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Critique on Lord Byron.*

"Claudite jam rivos, pueri, sat prata biberunt."-VIRG.

So the Public at length is beginning to tire on
The torrent of poesy pour'd by Lord Byron !

Some guess'd this would happen:-the presage proved true.
Then now let us take a brief, rapid review

Of all, or at least of each principal topic,

Which serves as a theme for his muse misanthropic.
First, note we the prelude, which sung by the Minor,
Gave promise of future strains, bolder and finer;
Though the bitter Scotch critic loud raised his alarum,
And swore men and gods could not possibly bear 'em!t
To the fame of the bard men have given a shove-
Whate'er may be judged of his merits above.
Thus stung, did the youngster assail, we must own,
Some names which his fury had well let alone;
As a colt, who a thistle beneath his tail feels,
At all things around madly launches his heels.

Yet blithely, though sharply, the young minstrel caroll'd,
To Reviewers and Bards, ere he croak'd with Childe Harold,
That wight, who, in endless Spenserian measure,
Roams through the wide world without object or pleasure;
Till at last, we find out, with the pilgrim proceeding,
That we gain no great object nor pleasure in reading!

But, first, with what glee did all palates devour

The fragments, which bear the strange name of the Gaiour?
'Tis a tale full of pathos, and sweet is the verse: —
Would some pains in connecting have render'd it worse?

* From Blackwood for April, 1822. — M.

"The

The Edinburgh reviewer, who vainly attempted to crush Lord Byron at the commencement of his poetical career, thus began his animadversions: poetry of this young Lord belongs to the class which neither men nor gods are said to permit. His effusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more get above or below the level, than if they were so much stagnant water." Having made this estimate of the noble poet's powers, which, however justified by some of the Minor's Hours of Idleness, must preclude the Northern Seer from all pretension to the gift of second sight, he adds the following wholesome advice :— "Whatever success may have attended the peer's subsequent compositions, it might have been followed without any serious detriment to the public. We counsel him that he do forthwith abandon poetry, and turn his talents and opportunities to better account."- M. OD.

Then next was our caterer pleased to provide us With an exquisite treat in the Bride of Abydos; — Zuleika, so lovely-so simple-so tender

Yet firm, from her purpose no danger could bend her.
Sour critics may say, all this praise duly granting,
There seems in the plan probability wanting.

By what happy means could these lovers contrive,
With Giaffer's suspicions so warmly alive,

Of the Harem's strict bondage to lengthen the tether,
And so pleasantly take their amusements together?
Of Eastern seràis, though not versed in the fashions,
We've heard, in those climates, where boil all the passions,
No youth could approach, howe'er prudent they thought her,
The sacred retreat of his own father's daughter.—
Such objections are dull;-'tis a pity to show 'em,
If adherance to fact would have spoil'd a good poem.
Now swift in his baik sails stout Conrad, the Corsair,
To surprise Seyd Pasha, with his three tails of horse-hair.
But the destinies order-unlucky mishap!

That Conrad, not Seyd, should be caught in the trap.
Those minds must be steel'd with an apathy rare,
Which mourn not Medora, nor sigh for Gulnare.
Medora, soft Queen of the Island of Thieves,
Whose heart, too susceptible, bursts as it grieves!
The woes of Gulnare, too—we feelingly share 'em-
The pride, though the cold passive slave of Seyd's harem:
But touch'd by the robber, she mounts to the class
Of dames whose whole soul is inflammable gas.
Though caught was the Corsair, the fates had decreed
That this foe, though in chains, should be fatal to Seyd.
Ah! sensitive reader, 'tis hard to persuade ye,

That man could be cool to so kind a fair lady—
When we knew her warm heart, of his terrible fate full,
Risk'd all for his safety-'twas somewhat ungrateful!
And since such great hazard she ran for his sake,
Could his fancy prefer writhing spik'd on a stake,
To giving-(but Poets are full of their fibs)
The savage Pasha a deep thrust in the ribs!
Such delicate scruples we prize at a high rate-
They seem rather squeamish, perhaps, in a pirate!
Quick vanishes Conrad:-bold rover, adieu!

But who is this Lara, that starts into view?

If Conrad thou art, as some people suppose,

Gloomy chief, thou'rt less qualmish with friends, and with foes!

If strong were the "stuff o' thy conscience," oh say

How was Ezzelin so snugly put out of the way?

We see, too, the spirit and warmth of Gulnare in
That feminine page, so attach'd and so daring;
And we shrewdly suspect that the small crimson spot
On her amazon forehead is nearly forgot.

-

'Tis true, when the Corsair old Seyd's palace saw burn,
The Queen of his harem had ringlets of auburn ; —
That the page's are black contradicts not our guesses·
Since ladies sometimes change the hue of their tresses."
Then tack'd to this story, strange mixtures, are seen,
Those dullest of stanzas 'yclep'd Jacqueline.
Alas! for poor Rogers-'twas certainly hard
To be made, as a compliment, foil to a bard
Who needs no such foil-so unapt too to flatter!
'Twere better have borne the worst lash of his satire!
Yet of high-season'd praise he is sometimes the organ,
This Shelley can witness, and eke Lady Morgan.
Shall Rogers's name be inscribed in this set
Whose former bright laurels none wish to forget?

But Jacqueline sues for the garland in vain,

For Memory here brings us nothing but pain.

Can the laud be much relish'd by Gifford and Crabbe,

*

Which is shared by the crazy-brain'd muse of Queen Mub?

Would Dryden or Otway, or Congreve, or Pope,

Sweet Burns, or the Bard who delights us with Hope,

Be flatter'd to find they were join'd in this melée,

And placed cheek by jole with dame Morgan and Shelley?†

* The Poet in describing the faithful attendant on Count Lara, did not perhaps exactly recollect his former account of Gulnare's person

That form of eye so dark, and cheek so fair,

And auburn waves of gemm'd and braided hair."

Dealers in fiction, both in verse and prose, require good memories. Whether this solution, or the suggestion in the text, best meets the difficulty, the sagacious reader will determine according to his fancy. -ED.

+ The noble Baron, in his appendix to the Two Foscari, is pleased to call Lady Morgan's Italy "a fearless and excellent work." The world in general will be more ready to subscribe to the first than the last half of the panegyric. In the same place he tells us that he "highly admires Mr. Shelley's poetry, in common with all those who are not blinded by baseness and bigotry." It might be wrong to advise readers to have recourse to Mr. Shelley's works and judge for themselves. Those who desire to see specimens, and to compare Lord B.'s opinion with that of other critics, will do well to consult the Quarterly Review, in which work may also be seen some useful remarks on the fearless Lady Morgan's literary labours.

A few of the poets of former and the present times are here noticed as hav

Next scowls the fell wizard, hight Manfred the bold,
Who broods over sins which wont bear to be told.

'Tis a drama repulsive, but still it has force.—
How well does he paint the sharp pangs of remorse!

That quill which seems pluck'd from the wing of a raven,
Gives a touch almost worthy the poet of Avon.

Are the pictures from fancy?

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fictitious or real?

Surely Satan himself is the bard's beau ideal!*

Yet 'tis strange that each image that glides through his lanthorn
From Juan, whose joy is on husbands to plant horn,
Who views with delight tears of damsels deluded, —†
To the wretch who hates all things, himself too included,—
All in some striking feature each other resemble,

As in Hamlet, or Rolla, we still saw John Kemble.
If the draughts smack of nature, we care not a straw
Where he finds the dark model he chooses to draw.
Of smaller effusions I pass over loads -
The Family Sketch- Hebrew Melodies - Odes;
Sad Tasso's Lament- soft occasional Verses-

And levell'd at Elgin stern Pallas's curses;

Mazeppa's long race, that intrepid rough-rider,—
And adieus to a Lady, whose Lord can't abide her.
Within two blue paste-boards what contraries meet —
The fragrant, the fetid, the bitter, the sweet: -

ing the good fortune to receive honourable mention from Lord B.; a glory they enjoy in common with the Hibernian Lady-errant, and the poetico-metaphysical maniac. David long ago designated the atheist as a fool; it is more charitable to consider him as a madman. M OD.

*Mr. Southey has conferred the appellation of "the Satanic School" on a certain class of poets. The idea is as obvious as that of calling Venice the "Rome of the Ocean."-Let the worthy Laureat, however, have undisputed claim to the original invention. - M. OD.

+ Mrs. Joanna Baillie has illustrated different passions by a tragedy and a comedy on each subject. Lord Byron has also thus drawn a double represen tation of human depravity. In these, Don Juan performs the part of first Buffo, whilst Manfred leads those who are invested with the serious buskin.-M. OD.

Much abuse has been lavished on Lord Elgin for having sent to this coun try the spoils of the Parthenon. If this celebrated temple could have remained in security, the removal of its ornaments might have been called a sort of sacri. lege. But it is well known that a Turk, who wants to white-wash his house, makes no scruple of destroying the finest remains of ancient art for that ignoble purpose. Was it not, therefore, better to place these precious relics under the protection of Britain, where they will be admired and appreciated, than to let them remain in the power of barbarians, who might speedily reduce them to dust in a lime-kiln ?-M. OD.

Like a garden neglected these fences enclose
The violet, the nettle, the nightshade, the rose.

But amongst these sarcastic and amorous sallies,
Who marks not that effort of impotent malice,

*

Aim'd at worth placed on high-nay, the most lofty station,
Whose strongest, best guard, is the love of a nation.
Far wide from its mark flew the shaft from the string,
Recoils on the archer, but wounds not the King:-
He smiles at such censures when libellers pen 'em-
For Truth bids defiance to Calumny's venom,
We know 'tis the nature of vipers to bite all-
But shall Byron be preacher of duties marital?
Now to poems we turn of a different nature,
Where harangues Faliero, the Doge, and the traitor.
The Doge may be prosy:—but seldom we've seen a
Fair Lady more docile than meek Angiolina.
Yet to move us her griefs don't so likely appear, as
The woes the starved Poet has made Belvidera's.
I'm far from asserting we're tempted to laugh here;
But the Doge must be own'd not quite equal to Juffier.
These ancient impressions the fancy still tarries on,
When forced with old Otway to make a comparison.
Oh! best, tuneful Peer, shone your genius dramatic
Ere your Muse set her foot on those isles Adriatic!
Let her shun the Rialto, and halls of St. Mark,
Contented with Manfred to rove in the dark.

On the banks of Euphrates you better regale us,
With the feasts and the frolics of Sardanapalus.
Philosophic gourmand!—jolly, libertine sage!
Only Pleasure's soft warfare determined to wage,
With goblet in hand, and his head crown'd with roses,
He teaches that death everlasting repose is.

*The ending of the first line of this and the following couplet is designed as an humble imitation of the manner in which Lord B. sometimes closes his lines in serious, as well as ludicrous poetry, in blank verse, as well as in rhyme. In compositions of humour it may be allowable to disjoin words at pleasure, and finish a verse with a most feeble termination; but the license granted to Beppo or Don Juan would be thought unreasonable in works of a graver character. Whoever takes the trouble of examining Sardanapalus, the Foscari, and the Mystery of Cain, will find that the lines are very differently constructed from the practice of the best preceding writers. The Italian poets may have adopted some such mode in their stanzas; but the following this example will not improve the majestic inceding step of the English Muse, as exemplified by Shakespere and Milton.- M. OD.

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