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We, who love order, yield our betters place
Roderick, Kehama, Thalaba, belong
To mightier movers of majestick song.
To such as these we give, by just controul,
Not our five shillings, but our heart and soul.
Try what it is to pierce the mails of men
In their proud moods.. kings, patriots, heroes.. then Back wilt thou run as if on Kalgarth-flat
A shower had caught thee in thy Sunday hat.
Are there no duodecimos of mind
Stitcht to tear up? wherein 'tis hard to find
Its polisht lip to your attentive ear,
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.
The words in the Excursion markt by italics are certainly not imitated from Gebir; and it is but justice to add that
this passage has been the most admired of any in Mr. Wordsworth's great poem.
Why every author on thy hearthstone burn?
Why every neighbour twitcht and shov'd in turn?
I'd almost praise the workmanship of Wrangham.
With goatskin glove an ancient friend defy?
Should Gifford lead thee? should Matthias? they
Leave 'em their night, for they have had their day.
Proves how much longer-winded wrath than wit.
The frequent stroke, the plunge, the puffing, show
A hapless swimmer going fast below.
Verses (and thine are such) undoom'd to die,
From gentle thoughts should raise the willing sigh.
Rest with composure on another's page.
He who hath lent it, tho' awhile he wait,
Which, if they grow around the loftier mind,
Our frowardness, our malice, our distrust,
Cling to our name and sink not with our dust.
Like prince and pauper in our flesh and blood,
Perish like them we cannot, if we wou'd.
Is not our sofa softer when one end
Sinks to the welcome pressure of a friend?
If he hath rais'd us in our low estate,
Are we not happier when they call him great?
Some who sate round us while the grass was green
Fear the chill air and quit the duller scene:
Some, unreturning, thro' our doors have past,
EXTRACT OF A CRITICISM
ON THIS SATIRE.
From the (Not-Gentleman's) Magazine.
We told you
"HURRAH! boys! Our staunch Scotch terriers have drawn the old savage beast out of his hole at last. So. We shall have rare fun with him. Start him, huntsman!
"Hold a moment! hold hard!
"Gentlemen! if you please, half-a-crown each to the hunts
"Thank you, Sirs! Now off with him.
""For eaters of goose-liver.
"Ay; for eaters of such a dish, this is really dainty. Here we have not only the liver, but head too,
with all the brains
it ever had in it. We will singe it a little, and it will be as
good as a haggis.