Parrots, who learn their only song by rote,
And prate for ever in a borrowed note.
E’en now, what numbers strive in vain to soar
Where Scott and Campbell led the way befores 140
Didactic Bards could once the town engage,
With “Pleasures” druggld, now “Lays” are all
the rage.
Croker, and all the swarm who “write with ease,”
Mitford, and Holford *, modern Sapphos, please
Fantastic readers, that with equal eye 145
View'd Hayley'st drawling verse and Wordsworth's
lullaby.

NOTES.

* Miss Mitford is authoress of “Christina, or the Maid of the South Seas;” and Miss Holford, of “Wallace, or the Fight of Falkirk;” both written in humble imitation of Mr. Scott, and “very

Still, with the greatest, titled * Grenville vies,

Whom awed Plebeians mark aspiring rise,

NOTES.
Or, in other words,

- - - - e - every wheel of that unwearied mill

That turn'd ten thousand verses, now stands still.

* From Moore so lashed, example fit,

Shun petty larceny in wit.

Such was the advice of Green. But, alas! it is all in vain. If the plentiful supply of satirical acid, which has been administered to the literary offenders of this and the last century, had produced any effect in preventing others from catching the contagion, I should not have had the trouble of wading through the pages of the Right Honorable Lord George Grenville. I would willingly believe that Lord G–’s “peccatum” is, like that of Terence,

“imprudentia”
Poetae non qui furtum facere studueritt.

But I am sadly afraid that his lordship's Muse has addicted herself to the bad habits of “picking and stealing,” till she has lost

? Prol, ad Terent, Eunuch.

|

Blend, with some scraps from high Parnassus caught,

The trite description, and the hackney'd thought;

NOTES.

all idea of “the difference between meum and tuum.” In support of this opinion I have subjoined a few extracts from “Portu

gal;” and for further proofs, refer to the poem itself, from page 1

to the end.

Yes, in that gen’rous cause for ever high.
Portugal, p. 4.
Yes, in that gen’rous cause for ever strong.

Pleasures of Hope.

For manly courage mourn, untimely lost,
Still often lavish'd, when 'tis needed most.

P. 82.
For talents mourm, untimely lost,

When best employed, and wanted most.

Introduction to Marmion.

Perchance it trickle to a stranger's tomb.
Portugal, p. 84.
"Twill trickle to his rival's bier.

Then, fathering verse by nobler Poets writ,

(An ample Plagiarist, tho' half-form'd Wit)

NOTES.

Is this your triumph? this your proud applause?

Pleasures of Hope.
The noontide breeze that swept the peopled heath,
Had borne the shouts of thousands on its breath;
The noontide sun had seen the ardent fight
Dart back its lustre with redoubled light;
Now, sad and silent flits the evening blast,
And the low sun-beam gilds a desert waste.

P. 67.

The wind’s last breath had toss'd in air,
Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair,
The next but swept a lone hill-side,
Where heath and fern were waving wide;
The sun's last glance was glinted back
From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,-
The next, all unreflected, shone
On bracken green, and cold grey stone.
The Lady of the Lake.
The wolf steals trembling from the mountain glade,

The fleet stag bounds from out his covert shade,

Pilfer whole lines without a blush of shame,

And gild the shred and patchwork with his name.