PHYSICIAN-PITY, &c. 148 In vain we fondly strive to trace In vain we dwell on lines and crosses, And many a sage and learned skull Has peep'd through windows dark and dull. And yet, in spite of ridicule, and all The wit, which, Bumpo says, so often stirs him, Unless upon one's head a Combe may fall, A sharper and a Fowler thing than Gall MOORE Be-Grimes him Savage-ly, and sorely Spurz-h(e)im. The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing SHAKSPEARE. 450. POET-POETRY. I'd rather be a kitten, and cry, mew, Than one of those same metre ballad-mongers. Who first found out that curse, Timprison and confine his thoughts in verse, SHAKSPEARE. As wine, that with its own weight 1uns, is best, But those, that write in rhyme, still make BUTLER, BUTLER. BUTLER'S Hudibras And rhyme the rudder is of verses, BUTLER'S Hudibras. Read, meditate, reflect, grow wise - in vain ; Try every help, force fire from every spark; Yet shall you ne'er the poet's power attain, If heaven ne'er stamp'd you with the muses' mark. Then, rising with Aurora's light, The muse invok'd, sit down to write. AARON HILL. Enlarge, diminish, interline; Be mindful, when invention fails, To scratch your head, and bite your nails. DEAN SWIFT. Thou source of all my bliss, of all my woe, GOLDSMITH POET-POETRY. A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. POPE'S Essay on Criticism Even copious Dryden wanted, or forgot, The last and greatest art the art to blot. 451 POPE'S Essay on Criticism. Married to immortal verse, There is a pleasure in poetic pains, And I have felt A passion that disturb'd me with the joy "Tis long disputed, whether poets claim MILTON. WORDSWORTH. WORDSWORTH. Are useless both; but when in friendship join'd, FRANCIS' Horace. But he, the bard of every age and clime, And stamp'd with all the godhead in his mind. GIFFORD'S Juvenal 452 POET-POETRY. A theme well fitted to inspire The purest frenzy of poetic fire. JOEL BARLOW But which deserves the laurel, rhyme or blank? BYRON'S Imitations. Oh! how I hate the nerveless, frigid song, Many are poets who have never penn'd BYRON. Their inspiration. BYRON. Not a stone on their turf, or a line on their graves, BYRON'S Siege of Corinth. BYRON'S Don Juan. In liquid lines, mellifluously bland. To whom the lyre and laurels have been given, BYRON'S Don Juan Over the harp, from earliest years belov'd, He threw his fingers hurriedly, and tones He touch'd his harp, and nations heard, entranc'd; POLLOK'S Course of Time. POET-POETRY. "Tis not the chime and flow of words, that move 459 J. G. PERCIVAL. He pour'd his heart's full affluence in song, DAWES' Geraldine. As nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, Of nature and of beauty, BAILEY'S Festus. Immortal bard! thy name shall be enroll❜d And future times shall tell of thy renown. SHERBURNE, on Byron. Where sense with sound, and ease with weight, combine In the pure silver of Pope's ringing line; Or where the pulse of man beats loud and strong, But it was love that taught me rhyme, Of words a useless sluggard prove, The New Timon. And, long as poetry shall charm mankind, C. F. HOFFMAN. J. T. WATSON. |