Miscellaneous Poems.


(Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's)

All scrambling and jostling, like so many imps, A LITERARY ECLOGUE.

And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse.

Ink. Let us join them.

What, won't you return to the lecture “Nimium ne crede colori."-Virgil.

Ink. Why, the place is so cramm'd, there's not roon
O trust not, ye beautiful creatures, to bue,
Though your hair were as red as your stockings are blue.

for a spectre.
Besides, our friend Scamp is to-day so absurd-

Tra. How can you know that till you hear him?

I heard
London.-Before the Door of a Lecture Room. Quite enough; and to tell you the truth, my retreat
Enter Tracy, meeting INKEL.

Was froin his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.

Tra. I have had no great loss then ? Ink. You're too late.


Loss!—such a palaver! Tra. Is it over ?

I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver Ink.

Nor will be this hour. But the benches are cramm'd like a garden in flower, To the torrent of trash which around him he pours,

of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours With the pride of our belles, who have made it the Pump'd up with such effort, disgorged with such labour, fashion;

That-come--do not make me speak ill of one's So instead of "beaux arts," we may say “la belle pas

neighbour. sion;"

Tra. I make you! For learning, which lately has taken the lead in


Yes, you! I said nothing until The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading.

You compell'd me, by speaking the truth Tra. I know it too well, and have worn out my Tra.

To speak illi patience

Is that your deduction ? With studying to study your new publications.


When speaking of Scamp, ill, There's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords I certainly follow, not set an example. and Co.

The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany. With their damnable

Tra. And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool Ink. Hold, my good friend, do you know

makes many. Whom you speak to?

But we two will be wise.
Right well, boy, and so does "the Row ;'' Ink.

Pray, then, let us retire. You're an author-a poet

Tra. I would, but
And think you that I Ink.

There must be attraction much higher Can stand tamely in silence, to hear you decry Than Scamp. or the Jews'-harp he nicknames his lyre, The Muses?

To call you to this hotbed.
Excuse me; I meant no offence


I own it-t is true To the Nine; though the number who make some pre- A fair ladytence


A spinster? To their favours is such-but the subject to drop, Tra.

Miss Lilac!

Ink. I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop,

The Blue ! (Next door lo the pastry.cook's; so that when I The heiress? Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy

Tra. The angel! On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces,


The devil! why, man! As one finds every author in one of those places,) Pray get out of this hobble as fast as you can. Where I just had been skimming a charming critique, | You wed with Miss Lilac! 't would be your perdition: So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greek! She's a poet, a chymist, a mathematician. Where your friend-you know who-had just got such Tra. I say she's an angel. a threshing,


Say rather an angle. That is, as the phrase goes, extremely "refreshing." If you and she marry, you 'll certainly wrangle. What a beautiful word !

I say she's a Blue, man, as blue as the ether.
Very true; 't is so sost

Tra. And is that any cause for not coming together? And so cooling-they use it a little too oft ;

Ink. Humph! I can't say I know any happy alliance And the papers have got it at last-but no matter.

Which has lately sprung up from a wedlock with So they've cut up our friend then ?

science. Tra.

Not left him a tatter-She's so learned in all things, and fond of concernot a rag of his present or past reputation,

ing Which they call a disgrace to the age and the nation. Herself in all matters connected with learning. Ink. I'm sorry to hear this; for friendship, you



What? Our poor friend!-but I thought it would terminate so.

Ink. I perhaps may as well hold my tongas; Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it. You do n't hiipprn to have the Review in your pocket? But there's five hundred people can tell you you na

wrong. Tra. No; I left a round dozen of authors and others!

Tra. You forget Lady Lilac's as rich as a Jew. I I myself saw it puffd in the “Old Girl's Review." Ink, Is it miss or the cash of mamma you pursue?

Ink. What Review ? Tra. Why, Jack, I'll be frank with you-something Tra. 'Tis the Englisn “ Journal de Trevoux; of both.

A clerical work of our Jesuits at home.
The girl is a fine girl.

Have you never yet seen it?
And you feel nothing loth


That pleasure's to come To her good lady.mother's reversion; and yet

Tra. Make haste then. Her life is as good as your own, I will bet.


Why so ? Tra. Let her live, and as long as she likes; I de. Tra.

I have heard people say mand

That it threatend to give up the ghost t'other day. Nothing more than the heart of her daughter and Ink. Well, that is a sign of some spirit. hand.


No doubt Ink. Why, that heart's in the inkstand-that hand. Shall you be at the Countess of Fiddlecome's rout? on the pen.

Ink. I've a card, and shall go; but at present, as Tra. Apropos-Will you write me a song now and

SOOD then ?

As friend Scamp shall be pleased to step down from Ink. To what purpose ?

the nioon, Tra. You know, my dear friend, that in prose (Where he seems to be soaring in search of his wits,) My talent is decent, as far as it goes;

And an interval grants from his lecturing fits, But in rhyme

I'm engaged to the Lady Bluebottle's collation, Ink.

You're a terrible stick, to be sure. To partake of a luncheon and learn'd conversation : Tra. I own it; and yet, in these times, there's no lure 'Tis a sort of reunion for Scamp, on the days For the heart or the fair like a stanza or two; Of bis lecture, to treat him with cold tongue and praise. And so, as I can't, will you furnish a few ?

And I own, for my own part, that 't is bot unpleasant Ink, In your name?

Will you go? There's Miss Lilac will also be present. Tra.

In my name. I will copy inem out, Tra. That “metal's attractive." To slip into her hand at the very next rout.


No doubt-to the pocket Ink. Are you so far advanced as to hazard this? Tra. You should rather encourage my passion than Tra.


shock it. Do you think me subdued by a Blue-stocking's eye, But let us proceed; for I think, by the humSo far as to tremble to tell her in rhyme

Ink. Yery true; let us go, then, before they can What I've told her in prose, at the least, as sublime ?

come, Ink. As sublime! If it be so, no need of my Muse. Or else we'll be kept here an hour at their levy, Tra. But consider, dear Inkel, she is one of the On the rack of cross questions, by all the blue bery, “ Blues."

Hark! Zounds, they 'll be on us; I know by the drone Ink. As sublime !-Mr. Tracy-I've nothing to say. Of old Botherby's spouting, ex-cathedra tone. Stick to prose-As sublime!!-but I wish you good Ay! there he is at it. Poor Scamp! better join day.

Your friends, or he 'll pay you back in your own coin. Tra. Nay, stay, my dear fellow-consider-I'm Tra. All fair; 't is but lecture for lecture. wrong:


That's clear. I own it; but prithee, compose me the song.

But for God's sake let's go, or the bore will be here. Ink. As sublime!!

Come, come; nay, I'm off.

(Ezit INKEL Tra. I but used the expression in haste.


You are right, and I'll follow; Ink. That may be, Mr. Tracy, but shows damnd 'Tis high time for a “Sic me servarit Apollo." bad taste.

And yet we shall have the whole crew on our kibes, Tra. I own it-I know it - acknowledge it - what Blues, dandies, and dowagers, and second-hand scribes, Can I say to you more?

All flocking to noisten their exquisite throttles Ink.

I see what you 'd be at: With a glass of Madeira at Lady Bluebottle's. You disparage my parts with insidious abuse,

(Ezit TRACT. Till you think you can turn them best to your own use.

ECLOGUE SECOND. Tra. And is that not a sign I respect them ?

Why that

An Apartment in the House of LADY BLUEBOTTLE. To be sure makes a difference.

A Table prepared.
I know what is what ;

Sir Richard BLUEBOTTLE, solus.
And you, who're a man of the gay world, no less
Than a poet of t'other, may easily guess

Was there ever a man who was married so sorry? That I never could mean by a word to offend Like a fool, I must needs do the thing in a hurry. A genius like you, and moreover my friend.

My life is reversed, and my quiet destroy'd; Ink. No doubt; you by this time should know what My days, which once pass'd in so gentle a void, is due

Must now, every hour of the twelve, be employ d: To a man of-but come-let us shake hands.

The twelve, do I say?-of the whole twenty-four, Tra.

You knew, Is there one which I dare call my own any more? And you knowo, my dear fellow, how heartily I, What with driving, and visiting, dancing and dining. Whatever you publish, am ready to buy.

What with learning, and teaching, and scribbling, and Ink. That's my bookseller's business; I care not for

shining, sale;

In science and art, I'll be curst if I know Indeed the best poems at first rather fail.

Myself from my wife; for although we are two. There were Renegade's epics, and Botherby's plays, Yet she somehow contrives that all things shall be And my own grand romance

done Tra

Had its full share of praise. In a style that proclaims us eternally one.

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Rul the thing of all things which distresses me more Lady Bluem. For shame! I repeat. Jf Sir George Chan the bills of the week (though they trouble me

could but hear sore)

Lady Bluch. Never mind our friend lakei; we all Is the numerous, humorous, backbiting crew

know, my dear, Of scribblers, wils, lecturers, white, black, and blue, 'Tis his way, Who are brought to my house as an inn, to my cost

Sir Rich. But this place-For the bill here, it seems, is defray'd by the host- Ink.

Is perhaps like friend Scamp's, No pleasure ! no leisure! no thought for my pains, A lecturer's. But to hear a vile jargon which addles my brains; Lady Blueb. Excuse me-'t is one in “the Stamps :* A smatter and chalter, glean'd out of reviews, He is made a collecior. By the ray, tag, and bobtail, of those they call " Blues ;" Tra.

Collector! A rabble who know not--but soft, here they coine ! Sir Rich.

How ? Would to God I were deaf! as I'm not, I 'll be dumb. Miss Lil.


Ink, I shall think of him oft when I buy a new hat: Enter LADY BLUEBOTTLE, Miss LILAC, LADY BLUE. There his works will appearMOUNT. MR. BOTHER BY, INKEL, TRACY, Miss Maza. Lady Bluem.

Sir, they reach to the Ganges. RINE, and others, with Scamp the Lecturer, &c. fc. Ink. I shan't go so far-I can bave them at Granges.*

Lady Blueb. Oh tie! Lady Blueb. Ah! Sir kichard, good morning; I've Miss Lil.

And for shame! brought you some friends.

Lady Bluem.

You're too bad Sir Rich. (bors, and afterwards aside.) If friends,


Very good! they're the first.

Lady Bluem. How good ?
Lady Blueb.
But the luncheon attends.

Lariy Blueh. He incans naught-t is his phrase. I pray ye be seated, " sans ceremonie.”

Lady Blucm.

He grows rude. Mr. Scamp, you 're fatigued; take your chair there,

Lody Blucb. He nicans nothing; nay, ask him. next me.

[ They all sit.
Lady Bluem.

Pray, sir! did you mean
Sir Rich. (aside.) If he does, his fatigue is to come. What you say?
Lady Blueb.

Mr. Tracy


Never mind if he did; 't will be seen Lady Bluemount-Miss Lilac-be pleased, pray, 10 That whatever he means wou'l alloy what he says. place ye;

Both. Sir! And you, Mr. Botherby

Ink. Pray be content with your portion of praise ; Both. Oh, my dear Lady,

'Twas in your defence. I obey.



you please, with submission, Lady Blueb. Mr. Inkel, I ought to upbraid ye;

I can make out my own. You were not at the lecture.


It would be your perdition. Ink,

Excuse me, I was; But the heat forced me out in the best part-alas!

While you live, my dear Botherby, never defend

Yourself or your works; but leave both to a friend. And when

Apropos--Is your play then accepted at last ?
Lady Blueh. To be sure it was broiling; but then

Both. At last?
You have lost such a lecture!

The best of the ten.

Ink. Why I thought-that's to say-there had past Tra. How can you know that? there are two more. That the taste of the actors at best is so so.

A few green-room whispers, which hinted—you know Both.


Both. Sir, the green-room's in rapture, and so 's the I defy him in beat this day's wondrous tapplause.

The very walls shook.
Oh, if that be the test,

Ink. Ay--yours are the plays for exciting our “pity

And fear," is the Greek says: for “purging the mind," I allow our friend Scamp has this day done his best.

I doubt if you 'll leave us an equal behind. Miss Lilac, perinit me to help you ;-a wing?

Both. I have wrillen the prologue, and meant to have Miss Lil. No more, Sir, I thank you. Who lectures next spring?


For a spice of your wit in an epilogue's aid. Both. Dick Dunder.

Ink. Well, time enough yet, when the play's to be Ink. That is, if he lives.

play'd. Miss Lil.

And why not?

Is it cast yet? Ink. No reason whatever, save that he's a sot.

Both. The actors are fighting for parts, I.ady Bluemount! a glass of Madeira?

As is usual in that most litigious of arts. laly Bluem.

With pleasure.

Lady Blueb. We'll all make a party, and go the first Ink. How does your friend Wordswords, that Winder.

mere treasure ?
Does he stick to his lakes, likes the leeches he sings,

Tra. And you promised the epilogue. Lokel.

Not quite, And their gatherers, as Homer sung warriors and

However, to save my friend Botherby trouble, kings?

I'll do what I can, though my pains must be double. Lady Blueb. He has just got a place. Ink.

As a footinan ?

Tra. Why so ?

To do justice to what goes before. Lady Bluem,

For shainc !

Both. Sir, I'm happy to say, I've no fears on that Nor profane with your sneers so poetic a naine. ink. Nay, I ineant him no evil, but pitied his inas. Your parts, Mr, Inkel, areter;


Nuver mind mine, For the poet of peallars 't were, sure, no disaster

Stick to those of your play, which is quite your own line. To wear a new livery; the more, as 't is not The first time he has turn's both his creed and his coat.

* Gratge is or was a samous pastry cook and fruiterer in Piccadilly


Lady Bluem. You're a fugitive writer, I think, sir, Both. I thank you ; not any more, sir, till I dine. of rhymes ?

Ink. A propos-Do you dine with Sir Humphrey to Ink. Yes, ma'am; and a fugitive reader sometimes.

day? On Wordswords, for instance, I seldom alight,

Tra. I should think with Duke llamphrey was more Or on Mouthy, his friend, without taking to flight.

in your way. Lady Bluem. Sir, your taste is too common; but time

Ink. It might be of yore; but we authors now look and posterity

To the knight, as a landlord, much more than the Will right these great men, and this age's severity

Duke. Become its reproach.

The truth is, each writer now quite at his ease is, Ink. I've no sort of objection,

And (except with his publisher) dines where he pleases. So I'm not of the party to take the infection.

But 't is now nearly five, and I must to the Park. Lady Blueb. Perhaps you have doubts that they ever

Tra. And I'll take a turn with you there till 't is will take?

dark. Ink. Not at all; on the contrary, those of the lake

And you, ScampHave taken already, and still will continue


Excuse me; I must to my notes, To take-what they can, from a groat to a guinea,

For my lecture next week.

He must mind whom he quotes
Of pension or place;-but the subject 's a bore.
Lady Bluem. Well, sir, the tiine's coming.

Out of “ Elegant Extracts."
Scamp! don't you feel sore ? Lady Blueb.

Well, now we break up: What say you to this?

But remember Miss Diddle invites us to sup.
They have merit, I own;

Ink. Then at two hours past midnight we 'll all meet Though their system's absurdity keeps it unknown.

again, Ink. Then why not unearth it in one of your lectures ? For the sciences, sandwiches, hock, and champague! Scamp. It is only time past which comes under my

Tra. And the sweet lobster salad ! strictures.


I honour that meal; Lady Blueb. Come, a truce with all tartnees :-the joy For 'tis then that our feelings most genuinely-feel. of my heart

Ink. True ; feeling is truest tren, far beyond ques Is to see Nature's triumph o'er all that is art.

tion: Wild Nature!-Grand Shakspeare!

I wish to the gods it was the same with digestion! Both.

And down Aristotle. Lady Blueb. Pshaw !--never mind that; for one inoLady Bluem. Sir George thinks exactly with Lady

ment of feeling Bluebottle;

Is worth-God knows what. And my Lord Seventy-four, who protects our dear Ink.

"Tis at least worth concealing Bard,

For itself, or what follows—But here comes your And who gave him his place, has the greatest regard

carriage. For the poet, who, singing of peellars and asses, Sir Rich. (@side.) I wish all these people were Has found out the way to dispense with Parnassus.

with my marriage!

(Erein Tra. And you, Scamp!Scamp. I needs must confess I'm embarrass'd. Ink. Do n't call upon Scamp, who's already so harass'd

THE With old schools, and new schools, and no schools, and

THIRD ACT OF MANFRED, all schools. Tra. Well, one thing is certain, that some must be

IN ITS ORIGINAL SHAPE, fools. I should like to know who.


And I should not be sorry To know who are not :-it would save us some worry.

ACT III. Lady Blueb. A truce with remark, and let nothing

Scene I.-A Hall in the Castle of Manfred

This "feast of our reason, and flow of the soul."
Oh, my dear Mr. Botherby! sympathize !-I

Man. What is the hour?
Now feel such a rapture, I'm ready to fly,


It wants but one ill sunset I feel so elastic_" so buoyant !--so buoyant !***

And promises a lovely twilight. Ink. Tracy! open the window.


I wish her much joy on 't. Are all things so disposed of in the tower
Bolh. For God's sake, my Lady Bluebottle, check not As I directed ?
This gentle emotion, so seldom our lot


All, my lord, are ready :
Upon earth. Give it way; 't is an impulse which lifts Here is the key and casket.
Vur spirits from earth; the sublimest of gists;


It is well; For which poor Prometheus was chain'd to his moun. Thou mayst retire.

(Erit HEENAK tain.

Man. (alonc.) There is a calm upon me T 18 the source of all sentiment-feeling's true foun. Inexplicable stillness! which till now tain:

Did not belong to what I knew of life. Mis the Vision of Heaven upon Earth: 't is the gas If that I did not know philosophy of the soul: 't is the seizing of shades as they pass, To be of all our vanities the motliest, And making them substance: 't is something divine :- The merest world that ever fool'd the par Ink. Shall I help you, my friend, to a little more wine? From out the schoolman's jargon, I should deem

The golden secret, the songlit “Kalon" found • Fact from life, with the words.

And beated in muy soul. It will not last,


But it is well to have known it, though but once: To penance, and with gift of all thy lands
It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense,

To the monastery
And I within my tablets would note down


I understand thee,-well. That there is such a feeling. Who is there?

Abbot. Expect no mercy; I have warned thee.
Re-enter HERMAN.
Man. (opening the casket.)

StopHer. My lord, the Abbot of St. Maurice craves

There is a gift for thee within this casket.

(MANFRED opens the casket, strikes a ligi To greet your presence.

and burns some incense.

Ho! Ashtaroth !
Peace be with Count Manfred!

The Demon ASHTAROTH appears, singing as follows: Man. Thanks, holy father! welcome to these walls;

The raven sits
Thy presence honours them, and blesses those

On the raven stone,
Who dwell within them.
Would it were so, Count;

And his black wing flits
But I would fain confer with thee alone.

O'er the milk white bone; Man. Hernan retire. What would my reverend To and fro, as the night winds blow, guest?


The carcass of the assassin swings; Abbot. Thus, without prelude ;-Age and zeal, my

And there alone, on the raven-stone,t office,

The raven flapf bis dusky wings.
And good intent, must plead my privilege;

The fetters creak-and his ebon beak
Our near, though not acquainted, neighbourhood Croaks to the close of the hollow sound;
May also be my herald. Rumours strange,

And this is the tune by the light of the moon
And of unholy nature, are abroad,

To which the witches dance their round, And busy with thy name-a noble name

Merrily, merrily, cheerily, cheerily, For centuries; may he who bears it now

Merrily, merrily, speeds the ball : Transmit it unimpair'd!

The dead in their shrouds, and the demons in douds, Man. Proceed, -I listen.

Flock to the witches' carnival. Abbot. 'Tis said thou holdest converse with the

Abbot. I fear thee not-hence-hencethings

Avaunt thee, evil one!-help, hol without there! Which are forbidden to the search of man;

Man. Convey this man to the Shreckhorn--to its That with the dwellers of the dark abodes,

peakThe many evil and unheavenly spirits

To its extremest peak-watch with him there Which walk the valley of the shade of death,

From now till suprise ; let him gaze, and know Thou communest. I know that with mankind,

He ne'er again will be so near to heaven. Thy fellows in creation, thou dost rarely

But harm hiin not; and, when the morrow breaks, Exchange thy thoughts, and that thy solitude

Set him down safe in his cell-away with hin! Is as an anchorite's, were it buit holy.

Ash. Had I not better bring his brethren too, Man. And what are they who do avouch these Convent and all, to bear him company? things?

Man. No, this will serve for the present. Take him Abbot. My pious brethren-the scared peasantry

up. Even thy own vassals-who do look on thee

Ash. Come, friar! now an exorcism or two, With most unquiet eyes. Thy life's in peril.

And we shall fly the lighter. Man. Take it.

ASUTAROTH disappears with the ABBOT, singing as Abbot. I come to save, and not destroy

follows: I would not pry into thy secret soul; But if these things be sooth, there still is time

A prodigal son and a maid undone,

And a widow re-wedded within the year; For penitence and pity: teconcile thee

And a worldly monk and a pregnant nun, With the true church, and through the church to

Are things which every day appear. heaven. Man. I hear thee. This is my reply: whate'er

MANFRED alone. I may have beeo, or am, doth rest between

Man. Why would this fool break in on me, and Heaven and myself.-I shall not choose a mortal

force To be my mediator. Have I sinn'd

My art to pranks fantastical?-no matter, Against your ordinances? prove and punish!* It was not of my seeking. My heart sickens Abbot. Then, hear and tremble! For the headstrong And weighs a fix'd foreboding on my soul; wretch

But it is calm-calm as a sullen sea Who in the mail of innate hardihood

After the hurricane: the winds are still, Woulil shield himself, and battle for his sins,

But the cold waveg swell high and heavily, There is the stake on earth, and beyond earth eter. And there is danger in them. Such a rest nal

Is no repose. My life hath been a combat, Man. Charity, most reverend father,

And every thought a wound, till I am scarr u Becomes thy lips so much more than this menace, In the immortal part of me.-What now? That I would call thee back to it; but say,

Re-erter HERMAN. What wouldst thou with me?

Her. My lord, you bade me wait on you at sunset Abbot.

It may be there are

He sinks behind the mountain. Things that would shake thee-but I keep them back,


Doth he so? And give thee till to-morrow to repent.

I will look on him. Then if thou dost not all devote thyself

"Raven-stone, (Rabenstein.) a translation of the German word for will be perceired that, as far as this, the original matter of the the gibbel, which in Germany and Switzerland is pernradent, and trade Third Act has been retained.


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