T Pope, and Campbell, but have since thought it becom-step we stumble over recollections of departed gran- cords of which can never die. But in Asia, to the Temper, and do befit him to obey The merits of Pope and Moore have suffered depreciation from the same cause-the facility of being imitated to a certain degree. And as vulgar admiration seldom penetrates beyond this degree, the con- It was reserved for Mr. Moore to redeem the clusion is, that nothing can be easier than to write character of oriental poetry, in a work which stands like, and even equal to, either of these poets. In the distinct, alone, and proudly pre-eminent above all universal self-comparison, which is above mentioned, that had preceded it on the same subject. as the foundation of modern criticism, feeling is assumed to be genius-the passive is considered to imply the active power. No opinion is more common or more fallacious-it is the "flattering unction" which has inundated the world with versifiers, and which seems to under-rate the merit of compositions, in which there is more ingenuity and elegance than passion. Genius is considered to be little more than a capability of excitement-the greater the passion the greater the merit; and the school-boy key on which Mr. Moore's love and heroism are usually set, is not considered by any reader beyond his reach. This is certainly Moore's great defect; but it is more that of his taste than of any superior faculty. We shall now proceed to notice the most laboured and most splendid of Mr. Moore's productions"Lalla Rookh :” Then if, while scenes so grand, So beautiful, shine before thee, O'er pride itself victorious, What Heaven hath made so glorious. Never, indeed, has the land of the sun shone out so brightly on the children of the north-nor the sweets of Asia been poured forth-nor her gorgeousness displayed so profusely to the delighted senses of Europe, as in the fine oriental romance of Lalla Rookh. The beauteous forms, the dazzling splendours, the breathing odours of the East, found, at last, a kindred poet in that Green Isle of the West, whose genius has long been suspected to be derived from a warmer clime, and here wantons and luxuriates in these voluptuous regions, as if it felt that it had at length recognized its native element. It is amazing, indeed, how much at home Mr. Moore seems to be in India, Persia, and Arabia; and how purely and strictly Asiatic all the colouring and imagery of his poem appears. He is thoroughly imbued with the character of the scenes to which he transports us; and yet the extent of his knowledge is less wonderful than the dexterity and apparent facility with which he has turned it to account, in the elucidation and embellishment of his poetry. There is not a simile, a description, a name, a trait of history, or allusion of romance, which belongs to European experience, that does not indicate entire familiarity with the life, nature, and learning of the East. Several of our modern poets had already chosen Nor are the barbaric ornaments thinly scattered to the luxuriant climate of the East for their imagina- make up a show. They are showered lavishly over tions to revel in, and body forth their shapes of light; the whole work; and form, perhaps too much, the but it is no less observable that they had generally staple of the poetry, and the riches of that which is failed, and the cause we believe to be this-that the chiefly distinguished for its richness. We would conpartial conception and confined knowledge which fine this remark, however, to the descriptions of exthey naturally possessed of a country, so opposed in ternal objects, and the allusions to literature and the character of its inhabitants and the aspect of its history-to what may be termed the materiel of the scenery to their own, occasion them, after the man- poetry we are speaking of. The characters and senner of all imperfect apprehenders, to seize upon its timents are of a different order. They cannot, inprominent features and obvious characteristics, with- deed, be said to be copies of an European nature; out entering more deeply into its spirit, or catching but still less like that of any other region. They are, its retired and less palpable beauties. The sudden in truth, poetical imaginations;—but it is to the poetransplantation of an European mind into Asiatic try of rational, honourable, considerate, and humane scenes can seldom be favourable to its well-being and Europe that they belong-and not to the childishness, progress; at least none but those of the first order cruelty, and profligacy of Asia. would be enabled to keep their imaginations from degenerating into inconsistency and bombast, amid the swarms of novelties which start up at every step. Thus it is that, in nearly all the oriental poems added to our literature, we had the same monotonous assemblage of insipid images, drawn from the peculiar phenomena and natural appearances of the country. We have always considered Asia as naturally the home of poetry, and the creator of poets. What maker Greece so poetical a country is, that at every There is something very extraordinary, we think, in this work-and something which indicates in the author, not only a great exuberance of talent, but a very singular constitution of genius. While it is more splendid in imagery-and for the most part in very good taste-more rich in sparkling thoughts and original conceptions, and more full indeed of exquisite pictures, both of all sorts of beauties, and all sorts of virtues, and all sorts of sufferings and crimes, than any other poem which we know of; we rather think we speak the sense of all classes of readers, when we deeper; and though they first strike us as qualities of add, that the effect of the whole is to mingle a certain the composition only, we find, upon a little reflection, feeling of disappointment with that of admiration-that the same general character belongs to the fable, to excite admiration rather than any warmer senti- the characters, and the sentiments--that they all are ment of delight-to dazzle more than to enchant-alike in the excess of their means of attraction--and and, in the end, more frequently to startle the fancy, fail to interest, chiefly by being too interesting. and fatigue the attention, with the constant succession We have felt it our duty to point out the faults of of glittering images and high-strained emotions, than our author's poetry, particularly in respect to Lalla to maintain a rising interest, or win a growing sympa-Rookh; but it would be quite unjust to characterize thy, by a less profuse or more systematic display of that splendid poem by its faults, which are infinitely attractions. less conspicuous than its manifold beauties. There is not only a richness and brilliancy of diction and imagery spread over the whole work, that indicate the greatest activity and elegance of fancy in the au into one deep and bright stream of sweetness and feeling, along which the spirit of the reader is borne passively through long reaches of delight. Mr Moore's poetry, indeed, where his happiest vein is opened, realizes more exactly than that of any other writer, the splendid account which is given by Comus* of the song of The style is, on the whole, rather diffuse, and too unvaried in its character. But its greatest fault is the uniformity of its brilliancy-the want of plainness, simplicity, and repose. We have heard it observed thor; but it is every where pervaded, still more by some very zealous admirers of Mr. Moore's genius, strikingly, by a strain of tender and noble feeling, that you cannot open this book without finding a poured out with such warmth and abundance, as to cluster of beauties in every page. Now, this is only steal insensibly on the heart of the reader, and graanother way of expressing what we think its greatest dually to overflow it with a tide of sympathetic emodefect. No work, consisting of many pages, should tion. There are passages, indeed, and these neither have detached and distinguishable beauties in every few nor brief, over which the very genius of poetry one of them. No great work, indeed, should have seems to have breathed his richest enchantment— many beauties: if it were perfect it would have but where the melody of the verse and the beauty of the one, and that but faintly perceptible, except on a view images conspire so harmoniously with the force and of the whole. Look, for example, at what is the most tenderness of the emotion, that the whole is blended finished and exquisite production of human art--the design and elevation of a Grecian temple, in its old severe simplicity. What penury of ornament-what neglect of beauties of detail-what masses of plain surface-what rigid economical limitation to the useful and the necessary! The cottage of a peasant is scarcely more simple in its structure, and has not fewer parts that are superfluous. Yet what grandeur -what elegance-what grace and completeness in the effect! The whole is beautiful-because the beauty is in the whole; but there is little merit in any of the parts except that of fitness and careful finishing. Contrast this with a Dutch, or a Chinese pleasurehouse, where every part is meant to be beautiful, and the result is deformity-where there is not an inch of the surface that is not brilliant with colour, and rough with curves and angles,--and where the effect of the whole is displeasing to the eye and the taste. We are as far as possible from meaning to insinuate that The legend of Lalla Rookh is very sweetly and Mr. Moore's poetry is of this description; on the con- gaily told; and is adorned with many tender as well trary, we think his ornaments are, for the most part, as lively passages-without reckoning among the lattruly and exquisitely beautiful; and the general design ter the occasional criticisms of the omniscient Fadlaof his pieces extremely elegant and ingenious: all deen, the magnificent and most infallible grand chamthat we mean to say is, that there is too much orna-berlain of the haram-whose sayings and remarks, ment-too many insulated and independent beauties --and that the notice and the very admiration they excite, hurt the interest of the general design, and withdraw our attention too importunately from it. His mother Circe, and the sirens three, Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul, And though it is certainly to be regretted that he should occasionally have broken the measure with more frivolous strains, or filled up its intervals with a sort of brilliant falsetto, it should never be forgotten, that his excellences are as peculiar to himself as his faults, and, on the whole, we may assert, more characteristic of his genius. by the by, do not agree very well with the character which is assigned him-being for the most part very smart, snappish, and acute, and by no means solemn, stupid, and pompous, as one would have expected. Mr. Moore, it appears to us, is too lavish of his Mr. Moore's genius perhaps, is too inveterately lively, gems and sweets, and it may truly be said of him, in to make it possible for him even to counterfeit dulhis poetical capacity, that he would be richer withness. We must now take a slight glance at the half his wealth. His works are not only of rich ma- poetry. * Milton, who was much patronized by the illustrious terials and graceful design, but they are every where The first piece, entitled "The Veiled Prophet of glistening with small beauties and transitory inspira-Khorassan," is the longest, and, we think, certainly not tions-sudden flashes of fancy that blaze out and perish; like earth-born meteors that crackle in the lower sky, and uns casonably divert our eyes from the great and lofty bodies which pursue their harmonious courses in a serener region. We have spoken of these as faults of style--but hey could scarcely have existed without going house of Egerton, wrote the Mask of Comus upon John Egerton, then Earl of Bridgewater, when that nobleman, in 1634, was appointed Lord President of the principality of Wales. It was performed by three of his Lordship's children, before the Earl, at Ludlow Castle.-See the Works of the present Earl of Bridgewater. E 1 the best of the series. The story, which is not in all the ultimate result, even though they should appre- + tiful images, which are heaped together with luxurious "Paradise and the Peri" has none of the faults just alluded to. It is full of spirit, elegance, and beauty; and, though slight in its structure, breathes throughout a most pure and engaging morality. "The Fire-worshippers" appears to us to be indisputably the finest and most powerful poem of them all. With all the richness and beauty of diction that belong to the best parts of Mokanna, it has a far more interesting story; and is not liable to the objections that arise against the contrivance and structure of the leading poem. The general tone of "The Fire-worshippers" is certainly too much strained, but, in spite of that, it is a work of great genius and beauty; and not only delights the fancy by its general brilliancy and spirit, but moves all the tender and noble feelings with a deep and powerful agitation. But Mr. Moore, independently of poetical powers of the highest order-independently of the place he at present maintains in the public estimation-has secured to himself a strong hold of celebrity, as durable as the English tongue. Almost every European nation has a kind of primitive music, peculiar to itself, consisting of short and simple tunes or melodies, which, at the same time that they please cultivated and scientific ears, are the object of passionate and almost exclusive attainment by the great body of the people, constituting, in fact, pretty nearly the sum of their musical knowledge and enjoyment. Being the first sounds with which the infant is soothed in his nursery, with which he is lulled to repose at night, and excited to animation in the day, they make an impression on the imagination that can never afterwards be effaced, and are consequently handed down from parent to child, from generation to generation, with as much uniformity as the family features and dispositions. It is evident, therefore, that he who first successfully invests them with language, becomes thereby himself a component part of these airy existences, and commits his bark to a favouring wind, before which it shall pass on to the end of the stream of time. Without such a connexion as this with the national music of Scotland, it seems to us, that Allan Ramsay's literary existence must have terminated its earthly career long since; but, in the divine melody of "The Yellow-hair'd Laddie," he has secured a passport to future ages, which mightier poets might envy, and which will be heard and acknowledged as long as the world has ears to hear. The last piece, entitled "The Light of the Haram," is the gayest of the whole; and is of a very slender fabric as to fable or invention. In truth, it has scarely any story at all; but is made up almost entirely of beautiful songs and fascinating descriptions. On the whole, it may be said of "Lalla Rookh," that its great fault consists in its profuse finery; but it should be observed, that this finery is not the vulgar ostentation which so often disguises poverty or meanness-but, as we have before hinted, the extravagance This is not a mere fancy of the uninitiated, or the of excessive wealth. Its great charm is in the inex-barbarous exaggeration of a musical savage who has haustible copiousness of its imagery-the sweetness lost his senses at hearing Orpheus's hurdy-gurdy, beand ease of its diction-and the beauty of the objects and sentiments with which it is conceived. Whatever popularity Mr. Moore may have acquired as the author of Lalla Rookh, etc., it is as the author of the "Irish Melodies" that he will go down to posterity unrivalled and alone in that delightful species of composition. Lord Byron has very justly and prophetically observed, that "Moore is one of the few writers who will survive the age in which he so deservedly flourishes. He will live in his 'Irish Melodies; they will go down to posterity with the music; both will last as long as Ireland, or as music and poetry." If, indeed, the anticipation of lasting celebrity be the chief pleasure for the attainment of which poets bestow their labour, certainly no one can have engaged so much of it as Thomas Moore. It is evident that writers who fail to command immediate attention, and who look only to posterity for a just estimate of their merits, must feel more or less uncertainty as to cause he never heard any thing better. One of the greatest composers that ever charmed the world-the immortal Haydn--on being requested to add symphonies and accompaniments to the Scotch airs, was so convinced of their durability, that he replied—“ Mi vanto di questo lavoro, e per cio mi lusingo di vivere in Scozia molti anni dopo la mia morte.' It is not without reason, therefore, that Mr. Moore indulges in this kind of second-sight, and exclaims (on hearing one of his own melodies re-echoed from a bugle in the mountains of Killarney,) Oh, forgive, if, while listening to music, whose breath In truth, the subtile essences of these tunes present no object upon which time or violence can act. Py-jobtain for themselves, in an age of ignorance and ramids may moulder away, and bronzes be decom- credulity, all the influence and respect which that posed; but the breeze of heaven which fanned them useful and deserving class of men have never failed in their splendour shall sigh around them in decay, to retain, even among nations who esteem themselves and by its mournful sound awaken all the recollections the most enlightened. But the remotest period in of their former glory. Thus, when generations shall which their character of musician was disengaged have sunk into the grave, and printed volumes been from that of priest, is also the period assigned to the consigned to oblivion, traditionary strains shall pro- highest triumph of their secular musical skill and long our poet's existence, and his future fame shall respectability. "It is certain," says Mr. Bunting (in not be less certain than his present celebrity. Like the gale that sighs along Beds of oriental flowers, That once was heard in happier hours. Though the flowers have sunk in death; His mem'ry lives in Music's breath! his Historical and Critical Dissertation on the Harp,) "that the further we explore, while yet any light remains, the more highly is Irish border minstrelsy extolled." "The oldest Irish tunes (says the same writer) are said to be the most perfect," and history accords with this opinion. Vin. Galilei, Bacon, Stanishurst, Spenser, and Camden, in the 16th century, speak warmly of Irish version, but not so highly as Polydore Virgil Almost every European nation, as we before ob- and Major, in the 15th, Clynn, in the middle of the served, has its own peculiar set of popular melodies, 14th, or Fordun, in the 13th. As we recede yet furdiffering as much from each other in character as the ther, we find Giraldus Cambrensis, G. Brompton, and nations themselves; but there are none more marked John of Salisbury, in the 12th century, bestowing still or more extensively known than those of the Scotch more lofty encomiums; and these, again, falling short and Irish. Some of these may be traced to a very of the science among us in the 11th and 10th centu remote era; while of others the origin is scarcely known; and this is the case, especially, with the airs of Ireland. With the exception of those which were produced by Carolan, who died in 1738, there are few of which we can discover the dates or composers. That many of these airs possess great beauty and pathos, no one can doubt who is acquainted with the selections that have been made by Mr. Moore; but as a genus or a style, they also exhibit the most unequivocal proofs of a rude and barbarous origin; and there is scarcely a more striking instance of the proneness of mankind to exalt the supposed wisdom of their ancestors, and to lend a ready ear to the marvellous, than the exaggerated praise which the authors of this music have obtained. It is natural to suppose that in music, as in all other arts, the progress of savage man was gradual; that there is no more reason for supposing he should have discovered at once the seven notes of the scale, than that he should have been able at once to find appropriate language for all the nice distinctions of morals or metaphysics. We shall now pass to some interesting accounts of the Bards of the "olden time," which come within the scope of our subject when speaking of the present Bard of Erin, and his "Irish Melodies." ries. In conformity with this, Fuller, in his account of the Crusade conducted by Godfrey of Bologne, says, "Yea, we might well think that all the concer of Christendom in this war would have made no music, if the Irish Harp had been wanting." In those early times the Irish bards were invested with wealth, honours, and influence. They wore a robe of the same colour as that used by kings; were exempted from taxes and plunder, and were billeted on the country from Allhallow-tide to May, while every chief bard had thirty of inferior note under his orders, and every second-rate bard fifteen. John of Salisbury, in the 12th century, says, that the great aristocrats of his day imitated Nero in their extravagant love of fiddling and singing; that "they prostituted their favour by bestowing it on minstrels and buffoons; and that, by a certain foolish and shameful munificence, they expended immense sums of money on their frivolous exhibitions." "The courts of princes," says another contemporary writer, “are filled with crowds of minstrels, who extort from them gold, silver, horses, and vestments, by their flattering songs. I have known some princes who have bestowed on these minstrels of the Devil, at the very first word, the most curious garments, beautifully embroidered with flowers and pictures, which had cost them twenty or thirty marks of silver, and which they had not worn above seven days!" Dr. Burney observes, that "the first Greek musicians were gods; the second, heroes; the third, bards; the fourth, beggars!" During the infancy of From the foregoing account, by Salisbury John, music in every country, the wonder and affections of the twelfth century must, verily, have been the true the people were gained by surprise; but when mu- golden age for the sons of the lyre; who were then, it sicians became numerous, and the art was regarded seems, clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared of easier acquirement, they lost their favour; and, sumptuously every day. It is true, they were flatterfrom being seated at the tables of kings, and helped ers and parasites, and did “dirty work" for it in those to the first cut, they were reduced to the most abject days; but, at any rate, princes were then more state, and ranked amongst rogues and vagabonds. generous to their poet-laureates, and the sackbut and That this was the cause of the supposed retrograda- the song were better paid for than in a simple butt tion of Irish music, we shall now proceed to show, of sack. by some curious extracts from contemporary writers. According to Stowe, the minstrel had still a ready The professed Bards, of the earliest of whom we admission into the presence of kings in the 4th cen have not any account, having united to their capacity tury. Speaking of the celebration of the feast of of musicians the functions of priests, could not fail to Pentecost at Westminster, he says "In the grea so innocent an effect to make men sleep, in any pains or distempers of body or mind." In the reign of Elizabeth, however, civilization had hall, when sitting royally at the table, with his peers about him, there entered a woman adorned like a minstrel, sitting on a great horse, trapped as minstrels then used, who rode about the table showing pastime; so far advanced, that the music which had led away and at length came up to the king's table, and laid the great lords of antiquity no longer availed to debefore him a letter, and, forthwith turning her horse, lude the human understanding, or to prevent it from saluted every one and departed: when the letter was animadverting on the pernicious effects produced by read, it was found to contain animadversions on the those who cultivated the tuneful art. Spenser, in his king. The door-keeper, being threatened for admit- view of the state of Ireland, says, "There is among ting her, replied, that it was not the custom of the the Irish a certain kind of people called Bardes, which king's palace to deny admission to minstrels, espe- are to them instead of poets, whose profession is to pecially on such high solemnities and feast-days." set forth the praises or dispraises of men in their In Froissart, too, we may plainly see what neces-poems or rithmes; the which are had in so high resary appendages to greatness the minstrels were es-gard and estimation among them, that none dare disteemed, and upon what familiar terms they lived with please them, for fear to run into reproach through their masters. When the four Irish kings, who had their offence, and to be made infamous in the mouths submitted themselves to Richard II. of England, were of all men. For their verses are taken up with a gesat at table, “on the first dish being served they made neral applause, and usually sung at all feasts and their minstrels and principal servants sit beside them, meetings by certain other persons whose proper and eat from their plates, and drink from their cups." function that is, who also receive for the same great The knight appointed by Richard to attend them rewards and reputation among them. These Irish having objected to this custom, on another day, "or- Bardes are, for the most part, so far from instructing dered the tables to be laid out and covered, so that young men in moral discipline, that themselves do the kings sat at an upper table, the minstrels at a mid-more deserve to be sharply disciplined; for they seldle one, and the servants lower still. The royal dom use to choose unto themselves the doings of guests looked at each other, and refused to eat, saying, that he deprived them of their good old custom in which they had been brought up." However, in the reign of Edward II., a public edict was issued, putting a check upon this license, and limiting the number of minstrels to four per diem admissible to the tables of the great. It seems, too, that about this period the minstrels had sunk into a kind of upper servants of the aristocracy: they wore their lord's livery, and sometimes shaved the crown of their heads like monks. good men for the arguments of their poems; but whomsoever they find to be most licentious of life, most bold and lawless in his doings, most dangerous and desperate in all parts of disobedience and rebellious disposition: him they set up and glorifie in their rithmes; him they praise to the people, and to young men make an example to follow." The moralizing poet then continues to show the "effect of evil things being decked with the attire of goodly words," on the affections of a young mind, which, as he observes, "cannot rest;" for, "if he be not busied in some When war and hunting formed almost the exclu- goodness, he will find himself such business as shall sive occupation of the great; when their surplus re-soon busy all about him. In which, if he shall find venues could only be employed in supporting idle any to praise him, and to give him encouragement, as retainers, and no better means could be devised for passing the long winter evenings than drunkenness and gambling, it may readily be conceived how welcome these itinerant musicians must have been in baronial halls, and how it must have flattered the pride of our noble ancestors to listen to the eulogy of their own achievements, and the length of their own pedigrees. Sir William Temple says, "the great men of the Irish septs, among the many officers of their family, which continued always in the same races, had not only a physician, a huntsman, a smith, and such like, but a poet and a tale-teller. The first recorded and sung the actions of their ancestors, and entertained the company at feasts; the latter amused them with tales when they were melancholy and could not sleep; and a very gallant gentleman of the north of Ireland has told me, of his own experience, that in his wolf-huntings there, when he used to be abroad in the mountains three or four days together, and lay very ill a-nights, so as he could not well sleep, they would bring him one of these tale-tellers, that when he lay down would begin a story of a king, a giant, a dwarf, or a damsel, and such rambling stuff, and continue it all night long in such an even tone, that you heard it going on whenever you awaked, and believed nothing any physicians give could have so good and those Bardes do for little reward, or a share of a stolen cow, then waxeth he most insolent, and half mad with the love of himself and his own lewd deeds. And as for words to set forth such lewdness, it is not hard for them to give a goodly and painted show thereunto, borrowed even from the praises which are proper to virtue itself; as of a most notorious thief and wicked outlaw, which had lived all his life-time of spoils and robberies, one of their Bardes in his praise will say, that he was none of the idle milksops that was brought up to the fire-side; but that most of his days he spent in arms and valiant enterprises-that he did never eat his meat before he had won it with his sword; that he lay not all night in slugging in a cabin under his mantle, but used commonly to keep others waking to defend their lives; and did light his candle at the flames of their houses to lead him in the darkness; that the day was his night, and the night his day; that he loved not to be long wooing of wenches to yield to him, but, where he came, he took by force the spoil of other men's love, and left but lamentation to their lovers; that his music was not the harp, nor the lays of love, but the cries of people and the clashing of armour; and, finally, that he died, not bewailed of many, but made many wail when he died, that dearly bought his death." It little occurred to Spenser that, in thus reprobating |