THE WILLOW. A Countryman unhappily was married; Madam was fond of having her own way, But then, it always made her spouse obedient,- But Hodge, when he no longer could espy hopes And let them know the hanging trick beside; And call'd him brute.-The language was concise; "For hang me, if she hang not till she's dead; For I'll not cut her down, whate'er the emergence, But leave her to yourselves and to the Surgeons.” A Willow tree in Hodge's garden grew, Her fav'rite tree, for this she always chose Whene'er she would the experiment renew, Expecting to be sav'd you may suppose; And now an opportunity occurr'd And now, suffice to say-Hodge kept his word. The thing was nois'd; the neighbours round him came, Henceforth that Willow got a sort of name, The women crying" murder" ran to lodge, ON THE WORKS OF THE RIGHT HON. LORD BYRON. "Is there a man who boasts a British heart, that repines at the success and prosperity of his Country? Such there are, O shame to patriotism, and reproach to Great Britain! who exaggerate our necessary dangers, magnify our burthens, extol the power of our enemies, deride our victories, extenuate our conquests, condemn the measures of our Government, and scatter the seeds of dissatisfaction through the land." Launcelot Greaves, p. 20. THUS wrote Smollett in the last century, and his words are not a whit the less applicable to the present. There is, indeed, a class of men, who appear to set decency and decorum at defiance, and, like the members of Macheath's gang, to aim at establishing a name by their iniquity. Amongst the foremost of these stands the Noble Lord, whose works form the subject of the present article. Perhaps no living author ever enjoyed a greater, nor a more equivocal reputation than he. Radicals and Infidels extol it; good men think it evil! There is, however, a third description of persons, who cannot properly be termed votaries of vice nor virtue, but seem to hover between both, yielding to the fascinations of the one, whilst they acknowledge the claims of the other. These are the Platonic admirers of his Lordship, who affect to distinguish between the poet and the man; who are enraptured with his verse, whilst they disclaim all participation in his sentiments or his politics:-these are liberal and high-minded English,-the "wise and tolerant," (as Mr. Moore calls them) who can listen with patience, and even delight, to the most bitter invectives against their King and Country; to the most blasphemous sarcasms on their religion, merely because the abuse is conveyed in elegant and powerful language. Yet these persons would probably be astonished to hear a man, who had shot his neighbour, attempt to excuse himself, on a plea, that he had used silver bullets in the perpetration of his crime. The two cases are nevertheless parallel, and the exculpation in both equally absurd. We will admit, that it is possible for persons of strong and enlightened minds, to read Lord Byron's works without contagion. There are some few who can discover and resist his sophistry, and yet appreciate the harmony of his numbers; could all the world do this, then perhaps his productions would injure no one but himself-but this is not the case; there are too many whose passions are more powerful than their reason. If vice be presented in an elegant attire to the majority of the world, the consequence is, that first it admires her aspect, next becomes familiar with her, and then her slave, Of this his Lordship seems fully conscious, and, therefore, has chosen the most effectual method of poisoning the minds, and weakening the loyalty and religion of his fellow-subjects. His Lordship has managed matters more skilfully than Tom Paine: many persons, especially females, would be ashamed to be seen with the Age of Reason in their hands, who would nevertheless think nothing of reading the writings of Lord Byron! The reason is this:-Paine was a "fine gay bold-faced villain," who proclaimed at once his intentions, and wrote without fear or equivocation; his assertions were so daringly impious, that people threw down his book in disgust and never more resumed it. But his Lordship has been long enough in Venice to have imbibed some of the stratagem of lago, and to discover the policy of assuming at first a virtuous appearance, and afterwards sliding in upon us every now and then, insinuations and ambiguous hints, until at last the ear becomes prepared to receive, without shrinking, the most open avowals of hostility to Christianity, and all moral principle. This has been his Lordship's plan of operation; his writings have gradually increased in depravity. At first his efforts betrayed no evil design, he seemed "the innocent flower," "But was the serpent under it ;" but since the publication of some of his latter works, no one can be blind to his barefaced attacks upon our Religion and Constitution. But we shall be told, that if our Religion and Constitution be genuine and good, no aspersions nor arguments will injure them; that much ingenious reasoning has been advanced to prove that snow is black, yet no one ever doubted its whiteness. To this we answer, that the cases are widely dif ferent:-if any person should be so weak as to be convinced that snow was black, no harm could possibly flow from that circumstance, except an exhibition of his folly. Butif, through the sophistry of a free thinker, a Christian should be induced to renounce his religion, the consequences might be terrible! he might have to encounter "Woe without name-or hope-or end!" This is what neither Lord Byron, nor the whole multitude of his coadjutors, patrician or plebeian, lettered or illiterate, can deny or dispute. Were the tendency of his Lordship's writings merely to overthrow the received opinions of society as to sublunary matters: were he to attempt to prove that the globe is square-that fire is cold-that snow is black-or any similar extravagance, we should read and be amused with the ingenuity which would probably be displayed: were his Lordship's attacks directed against the men and measures of any particular administration, or against any particular schemes of political economy; were he to continue his abuse of Lord Elgin and his brother marble merchants, or his defamation of his literary rivals, all this we could endure; nay, were he even to busy himself in the demolition of private character, a task most congenial to his talents and temper, even here he might be tolerated and subjected to such damages as a jury might think a proper compensation to the party injured. But when we see a Peer of the realm, an hereditary counsellor of the King, a natural born Protector of the Laws, and an Englishman to boot, indirectly assisting the vile herd of revolutionists that infest the Metropolis, and joining hands with them in their endeavours to undermine our faith and allegiance, and to annihilate a Constitution, which has been purchased and defended by the blood of the bravest and noblest of our ances edness and degradation of his mind, and the prostitution of his talents? It cannot be denied that his Lordship, as a poet, has obtained a great fame; a fame, perhaps, more than commensurate with his merits! The first efforts of his pen were unobjectionable in point of morality-and gave in other respects great promise of future excellence; consequently every new work raised a curiosity in the public mind, and it was sure to sell. His stile too, if not original, was new to English ears, and it was the fashion to admire it; there was too something piquant in the idea of a Noble Poet; and the author of English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, was certainly set down as a man, whom nature had destined to do great and wonderful things. But we much question, whether he has either satisfied or gratified the expectation which waited on him. If his works be examined critically, and without prejudice, much room will be found for censure; and if they be compared with the productions of other Poets, whose reputation time has established, we fancy he will come off otherwise than triumphantly. It is indisputable, that his writings are monotonous, full of stolen ideas, and not exactly free from grammatical imperfections and bad taste, to say nothing of the impudence, egotism, blasphemy and immorality with which they abound! This is not mere assertion; in the course of our remarks we will prove the truth of what we have written,not inferentially, but by his Lordship's own words. His Lordship's maiden publication was, we believe, called "Hours of Idleness." This we have never read; but we are told that it consists of seve ral very harmless and creditable bagatelles, quite undeserving that severity of the Northern Critics, which afterwards called forth English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Of this second publicationwe shall say nothing more than that it is replete with good poetry and the keenest satire, and appears to have been written before his Lordship had bad farewell to virtue. Indeed it is not our wish to have any thing to do with the beauties of his lucubrations; they have been so much dilated on by others, that it would be superfluous for us to say any thing on the subject. Our object is to point out some of the who can help lamenting the wick- blemishes of so renowned an author, tors; which has been constructed by wisdom and experience of centuries, and which has hitherto been the pride of our own country and the envy of surrounding nations: when we see a man, like my Lord Byron, joining in such a work as this, and like "A bloody Nero, ripping up the womb Of his dear Mother England," and to shew the world that a great deal of Gooseberry wine has been sold for Champagne. To go into a regular examination of all the productions of Lord Byron, would occupy more room than can be allotted here; we shall, therefore, merely address ourselves to them ge nerally, and this will supply us plentifully with opportunities of verifying the observations we have made. In complaining of the monotony of his Lordship's poems, we are sure we do him no injustice. All his heroes exhibit one continued and eternal sameness of character; they are all one man dressed differently. The nature, disposition, and qualifications, of Childe Harold, the Giaour, the Corsair, Lara, Alp, and Manfred are perfectly the same; they are all dark, deadly, and demoniacal-and betray the author's intimacy with the worst and most disgusting parts of human nature. An undisturbed and universal gloom is diffused throughout his verse, except where the loves of his ladies are introduced, which by the way, are none of the purest order. There was a time when his Lordship severely criticised this style of taste and composition in the late M. G. Lewis; and it is singular how strongly his Lordship's condemnation applies, at the present time, to his own writings; speaking of Lewis he says— "Whether on ancient tombs thou tak'st thy stand, thing like the representation of a virtuous personage. His forte and delight seem to be in depicting a turbanned scoundrel at the head of a rabble of murderers and thieves. A noble spirit is not always observable in the children of his Lordship's folly, and goodness of heart is a still more scarce commodity. There is another defect in many of his Lordship's productions-they are fragments-unfinished and ill defined in point of story, and we often find a catastrophe imperfectly developed; the mind is led on to a certain point, and then, as if the author's invention were worn threadbare, the history abruptly terminates, and the fate of the persons employed in it is left to the reader's imagination. The Corsair was an admirable instance of this; and then came Lara after it, like a conundrum hanging at its tail, from which we were to guess at the movements of Conrad and Gulnare. By the bye, since his Lordship seems to have such a predilection for obscurity in the conduct of his plots, it might be as well to subjoin to future editions of each of his works, a few short lines, in the shape of a riddle, relating to the occult parts. This, if well done, would increase the mysteriousness of his writings, and at the same time give the reader an opportunity of guessing at such circumstances as are at present wrapt in clouds and darkness. But it is not in the conduct of his By gibb'ring spectres hailed, a kindred histories alone that Lord Byron is band;* Or tracest chaste descriptions on thy page To please the females of our modest age; All hail M. P. from whose infernal brain Thin-sheeted phantoms glide, a grisly train; * Again all hail! If tales like thine may please, St. Luke alone can vanquish the disease; And in thy skull discern a deeper hell." We have, therefore, his Lordship's *See Manfred passim. obscure; his language is often less intelligible than a Delphic oracle. A list of all the ambiguous passages, which he has inserted in his writings, would fill a moderate-sized quarto ; of them, for the satisfaction of the therefore we shall merely quote a few incredulous. In the Giaour we find the following lines: "To love the softest hearts are prone, The wound that time can never heal." Now it is impossible to collect the meaning of these lines with certainty. To whom or what does the word "his" refer it may be intended to refer to the word "love," which by a metonymy may be figurative of Čupid, and in that case the pronoun his will apply but then the woes of Cupid-we do not recollect that Cupid had any particular woes to complain of, or share with any one, unless there be reference to the story of the bee stinging his thumb. If the words ، his woes" mean the woes that Cupid is supposed to inflict upon others, Lord Byron should have expressed himself more clearly. That a stern heart alone can feel love's wound, (which we take it is meant to be represented by "the wound that time can never heal") is what we do not believe. The lines, which follow the quotation last in. serted, are so full of information and importance, that we cannot resist giving them. "The rugged metal of the mine Must burn before its surface shine, Well, what then my Lord? why "Let those who shap'd its edge beware!" Oh! most lame and impotent conclusion !-But there is another instance or two of his Lordship's obscure method of expression, which we shall cite. In the Bride of Abydos he writes "Fair, as the first that fell of womankind, When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling, Whose image then was stamp'd upon her mind Now, which is it, that his Lordship means; was "once beguiled"? the first of womankind, "- her mind," -"the serpent," or "the serpent's image? A person, ignorant of the Biblical history of our first parents, would certainly be at a loss in guessing at the beguiled individual. In the Corsair, canto i. I. 165, Conrad says "Be the edge sharpen'd of my boarding-brand, And give its guard more room to fit my hand, This let the Armourer with speed dispose; reference to be to the "brand"; was it foes that fatigued the Corsair's arm less than his sword,-or did his sword fatigue his foes less than it fatigued his arm? Again, we find Conrad exclaiming, canto i. 1, 317, "peaceful be their dreams! "Morn ne'er awoke them with such brilliant beams As kindle high to-night (but blow thou breeze;) To warm these slow avengers of the seas." It is quite impossible to read aloud the two last of these lines, without impressing every auditor with an idea, that the breeze's blowing is to warm the carcases of certain persons termed "slow avengers of the seas." . As to the plagiarisms of which his Lordship has been guilty, any attempt to enumerate them would be to copy half his works; besides, the Literary Gazette has heretofore successfully exposed his pilferings. We shall therefore content ourselves by giving one passage as a specimen of his Lordship's latrocination. -her feet We fix on this passage, because it has been often quoted, admired, and said to express an original idea.There are, however, some verses of an old writer, which unfortunately destroy Lord Byron's claim to originality. They commence thus: ، See the Chariot at hand here of Love, In which a Lady rideth," &c. And afterwards, in describing the Lady's excellence the Poet says "Have you seen a bright lily grow, Before rude hands have pluckt it; Or nard in the firel Or tasted the bag of the bee; Oh so white-oh so soft-oh so sweet is she!" Here then is a plain and palpable pla Last time-it more fatigued my arm than giarism, which is neither noticed nor foes: To what does "it" refer? the "brand" or the " guard"? And suppose the acknowledged by his Lordship in the poem, which he has enriched with it. When a poet steals an idea and acknowledges or improves upon it, his |