rnt by wicked BEDFORD for a witch, statue placed in Glory's niche;

burst, and just released from prison,

hoenix from her ashes risen.

-emendous Thalaba come on*, onstrous, wild, and wond'rous son;

's dread destroyer, who o'erthrew

magicians than the world e'er knew. Hero! all thy foes o'ercome,

eign-the rival of Tom Thumb!

210

Mr. SOUTHEY's second poem, is written in open defiance and poetry. Mr. S. wished to produce something novel, to a miracle. Joan of Arc was marvellous enough, but one of those poems which, in the words of PORSON,

en Homer and Virgil are forgotten, but-not till then."

w, last and greatest, Madoc spreads his sails, cique in Mexico, and Prince in Wales;

Ils us strange tales, as other travellers do,

re old than Mandevilles, and not so true.

2

! SOUTHEY, SOUTHEY*! cease thy varied son Bard may chaunt too often and too long: thou art strong in verse, in mercy spare ! purth, alas! were more than we could bear.

We beg Mr. SOUTHEY's pardon: "Madoc disdains the degra of Epic." See his preface. Why is Epic degraded? and n? Certainly the late Romaunts of Masters CoTTLE, Laureat P VY, HOLE, and gentle Mistress CoWLEY, have not exalted Muse, but as Mr. SOUTHEY's poem, "disdains the appellatio us to ask—has he substituted any thing better in its stead? he be content to rival Sir RICHARD BLACKMORE, in the quan ll as quality of his verse?

rn thy dread intent may rue : thee," SOUTHEY, and thy readers

the dull disciple of thy school,

tate from poetic rule,

ORDSWORTH, framer of a lay

ing in his favourite May,

230

Woman of Berkley, a Ballad by Mr. SOUTHEY, ntlewoman is carried away by Beelzebub, on a

God help thee," is an evident plagiarism from the SOUTHEY, on his Dactylics:

ly one."-Poetry of the Anti-jacobin, page 23.

t prose is verse, and verse is merely prose,
vincing all by demonstration plain,
ic souls delight in prose insane;

Christmas stories tortured into rhyme,

ain the essence of the true sublime :

s when he tells the tale of Betty Foy,

idiot mother of "an idiot Boy;"

yrical Ballads, page 4.

"The tables turned." Stanza 1.

"Up, up my friend, and clear your looks,

"Why all this toil and trouble?

"Up, up my friend, and quit your books,

"Or surely you'll grow double.”

240

is preface labours hard to prove that prose and verse e, and certainly his precepts and practice are strictly

hus to Betty's question he

answer, like a traveller bold,

cock did crow to-whoo, to-whoo. the sun did shine so cold, &c. &c."

Lyrical Ballads, page 129.