vulgar standard. Had I rated him less, I might have praised him more; at least, I might have said nothing of all this to one whom I should have considered as arrived at his full growth. But though his lordship has done more in his youth than many an established writer in his full manhood, and has consequently taken his place, beyond a doubt, in the list of English Poets, yet I would no more rate what he could do at five-andthirty by what he has done at five-and-twenty, than I would consent to have his opinion of me, as an honest and friendly critic, determined, when that period arrives, by a retrospect to unqualified commendation at present. The characteristics of Lord Byron's poetry are a general vein of melancholy; a fondness for pithy, suggesting, and passionate modes of speech, and an intensity of feeling, which appears to seek relief in its own violence. Every thing under his operation assumes the fierce glow of metal under the hands of the forger: he produces it with unintermitting impatience, and turns, fashions, and dismisses it with an air of resentment. What he wants in style, and what he may clearly obtain, is a regular reliance on his own mode of speaking, without resorting, in his quieter moments, to phrases of common property :what he wants in essential poetry is fancy as distinguished from passion-Spenser as distinguished from Otway; and it may be anticipated, perhaps, from this, that he will always be rather on the reflecting and passionate side of poets than on the fanciful and creative. The Childe Harold was very striking in this respect, and evinced a singular independence and determination of thinking, with little of those fancies, original or borrowed, which are so captivating to young writers in general. The Giaour* and Bride of Abydos are two sketches of passion, sparkling and dignified, and abounding in felici *The country gentlemen have been terribly baffled with the titles of Lord Byron's productions. Childe Harold sufficiently astounded them; Abydos, after much dispute, was luckily to be found in a dictionary; but as to the Giaour, he was like his namesake in Caliph Vathek, as inexplicable as he was attractive; there was no circumventing him and his four vowels. For this, in some measure, we have to thank the French, who, to suit their own convenience, make as much havoc with people's names as they do with the rest of their property. Thus, after having been used to their mode of writing the names in the Arabian Nights, and having grown in love, while we are boys, with the generosity and magnificence of the Vizier Guy-afar, (Giafar,) we find among the melancholy realities of our manhood that we are to call him Jaffer;-the family name of the Bedreddins is suddenly rectified into Buddir-ad-Deen; and our old, though somewhat alarming friends, Haroun al Raschid and the Cadi, are discovered to be Haroon al Rusheed and the Cauzee.-See some of these alterations in Dr. Scott's new edition of that ever delightful work. One day or other we shall find our mysterious acquaintance the G-i-a-o-u-r under the plain-spoken name of the Jower. It is needless to add. that the best way of settling this matter is to write all names as nearly as possible to their original spelling. It is our business to find out the pronunciation by itself; but a name is nothing but one particular sound, by which one individual is distinguished from another, and the French might as tous instances of compression. They are not free, however, from commonplace verses, and are disfigured, besides, by a number of strange exotic rhymes, consisting of absolute Turkish--which is really unfair. Of all his lordship's productions, I confess I am still most taken with the little effusions at the end of the Childe Harold. It is here, I think, that the soul of him is to be found, and that he has most given himself up to those natural words and native impressions, which are the truest test of poetry. His lordship has evidently suffered as well as thought, and therefore we have a right to demand originality of him. Perhaps it may not have struck him, that a resolution to make the most of his past feelings and reflections for the multiplication of his poetical resources, and their subsequent use to society, is no mean or mechanical policy, and may be called the philosopher's stone of poetry. It is thus that we become masters of our destiny, and gain possession of a talisman, which shall make even the most appalling spirits wait upon our wants, and administer to our usefulness. well call Pythagoras Peter Jenkins as Peet-a-gore, (Pythagore.) It would have been laudable in Dr Scott, while he was about his anti-gallican emendations, to render the word Genie, which has almost become naturalized, by its proper translation of Genius. END OF THE NOTES |