TÓ WILLIAM SMITH, ESQ.

"O THOU within whose splendid mind
The gem of genius glows refin'd;
And, like the sun, with partial ray
Flings a fond lustre o'er my lay!
May I (on whose calm cradle frown'd
The Fates; while pitying wept around
The gentler Nine, and view'd beneath
Grim Dulness tread on Fancy's wreath)
May I, 'mid grief's severest storm,
Assume Mirth's laughter-loving form,
And dress with flow'rs (ah, cruel art!)
The thorn that festers in my heart?
Pity with melting eye will trace

The lines which shame and pride erase
(True pride, without whose noble flame
The poet scarce deserves his name);
And from thy feeling breast of fire,
One spark illume the silent lyre.
So Memnon's statue, as it caught

The beam of heav'n, erst kindled into thought.

"Now then (since I must change my style, Beaming through tears an April smile; And 'mid the sullen gloom of crape, or

Congenial cyprus, cut a caper),

That I am oft and sundry times

More scant of shillings than of rhymes,

Sic visum superis it seems,

Who only give me golden-dreams.
And though Hope's fairy finger mark
Out future purses in the dark,

Yet stern Distress, a rogue unpleasant,
Like bailiff stands to point the present.
In short, as certain beasts I fare:
Wild asses; who regale on air,

While their tame brothers (who discover
Nor sense nor taste) carouse in clover.
Meet seems it therefore, I presume,

If

you would wish my bays should bloom Beyond the Attic or Egyptian,

To tax this nation with subscription.
This nation sure, so monstrous ready
To pension foreign wit when seedy,
Can scarcely vent a miser-groan
To nurse a bantling of its own;
And sooth to say (sooth may be said),
This bantling's better taught than fed.
Meantime some slighter aid might nerve
My soul that bounty to deserve:
Might keep gaunt musing from the door;
While secret, silent, and secure,

Those lofty trifles I transcribe

Which charmed once without a bribe.

A

"THOMAS DERMODY.

P. S. No prose shall I presume to add : This rhyme's enough-to make you mad."

To Mr. Dermody, No. 3, Wood-street, White Friars.

"MY DEAR SIR,

"I HAVE just been reading over the lines you did me the honour of addressing to me; and am concerned to trace through them that distressed state which one is sorry to find cramping the efforts of genius, but with which I had been already in some degree acquainted by your good and my very esteemed friend Mr. Emerson. I will in all my endeavours to do you that service which I am very well inclined to do, be (if I may so express it) ministerial to him; for he has assumed the honourable task (and it is a very honourable one) of alleviating the present difficulties, and promoting the future ease and independance, of a person of undoubted genius. But though I will not so step forward as to strip him of the satisfaction which he will derive from seeing his efforts in your favour successful,

yet with him I shall most cordially conspire; and do for your benefit every thing which my slender means, and still slenderer interest, can achieve in your favour. I should like to talk freely over your situation, without reserve; as in the course of such conversation I may gather some hint of what could be done towards your permanent advantage. Perhaps you can come over for this purpose, and breakfast with me to-morrow; if you have no objection to so late an hour as half past ten. In the mean time I beg you to alleviate any uneasy sense which you may have of your situation, by indulging a firm persuasion that while I find you a man of worth and honour (which I believe you to be), I shall very uniformly be your friend. In Mr. Emerson's attachment you have acquired much: I do not know any man of whom I have a better opinion.

"I am, dear sir, with esteem, your obedient servant,

"WILLIAM SMITH."

"Hume-street, December 15th, 1793."

So fair a prospect opened on the view of any other person than Dermody, would have been hailed as the propitious omen of future enjoyment and felicity. Indeed even by him it was for a time considered as a happy occurrence; but having been previously involved in difficulties too complicated for him to be suddenly relieved from them, and conceiving that a full and candid disclosure of his circumstances might act too forcibly on the feelings and liberality of the friend who had so honourably engaged to assist him, he concealed his real condition, and was consequently deprived of the undiminished effect of Mr. Smith's disinterested generosity. This is delicately hinted at in the following letter. To Mr. Emerson.

"DEAR SIR,

"WERE I not assured that your taste and judgment have raised your sentiments far above the low misapprehension of common