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Great Pindar, I grant all the praises thy due;
But henceforth forget Love and Poetry too:
For age long has clos’d on thee Venus's bowers,
And brandy in vain wou'd awake Poet's powers.
On those laurels acquir'd in thy zenith now rest,
Till the fever of life is extinct in thy breast.
I loye thee, O Walcot! and thus close

my metreIf parted on earth, may we meet above-Peter.


Maledicus a malefico non distat nisi occasione.


The only difference between a slanderer and an evil doer is, that the latter requires an opportunity.

In lieu of a pen, with a slaught'ring Pean mawl,

eyes I next glance on Mathias's scrawl,
Who, of rancour possess’d, must all talents abuse,
Since one sea of gall his dark pages infuse;
While a rivulet narrow of


stinted praise Scarce sheds a pale gleam o'er his impotent lays.(n)

(n.) If a writer be desirous of establishing himself as a candid censor of literature, he should be cautious in his criticisms, and

Each scholar must grant thee true classical know

ledge; But to please, we want more than mere scraps from

the college.


not indiscriminately assail with rancour every literary gentleman
whose work may chance to meet his eye, as virulence, then, as-
sumes the place of candour; and of such a man we can only say,

Qui vult cædere canem, facile invenit fustem.
Whoso is desirous of beating a dog, will readily find a stick.

Mr. Mathias's Pursuits of Literature were purchased with avidity, not as I conceive from the work being so generally read and understood, but in consequence of the unvarying ill-nature which characterised its pages, and the fame which it acquired with a set of scholastic critics who haunt the shops of the Piccadilly publishers, and gave it celebrity as a most classical

production. For my own part, I must confess this work did not appear to me as deserving of the encomiums lavished upon its style, particularly on reference to the poetry, which never struck me as being above a certain degree of mediocrity; but when the çandour of its decisions are examined, no man can regard the

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Thy notes, oft lugg'd in, to the purpose don't speak,
Being solely impress’d to quote Latin and Greek.
I feel, testy Sir, that, in daring thus write,
my head I

draw down


virulent spite: Still boldly I dare it, nor deign budge one jot 0; I speak as I think, sir, for candour's my motto: And, in conning our volumes, the reader I'll swear Will allow that my comments than yours are more


As a Bard, if I scan you, your labour rehearses
But specimens few of satirical verses ;

Pursuits of Literature but as a vehicle of the most unprovoked abuse, and rancorous ill-nature. Every individual who publishes certainly lays himself open to criticism; but where the Found can be healed with a salve, there is no need to apply the amputating knife: this, however, was not the opinion of Mr. Mathias, who perhaps indulged in such strictures, conceiving them mere badinage; but I would reply, in answer to a supposition of this nature,

Tolle jocos non est jocus esse malignum,
Away with such jests—there is no jest in being malignant.

The charm that commanded your poem's quick sale
Was the vein of ill-nature that ran thro' your tale:
With petulance fraught, you assum'd wisdom's guise,
While invective alone met the cool critic's

Scurrility's banner-envelop'd in gloom,
You fain would have woven in Wit's sterling loom ;
But, alas ! sir, the rag, by your noddle unfurld,
Was a patch-work to please the mere gossiping


Now buried your labours, as you are forgot,
May such always prove of dark rancour the lot.


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