ENGLISH BARDS,

AND

SCOTCH REVIEWERS.

TIME was, ere yet in these degenerate days
Ignoble themes obtained mistaken praise,
When Sense and Wit with Poesy allied,
No fabled Graces, flourished side by side,

From the same fount their inspiration drew,
And, rear'd by Taste, bloom'd fairer as they grew.
Then, in this happy Isle, a POPE's pure strain

Sought the rapt soul to charm, nor sought in vain ;

B

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A polish'd nation's praise aspir'd to claim,
And rais'd the people's, as the poet's fame.
Like him great DRYDEN pour'd the tide of song,
In stream less smooth indeed yet doubly strong.
Then CONGREVE's scenes could cheer, or OTWAY'S

melt;

For nature then an English audience felt→

But why these names, or greater still, retrace,
When all to feebler Bards resign their place?
Yet to such times our lingering looks are cast,
When taste and reason with those times are past.
Now look around, and turn each trifling page,
Survey the precious works that please the age; 20
This truth at least let Satire's self allow,

No dearth of Bards can be complain'd of now:
The loaded Press beneath her labour groans,
And Printers' devils shake their weary bones,
While SOUTHEY's Epics cram the creaking shelves,
And LITTLE'S Lyrics shine in hot-press'd twelves.

Behold! in various throngs the scribbling crew,

For notice eager, pass in long review:

Each spurs his jaded Pegasus apace,

And Rhyme and Blank maintain an equal race; 30

Sonnets on sonnets crowd, and ode on ode;

And Tales of Terror jostle on the road;
Immeasurable measures move along,

For simpering Folly loves a varied song,
To strange mysterious Dullness still the friend,
Admires the strain she cannot comprehend.
Thus Lays of Minstrels*-may they be the last!-
On half-strung harps whine mournful to the blast,

* See the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," passim. Never was any plan so incongruous and absurd as the ground-work of this production. The entrance of Thunder and Lightning prologuising to Bayes' Tragedy, unfortunately takes away the merit of originality from the dialogue between Messieurs the Spirits of Flood and Fell in the first canto. Then we have the amiable William of Deloraine, "a stark moss

While mountain spirits prate to river sprites,
That dames may listen to the sound at nights;

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trooper," videlicet, a happy compound of poacher, sheepstealer, and highwayman. The propriety of his magical lady's injunction not to read can only be equalled by his candid acknowledgment of his independence of the trammels of spelling, although, to use his own elegant phrase, " 'twas his neck-verse at hairibee," i. e. the gallows.

The biography of Gilpin Horner, and the marvellous pedestrian page, who travelled twice as fast as his master's horse, without the aid of seven leagued boots, are chefd'œuvres in the improvement of taste. For incident we have the invisible, but by no means sparing, box on the ear bestowed on the page, and the entrance of a Knight and Charger into the castle, under the very natural disguise of a wain of hay. Marmion, the hero of the latter romance, is exactly what William of Deloraine would have been, had he been able to read and write. The Poem was manufactured for Messrs. CONSTABLE, MURRAY, and Miller, worshipful booksellers, in consideration of the receipt of a sum

And goblin-brats of Gilpin Horner's brood
Decoy young Border-nobles through the wood,
And skip at every step, Lord knows how high,
And frighten foolish babes, the Lord knows why,
While high-born ladies, in their magic cell,
Forbidding Knights to read who cannot spell,
Despatch a courier to a wizard's grave,
And fight with honest men to shield a knave.

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Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan, The golden-crested haughty Marmion, Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight, Not quite a Felon, yet but half a Knight,

of money, and truly, considering the inspiration, it is a very creditable production. If Mr. Scott will write for hire, let him do his best for his paymasters, but not disgrace his ge nius, which is undoubtedly great, by a repetition of Black letter Ballad imitations.