There was a laughing devil in his sneer,
That raised emotions both of rage and fear ;
And where his frown of hatred darkly fell,

Hope withering fled, and mercy sighed farewell.

Canto 1.

Stanza 9.

ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS.

'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
A book's a book, although there's nothing in't.
Lines 51, 52.

Unhappy White! while life was in its spring,
And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing,
The spoiler swept that soaring lyre away,
Which else had sounded an immortal lay.
O! what a noble heart was here undone,
When Science' self destroyed her favourite son!
Yes, she too much indulged thy fond pursuit,
She sow'd the seeds, but death has reap'd the fruit.
"T was thine own genius gave the final blow,
And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low:
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
View'd his own feather on the fatal dart,
And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart;

Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel

He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel;
While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest
Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.*
Lines 815-832.

Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires,
And decorate the verse herself inspires ;
This fact, in Virtue's name, let Crabbe attest;
Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.

Lines 839-842.

There's not a joy the world can give
Like that it takes away.

Stanzas for Music.

* These lines, not excelled in imagery by anything in the works of the noble poet, refer to Henry Kirke White, whose death was accelerated by too close an application to study. On account of the fame acquired by this portion of the poem, the extract containing the allusion to Kirke White is given in its entirety. The idea here conveyed is imitated by Moore in his "Corruption—an Epistle,” lines 95-98

"Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume

To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom;
See their own feathers pluck'd, to wing the dart
Which rank corruption destines for their heart."

Yes! where is he, the champion and the child*
Of all that's great or little, wise or wild?

Whose game was empires, and whose stakes were thrones,

Whose table earth-whose dice were human bones?

Swift.

I've often wish'd that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace walk, and half a rood

Of land, set out to plant a wood.

Imitation of Part of the Sixth Satire of the
Second Book of Horace.

This was a visionary scheme,

Lines 1-6.

He wak'd, and found it but a dream;

A project far above his skill;

For nature must be nature still.

Cadenus and Vanessa. Lines 584-587.

'Tis an old maxim in the schools,
That flattery is the food of fools;
Yet now and then your men of wit,
Will condescend to take a bit.

Ibid. Lines 758-761.

Then, rising with Aurora's light,

The Muse invok'd, sit down to write;
Blot out, correct, insert, refine,
Enlarge, diminish, interline;

Be mindful, when invention fails,

To scratch your head, and bite your

nails.

On Poetry. Lines 85-90.

He has more goodness in his little finger than you have in your whole body.

Mary the Cookmaid's Letter to Dr. Sheridan.

I love to tell truth and shame the devil.*

Ibid.

In all distresses of our friends,

We first consult our private ends ;

While Nature, kindly bent to ease us,
Points out some circumstance to please us.†

On the Death of Dr. Swift. Lines 7-10.

* See also Quotations from Shakspere, Henry IV., Part I. This and the quotation immediately preceding it from Mary's Letter, are proverbial expressions, probably in use long prior to the days of either Swift or Shakspere. The Dean's writings abound with old proverbs: most of those in familiar use in his day will be found in his "Polite Conversation."

† An adaptation of the well-known maxim of Rochetoucault, "Dans l'adversité de nos meilleurs amis, nous