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Has lain so very long on hand
There's Byron, too, who once did better,
The Quarterly-Ah, sir, if you Had but the genius to review !A smart critique upon St. Helena, Or if you only would but tell in a Short compass what but, to resume ; As I was saying, sir, the roomThe room's so full of wits and bards, Crabbes, Campbells, Crokers, Freres and Wards, And others, neither bards nor wits :My humble tenement admits All persons in the dress of gent., From Mr. Hammond to Dog Dent.
A party dines with me to-day, All clever men, who make their way ; Crabbe, Malcolm, Hamilton, and Chantrey, Are all partakers of my pantry. They're at this moment in discussion On poor De Staël's late dissolution. Her book, they say, was in advancePray heaven, she tell the truth of France ! Thus run our time and tongues away. — But, to return, sir, to your play : Sorry, sir, but I can not deal, Unless 'twere acted by O'Neill. My hands so full, my head so busy, I'm almost dead, and always dizzy ; And so, with endless truth and hurry, Dear Doctor, I am yours,
TO MR. MURRAY.
STRAHAN, Tonson, Lintot of the times,
To thee, with hope and terror dumb,
Upon thy table's baize so green
My Murray ?
Along thy sprucest bookshelves shine The works thou deemest most divineThe “ Art of Cookery,” and mine,
Tours, Travels, Essays, too, I wist And Sermons to thy mill bring grist ; And then thou hast the “ Navy List,"
And Heaven forbid I should conclude
(From ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS.)
ILLUSTRIOUS Holland ! hard would be his lot, His hirelings mention'd, and himself forgot ! Holland, with Henry Petty at his back, The whipper-in and huntsman of the pack. Blest be the banquets spread at Holland House, Where Scotchmen feed, and critics may carouse ! Long, long beneath that hospitable roof Shall Grub-street dine, while duns are kept aloof. See honest Hallam lay aside his fork, Resume his pen, review his Lordship's work, And, grateful for the dainties on his plate, Declare his landlord can at least translate ! Dunedin ! view thy children with delight, They write for food—and feed because they write : And lest, when heated with the unusual grape, Some glowing thoughts should to the press escape, And tinge with red the female reader's cheek, My lady skims the cream of each critique ; Breathes o'er the page her purity of soul, Reforms each error, and refines the whole.
EPILOGUE TO ENGLISH BARDS & SCOTCH REVIEWERS.
Thus far I've held my undisturb'd career,
the rod a scribbler bids me kiss,