THE

MODERN DUNCIAD.

P. HOW anxious is the Bard, and yet how vain

His wishes:

F. Cease this moralizing strain,

What mortal will peruse it?

P. P'rhaps a few :

F. Alas! the town has something else to do,

Than read one line of all thou shalt indite,

While BYRON, WORDSWORTH, SCOTT, and CROKER

write.

'Tis hard-but

B

P. Spare thy pity, 'tis my lot;

What some might think a grievance, hurts me not:

The Bard by fashion dragg'd before the scene,

Nor wakes my envy, nor provokes my spleen;

Let venal Scotchmen puff him to the town,

And herald hawkers cry him up and down,

Indiff'rent still, I hear the loud acclaim,

Nor court that noisy strumpet, Common Fame.

Yes! I can bear that envy, hate, and spite,

And cold contempt attend on all I write;

That WILSON's ideot, THURLOW's splayfoot line,

And BARRETT'S† doggrel be preferr❜d to mine;

* Mr. Wilson, the "Magnus Apollo" of the Edinburgh Reviewers, and author of certain rhymes called "The Isle of Palms.”

+ Mr. Eaton Stannard Barrett, Student of the Inner Temple ; "A Clerk főredoom'd his father's soul to cross,

"Who pens a stanza, when he should engross."

1

No threats can sway me, no opinions bend,

I care not ;-let them censure or commend.

Yet would I speak, but coward fear restrains

The rebel blood just rising in my veins;

Sets my imagination at a stand,

And makes my pen drop harmless from my hand. F. Why Truth, that arms the Stoic, ne'er can fail

P. Then Fear for once give way, and Truth prevail.

When I behold in this weak driv❜ling age,

POOLE, DIBDIN, Pocock, Hook, possess the stage;

This gentleman is the author of a poem called "Woman," from which might be extracted many passages that would tend to illustrate the Bathos.

Mr. Barrett has lately obliged the town with "The Heroine," a novel, which Mr. B. himself pronounces in his advertisement to be superior in wit to Tristram Shandy, and in spirit and contrivance to Don Quixote! If impudence be a qualification for legal advancement, this young man may one day become Attorney-General.

Charm Gallery, Box, and Pit, a judging throng!

With Melo-drame, and Pantomime, and

See boxing *Y******H in the lists

song:

appear,

And *H**KE drive forth a flaming chariotteer;

See COUTTS ape all that Queensb'ry was before,
A palsied, amorous Strephon of fourscore.

Yes! when I hear frail Misses, grey in years,

Scream their lascivious Odes, and rhyming Peers

In little Sonnets, tender, dull, and soft,

Outwhine the mawkish frippery of LoFFT † ;

* Lord Y*****th and Lord H**ke, the one a Bruiser, the other

a Stage-Coachman; both Noblemen, and both * *

Who justly boast

At least superior Jockeyship, and claim

The honours of the Turf as all their own.

+ Mr. Capel Lofft, a Sonnet-Writer in the "Monthly Mirror."

Then, then I boldly rise, and dare the worst—

F. Forbear this railing :

P. I must speak, or burst.

There was a time when CHURCHILL, bold and coarse,

Gave Wit its point, and Satire all its force;

When POPE, immortal Sat'rist! made his prey

The HERVEYS and the GILDONS of the day;

Dragg'd into light th' abandon'd scribbling crew,
And boldly scourg'd them in the public view:

But now, so cheap is praise, there scarce remains
One fool to flatter in our courtly strains.

It is however but justice to allow this gentleman the merit of first introducing to the public that delightful poem, "The Farmer's Boy."-His Introductory Preface, relative to Mr. Bloomfield, is highly interesting, and written with great taste and feeling.