English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

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James Cawthorn, 1810 - 85 pages
 

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Page 65 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low. So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart.
Page 64 - Unhappy White ! while life was in its spring,* And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Page 19 - Who, both by precept and example, shows That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose...
Page 21 - And each adventure so sublimely tells, That all who view the 'idiot in his glory' Conceive the bard the hero of the story. Shall gentle Coleridge pass unnoticed here, To turgid ode and tumid stanza dear? Though themes of innocence amuse him best, Yet still obscurity's a welcome guest. If Inspiration should her aid refuse To him who takes a pixy for a muse, Yet none in lofty numbers can surpass The bard who soars to elegise an ass.
Page 20 - ... shows That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose ; Convincing all, by demonstration plain, Poetic souls delight in prose insane ; And Christmas stories tortured into rhyme Contain the essence of the true sublime. Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of
Page 13 - And think'st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance, On public taste to foist thy stale romance, Though Murray with his Miller may combine To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line? No! when the sons of song descend to trade, Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade.
Page 6 - d to find or forge a fault; A turn for punning, call it Attic salt; To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet: Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a sharper hit ; Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit; Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.
Page 6 - A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault ; A turn for punning, call it Attic salt ; To JEFFREY go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet : 70 Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit; Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit ; Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.
Page 64 - Henry Kirke White died at Cambridge in October, 1806, in consequence of too much exertion in the pursuit of studies that would have matured a mind which disease and poverty could not impair, and which death itself destroyed rather than sub dued.
Page 65 - Tis true that all who rhyme, nay, all who write, Shrink from that fatal word to Genius — trite ; Yet truth sometimes will lend her noblest fires, And decorate the verse herself inspires : This fact in virtue's name let CRABBE attest — Though nature's sternest painter, yet the best...

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