喝 Thus, waiting my turn to be serv'd, I conn'd o'er, Thus, Copyright mine, let the Trade frown, I scoff it; Just deaf to the wailings of genius and merit, (g) A race which no venom can too much bespatter; Whose deeds deserve lash of the most poignant satire: Mere jugglers, subjecting the toils of the press, (g) The above term is peculiar to many gentlemen of the Trade who possess no feeling for any one but themselves, having the most rooted predeliction for the old adage, that charity begins at home. For let them but once, as they wish-feel their way, lime Might starve with his pathos, while fashion's dull rhyme Is palm'd forth, and thus public feeling debas'd; Since publishers heed neither judgment nor taste, Two requisites hackney'd-not worthy a thought Of moderns ;-with far diff'rent acumen fraught. To booksellers thus, and the press, we all owe Of science profound the complete overthrow; But such as lack proofs, soon as conn'd are my pages, Will find asses rank on a par with the sages; So affirms wise Sir Noodle; and who dares deny him? If such recreant now lives, I as champion defy him. C THE WRITER TO HIS POETIC BRETHREN. -Mediocribus esse poetis Non Dii, non homines, non concessere columnæ. Horace. With poets mediocrity is not allowable, either by gods, or men, or the pillars which support the shops of the booksellers. My Y prelude thus ended, I next, by degrees, Must enact all the toils of renown'd Hercules; For the theme is so copious of Scribblecumdash, I already feel symptoms bespeaking me rash; Since to bring in one focus all scribes-I'm less able, Than to jabber with each tribe of workmen at Babel. We're told a faint heart will not fair lady win; Thus I ne'er shall conclude, if I never begin: Then at it, my Pegasus, here's whip and rein, And spurn with thine hoofs sconces all that are hollow; Be justice the symbol that marks thy career, I'faith, I've no rancour, nor mean I to show it; Their labours I've studied, and act from cool reason; Thus folly and sense share due comments in season. The flights of bold fancy shall first claim the stricture, For poets stand foremost on Noodle's grand picture, From high vaunted Scot that has caus'd hue and cry O! To Rickman, self-dubb'd after great Mistress Clio. Southey.(2) Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit. Either the man is mad, or writing verses. Horace. TIME was, when a man dar'd an Epic essay, (h) This gentleman's voluminous productions seem to have been written with a view to the display of his universal reading, rather than of annexing to his name the title of a great and lasting poet he has been esteemed a follower of Wordsworth's |