There wanted but this requisite to swell His qualities (with them) into sublime. Lady Fitz-Frisky, and Miss Mævia Mannish, Both long'd extremely to be sung in However, he did pretty well, and was At great assemblies or in parties small, He saw ten thousand living authors pass, That being about their average numeral; Also the eighty "greatest living poets," As every paltry magazine can show it's. In twice five years the "greatest living poet." Like to the champion fisty in the ring, Is call'd on to support his claim, or show it, Although 't is an imaginary thing. Even I-albeit I'm sure I did not know it, Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be king, Was reckon'd a considerable time. The grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme. But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero My Leipsic, and my Mont Saint Jean seems Cain: "La Belle Alliance" of dunces down at zero, Now that the Lion's fall'n, may rise again : But I will fall at least as fell my hero; Nor reign at all, or as a monarch reign; Or to some lonely isle of gaolers go, With turncoat Southey for my turnkey Lowe. Sir Walter reign'd before me; Moore and Campbell Before and after: but now grown more holy, The Muses upon Sion's hill must ramble With poets almost clergymen, or wholly : And Pegasus has a psalmodic amble Beneath the very Reverend Rowley Powley, Who shoes the glorious animal with stilts, A modern Ancient Pistol-" by these hilts!" Still he excels that artificial hard Laborer in the same vineyard, though the vine Yields him but vinegar for his reward.That neutralized dull Dorus of the Nine; That swarthy Sporus, neither man nor bard; That ox of verse, who ploughs for every line: Cambyses' roaring Romans beat at least The howling Hebrews of Cybele's priest. Then there's my gentle Euphues; who, they say, Sets up for being a sort of moral me :1 He'll find it rather difficult some day To turn out both, or either, it may be. Some persons think that Coleridge hath the sway; And Wordsworth has supporters. two or three; And that deep-mouth'd Boeotian "Savage Landor" Has taken for a swan rogue Southey's gander. John Keats, who was kill'd off by one critique,2 Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek Contrived to talk about the Gods of late. Much as they might have been supposed to speak. Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate; "T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article. Or an approver, or a mere spectator, Yawning a little as the night grows later. But this won't do, save by and by; and he Who, like Don Juan, takes an active share, Must steer with care through all that glittering sea Of gems and plumes and pearls and silks, to where He deems it is his proper place to be; Dissolving in the waltz to some soft air, Or proudlier prancing with mercurial skill, Where Science marshals forth her own quadrille. Or, if he dance not, but hath higher views Upon an heiress or his neighbor's bride, Let him take care that that which he pursues Is not at once too palpably descried. Full many an eager gentleman oft rues His haste; impatience is a blundering guide, Amongst a people famous for reflection, Who like to play the fool with circumspection. But, if you can contrive, get next at What Juan saw and underwent shall be My topic, with of course the due restriction Which is required by proper courtesy ; And recollect the work is only fiction, And that I sing of neither mine nor me, Though every scribe, in some slight turn of diction, [doubt Will hint allusions never meant. Ne'er This-when I speak, I don't hint, but speak out. Whether he married with the third or fourth Offspring of some sage husband-hunt[worth ing countess, Or whether with some virgin of more (I mean in Fortune's matrimonial bounties) He took to regularly peopling Earth Of which your lawful, awful wedlock fount is, Or whether he was taken in for damages, [ages, For being too excursive in his hom Is yet within the unread events of time. Thus far, go forth, thou lay, which I will back Against the same given quantity of rhyme, [tack For being as much the subject of atAs ever yet was any work sublime, By those who love to say that white is black. So much the better!-I may stand alone, But would not change my free thoughts for a throne. Canto XI. 1822-1823. August 29, 1823. THE VISION OF JUDGMENT,1 BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO EN- "A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel! I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word." 1 Southey published in 1821 a poem called “ A Vision of Judgment," in which he extolled George III. for his personal virtues, and described his reception into heaven. In the Preface of this poem he bitterly attacked Byron for immorality in his writings. See full accounts of the affair in the biographies of Byron and Southey. The briefest and best treatment of it is in Nichol's Life of Byron, toward the end of Chapter VIII. PREFACE IT hath been wisely said, that "One fool makes many; " and it hath been poetically observed "That fools rush in where angels fear to tread."-POPE. If Mr. Southey had not rushed in where he had no business, and where he never was before, and never will be again, the following poem would not have been written. It is not impossible that it may be as good as his own, seeing that it cannot, by any species of stupidity, natural or acquired, be worse. The gross flattery, the dull impudence, the renegado intolerance, and impious cant, of the poem by the author of "Wat Tyler," are something so stupendous as to form the sublime of himself-containing the quintessence of his own attributes. So much for his poem-a word on his preface. In this preface it has pleased the magnanimous Laureate to draw the picture of a supposed "Satanic School," the which he doth recommend to the notice of the legislature; thereby adding to his other laurels the ambition of those of an informer. If there exists anywhere except in his imagination, such a School, is he not sufficiently armed against it by his own intense vanity? The truth is, that there are certain writers whom Mr. S. imagines, like Scrub, to have talked of him; for they laughed consumedly." I think I know enough of most of the writers to whom he is supposed to allude, to assert, that they, in their individual capacities, have done more good, in the charities of life, to their fellow-creatures, in any one year, than Mr. Southey has done harm to himself by his absurdities in his whole life and this is saying a great deal. But I have a few questions to ask. 1stly, Is Mr. Southey the author of "Wat Tyler"? 2ndly, Was he not refused a remedy at law by the highest judge of his beloved England, because it was a blasphemous and seditious publication? 3dly, Was he not entitled by William Smith, in full parliament, a rancorous renegado?" 4thly, Is he not poet laureate, with his own lines on Martin the regicide staring him in the face? And, 5thly, Putting the four preceding items together, with what conscience dare he call the attention of the laws to the publications of others, be they what they may? I say nothing of the cowardice of such a proceeding, its meanness speaks for itself; but I wish to touch upon the motive, which is neither more nor less than that Mr. S. has been laughed at a little in some recent publications, as he was of yore in the Anti-Jacobin," by his present patrons. Hence all this "skimble-scamble stuff" about "Satanic," and so forth. However, it is worthy of him-" qualis ab incepto." He If there is anything obnoxious to the political opinions of a portion of the public in the following poem, they may thank Mr. Southey. might have written hexameters, as he has written everything else, for aught that the writer cared-had they been upon another subject. But to attempt to canonize a monarch, who, whatever were his household virtues, was neither a successful nor a patriot king,-inasmuch as several years of his reign passed in war with America and Ireland, to say nothing of the aggression upon France.-like all other exaggeration, necessarily begets opposition. In whatever manner he may be spoken of in this new |