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Though Madoc, with Pucelle,(1) instead of puuk,
May travel back to Quito--on a trunk!(2)

Fierce as a bride when first she feels aftright,
Mild as the same upon the second night;
Wild as the wife of alderman or peer,
Now for his grace, and now a grenadier!
Her eyes beseem, her heart belies, her zone :
Ice in a crowd, and lava when alone.

Orpheus, we learn from Ovid and Lempriere,
Led all wild beasts but women by the ear;
And had he fiddled at the present hour,
We'd seen the lious waltzing in the Tower;
And old Amphion, such were minstrels then,
Had built St. Paul's without the aid of Wren.
Verse too was justice, and the bards of Greece
Did more than constables to keep the peace;
Abolish'd cuckoldom with much applause,
Callid county meetings, and enforced the laws;
Cut down crown influence with reforming scythes,
And served the church-without demanding tithes :
And hence, throughout all Hellas and the East,
Each poet was a prophet and a priest,
Whose old-establish'd board of joint controls
Included kingdoms in the cure of souls.

If verse be studied with some show of art,
Kind Nature always will perform her part;
Though without genius, and a native vein
Of wit, we loathe an artificial strain-
Yet art and nature join'd will win the prize,
Unless they act like us and our allies.

Next rose the martial Homer, Epic's prince,
And fighting's been in fashion ever since;
And old Tyrtæus, when the Spartans warr'd,
(A limping leader, but a lofty bard,)(3)
Though wall'd Ithome had resisted long,
Reduced the fortress by the force of song.

The youth who trains to ride, or run a race,
Must bear privations with unruffled face,
Be call'd to labour when he thinks to dine,
And, harder still, leave wenching and his wine.
Ladies who sing, at least who sing at sight,
Have follow'd music through her farthest flight;
But rhymers tell you neither more nor less,
" I've got a pretty poem for the press;"
And that's enough; then write and print so fast;
If Satan take the hindmost, who'd be last?
They storm the types, they publish, one and all,
They leap the counter, and they leave the stall.
Provincial maidens, men of high command,
Yea, baronets have ink'd the bloody hand!(
Cash cannot quell them ; Pollio (5) play'd this prank,
(Then Phæbus first found credit in a bank !)
Not all the living only, but the dead,
Fool on, as fluent as an Orpheus' head;(6)
Damn'd all their days, they posthumously thrive-
Dug up from dust, though buried when alive!

When oracles prevail'd, in times of old,
In song alone Apollo's will was told.
Then if your verse is what all verse should be?
And gods were not ashamed

were not ashamed on't, why should we?

The Muse, like mortal females, may be woo'd; In turns she'll seem a Paphian, or a prude;

Quod non edideris. Nescit vox missa reverti.

Sylvestres bomines sacer interpresque deorum
Cædibus et vietu fædo deterruit Orpheus;
Dictus ob hoc lenire tigres rabidosque leones.
Dictus et Amphion, Thebanæ conditor arcis,
Saxa movere sono testudinis, et prece blandå
Ducere quo vellet. Fuit hæc sapientia quondam,
Publica privatis secernere, sacra profanis;
Concubitu prohibere vago; dare jura maritis ;
Oppida moliri ; leges incidere ligno.
Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque
Carminibus venit. Post hos insignis Homerus
Tyrtæusque mares animos in Martia bella
Versibus exacuit: dictae per carmina sortes :
Et vitre monstrata via est: et gratia regum

Pieriis tentata modis; ludusque repertus,
Et longorum operum finis: ne fortè pudori
Sit tibi Musa lyræ solers, et cantor Apollo.

Naturà fieret laudabile carmen, an arte,
Quæsitum est, Ego nec studium sine divite vend,
Nec rude quid prosit video ingenium: alterius sie
Altera poscit opem res, et conjurat amicè.

Qui stadet optatam cursu contingere metam,
Multa tulit fecitque, puer; sudavit et alsit ;
Abstinuit Venere et vino. Qui Pythia cantat
Tibicen, didicit prius, extimuitque magistrum,
Nunc satis est dixisse. “Ego mira poemata pango:
Occupet extremum scabies ; mihi turpe relinqui est,
Et, quod non didici, sanè nescire fateri."

(3) 10

is the "Lepidus" of this poetical triumvirate, I am only man has both more truth and poetry too on his sid surprised to see him in such good company :

rarely go together than our patriotic minstrel, whose firs!

essay was in praise of a fanatical French strumpet, whose "Such things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,

title of witch would be correct with the change of the first But wonder how the devil he came there."

letter, The trio are well defined in the sixth proposition of Euclid; (2) Like Sir Bland Burgess's Richard; the tenth book of “Because, in the triangles DBC, ACB, DB is equal to A C, which I read at Malta, on a trunk of Eyres, 19, Cockspur. and BC common to both; the two sides DB, BC, are equal street. If this be doubted, I shall buy a portmanteau to quote i to the two AC, CB, each to each, and the angle DBC is from, equal to the angle ACB: therefore, the base DC is equal

ord Byron had originally writtento the base A B, and the triangle DBC (Mr. Southey) is

** As lame as I am, but a better bard." equal to the triangle ACB, the less to the greater, which is

The reader of Mr. Moore's Live will appreciate the feeling absurd," etc. The editor of the Edinburgh Register will

which, no doubt, influenced Lord Byron's alteration of the find the rest of the theorem hard by his stabling: he has

manuscript line.-L, E. only to cross the river; 't is the first turnpike t'other side

(4) The Red Hand of Ulster, introduced generally ia a “ Pons Asinorum."*

canton, marks the shield of a baronet of the United King (1) Voltaire's Pucelle is not quite so immaculate as Mr.

or quite so immaculate as Mr. | dom.-L.E. Southey's “Joap of Arc," and yet I am afraid the French. (5) " Pollio."--In the original MS." Rogers."-L. E.

(6) “ Tum quoque marmorea caput a cervice revalsum, • This Latin has sorely puzzled the University of Edinburgh.

Gurgite cum medio portans OEagrius Hebras Ballantyne said it meant the Bridge of Berwick," but Southey

Volveret, Eurydicen vox ipsa, et frigida lingua ; claimed it as half English: Scott swore it was the " Brig o' Stirling : he had just passed two King James's and a dozen Douglasses over it.

Ah, miseram Eurydicen! anima fugiente vocabat, At last it was decided by Jeffrey, that it meant nothing more nor

Eurydicen toto referebant flumine ripze.” luss than the counter of Arehy Constable's shop."

Georgic. iv. 522.

Reviews record this epidemic crime,
Those Books of Martyrs to the rage for rhyme.
Alas! woe worth the scribbler! often seen
In Morning Post, or Monthly Magazine.
There lurk his earlier lays; but soon, hot-press'd,
Behold a quarto!—Tarts must tell the rest.

Then leave, ye wise, the lyre's precarious chords
To muse-mad baronets, or madder lords,
Or country Crispins, now grown somewhat stale,
Twin Doric minstrels, drunk with Doric ale!
Hark to those notes, narcotically soft!
| The cobbler-laureats (1) sing to Capel Lofft!(2)

Till, lo! that modern Midas, as he hears,
Adds an ell's growth to his egregious ears!

But what is shame, or what is aught to him ?
He vents his spleen, or gratifies his whim. .
Some fancied slight has roused his lurking hate,
Some folly cross'd, some jest, or some debate;
Up to his den Sir Scribbler hies, and soon
The gather'd gall is voided in lampoon.
Perhaps at some pert speech you 've dared to frown,
Perhaps your poem may have pleased the town:
If so, alas! 'tis nature in the man-
May Heaven forgive you, for he never can!.
Then be it so; and may his withering bays
Bloom fresh in satire, though they fade in praise!
While his lost songs no more shall steep and stink,
The dullest, fattest weeds on Lethe's brink,
But, springing upwards from the sluggish mould,
Be (what they never were before), be---sold!
Should some rich bard (but such a monster now,
In modern physics, we can scarce allow),
Should some pretending scribbler of the court,
Some rhyming peer (3)—there's plenty of the sort(4)
All but one poor dependent priest withdrawn,
(Ah! too regardless of his chaplain's yawn!)

There lives one druid, who prepares in time "Gainst future feuds his poor revenge of rhyme; Racks his dull memory, and his duller muse, To pablish faults which friendship should excuse: If friendship's nothing, self-regard might teach More polish'd usage of his parts of speech.

1) I beg Nathaniel's pardon : he is not a cobbler; it is a failor, but begged Capel Lofft to sink the profession in his preface to two pair of panta- psba -of cantos, which he wisted the public to try on; but the sieve of a patron let it out, and so far saved the expense of an advertisement to his country customers. Merry's "Moorfields whine” was nothing to all this. The "Della Cruscans” were people of some education, and no profession; but these Arcadians ("Arcades ambo"-bumpkins both) send out their native Dorsense without the smallest alloy, and leave all the shoes and smallclothes in the parish nnrepaired, to patch up Ele. gies On Eaclosares and Pæans to Gunpowder. Sitting on a shopboard, they describe fields of battle, when the only Mood they ever saw was shed from the finger; and an "Essay on War” is produced by the ninth part of a “poet.”

"And own that rine such poets made Tate." Did Nathan ever read that line of Pope? and, if he did, why not take it as his motto!--{See antè, p. 61, note 8.-P. E.)

(2) This well-meaning gentleman has spoiled some excel. lent sboemakers, and been accessary to the poetical undoing of many of the industrious poor. Nathaniel Bloomfield and his brother Bobby have set all Somersetshire singing ; nor las the malady confined itself to one county. Pratt too who once was wiser) has caught the contagion of patrapage, and decoyed a poor fellow named Blackett into poetry ; but he died during the operation, leaving one child and two volumes of Remains utterly destitute. The girl, if she don't take a poetical twist, and come forth as a shoe. making Sappbo, may do well: but the “ tragedies" are as rickety as if they had been the offspring of an Earl or a Seatonian prize poet. The patrons of this poor lad are certainly answerable for his end; and it ought to be an indict. able offence. Bat this is the least they have done ; for, by & refinement of barbarity, they have made the (late) man posthumously ridiculous, by printing what he would have had sense enough never to print himself. Certes these rak. ers of Remains come under the statute against resurrechan men.” What does it signify whether a poor dear dead darce is to be stuck up in Surgeons' or in Stationers' Hall ? Is it so bad to unearth his bones as his blunders? Is it not better to gibbet his body on a heath, than his soul in an ortaro!We know what we are, but we know not what we may be ;” and it is to be hoped we never shall know, if a man who has passed through life with a sort of éclat, is to find himself a mountebank on the other side of Styx, aad be made, like poor Joe Blackett, the laughing-stock of Porgatory. The plea of publication is to provide for the child; now, might not some of this “Sutor ultra crepi. dam's friends and seducers have done a decent action without inveigling Pratt into biography? And then his in. scription, split into so many modicums!-"To the Duchess af So-much, the Right Hon. So-and-So, and Mrs. and Miss Somebody, these volumes are, etc, etc."--why, this is doling out the soft milk of dedication” in gills,-there is but a quart, and be divides it among a dozen. Why, Pratt, hadst

thon not a puff left ? Dost thou think six families of distinc. tion can share this in quiet? There is a child, a book, and a dedication : send the girl to her grace, the volumes to the grocer, and the dedication to the devil. (See antè, p. 61.-P. E.) (3) In the original MS.-

"Some rhyming peer-Carlisle or Carysfort." To which is subjoined this note :“Of John Joshua, Earl of Carysfort' i know nothing at present, but from an ad. vertisement in an old newspaper of certain Poems and Tragedies by his Lordship, which I saw by accident in the Morea. Being a rhymer himself, he will forgive the liberty I take with his name, seeing, as he must, how very cummodious it is at the close of that couplet; and as for what follows and goes before, let him place it to the account of the other Thane ; since I cannot, under these circumstances, augur pro or con the contents of his foolscap crown octavos.'"- (John Joshua Proby, first Earl of Carysfort, was joint postmaster-general in 1805, envoy to Berlin in 1806, and ambassador to Petersburgh in 1807. Besides his poems, he published two pamphlets, to show the necessity of universal suffrage and short parliaments. He died in 1828.-L. E.)

(4) Here will Mr. Gifford allow me to introduce once more to his notice the sole survivor, the ultimas Romanorum," the last of the Cruscanti-" Edwin" the “ profound," by our Lady of Punishment! here he is, as lively as in the days of “well said Baviad the Correct." I thought Fitzgerald had been the tail of poesy; but, alas! he is only the penultimate. A FAMILIAR EPISTLE TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING

CHRONICLE
What reams of paper, floods of ink,“
Do some men spoil, who never think!
And so perhaps you 'll say of me,
In which your readers may agree.
Still I write on, and tell you why;
Nothing's so bad, you can't deny,
But may instruct or entertain
Without the risk of giving pain;
And, should you doubt what I assert,
The name of Camden I insert,
Who novels read, and oft maintain'd
He here and there some knowledge gain'd:
Then why not 1 indulge my pen,
Though I no fame or profit gain,
Yet may amuse your idle men;
Of whom, though some may be severe,
Others may read without a sneer?
Thus much premised, I next proceed
To give you what I feel my creed,
And in what follows to display

Some humours of the passing day.
ON SOME MODERN QUACKS AND REFORMISTS.

In tracing of the human mind

Through all its various courses,
Though strange, 't is true, we often find
It knows not its resources :

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Condemn the unlacky curate to recite
Their last dramatic work by candle-light,
How would the preacher turn each rueful leaf,
Dull as his sermons, but not half so brief!
Yet, since 't is promised at the rector's death,
He'll risk no living for a little breath.
Then spouts and foams, and cries at every line,
(The Lord forgive him!) “Bravo! grand! divine!"
Hoarse with those praises (which, by flattery fed,
Dependence barters for her bitter bread),
He strides and stamps along with creaking boot,
Till the floor echoes his emphatic foot;
Then sits again, then rolls his pious eye,
As when the dying vicar will not die!
Nor feels, forsooth, emotion at his heart;-
But all dissemblers overact their part.

No matter, throw your ornaments aside,
Better let him than all the world deride.
Give light to passages too much in shade,
Nor let a doubt obscure one verse you've made;
Your friend's “a Johnson," not to leave one word,
However trifling, which may seem absurd :
Such erring trifles lead to serious ills,
And furnish food for critics,(3) or their quills.

Ye, who aspire to build the lofty rhyme,” (1) Believe not all who laud your false sublime;" But if some friend shall hear your work, and say, "Expunge that stanza, lop that line away," And, after fruitless efforts, you return Without amendment, and he answers, Burn!” That instant throw your paper in the fire, Ask not his thoughts, or follow his desire; But (if true bard!) you scorn to condescend, And will not alter what you can't defend, If you will breed this bastard of your brains,(2) We'll have no words—I've only lost my pains.

As the Scotch fiddle, with its touching tune, Or the sad influence of the angry moon, All men avoid bad writers' ready tongues, As yawning waiters fly (4) Fitzscribble's (5) langs; Yet on he mouths—ten minutes tedious each As prelate's homily, or placeman's speech; Long as the last years of a lingering lease, When riot pauses until rents increase. While such a minstrel, muttering fustian, strays O'er hedge and ditch, through unfrequented ways, If by some chance he walks into a well, And shouts for succour with stentorian yell, "A rope! help, Christians, as ye hope for grace!* Nor woman, man, nor child will stir a pace; For there his carcass he might freely fling, From frenzy, or the humour of the thing. Though this has happen'd to more bards than one; I'll tell you Budgell's story,—and have done.

Yet, if you only prize your favourite thought, As critics kindly do, and authors ought; If your cool friend annoy you now and then, And cross whole pages with his plaguy pen;

Budgell, a rogue and rhymester, for no good, (Unless his case be much misunderstood) When teased with creditors' continual claims, «To die like Cato,”(6) leapt into the Thames ! And therefore be it lawful through the town For any bard to poison, hang, or drown.(7)

Si carmina condes, Nunquam te fallant animi sub vulpe latentes. Quintilio si quid recitares, “ Corrige, sodes, Hoc faiebat) et hoc:" melius te posse negares, Bis terque expertum frustra; delere jubebat, Et male tornatos incudi reddere versus. Si defendere delictum, quam vertere, malles, Nullum ultra verbum, aut operam insumebat inanem, Quin sine rivali teque et tua solas amares.

Vir bonus et prudens versus reprehendet inertes, Culpabit duros, incomtis allinet atrum Transverso calamo signum; ambitiosa recidet Ornamenta: parum claris lucem dare coget:

Arguct ambigué dictum: mutanda notabit ;
Fiet Aristarchus: nec dicet, “Cur ego amicam
Offendam in nugis.".-Hæ nagæ seria ducent
In mala derisum semel exceptumque sinistre.

Ut mala quem scabies, aut morbus regius urget,
Aut fanaticus error, et iracunda Diana;
Vesanum tetigisse timent fugiuntque poetam,
Qui sapiunt; agitant pueri, incautique sequuntur.

Hic dum sublimes versus ructatur, et errat,
Si veluti merulis intentus decidit auceps
In puteum foveamve; licet " Succurrite," longum
Clamet, “lo cives!” non sit qui tollere curet,
Si quis curet opem ferre, et demittere funem;

And men through life assume a part

For which no talents they possess,
Yet wonder that, with all their art,

They meet no better with success.
'T is thus we see, through life's career,

So few excel in their profession;
Whereas, would each man but appear

In what's within his own possession,
We should not see such daily quacks

(For quacks there are in every art)
Attempting, by their strange attacks,

To meliorate the mind and heart.
Nor mean I here the stage alone,

Where some deserve the applause they meet;
For quacks there are, and they well known

In either House who bold a seat.
Reform's the order of the day, I bear,

To which I cordially assent:
But then let this reform appear,

And every class of men cement.
For if you but reform a few,

And others leave to their full bent,
I fear you will but little do,

And find your time and pains misspent.
Let each man to his post assign'd

By Nature, take his part to act,
And then sew causes shall we find

To call each man we meet- quack. • For such every man is who either appears to be what he is not, or strives to be what be cannot.

I) See Milton's Lycidas.-L.E. (2) “ Bastard of your brains." -Minerva being the first by Jupiter's head-piece, and a variety of equally unaccount. able parturitions upon earth, such as Madoc, etc, etc, etc. (3) “A crust for the critics." - Bayes, in the Rehearsal.

) And the waiters” are the only fortunate people who can “fly" from them; all the rest, viz. the sad subscribers to the "Literary Fund," being compelled, by courtesy, to sit out the recitation without a hope of exclaiming, u Sic" (that is, by choking Fitz, with bad wine, or worse poetry) "me servavit Apollo ! ”

(5) Fitzscribble," originally “Fitzgerald.” (See p. 49.;L. E.

(6) On his table were found these words: “What Cate did, and Addison approved, cannot be wrong.But Addison did not approve;" and if he had, it would not have mended the matter. He had invited his daughter on the same water-party; but Miss Budgell, by some accident, escaped this last paternal attention. Thus fell the sycophant of “Atticus," and the enemy of Pope Eustace Budgell, a friend and relative of Addison's, "leapt into the Thames to escape a prosecution, on account of forging the will of Dr. Tindal; in which Eustace bad provided himself with a legacy of two thousand pounds. To this Pope alludes

* Let Budgell charge low Grub-street on my quill,

And write whate'er be please--except my will."-LE) « We talked (says Boswell) of a man's drowning bimHides her fair face, or girds her glowing form, (1) This fierce philippic on Lord Elgin, whose collection of allasions in this poem are not such as require much ex. Albenian marbles was ultimately purchased for the nation, planation, It contains many lines which, it is hoped, the in 1816, at the cost of thirty-five thousand pounds, was author, on mature reflection, disapproved of -- byt is too written at Atheas, in March, 1811, and prepared for pub vigorous a specimen of his iambics to be omitted in any Eration along with the Hints from Horace; but, like that collective edition of his works.-L.E. entire, suppressed by Lord Byron, from motives which the (2) The splendid lines with which this satire opens, down

Who saves the intended suicide receives

And hence is haunted with a rhyming rage-
Small thanks from him who loathes the life he leaves ; Fear'd like a bear just bursting from his cage.
And, sooth to say, mad poets must not lose | If free, all fly his versifying fit,
The glory of that death they freely choose.

Fatal at once to simpleton or wit.

But him, unhappy! whom he seizes,--him % Nor is it certain that some sorts of verse

He flays with recitation limb by limb; | Prick not the poet's conscience as a curse;

Probes to the quick where'er he makes his breach, Dosed (1) with vile drams on Sunday he was found, And gorges like a lawyer or a leech. Or got a child on consecrated ground!

(ai scis an prudens huc se projecerit, atque
Serrari nobit? Dicam: Siculique poetæ
Narrabo interitum. Deus immortalis haberi
Dum cupit Empedocles, ardentem frigidus Ætnam
basi uit. Sit jas, liceatque perire poetis :
Invitam qui servat, idem facit occidenti.
Nee semel hoc fecit; nec si retractus erit, jam
Fiet hono, et ponet famosæ mortis amorem.

Nec satis apparet, cur versus factitet: utrum
Minxerit in patrios cineres, an triste bidental
Moverit incestus: certe furit, ac velut ursus,
Objectos caveæ valuit si frangere clatbros,
Indoctum doctumque fugat recitator acerbus;
Quem vero arripuit, tenet, occiditque legendo,
Non missura cutem, nisi plena cruoris, hirudo.

selt.-Jonysos. I should never think it time to make Ja distant country; let him go to some place where he is not away with myself. I put the case of Eustace Budgell, who known. Don't let him go to the devil, where he is known.'» was accased of forging a will, and sunk himself in the See Croker's Boswell, vol, ii. pp. 229. 290.-L. E. Tanmes, before the trial of its authenticity came on. Sup. (1) If " dosed with," etc. be censured as low, I beg leave pose, Sir,' said I, that a mau is absolutely sure that, if he to refer to the original for something still lower, and if lires a few days longer, he shall be detected in a fraud, the any reader will translate " Minxerit in patrios cineres,” etc. consequence of which will be utter disgrace, and expulsion into a decent couplet, I will insert said couplet in lieu of Erva society?' Jonssoy. Then, Sir, let him go abroad to the present.

The Curse of Minerva (1)

“Pallas te hoc vulnere, Pallas Immolat, et poenam scelerato ex sanguine sumit."

Æneid, lib. xii.

1 On such an eve his palest beam he cast Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, (2) When, Athens! here thy wisest look'd his last. Along Morea's bills the setting sun;

How watch'd thy better sons his farewell ray, Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, That closed their murder'd sage's (3) latest day! Bat one unclouded blaze of living light;

Not yet--not yet-Sol pauses on the hill,
O'er the bush'd deep the yellow beam he throws, The precious hour of parting lingers still;
Gilds the green ware that trembles as it glows; But sad his light to agonising, eyes,
On old Ægina's rock and Hydra's isle

And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes;
The god of gladness sheds his parting smile; Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour,
O'er his own regions lingering loves to shine, The land where Phoebus never frown'd before;
Though there his altars are no more divine.

But ere he sank below Citheron's head, Descending fast, the mountain-shadows kiss

The cup of woe was quaff'd—the spirit fled; Thy glorious gulf, unconquer'd Salamis !

The soul of him that scorn'd to fear or fly, Their azure arches through the long expanse, Who lived and died as none can live or dię. More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, But, lo! from high Hymettus to the plain. Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven; The queen of night asserts her silent reign;(4) Til, darkly shaded from the land and deep,

No murky vapour, herald of the storm, Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep.

der will easily understand. It was first given to the to “As thus, within the walls of Pallas' fane," first appeared ward in 1828. Few can wonder that Lord Byron's feelings at the commencement of the third canto of the Corsair, the Shoald have been powerfully excited by the spectacle of the author having, at that time, abandoned all notion of pub. despoiled Parthenon; but it is only due to Lord Elgin to | lishing the piece of which they originally made part.-L. E. keep in mind, that, had those precious marbles remained, (3) Socrates drank the hemlock a short time before sunthey most, in all likelibood, have perished for ever amidst | set (the hour of execution), notwithstanding the entreaties Se miserable scenes of violence which Athens has since of his disciples to wait till the sun went down. assessed, and that their presence in England has already, (4) The twilight in Greece is much shorter than in our Why waiversal admission, been of the most essential ad own country; the days in winter are longer, but in sumvantage to the fine arts of our own country. The political mer of less duration.

With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams play,
There the white column greets her grateful ray,
And bright around, with quivering beams beset,
Her emblem sparkles o'er the minaret:
The groves of olive scatter'd dark and wide,
Where meek Cephisus sheds bis scanty tide,
The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,
The gleaming turret of the gay kiosk,(1)
And sad and sombre ʼmid the holy calm,
Near Theseus' fane, yon solitary palm ;(2)
All, tinged with varied hues, arrest the eye;
And dull were his that pass'd them heedless by.(3)

Long bad I mused, and treasured every trace
The wreck of Greece recorded of her race,
When, lo! a giant form before me strode,
And Pallas hail'd me in her own abode!

Yes, 'twas Minerva's self; but, ah! how changed
| Since o'er the Dardan field in arms she ranged!
Not such as erst, by her divine command,
Her form appear'd from Phidias' plastic hand :
Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,
Her idle ægis bore no Gorgon now;
Her helm was dinted, and the broken lance
Seem'd weak and shartless e'en to mortal glance;
The olive branch, which still she deign'd to clasp,
Shrunk from her touch, and wither'd in her grasp;

And, ah! though still the brightest of the sky, | Celestial tears bedimm'd her large blue eye;

Round the rent casque her owlet circled slow, And mourn'd his mistress with a shriek of woe!

Again the Ægean, heard no more afar, Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war; Again his waves in milder tints unfold

Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold, Mix'd with the shades of many a distant isle, That frown, where gentler ocean deigns to smile.

As thus, within the walls of Pallas' fane, I mark'd the beauties of the land and main, Alone, and friendless, on the magic shore, Whose arts and arms but live in poets' lore; Oft as the matchless dome I turn'd to scan, Sacred to gods, but not secure from man, The past return'd, the present seem'd to cease, And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece!

"Mortal!» _'t was thus she spake-" that blash of Proclaims thee Briton, once a noble name: (shame First of the mighty, foremost of the free, Now honour'd less by all, and least by me: Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found. Seek'st thou the cause of loathing ?-look around. Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire, I saw successive tyrannies expire. 'Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth, (4) Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both. (5) Survey this vacant, violated fane; Recount the relics torn that yet remain : These Cecrops placed, this pericles adorn'd, (6) That Adrian rear'd when drooping Science moun'd. What more I owe let gratitude attestKnow, Alaric and Elgin did the rest. That all may learn from whence the plunderer came, The insulted wall sustains his hated name: (7)

Hours rolld along, and Dian's orb on high Had gain’d the centre of her softest sky; And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod O'er the vain shrine of many a vanish'd god : But chiefly, Pallas! thine; when Hecate's glare, Check'd by thy columns, fell more sadly fair O'er the chill marble, where the startling tread Thrills the lone heart like echoes from the dead,

(1) The kiosk is a Turkish summer-house. Cephisus' stream is indeed scanty, and Missus has no stream at all.

(2) This palm is without the present walls of Athens, not far from the Temple of Theseus, between which and the tree the wall intervenes. Upon the death of Lord Byron it was proposed by Colonel Stanhope that he should be buried at Athens, in the Temple of Theseus ; and the Chief, Odysseus, sent an express to Missolonghi to enforce this wish. The design, however, was subsequently abandoned, and the Noble Poet's remains were removed to his country.-P.E,

(3) “During our residence of ten weeks at Athens, there was not, I believe, a day of which we did not devote a part to the contemplation of the noble monuinents of Grecian genios, that have outlived the ravages of time, and the outrage of barbarous and antiquarian despoilers. The Temple of Theseus, which was within five minntes' walk of our lodgings, is the most perfect ancient edifice in the world. In this fabric, the most enduring stability, and a simplicity of design peculiarly striking, are united with the highest elegance and accuracy of workmanship; the characteristic of the Doric style, whose chaste heauty is not, in the opinion of the first artists, to be equalled by the graces of any of the other orders. A gentleman of Athens, of great taste and skin, assured us that, after a continued contemplation of this temple, and the remains of the Par. thenon, he could never again look with his accustomed satisfaction upon the Ionic and Corinthian ruins of Athens, much less upon the specimens of the more modern species of architecture to be seen in Italy." Hobhouse. L.E.

(A) « On the plaster wall, on the west side of the chapel, these words have been very deeply cut:

QUOD NON FECERUNT GOTI,

HOC FECERUNT Scoti, The mortar wall, yet fresh when we saw it, supplying the place of the statue now in Lord Elgin's collection, serves

as a comment on this text. This eulogy of the Goths allndes to an unfounded story of a Greek historian, who relates that Alaric, either terrified by two phantoms, one of Ni nerva herself, the other of Achilles, terrible as when be strode towards the walls of Troy to his friends, or struck with a reverential respect, had spared the treasures, orga ments, and people of the venerable city." Hobhouse. L (5) In the original MS.

“Ah, Athens ! scarce escaped from Turk and Goth,

Hell sends a paltry Scotchman worse than both."-LE.

) This is spoken of the city in general, and not of the Acropolis in particular. The temple of Jupiter Olympius, by some supposed the Pantheon, was finished by Hadrias; sixteen columps are standing, of the most beautiful marble and architecture.

(7) It is stated by a late oriental traveller, that when the wholesale spoliator visited Athens, be caused his own name, with that of his wife, to be inscribed on a pillar el one of the principal temples. This inscription was executed in a very conspicuous manner, and deeply engraved in the marble, at a very considerable elevation. Notwithstanding which precautions, some person (doubtless inspired by the Patron Goddess), has been at the pains to get himself raised up to the requisite height, and has obliterated the name el the laird, but left that of the lady untouched. The tra veller in question accompanied this story by a remark, tha it must have cost some labour and contrivance to get a the place, and could only have been effected by much zea and determination. (On the original MS. is written:

** Aspice quos Pallas Scoto concedit honores,

Infrà stat nomen -facta supráque vide,
Scote miser: quamvis nocuisti Palladis ædi.

Infandum facinus vindicat ipsa Venus.
Pygmalion statuam pro sponsa arsisse refertur;

Tu statuam rapias, Scote, sed nor abest."-P.E]

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