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most all our writers, particularly of prose. It is the too frequent recurrence of the same prepositions, where they are not used in corresponding members of a sentence. I shall explain my meaning better by an example—

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Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew.'

CORSAIR.

BEFORE EFORE I enter upon a critical examination of other poets, I shall devote another paper to Lord Byron,* as I have not yet exhausted the subject. His best works, in my opinon, are his Corsair and his Lara, because they comprise more strength of conception, and, Here the first to marks the infinitive at times, more correctness of language, mood, and the second the dative case. than any of the rest. They prove, too, In a language like our own, where terthat the heroic couplet is this author's minations are so seldom allowed, those forte; and as it is also the metre, in feeble substitutes, to, with, by, from, &c. which weak writers are sure to fail, his should, at least, be prevented, as far as success must at least exclude him from possible, from acting different parts in that class. And yet, I can scarcely say, the same line.

that even in these works, he shews him

I could mention innumerable instances self a whit more correct than the "slov- where other inattentions to composition enly Dryden." His "ten low words oft either obscure or deface his poetry. Illecreep in one dull line," and sometimes in gitimate rhymes, such as sent and instrufour lines together. There is likewise a ment-brow and glow-bring and fault very frequent in his narrative-the banquetting-besides the recurrence of change of tense from the past to the pre- the same rhyme at the distance of only sent. I have a passage before me where one or two couplets. To the same cause, there are five changes in eleven lines; I am sure, may be attributed several rethe following is a shorter instance. dundancies, such as 66 bows his bent head," for if it be bowed, it must be bent-several absurdities, such as—“ in icy smoothness flowed"-for ice cannot be said to flow-and several mean phrases, such as, "that fair she," and "what ails thee?"

-------“They seized him each a torch,
And fire the dome from minaret to porch,
A stern delight was fixed in Conrad's eyes."
CORSAIR.

Another ungraceful mode of diction his
Lordship possesses in common with al-

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The licence of using long syllables, where the measure does not admit of

282

Modern English Poets.-Lord Byron.

them, is very tempting to a hasty writer,
and accordingly Lord Byron indulges in
For instance,
it beyond all reason.

"The accents his scarce moving pale lips
spoke."

"But like that cold wave it stood still."
“And dull the film along his dim eye grew.”

such awkward accentuations always give
an idea either of a forced style or of
metrical inability.

Again, what can be more ungainly than such a line as this?

"In sooth---its truth must others rue." and one would think if the author had ever read the following line twice:

"All that can eye or sense delight."

[VOL. 2.

There is one improvement, however, visible in the latter productions of his Lordship-the omission of antiquated phraseology. He has even discarded it in his last Canto of the Childe Harold, though the former were full of it. Almost the only dead word or phrases I can recollect in his Corsair and Lara, are "there be murmurs," "there be things," and "there be faces." These expressions, indeed, be true Yorkshire. Why he is so fond of calling a physician a leech, I cannot possibly discover.

His Siege of Corinth contains some most magnificent passages, sadly dis figured, however, by changes of measure. It is an outrageous Pindaric; and in one page of it may be found a specimen

his ear must have taught him, that had of every known metre,-from the Lillhe written it thus,

"All that can sense or eye delight." he would have prevented the feeble effect of the open vowels, and have also added to the melody by the contiguous repetition of the vowel i. For one great charm of harmonious versification arises. from alliteration by vowels. It has infinitely more delicacy and grace than alliteration by consonants. I do not remember that any writer of criticism has ever alluded to it, but all those who are remarkable for harmony have practised it. It was one of the secrets of Virgil's music; and since I have mentioned him, I will instance a line which shows how much he felt its elegance,

"Damonis musam dicemus et Alphesiboci."

putian Ode, to "There was an old Cobler." Who that reads these lines,

And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn, And the flap of the banners that flit as they're borne, &c.

but must call to mind,

"That tumbled the cow with the crumpled

horn,

That tossed the dog quite over the corn," &c.

All these, I confess, are but smallblots; and yet they occur so frequently, as to create a perpetual recoil of taste. In fact, I know numbers, (and I was myself one of them,) who could not bring themselves to read beyond a few pages, in consequence of their unattractive style; neither was it till very lately, that, im

Had he transposed it, as the metre would pelled by the praises, which I heard on have permitted, thus,

"Dicemus musam Damonis et Alphesiboei.”"
the melody would have been lost. Such
transposition, too, would have accorded
better with a former line, of which that
quoted is almost a repetition, namely,
“Pastorum musam Damonis et Alphesiboci."
Therefore the alteration, which for any
other purpose was quite unnecessary,
proves how much he studied this mode
Lord Byron
of melodizing his metres.
has used it to an extravagant extent in
the following line:

"And strained with rage the chain on which
he gazed."

every side, and from the best judges, I resolutely set about examining those works as a task, Here, indeed, I could perceive, through all their ungracefulness, those rich mines of thought and feeling, which

appear almost inexhaustible. What, for instance, can be more exquisite than this passage from the Childe? "Ah, then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which, but an hour ago, Blushed with the praise of their own loveliness: And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts."

The last picture I prefer far beyond the celebrated,

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"Et trepida matres pressere ad pectora natos,"
because it is more interesting in its na-
ture, and more intensely pathetic.
The following is quite new, and terri-
bly characteristic of such a man as Lara:

"That smile, if oft observed and near, Waned in its mirth and withered to a sneer, That smile might reach his lip, but passed not by; Nor e'er could trace its laughter to his eye." And as a picture of nature, nothing can be more sublime than this single stroke, in the description of a stormy night:

"From peak to peak the rattling crags among, Leaps the live thunder!"

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283

But I might quote his beauties without number. It is more my object to show his faults, in the hope that he may hereafter avoid them; or for the sake of others, who are his imitators, without having half his talents. Let it be remembered, that a faulty, but superior writer, has the sins of a whole host to answer for. Minor witlings, who cannot imbibe his genius, adopt his manner; and though they are unable to make common cause with his excellencies, are, at least, fully adequate to support him with a kindred troop of defects. B.

"MA

LORD DE GREY, OR THE STOIC.

BY THE AUTHOR OF 66 LEGENDS OF LAMPIDOSA."

From the European Magazine.

66

AN is sufficient for himself;" self!" said the stranger in a broken voice : said the oracle of a solitary inn as "Go to her, and then bring me help." he finished the contents of his bowl, and Man is not sufficient for himself, departed without paying for it" Man then !" whispered Maurice, as he ran to is sufficient for himself!" repeated a pale the dying woman's hut, and from thence lean boy, taking up the well-laden bas- to the parsonage where he usually lived, ket he had already carried some miles; The inhabitant of that solitary and halfand this sublime sentence consoled him ruined house accompanied him back to a little for the various rents and deficien- the forlorn stranger, who accepted his cies in his apparel-" It is very odd offered hospitality. There is, it has (continued he) that Dame Giles cannot been said, a certain signal by which honsuffice for herself too: but when I am est men ascertain each other, and this is, older she shall send me no more errands." -By the dim light of the moon, the young reasoner saw in the lane he was traversing, a horse without a rider, and a man stretched near it among some shrubs. After a moment's pause, Maurice remembered the sentence he had heard of man's all-sufficiency, and ventured to approach the stranger whose groans expressed anguish. He was a man of stern countenance with good attire :-“Child, (said he) I am a traveller without friends in this country-assist me to rise and walk, or bring help." (said he) we must be better known to "With all my heart, sir!" answered each other. Maurice; but you must wait while I carry my basket home.”. "Do you not see that my leg is broken ?"-" Yes, Sir, but the poor dame at the lane's end is dying, and I must carry her the wine my basket, because she is old and poor."May'st thou live to be old thy

in

66

perhaps, the true secret of freemasonry. The curate's countenance bore this signet, and the stranger entered his house as if it had been a brother's. In addition to his holy office, the good pastor possessed some skill in casual ailments, and his guest's limb was not sufficiently injured to require more. Maurice was the attendant of his bed-chamber; for he would allow no female to approach him. When he had resided three weeks at the parsonage, he suddenly desired the curate to speak with him alone.

“Sir,

You have not asked my name, nor have I questioned you, but I perceive we can exchange benefits. We are both, perhaps, equally poor; I in friends, you in the opinion of the world. Give me this boy whom you have taught to respect and serve distressed age: he will live, I think to deserve an old man's

284

The Stoic.

[VOL. 2

blessing, and I shall grow happier by out of my sight, wretched boy!" said bestowing it." Lord De Grey starting from his pillow; The curate of Rochdale was silent a but he soon forgot the offence, and on few moments, and seemed struggling with the following morning his equipage arsudden pain; but he recovered himself, rived to convey him with his new favourand replied "You have not chosen ite from the parsonage. Lord De Grey unwisely; I have children, but I honour entered it with a firm step and an unmy nephew's talents more than their's. moved countenance, while the curate If he consents to leave me"-" Stop!" stood on the threshold without bending exclaimed his abrupt guest" you have his head; but the peer suddenly held a wife, I know, whom you wish to con- out his hand-"I know you, Mordaunt, sult-go and show your domestic defer- and I know this boy's claims on my proence to her opinion, but let me hear no- tection-your disinterested zeal for him thing of it-I abhor whatever indicates shall be repaid to your own children— the influence of a woman." Do not ask me to see the daughter who deceived me, but I pardon and honour her husband."

Mordaunt, the benevolent curate, retired with a full heart into his wife's apartment" I was not mistaken (said he) your father has fixed his stern heart on our young nephew-whether he has forgotten or disdains to recognise me, I cannot discover; but we ought to bless the fortunate chance which has introduced a deserted relative to his notice."

The meek wife had all the noble integrity of a husband, but a mother's feelings prevailed" If he could have seen our daughters or our infant boy, he would love them as he loves Maurice-Is it possible that he can adopt this boy with out a single thought of us?"

The carriage instantly moved away, while Maurice wept in silence for the loss of his young companions, whom he was not allowed to name. His patron presented him to a graceful boy, a year younger than himself, whose education he was ordered to partake. This boy, the only acknowledged grandson of Lord De Grey, and heir of his family's bonours, had a heart and talents formed to embellish them. But his grandfather, soured by disappointed pride, endeav oured to believe that all the miseries of life proceed from men's dependence on "I am not certain (replied her hus- each other, and he constantly repeated, band) that he knows under whose roof" Man ought to be sufficient for himself." he is a guest. But if he is unconscious, "Friendship (he said to his two young let us not, for a selfish purpose, risque the welfare of an unfortunate child whom we cannot indemnify for the loss of such a patron. We have deserved your father's anger by our rash marriage, and I rather choose to bear his silent indifference, than to sue for pardon and be repulsed."

Maurice heard some part of this conversation without understanding its import. He was only astonished that a rich and powerful nobleman should deem a poor boy's society desirable; and began to doubt whether man can always be sufficient for himself. He wondered why his kind aunt, as he was accustomed to call the curate's wife, never ventured into Lord De Grey's presence, or passed his chamber-door without tears. One day he stole in himself, leading his favourite playmate her eldest daughter, to look at the important stranger when they thought him sleeping. "Take her

pupils) is a mere interchange of benefits;
love is only an extension of one's self:-
there is no disguise necessary for that
great principle of human nature, self in-
terest; and no man, therefore, should be
required to depend on another." Per-
haps he did not perceive how easily his
pupils inferred from this doctrine that
they owed him no obedience beyond
their own pleasure.
Taught to ascribe
every act to a selfish motive, they saw no
merit in his bounty, and no motive for
their occasional submission, except their
present advantage. Man, says Lord
Bacon, and every noble animal, is im-
proved by dependence on a superior
Being; but these young cynics were de-
prived of that sense of support which is
inspired by filial love, and carried to its
highest perfection by our ideas of a Cre-
ator. As forbearance and forgiveness
made no part of their moral code,, their
disputes often rose to violence when their

VOL. 2.]

wishes clashed.

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On one of these occa- tenance, "you were my first teachersions, Lord De Grey exclaimed, address- can you believe me guilty ?"-The old ing himself to his grandson-" Since ha- man wept and pressed his hand to his tred and revenge are the most painful of bosom ; but at that instant the bell of all sensations, I require you for your his gate was rung violently." You own sake, not for mine, to renounce have held an innocent hand!" cried them."-"I am the best judge, sir, (re- Maurice, as he ran himself to open the plied he) of my own feelings, and I know gate, at which a stranger stood with a none so painful as equality with a name- sealed parcel, which he gave and disapless intruder, the foster-son of a mendi- peared. It was addressed to the curate, eant." who opened and found within it bank"Man is sufficient for himself,"-re- notes to the amount of five hundred peated Maurice; and before the dawn pounds." See, Maurice, (said he) the of the next morning, he quitted his ben- provision made for your flight by your efactor's house with only a few pounds benefactor-take it, and shelter yourself in his purse, and one change of linen in in another country. But do not hope to his pocket. But when he stood on the avoid dependence on your fellow creaedge of the shore from whence, in the tures: their good opinion is necessary to desperation of insulted pride, he had re- your welfare, and you have given force solved to embark as a common soldier, to accusation by neglecting it. Go and some thoughts of his early home returned, create for yourself that sanctuary which and he remembered the kind curate of is enjoyed by men who live for the benRochdale with those grateful feelings efit of society. Compare the solitary which meek benevolence is sure to create. Instead of presenting himself to the reeruiting-officer, he took his seat on a northern mail, and soon reached the obscure valley where his infancy had been spent. Mordaunt, the curate, received him with a silent embrace, and led him to his fire-side, where his first enquiry was for the lovely blue-eyed girl he had once attempted to introduce to Lord De Grey. The curate, without answering, seated him at his supper-table; and when Maurice had refreshed himself, said sternly, "I would give bread even to a felon who trusts me-read that letter!" It was the hand-writing of Lord De Grey, and contained these words.

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The boy I received from you has robbed me. By an exact imitation of my signature, he has obtained four thousand pounds, which have been traced into his hands. 1 pardon the theft and the fraud, but not the ingratitude. Bid him fly, if he ventures to seek shelter near you. It is too late to save him by other means."

obelisk with those clustered pillars which
support the roof of our noblest institu-
tions, and then determine which is the
most useful and dignified."-Thus gent-
ly intimating hope rather than censure,
the good pastor led his guest again to his
threshold, urged speed, and gave a fare-
well blessing. Maurice felt the tender-
ness of his bounty, but he also felt that
his own guilt seemed undoubted.
ran through his veins at the thought; and
plunging spurs into his horse, be turned
it, not towards the nearest seaport, ac-
cording to Mordaunt's command, but in
the high-road to London.

Fire

Lord De Grey was seated musing in his library at midnight, when Maurice suddenly stood before him, pale and gasping for breath. You have placed my life and honour at stake, my lord !---and I come to redeem them. Do not expect me to seal your accusation by flight. IfI am guilty, I do not deserve shelter; if you believe me innocent, let me prove it."

"Unhappy boy!" said his patron, starting as if he had felt himself all the Maurice's eyes stiffened as they dwelt shame and penalty of the crime--“ what on these terrible words, and his lips were avails your innocence against a host of palsied. Mordaunt pointed to the only circumstances? How can you confront horse which fed on his little glebe, and the world after the infamy of such a urged him to depart while the darkness trial?”—“ Man is not sufficient for himof night remained." Ah, Sir!" said self then!" said Maurice, with a bitter Maurice with a sudden light in his coun- smile- how often have you taught me

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