« AnkstesnisTęsti »
This chief came smirking onward, that lookt arch,
It should be stil the tune they like the most,
"I think I've heard of him."
Shelley stands foremost."
And his lip was blue.
"I hear with pleasure any one commend
"An ass! by God!"
Who yet surmounted in romantick Spain
I lagged; he call'd me; urgent to prolong My matin chirpings into mellower song.
Mournfuller tones came then.. O ne'er be they
Drown'd in night howlings from the Forth and Spey!
Twice is almighty Homer far above
Troy and her towers, Olympus and his Jove.
First, when the God-led Priam bends before
Him sprung from Thetis, dark with Hector's gore:
A second time, when both alike have bled,
And Agamemnon speaks among the dead.
Call'd up by Genius in an after-age,
That awful spectre shook the Athenian stage.
I felt the looks they gave, the words they said,
Ever shall these to me be well-spent days,
Sweet fell the tears upon them, sweet the praise.
Far from the footstool of the tragick throne,
Station the Greek and Briton side by side,*
"Station the Greek and Briton side by side." Surely there can be no fairer method of overturning an offensive reputation, from which the scaffolding is not yet taken down, than by placing against it the best passages, and most nearly parallel in the subject, from Eschylus and Sophocles. To this labour the whole body of Scotch criticks and poets are hereby invited, and moreover to add the ornaments of translation.
Shew me a genuine poet* of our times
Unwrung with strictures or ungall'd with rhymes.
On our wide downs there have been, and there are, Such as indignant Justice should not spare.
Under my wrist ne'er shall her whip be crackt
Where poet leaves a poet's fame intact.
When from their rocks and mountains they descend
* It appears to be at Edinburgh as I remember it was at Oxford. The bargemen usually made choice of some welldrest gownsman for their attacks: scouts and servitors went scot-free: to quarrel with them did not answer.
Come into purer air, where lake and hill
With wholesome breath the heaving bosom fill.
Ion may knock where Self hath most to do,
Ion came forth, the generous, brave, and wise,
The proud policeman strain'd each harden'd ball
The exciseman from Gravesend, the steamer's clerk,
Amid the mighty storm that swell'd around,
No more on daisies and on pilewort fed,
By weary Duddon's ever tumbled bed,