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guard blowing his horn, but (no wonder)
drawing, seemingly, only half its usual tones
from it, as if the torrent had damped his ar-
dour. I almost envied the group on the top.
"Twere a living death to live alene." I
could now do justice to the poet, when he
says,

If solitude succeed to grief,
Relief from pain is small relief;
The vacant bosom's wilderness
Could thank the pang that made it less.

-had recourse to my pen, and, though at first listless,-though itching to toss it down, by dint of resolution I have commanded my attention, and guillotined ennui and discomfort. I can now resolve, con amore, to make myself as comfortable as possible. I will scribble till dinner-time, a newspaper, I have ascertained, I will be enabled to get as a companion to my cigar and tumbler of toddy after dinner, and the hope of a fine day to-morrow will enable me to vegetate through the afternoon not unpleasantly, and

Not much to be wondered at, I say, that I was a little "out of sorts;" but I reasoned to reach bed without any bilious accumulawith myself,-thought of my friend Rideout, Ition.

NEW-YORK LITERARY GAZETTE.

The North American Review and Lord Byron.

R. C.

We proceed to fulfil our promise. The North American has held very contradictory language with respect to Lord Byron, and we undertake to prove this assertion to the satisfaction of all who will listen to us with the disposition to judge candidly. Nine months ago, an article on Byron appeared in this review, which we shall contrast with that in the late number. We begin with the consideration of Lord Byron's satirical abilities.

North American Review, No. XLIX. "His satire is violent, indiscriminating, and undigoified. It is full of the coarse common places of abuse, with little range of thought or allusion. His blows are random and ineffectual. There is not much which has even the appearance of being characteristic of the individuals whom he assails."

North American Review, No XLVI.

" In satire and in lyric poetry, both sublime and pathetic, he reached the highest degree of excellence."-" Lord Byron seems to have possessed a strong talent for satire, and if we could be sure that he would have directed it to proper objects, we should regret that he had not laboured more in this department."

Now then, taking No. 46 for our text, we may learn from No. 49 what is the highest degree of excellence in satire-i. e. to be violent, indiscriminating, and undignified-to use coarse common-places of abuse, to strike at random, and ineffectually, &c. (vide supra.) Oh! Samuel Johnson! how sadly didst thou blunder in thy definition of satire!

No. XLIX.

" He produced his English Bards and Scotch Reviewers."-" It requires no great exercise of generosity to forgive such an attack. Byron had not the qualifications of a satirist. He

No. XLVI.

"We come to the English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, the work which commenced the author's reputation. We have already said that this was one of the best poems which had ap

wanted wit, facility of allusion, aud quick per- peared at the time of its publication since the ception of character. He wanted truth, or its days of Cowper, and most good judges will substitute probability, and just principles of probably concur in this opinion. It is written taste and moral judgment." -" Byron's sup- with uncommon vigor and spirit," &c.

pression of his 'English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,' was no loss to his reputation, and lit

tle favour to those whom he had made the objects of his satire; for his attacks were not of a kind to be felt or remembered, even by them, except as mere intended insults or expressions of ill-will."

From the foregoing confronted extracts, offspring of the same review, with the difference of nine months between their ages, we gather the novel and marvellous information that the suppression of a work written with uncommon vigor and spirit, one of the best poems since the days of Cowper, was no loss to the reputation of its author! This is a new principle in the theory of loss and gain, and must assuredly furnish a most comfortable and consolatory reflection to all losers. On the same principle, we presume, the indorser of a protested note suffers no loss in his pecuniary affairs, even if the circumstance renders him some forty or fifty thousand dollars minus.

No. XLIX.

"Byron's resemblance to Pope is that of a satyr butting with his horns, to 6 Hyperion with his glittering shafts of war.""

Scotch

No. XLVI.

"The best passages (in English Bards and eviewers) will stand a comparisen with the finest pages in Pope."

Did the lord of the silver bow ever before approximate so nearly the priest of the drunken Iacchus, as he does in the consideration of the preceding comparisons? In the one Byron is equal to Pope; and consequently in the other, Hyperion is no better than a satyr. Eheu Apollo, quantum cecidisti.

Thus much for the consistency of the North American on the subject of Lord Byron's talents for satire. Let us next contrast No. 46 and 49 in their remarks on Childe Harold.

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In Childe Harold there is a "want of coheChilde Harold is "the work which first esrence, of mutual relation of parts, and of gene- tablished the author's reputation, and upon ral purpose in the poem. His transitions are which more than any other single one, it will singularly abrupt and harsh. The associations ultimately rest. Considered as a series of dewhich introduce one part after another, seem scriptions and of moral and philosophical reoften to be purely accidental. Subjects which flections, it deserves all the praise that has have no natural connexion, are thus brought been bestowed upon it; and to pretend to crititogether in strange confusion. The effect is al- cise it in detail, would only bring us back most as bewildering and unpleasant, as if a again to the pulchre, bene, optime."" There

volume of sonnets were printed as a single work. It is a poem which resembles the walls of some modern erection, composed in part of ancient marbles, friezes, inscriptions, and relievos-placed without order."-" Of the general level of the poetry, [first two cantos] the following stanzas are a fair specimen :

"So deemed the Childe as o'er the mountains he Did take his way," &c. continuing the quotation through seven verses; and

"Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth," &c. with the five subsequent verses.

is a power and freshness in the thoughts, and a vigor and elegance in the style, that belong only to first rate poetry."-" The two first cantos are perhaps rather more spirited and vigorous, the two last more elaborate and finished. The substantial merit of all is about the same. One of the most successful passages is the apostrophe to Greece. The poet little thought when he was writing it, that his own bones would rest, and that so shortly, in the bosom of the land to which he was addressing these enchanting stanzas

"Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth,"

"At no very distant time, verses such as these were regarded by many as among the &c. through eleven stanzas.

most admirable productions of the age. But if we are not altogether mistaken, the principal difference between them and prose too dull to find a reader, consists in the circumstance of their being written in stanzas. Some passages in these cantos rise above, and others fall below what we have quoted, for what we have quoted is merely tame and prosaic."

Here new light dawns upon us-here are power and freshness and vigour which are tame-here is elegance which is prosaic-here is spirited, vigorous, elaborate, and finished poetry which is little better than prose too dull to find a reader. Here is the apostrophe to Greece condemned as tame and prosaic in one breath, and lauded as one of the most successful passages of first-rate poetry, in the other.

No. XLIX.

"In these first two cantos there is sometimes an energy of conception and expression which their author afterwards displayed more fully."

No. XLVI.

The first two cantos "exhibit the highest point of excellence, to which he ever attained. None of his subsequent writings evince greater power either of thought, imagination, or style.',

Lord Byron ought to have been a little more grammatical in his progress. He first arrived at the highest point of excellence to which he ever attained, and afterwards displayed more fully his energy of conception and expression. However, we suppose that he had a right to advance in his own way, and that he chose this course because he was eccentric in every thing. We wish to be made acquainted with the name of this additional degree of comparison. And now for Don Juan :

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Don Juan "was the last product of Byron's "Childe Harold and Don Juan, to whatever mind. The great merit aimed at in the work technical class we may assign them, are masis drollery."-" It is rambling and incoherent, ter-pieces respectively in the serious and comic with frequent disregard of grammar and proso-order. They rank in our opinion with the dy."" In reading it we may be reminded of great epics of modern and ancient times."-Don what Medwin reports him to have said, Why Juan, Beppo and the Vision of Judgment, " are don't you drink, Medwin? Gin and water is executed with great power and success, and the source of all my inspiration. One might there is little to object to them in a literary have conjectured, perhaps, that a considerable point of view, except an occasional want of part of it was written under such inspiration." finish in the versification."

We are not making unfair and garbled extracts; therefore it is necessary to add the following from No. 49-" We read the first two cantos of Don Juan shortly after their appearance. The mass of buffoonery and profligacy which followed we had not seen till about to prepare the present article." The first two cantos of Don Juan at all events, are master-pieces, and rank with the greatest epics (No. 46) while Don Juan collectively might have heen written under the inspiration of gin with a quant. suff. of water, (No. 49.) "Alas, poor Epic!"

Thus do Nos. 46 and 49 of the North American stand in the aspect of opposition to each other. In our next number we shall conclude the subject by an examination of the merits of No. 49 separately.

N. B. We have put several words in the extracfe in italics

Poems by Edward C. Pinkney, Baltimore: Joseph Robinson, 1825.

Mr. Pinkney's volume is fraught with beautiful poetry: he is a man of genius and of education, and will bear comparison with the best poets in our country. The tone of his effusions is melancholy, and at times moody and severe, but almost every line shows the hand of a master "of the tuneful art." His classical allusions are finely introduced and happily expressed, and none of them are trite or common.

We proceed to cull from Mr. Pinkney's book, specimens which will justify our commendations. The following pieces are distinguished by a depth of feeling, a delicacy of reproach, and a spirit of generosity that bespeak a noble mind.

LINES

From the Port-Folio of H.
No. I.

We met upon the world's wide face,
When each of us was young-
We parted soon, and to her place
A darker spirit sprung;
A feeling such as must have stirred
The Roman's bosom when he heard,
Beneath the trembling ground,
The god, his genius, marching forth
From the old city of his mirth,
To lively music's sound.

A sense it was, that I could see
The angel leave my side-
That thenceforth my prosperity
Must be a falling tide;
A strange and ominous belief,
That in spring-time the yellow leaf

Had fallen on my hours;
And that all hope must be most vain,
Of finding on my path again,

Its former, vanished flowers.

But thou, the idol of my few

And fleeting better days

The light that cheered when life was new

My being with its rays

And though, alas!-its joys be gone,
Art yet, like tomb-lamps, shining on

The phantoms of my mind-
The memories of many a dream
Floating on thought's fantastic stream,
Like storm-clouds on the wind!

Is thy life but the wayward child

Of fever in the heart,

In part a crowd of fancies wild,
Of ill-made efforts part?
Are such accurst familiars thine,
As by thee were made early mine?

And is it as with me-
Doth hope in birthless ashes lie,
And seems the sun an hostile eye

Thy pains well-pleased to see?
I trust, not so:-though thou hast been
An evil star to mine,

Let all of good the world has seen

Hang ever upon thine.
May thy suns those of summer be,
And time show as one joy to thee,

Like thine own nature pure :
Thou didst but rouse, within my breast,
The sleeping devils from a rest,

That could not long endure. The firstlings of my simple song Were offered to thy name; Again the altar, idle long,

In worship rears its flame. My sacrifice of sullen years, My many hecatombs of tears, No happier hours recallYet may thy wandering thoughts restore To one who ever loved thee more

Than fickle fortune's all.

And now, farewell!-and although here

Men hate the source of pain,
I hold thee and thy follies dear,
Nor of thy faults complain.
For my misused and blighted powers,
My waste of miserable hours,

I will accuse thee not:

The fool who could from self depart,
And take for fate one human heart,
Deserved no better lot.

I reck of mine the less, because
In wiser moods I feel

A doubtful question of its cause,
And nature, on me steal-
An ancient notion, that time flings
Our pains and pleasures from his wings
With much equality-

And that, in reason, happiness
Both of accession and decrease

Incapable must be.

LINES

From the Port-Folio of H

No. II.

By woods and groves the oracles Of the old age were nursed,

To Brutus came in solitude

The spectral warning first,

When murdered Cesar's mighty shade
The sanguine homicide dismayed,
And fantasy rehearsed
The ides of March, and, not in vain,
Showed forth Philippi's penal plain.

In loneliness I heard my hopes
Pronounce, "Let us depart!"
And saw my mind-a Marius-
Desponding o'er my heart:
The evil genius, long concealed,
To thought's keen eye itself revealed,
Unfolding like a chart,-
But rolled away, and left me free
As Stoics once aspired to be.

It brought, thou spirit of my breast,
And Naiad of the tears,
Which have been welling coldly there,
Although unshed, for years!
It brought, in kindness or in hate,
The final menaces of fate,

But prompted no base fears-
Ah, could I with ill feelings see
Aught, love, so near allied to thee?

t

Pass wasted powers; alike the grave,

To which I fast go down,
Will give the joy of nothingness
To me, and to renown:
Unto its careless tenants, fame
Is idle as that gilded name,
Of vanity the crown,
Helvetian hands inscribe upon
The forehead of a skeleton.

List the last cadence of a lay,
That, closing as begun,
Is governed by a note of pain,
Oh, lost and worshipped one!
None shall attend a sadder strain,
Till Memnon's statue stand again
To mourn the setting sun,
Nor sweeter, if my numbers seem
To share the nature of their theme.

The "Picture Song," is in a different strain-it is crowded with beauties.

PICTURE SONG.

The drowsy harbinger of death,
That slumber dull and deep,
Is welcome, and I would not wake
Till thou dost join my sleep.
Life's conscious calm, the flapping sail-
The stagnant sea nor tide nor gale

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In pleasing motion keep,
Oppress me; and I wish release
From this to more substantial peace.

Star of that sea!-the cynosure

Of magnet-passions, long!

A ceaseless apparition, and

A very ocular song!

My skies have changed their hemisphere,

And forfeited thy radiant cheer:

Thy shadow still is strong;
And, beaming darkness, follows me,
Far duskier than obscurity.

Star of that sea!-its currents bear

My vessel to the bourne,
Whence neither busy voyager
Nor pilgrim may return.
Such consummation I can brook,
Yet, with a fixed and lingering look,
Must anxiously discern
The far horizon, where thy rays
Surceased to light my night-like days.

Unwise, or most unfortunate,

My way was; let the sign,
The proof of it, be simply this

Thou art not, wert not mine!
For 'tis the wont of chance to bless
Pursuit, if patient, with success;
And envy may repine,
That, commonly, some triumph must
Be won by every lasting lust.

How I have lived imports not now
I am about to die,

Else I might chide thee that my life
Has been a stifled sigh:

Yes, life; for times beyond the line
Our parting traced, appear not mine,

Or of a world gone by;
And often almost would evince,

My soul had transmigrated since.

Nor can my soul, the limner's art attesting with a sigh, Forget the blood, that decked thy cheek, as rosy clouds the sky

They could not semble what thou art, more excellent than fair,

As soft as sleep or pity is, and pure as mountain-air: But here are common, earthly hues, to such an aspect

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Oh say not, they must soon be old, that our readers may judge whether we are Their limbs prove faint, their breasts feel cold! right or not in awarding to the author the

Yet envy I that sylvan pair,

More than my words express,

The singular beauty of their lot,
And seeming happiness.
They have not been reduced to share
The painful pleasures of despair:
Their sun declines not in the sky,

Nor are their wishes cast,
Like shadows of the afternoon,
Repining towards the past ;
With nought to dread, or to repent,
The present yields them full content.
In solitude there is no crime;

Their actions are all free,
And passion lends their way of life

The only dignity;
And how should they have any cares?
Whose interest contends with theirs?

We dislike all fragments, even though they have the high authority of Byron. The longest piece in this volume, is entitled "Rodolph, a Fragment," and although it contains much fine writing and poetical imagery, we are not as well pleased with it as we are with the minor poems. Its moral is unpleasing; but there is great power displayed in the ravings of the maniac Rodolph -the strong feeling of passionate love glows in these lines.

"Ay, wrapt around a whiter breast,
The shroud her body doth invest;
But in that other world, her grave
My soul and body both inter,
There to enjoy the rest they crave,
And, if at all, arise with her:
Never may either wake, unless
To her and former happiness!
Yet how am I assured that rest
Will ever bless the aching breast
Which passion has so long possessed?
At baffled Death's oblivious art
This love perchance will mock,
Deep-dwelling in my festering heart,
A reptile in its rock:
The warm and tender violet
Beside the glaciers grows,
Although with frosty airs beset,
And everlasting snows;
So, lying in obstruction chill,
This stronger flower may flourish still.
Oh, in the earth, ye Furies, let
My thoughtful clay all thought forget:
Suffer no sparkles of hot pain
Among mine ashes to remain :
Give, give me utterly to prove
Insentient of the pangs of love!-
-Why waver thus these forms? there lies
A palpable blackness on mine eyes;
And yet the figures gleam
With the impressive energy,
Which clothes the phantoms that we see
Shown by a fever-dream.
How the air thickens-all things move-
'Tis night-'tis chaos-my lost love!"

We have been thus profuse in our quotations from Mr. Pinkney's volume, in order

greenest laurels. We have not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with him, and of course our praise, strong as it is, is unbiassed by personal predilections: it is a tribute of respect which we cheerfully pay to high and cultivated genius.

There are faults in Mr. Pinkney's volume; but we do not feel in the humour to dwell upon them after contemplating its numerous beauties, therefore, we beg leave to omit this part of the critic's duty.

The New-York Literary Gazette.
To

'Twas in an evil hour we met,
An evil hour to me and mine,
And deeply doth my soul regret

Its fond companionship with thine;
Yet o'er thy grave it lingers still,
Thou source of past and future ill.

To meet thee and to hear once more
The words of love upon thy tongue-
To feel as erst I felt, before

Evils like serpents round me clung;
To raise from Time's unsated tomb

Joys which he gathered in their bloom

To reunite hope's broken zone,
Which round iny heart was wreathed of
Radiant and lovely, like the one
Lyore

Which heavenly Cytherea wore,

And lighting with its diamond beam
The hours of passion's early dream-

This is not in my destiny,

And I must learn to bear my doom,
Which, fraught with present agony,
Hath deeper terrors yet to come;
Else, wherefore this foreboding pain
That riots madly in my brain?

Else, wherefore this prophetic feeling
That yet I have not seen the worst-
Wherefore this dim, half-seen revealing
Of storm-clouds, that are yet to burst
Above my head, and pour in wrath
Eternal ruin on my path.

Let the bolt fall-it is but just

That I should bear the punishment
For love untamed, for foolish trust,
For days in passion's frenzy spent,
For high and lofty energy
Wasted in mad idolatry.

Yet still thou art a cherished thing;
Thy dark and desolating spell
Hangs o'er my spirit, withering
Its powers and making earth a hell,

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