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cred, so sublime: whether it be thai the cally mixed,” our only idea is that of grandeur of reality overpowers the faint a “Cordial compound." The whole of gleam of fiction, or that there are deeds the address to Bonaparte is at once 100 mighty to be sung by living bards, crude and common place. In one the plains of Waterloo will live in the stanza the noble Lord has clearly been records of history, not in the strains of a plagiarist from W. Scott. poetry. The description of the dance
LI. preceding the morning of the battle is “A thousand battles have assail'd thy banks, Well imagined, and excepting the fourth But these and hali their fame have pass'd away,
And slaughter heap'd on bigh his weltering flat and rugged, line, is happily expres.
Their very graves are gone, and what are they? XXI.
Tny tide wash'd down the blood of yesterday,
And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream " There was a sound of revelry by night, Glass'd with its dancing light the sunny ray; And Belgiun's capital had vathered then But o'er the blackened memory's blighting Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
dream The lanp, shone o'er fair women and brave Thy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as
P. 28. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when ourostars will readily call to mind
Our readers will readily call to mind Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to cyes which spake again, the following beautiful lines in the Lay
And all went merry as a marriage bell; of the Last Minstrel. But busb! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! .
“Sweet Teviot, on thy silver tide
The glaring bale fires blaze no more,
No longer steel clad warriors ride
Nou started at the bugle korn.
Retains each grief, retains each crime,
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before; And darker as it downward bears
P. 13. '. Here we have
• Here we bave precisely the same · The noble Lord, as may easily be idea, but far better expressed ; we imagined, is very indignant that order, scarcely know six better lines than those peace, and legitimate sovereignty should which close the simile. But wben we have been restored to Europe. The read of " waves rolling o'er the blighted reflections which succeed partake as dream of a blackened memory,” we little of patriotism as of poetry ; let us are lost in the mazes of metapborical take the following stanza for an ex- confusion. ample.
• The noble Lord cannot find it in bis XXXVI.
heart to pay the tribute even of a pass“There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men, ing line to the heroic commander, who Wbose spirit antithetically mixt One moment on the mightiest, and again
stand: confessed, even by his very foes, On little objects with like firmness fixt, the sword of Britain and the shield Extreme in all things ! haust thou been betwixt, of Europe. The poetry of Byron
Thy throne had still been thine, or never been; sonde in 'far greater need of the name For daring made thy rise as fall: thou seck'st Even now to re-assume the imperial mien, of Wellington, than the name of WelAnd shake again the world, the thunderer of the lington does of the poetry of Byron. scene !"
P. 22. From Waterloo the noble Lord traIf this be philosophy, it is unintelli- vels by Coblentz down the Rhine to gible ; if it be sentiment, it is unbear- Switzerland. The magnificent scenery able ; if it be poetry, it is unreadable. which the banks of that river present is When we come to 56 spirits antitheti B
Vol. 1. so. 1
but tamely and ruggedly drawn : he is Mortals, who sought and found, by dangerous
roads, attended with better success when he a pa
e A path to perpetuity of fame : enters the territories of the Swiss. The They were of gigantic minds, and their steep aim, following description of a night sail on Was, Titan-like, on daring doubts to pile the Lake of Lausanne is perhaps the
The Thoughts which should call down thunder, and
the flame most brilliant passage in the poem. Of Heaven again assail'd, if Heaven the while LXXXV.
On man and man's research could deign to do.
more than smile.
A wit as various-gay, grave, sage, or wild,
Blew where it listed, laying all things prone,-LXXXVI.
Now to o'erthrow a fool, and now to shake a "" It is the blush of night, and all between
throne. 'Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear,
CVII. Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly seen, "The other, deep and slow, exhausting thought, Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear And hiving wisdom with each studious year, Precipitously steep; and drawing near,
In meditation dwelt, with learning wrought, There breathes a living fragance from the shore, And sbaped his weapon with an edge severe, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear Sapping a solemn creed with soleinn sneer: Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, The lord of irony, - that master-spell. Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol Which stung his foes to wrath, which grew from more;
And doom'd him 10 the zealot's ready Hell, " He is an evening reveller, who makes
Wbich answers to all doubts so eloquently well. His life an infancy, and sings his fill;
If merited, the penalty is paid;
The hour must come when such things shall be All silently their tears of love instil,
Which, thus much we are sure, must lie decay'd; "Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! And when it shall revive, as is our trust, If in your bright leaves we would read the late "Twill be to be forgiven, or suffer what is just."
P. 57. Of men and empires, -' is to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great,
• To the sentiments contained in the Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state,
Jast stanza, if not to the poetry, we And claim a kindred with you; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create
bow with unseigned respect ; but though In us such love and reverence from afar, we would not bastily condemn the frailThat fortune, fame, power, lise, have named ties and
ed ties and the errors of others, yet we
the erro themselves a star."
P. 47. • The characters of Voltaire and Gib
would not. confound light and darkbon are drawn with more discrimina.
ness, truth and falsehood, in one undis.
tinguished mass. The same hand which tion than we had reason to expect. What is the noble Lord's opinion of
committed the sacred charge of truth to
our care, will demand it again unpoltheir success, he has not been pleased
luted at our hands. To condemn the to impart. What his wishes are he has clearly shown by his anathema against
error we are commanded; to condemn
the person we are forbidden. That their conquerors.
final judgment rests in a higher tribu. cv.
nal, which we fear, for the sake of the “ Lausanne ! and Ferney! ye have been the nobile loru and of curselves, will loo
abodes of names which unto you bequeath'd a name; surely “deign do more than smile.”
• The Prisoner of Chillon is the com. That for this planet strangers his memory task'd plaint of the survivor of three brothers
ochors Through the thick deaths of half a century; coufined within the Chateau of that
And thus he answered—Well, I do not know
Why frequent travellers turn to pilgrims so; name, which is situated between Cla. • He died before my day of Sextonship, rens and Villeneuve. The verses are
And I had not the digging of this grave.'
And is this all? I thought, and do we rip in the eight syllable metre, and occa- The veil of immortality ? and carve sionally display some pretty poetry ; I know not what of honour and of light at all events there is little in them to Through unborn ages, to endure this blight? offend. We do not find any passage of The Architect of all on which we tread,
So soon and so successless? As I said, sufficient beauty or originality to war. For earth is but a tombstone, did essay rant an extract, though the whole may
Je may To extricate reinembrance from the clay,
Whose minglings might confuse a Newton's be read, not without pleasure by the thought admirer of this style of versification. Were it not that all life must end in one, • The next poem that engages our no
engamos urna. Of which we are but dreamers ;-as he caught
As 'twere the twilight of a former Sun, tice is called DARKNESS, describing the Thus spoke he, I believe the man of whom probable state of things upon earth You wot, who lies in this sel should the Lichi and bonofthaeunho Was a most famous writer in his day, should the light and heat of the sun be:
. And therefore travellers step from out their withdrawn.
To so strange and absurd
Your honour pleases,'—then most pleased I
shook " The world was void, From out my pocket's avaricious nook The populous and the powerful was a lump, Some certain coins of silver, which as 'twere , Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless-- Perforce I gave this man, though I could spare A lurp of death-a chaos of hard clay.
So much but inconveniently ;- Ye smile, The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
I see ye, ye profane ones! all the wbile, And nothing stirred within their silent depths; Because my homely phrase the truth would tell. Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
You are the fools, not 1-for I did dwell And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they With a deep thought, and with a soften'd eye, dropp'd
On that Old Sexton's natural homily, They slept on the abyss without a surge
in which there was Obscurity and Fame, The waves were dead; the tides were in their The Glory and the Nothing of a Name." P. 32.
grave, The moon, their mistress, had expired before;
"The noble Lord seems to be in the The winds were withered in the stagnant air, humour of Timon, to invite his friends And the clouds perish'd ; Darkness had no need to a course of empty dishes, which are Of aid from them-She was the universe."
P. 30. finally to be discharged at their heads. 'We must confess that criticism is Profane enough we must own ourselves, unable to reach a strain so sublime as for never did we more beartily laugh this. If this be called genius, as we
as we than at the conclusion of this burlesque ; suppose it must, we are ot opinion that in which we think the noble Lord has tbe madness of that aforesaid quality is shown no ordinary talents.. So much much more conspicuous than its inspi- for the “Visit to Churchill's grave.” ration.
“The But after the noble Lord has 'The next poem, called carried us with him in bis air balloon to Dream,” contains as usual a long hisso high an eminence in the sublime, on tory of “my own magnificent selle" a sudden be discharges the gas, and At the conclusion we are told down we drop to the lowest depth of “The Wanderer was alone as heretofore,
The beings which surrounded him were gone, the bathos below.
Or were at war with him; he was a mark “ I stood beside the grave of him who blazed For blight and desolation, cornpass'd around The comet of a season, and I saw
With Hatred and Contention ; Pain was mix'd The humblest of all sepulchres, and gazed In all which was served up to him, until With not less of sorrow and of awe
Like to the Pontic monarch of old days, On that neglected turf and quiet stone,
He fed on poisons, and they had no power, With name no clearer than the names unknown, But were a kind of nutriment; he lived Which lay unread around it; and I ask'd Through that which had been death to many The Gardener of that ground, why it might be pen,
And made him friends of mountains : with the fully interspersed with his accustomed
stars And the quick Spirit of the Universe
crudities, but not without a consideraHe held his dialogue; and they did teach ble share of poetic merit. The Night To him the magic of their mysteries;
Thoughts appear to be the objects of To him the book of Night was opened wide, And voices from the abyss reveal'd
his imitation, but the copy falls very A marvel and a secret-Be it so." P. 41. far short of the original. His Lord
Amen, say also we; for till these dia- ship's philosophy is at times of the sect Jogues are somewhat more intelligible of the “unintelligibles," at least to us than many of the verses in this volume, ordinary mortals, who have been bred we trust that our philosophy neither of up in the schools of coinmon sense. We intellect nor of temper will be put to do earnestly hope that the noble Lord the test by any atiempt to interpret will at last take his promised repose, them. The next poem is a Chorus in and write no more, till be can cease to an unfinished Witch Drama, in which, as write about himself. The address to it consists wholly of curses upon some his daughter, with which the Childe devoted victim, the reader will take Harold concludes, under all those cir. for granted that the noble Lord bas cumstances with which the public are excelled.
too well acquainted, is written in bad We fear that the poble Lord will gain taste, and worse morality. The Eng. very little credit by the volumes before lish nation is not so easily to be us. The first is decidedly the best, and whined out of its just and honourable contains soine very good lines, plenti- feelings.'
Christabel,-Kubla Khan, a Vision,-Thc Paing of Sleer. By S. T.
W E bave copied the following article sorry that we cannot offer it as a rarity.
from the British Review, not so If 'genius' were merely a divergency much on account of the inportance of from the standard of common sense, Mr. the piece of wbich it professes to treat, Coleridge's claim to it would be incon(which is, indeed, too contemptible to testible,—for he has sunk as much below have arrested attention, had not some its level, as ever Milton soared above it. degree of credit been, heretofore, at- But, unfortunately, the difference betached to the name of Mr. Coleridge,) tween sublimity and bathos is so irreas for the justness of its general cri. concilable in nature, that mankind will ticisms. It is time for the professed never consent to confound them in languardians of morals and arbiters of guage. taste, to interpose the authority with It is possible, indeed, and we are which they are invested, to shield the willing to believe it, that Mr. Coleone, and to rescue the other, from the ridge intends the Christabel' as a serude attacks of a wantonness of innova- rious burlesque on the models of the tion, that has attempted the violation of poetry of the day. In that light it both. The Christabel' may be regard- must be acknowledged to be an amusing ed, in one point of view, as the ne plus strain of delicate irony. In fact, is the ultra of a school, of which, as it must reductio ad absurdum have any cogency, soon go out of fashion, the curious may “the Christabel' is a pretty formidable wish to preserve a specimen. We are argument to dispel infatuation.
*** That wild and singularly original modesty, nor be quite unforbearing in and beautiful poem,” as Lord Byron its exactions. What we allow it the calls the production which stands first use of as an accessory, it must not conat the head of this article, in terms suf- vert into a principle, and wbat is grantficiently uncouth, but of a convenient ed to it as a part of its proper machine. length and authoritativeness for the book- ry, it must not impose upon us as the seller's purpose in his announcement main or only object of interest. But of the work, was read by us before Mr. Coleridge is one of those poets who, we saw the advertisement, and there. if we give him an inch will be sure to fore without that prejudice against it take an ell: if we consent to swallow which the above applauding sentence an elf or fairy, we are soon expected would certainly have produced in us. not to strain at a witch ; and if we open
• That the poem of Christabel is wild our throats to this imposition upon our and singular cannot be denied, and if good nature, we must gulp down this be not eulogy sufficient, let it be broom-stick and all. allowed to be original; for there is a We really must make a stand someland of dreams with which puets hold where for the rights of common sense ; an unrestricted commerce, and where and large as is the allowance which we they may load their imaginations with feel disposed to give to the privileges whatever strange products they find in and immunities of the poet, we must, the country; and if we are content at the hazard of being considered as with the raw material, there is no end profane, require bim to be intelligible ; to the varieties of chaotic originalities and as a necessary step towards his bewbich may be brought away from this coming so, to understand biinself, and fantastic region. But it is the poet's be privy to the purposes of bis own province, not to bring these anomalous mind: for if he is not in his own seexistences to our view in the state in cret, it is scarcely probable that he can wbich he has picked them up, but so become his own interpreter. shaped, applied, worked up, and com. It was in vain that, after reading the pounded, as almost to look like natives poem of Christabel, we resorted to the of our own minds, and easily to mix preface to consult the poet himself with the train of our own conceptions. about his meaning. He tells us only It is not every strange fantasy, or that which, however important, doubtrambling incoherency of the brain, less, in itself, throws very little light upproduced perhaps amidst the vapours on the mysteries of the poem, viz. that of indigestion, that is susceptible of po- great part of the poem was written in etic effect, nor can every night mare the year 1797, at Stowey, in the county be turned into a muse; there must be of Somerset: the second part, after bis something to connect these visionary return from Germany, in the year 1800, forms with the realities of existence, to at Keswich, in Cumberland. “Since gain them a momentary credence by the latter date my poetic powers," says the aid of harmonizing occurrences, to the author, “have been till very lately mix them up with the interest of some in a state of suspended animation.” great event, or to borrow for them a Now we cannot but suspect that there is colour of probability from the surround- a little anachronism in this statement, ing scene. It is only under the shelter and that in truth it was during this susof these proprieties and corresponden- pense of the author's poetical powers, cies that witchcraft bas a fair and legiti- that this “wild and singularly original mate introduction into poetical compo- and beautiful poem” of Christabel was sition. A witch is no heroine, nor can conceived and partly executed. we read a tale of magic for its own. - Nondum facies sirentis in illa, sake. Poetry itself must show some Jarn morientis erat.