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this sheet,


kill ;

you !


And yet

her ;

CXCVII. « I have no more to say, but linger still, « And dare not set my


upon « And yet I may as well the task fulfil,

My misery can scarce be more complete : « I had not lived till


could « Death shuns the wretch who fain the blow would meet, « And I must even survive this last adieu, « And bear with life, to love and pray


This note was written upon gilt-edged paper

With a neat little crow-quill, slight and new ;
Her small white hand could hardly reach the taper,
It trembled as magnetic needles do,

she did not let one lear escape
The seal a sunflower ; Elle vous suit partout,
The motto, cut upon a wbite cornelian ;
The wax was superfine, its hue vermillion.

This was Don Juan's earliest scrape ; but whether

I shall proceed with his adventures is
Dependant on the public altogether ;

We'll sce, however, what they say to this,
Their favour in an author's cap's a feather,

And no great mischief's done by their caprice;
And if their approbation we experience,
Perhaps they'll have some more about a



My poern's epic, and is meant to be

Divided in twelve books; each book containing,
With love, and war, a heavy gale at sea,

A list of ships, and captains, and kings reigning,

New characters; the episodes are three :

A panorama view of hell's in training, After the style of Virgil and of Homer, So that my name of Epic's no misnomer.


All these things will be specified in time,

With strict regard to Aristotle's rules, The vade mecum of the true sublime,

Which makes so many poets, and some fools; Prose poets like blank-verse, I'ın fond of rhyme,

Good workmen nerer quarrel with their tools ;
I've got new mythological machinery,
And very handsome supernatural scenery.

There's only one slight difference between

Me and my epic brethren gone before,
And here the advantage is my own, 1 ween;

( Not that I have not several merits more, But this will more peculiarly be seen)

They so embellish, that 'tis quite a bore Their labyrinth of fables to thread through, Whereas this story's actually true.

CCIII. If any person doubt it, I appeal

To history, tradition, and to facts, To newspapers, whose truth all know and feel,

To plays in five, and operas in three acts ; All these confirm my statement a good deal,

But that which more completely faith exacts Is, that myself, and several now in Seville, Saw Juan's last elopement with the devil.

If ever I should condescend to prose,

I'll write poetical commandments, which
Shall supersede beyond all doubt all those

That went before ; in these I shall enrich My text with many things that no one knows,

And carry precept to the highest pitch:
I'll call the work w Longinus o’er a bottle,
Or, Every Poet his own Aristotle. »

Thou shalt believe in Milton, Dryden, Pope ;

Thou shalt not set up Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey, Because the first is crazed beyond all hope,

The second drunk, the third so quaint and mouthey : With Craibe it may be difficult to cope,

And Campbell's Hippocrene is somewhat drouthy :
Thou shalt not steal from Samuel Rogers, nor
Commit-flirtation with the muse of illoore.

Thou shalt not covet Mr. Sotheby's Mese,

His Pegasus, nor any thug that's bis ;
Thou shalt not bear false witness like « the Blues,

( There's one, at least, is very fond of this ; ) Thou shalt not write, in short, but what I choose :

This is true criticisin, and you may kiss-
Exactly as you please, or, nol, the vol,
But if you don't, I'll lay it on, by G-d!

any person


presume to assert This story is not moral,

Tirst, I

pray, That they will not cry out before they're hurt,

Then that they'll read it o'er again, and say,

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( But, doubtless, nobody will be so pert )

That this is not a moral tale, though gay;
Besides, in canto twelfth, I mean to show
The very place where wicked people go.


If, after all, there should be some so blind

To their own good this warning to despise, Led by some tortuosity of mind,

Not to believe my verse and their own eyes, And cry that they « the moral cannot find, »

I tell liim, if a clergyman, he lies ; Should captains the remark or critics make, They also lie too-under a mistake.


. The public approbation I expect,

And beg they'll take my word about the moral, Which I with their amusement will connect,

(So children cutting teeth receive a coral); Meantime, they'll doubtless please to recollect

My epical pretensions to the laurel : For fear some prudish readers should grow skittish, I've bribed my grandmother's review—the British.




I sent it in a letter to the editor,

Who thank'd me duly by return of I'm for a handsome article his creditor ;

Yet if my gentle Muse he please to roast,
And break a promise after having made it her,

Denying the receipt of what it cost,
And smear his page with gall instead of honey,
All I can say is that he had the money.

I think that with this holy new alliance

I may ensure the public, and defy
All other magazines of art or science,

Daily, or monthly, or three monthly; I Have not essay'd to multiply their clients,

Because they tell me 'twere in vain to try, And that the Edinburgh Review and Quarterly Treat a dissenting author very martyrly.

CCXII. « Non ego hoc ferrem calida juventd

« Consule Planco, » Horace said, and so Say I ; by which quotation there is meant a

Hipt that some six or seven good years ago (Long ere I dreamt of dating from the Brenta)

I was most ready to return a blow, And would not brook at all this sort of thing In my hot youth-when George the Third was King.

CCXIII. But now at thirty years my

hair is

gray(I wonder what it will be like at forty ? I thought of a peruke the other day)

My heart is not much greener; and, in short, I Have squander'd my whole suinmer while 'twas May,

And feel no more the spirit to retort; I Ilave spent my life, both interest and principal, - And deem not, what I deem'd, my soul invincible.

No moreno moream Oh! never more on me

The freshness of the heart can fall like dew,
Which out of all the lovely things we see

Extracts emotions beautiful and new,

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