lie shattered in the main;
Like these thy strength may sink in ruin hurled,
And Britain fall, the bulwark of the world.
But let me cease, and dread Cassandra's fate,
With warning ever scoffed at, till too late;
To themes less losty still my lay confine,
And urge thy bards to gain a name like thine.

Then, hapless Britain! be thy rulers blessed
The senate's oracles, the people's jest !
Still hear thy motley orators dispense
The flowers of rhetoric, though not of sense;
Wh le Canning's colleagues hate him for his wit,
And old dame Portlandt fills the place of Pitt.

Yet once again adieu! ere this the sail
That wafts me hence is shivering in the gale;
And Afric's coast and Calpe'st adverse height,
And Stamboul's§ minarets, must greet my sight :

• The 'Aboriginal Britons,' an excellent poem by Richards.

+ A friend of mine, being asked why his Grace of P. was likened to an old

woman, replied, he supposed it was because he was past bearing.'

+ Calpe is the ancient name of Gibraltar.

§ Stamboul is the Turkish word for Constantinople.

:

Thence shall I stray through Beauty's * native clime,
Where Kafft is clad in rocks, and crowned with snows sublime;
But, should I back return, no lettered rage

Shall drag my common-place-book on the stage:

Let vain Valentiaț rival luckless Carr,
And equal him whose work he sought to mar;
Let Aberdeen and Elginç still pursue
The shade of fame through regions of Virtu;
Waste useless thousands on their Phidian freaks,
Misshapen monuments, and maimed antiques;
And make their grand saloons a general mart
For all the mutilated blocks of art :
Of Dardan tours let dilettanti tell,
I leave topography to classic Gell ; ||
And, quite content, no more shall interpose,
To stun mankind with poesy or prose.

Thus far I've held my undisturbed career,
Prepared for rancour, steeled 'gainst selfish fear :
This thing of rhyme I ne'er disdained to own-
Though not obtrusive, yet not quite unknown,
My voice was heard again; though not so loud,
My page, though nameless, never disavowed;
And now at once I tear the veil away :-
Cheer on the pack! the Quarry stands at bay,
Unscared by all the din of Melbourne House,
By Lambe's resentment, or by Holland's spouse,
By Jeffrey's harmless pistol, Hallam's rage,
Edina's brawny sons and brimstone page.

* Georgia, remarkable for the beauty of its inhabitants.
† Mount Caucasus.

+ Lord Valentia (whose tremendous travels are forthcoming with due decorations, graphical, topographical, and typographical) deposed, on Sir John Carr's unlucky suit, that Dubois's satire prevented his purchase of the 'Stranger in Ireland.'Oh fy, my Lord! has your Lordship no more feeling for a fellow-tourist? but 'two of a trade, they say, &c.

Lord Elgin would fain persuade us that all the figures, with and without noses, in his stone-shop, are the work of Phidias: 'Credat Judæus!'

Mr. Gell's 'Topography of Troy' and 'Ithaca' cannot fail to ensure the approbation of every man possessed of classical taste, as well for the information Mr. G. conveys to the mind of the reader, as for the ability and research the respective works display.

L

Our men in buckram shall have blows enough,
And feel they too are 'penetrable stuff:'
And though I hope not hence unscathed to go,
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 crawled beneath my eyes;
But now so callous grown, so changed since youth,
I've learned to think, and sternly speak the truth ;
Learned to deride the critic's starch decree,
And break him on the wheel he meant for me;
To spurn the rod a scribbler bids me kiss,
Nor care if courts and crowds applaud or hiss :
Nay more, though all my rival rhymesters frown,
I too can hunt a poetaster down;

And, armed in proof, the gauntlet cast at once
To Scotch marauder and to Southern dunce.
Thus much I've dared to do; how far my lay
Hath wronged these righteous times, let others say :
This let the world, which knows not how to spare,
Yet rarely blames unjustly, now declare.

The poems went through three editions with great rapidity; and to the last the author, being then about to proceed on his travels, added the following postscript:

POSTSCRIPT.

I have been informed, since the present edition went to the press, that my trusty and well-beloved cousins, the Edinburgh reviewers, are preparing a most vehement critique on my poor, gentle, unresisting Muse, whom they have already so bedeviled with their ungodly ribaldry:

Tantæne animis cælestibus iræ!"

I suppose I must say of Jeffrey as Sir Anthony Aguecheek saith, 'An I had known he was so cunning of fence, I had seen him damned ere I had fought him. What a pity it is that I shall be beyond the Bosphorus before the next number has passed the Tweed! But I yet hope to light my pipe with it in Persia.

My Northern friends have accused me, with justice, of personality

towards their great literary Anthropophagus, Jeffrey; but what else was to be done with him and his dirty pack, who feed by 'lying and slandering,' and slake their thirst by evil speaking?" I have adduced facts already well known, and of Jeffrey's mind I have stated my frec opinion, nor has he thence sustained any injury;-what scavenger was ever soiled by being pelted with mud? It may be said that I quit England because I have censured there 'persons of honour and wit about town; but I am coming back again, and their vengeance will keep hot till my return. Those who know me can testify that my motives for leaving England are very different from fears, literary or personal; those who do not may one day be convinced. Since the publication of this thing my name has not been concealed; I have been mostly in London, ready to answer for my transgressions, and in daily expectation of sundry cartels; but, alas! 'the age of chivalry is over,' or, in the vulgar tongue, there is no spirit now-a days.

There is a youth ycleped Hewson Clarke, (Subaudi, Esquire,) a Sizer of Emanuel College, and I believe a denizen of Berwick upon Tweed, whom I have introduced in these pages to much better company than he has been accustomed to meet: he is, notwithstanding, a very sad dog, and for no reason that I can discover, except a personal quarrel with a bear, kept by me at Cambridge to sit for a fellowship, and whom the jealousy of his Trinity cotemporaries prevented from success, has been abusing me, and, what is worse, the defenceless innocent above mentioned, in the 'Satirist,' for one year and some months. I am utterly unconscious of having given him any provocation; indeed I am guiltless of having heard his name coupled with the 'Satirist.' He has therefore no reason to complain, and I dare say that, like Sir Fretful Plagiary, he is rather pleased than otherwise. I have now mentioned all who have done me the honour to notice me and mine, that is, my Bear and my Book, except the editor of the 'Satirist,' who, it seems, is a gentleman, God wot! I wish he could impart a little of his gentility to his subordinate scribblers. I hear that Mr. Jerningham is about to take up the cudgels for his Mæcenas, Lord Carlisle. I hope not: he was one of the few, who, in the very short intercourse I had with him, treated me with kindness when a boy, and, whatever he may say or do, 'pour on, I will endure.' I have nothing further to add, save a general note of thanksgiving to readers, purchasers, and publisher; and, in the words of Scott, I wish

To all and each a fair good night,
And rosy dreams and slumbers light.'

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