"He cuts out a silk mantle from the skies,

Where the most sprightly azure pleas'd the eyes."

A rainbow also forms a most elegant scarf, fitted, from the same pattern, with the same scissarsof art:

"Of a new rainbow, ere it fret and fade,

The choicest piece CUT OUT, a scarf is made."

HORACE says,

"NATURAM expellas furca, tamen usque redibit;"

and even here, in spite of CowLEY's bad taste, which I have no doubt the critic will approve, NATURE steps in, and we have one beautiful image," the rainbow, ere it fret and fade!"

To turn from the poet to the critic. I have no doubt some of the images from art here brought together, have been much more clear to him, and much more satisfactory, than the "dreams" of which our extracts from works of poetry were before filled.

Thus, Art, the postilion, and Nature, the coachman, and the angel in a new cloak of SKY-BLUE, must have been images probably congenial to his heart; and who can leave the subject without endeavouring to impress on the imagination, that perhaps the most sublime image of all the works of "in-door nature," is that "king of shreds and patches," who once, for a sight of "rural nature, went as far as BRENTFORD! and as this heroic personage is, doubtless, of all images of "in-door Nature" the most sublime; so the "bird" which attends him, though not so sublime as "ministrum fulminis alitem," must be admitted, of all images of in-door nature, to be the most beautiful.

This bird, which in poetical beauty" arches its head" more than "certain swans," is vulgarly called a goose; and if the terrible be thought as necessary for this poetical assemblage, "Hell" yawns from beneath,

"Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo!"

As I would have the critical admirer of the SUBLIME, and BEAUTIFUL, and TERRIBLE, of "in-door" nature, to be like the LONGINUS of Pope,

"The great subline he draws,"

I know not how I could better please him, than by comparing him with that emblem of in-door beauty attendant on its triumphant master, and generally described " as hot as heavy," the GOOSE!!

Begging the reader to pardon this involuntary association, I must proceed to expose, not criticism, but that which is worse than absurdity, the utter destitution of all feelings fair and honorable as a controversialist. I must expose a species of duplicity, which has no example in the character of him whom this writer defends, and whom, I fear, from the soreness which he evinces, when some ob

vious parts of his character are touched, he more nearly resembles. I make the following remarks on the criticism in the Quarterly Review with pain.

Reader, in the " Invariable Principles of Poetry" this passage

Occurs:

"Now I would put to you a few plain questions; and I would beseech you not to ask whether I mean this or that, for I think you must now understand what I do mean. I would beseech you also not to write beside the question, but answer simply and plainly whether you think that the sylph of POPE, "trembling over the froth of a coffee-cup," be an image as poetical as the delicate and quaint Ariel, who sings

"Where the bee sucks, there lurk I;"

or the elves of SHAKSPEARE

"Spirits of another sort,

That with the morning light make sport."

Whether you think the description of a game of cards be as poetical, supposing the execution in the artists equal, as a description of a walk in a forest? Whether an age of refinement be as conducive to pictures of poetry, as a period less refined? Whether passions, affections, &c., of the human heart, be not a higher source of what is pathetic or sublime in poetry, than manners and habits, or manners, that apply only to artificial life?

"If you agree with me, it is all I meant to say; if not, we differ, and always shall, on the principles of poetical criticism."

I believe most sincerely that every reader, without exception, will understand my meaning in the passage, when taken together.

But the critic in the Quarterly Review takes the first sentence, and no more then makes a poor and affected banter, that " Mr. BOWLES wants explaining himself;" when, but for this his dishonest and dishonorable stratagem, no one would or could have doubted his meaning!

This is what a writer, who has written "On the Quarrels of Authors," calls "breaking up a sentence," for the purpose of securing a momentary "mock-triumph!" "mock-triumph!" Are such "arts" of criticism, well as they seem to be understood, worthy a scholar-a gentleman? worthy a publication as distinguished as the Quarterly Review?

Well might this same writer say, "We suspect Mr. BOWLES does not like criticism!"

Such criticism, connected with such stratagems, he "DOES NOT LIKE," and trusts he never shall.

What this "TRUE CRITIC, of ENLARGED views," calls "FASH

IONABLE CRITICISM," is, in general, equally abhorrent from the principles of every upright man; and, distinguished as are some of the masterly and eloquent articles in the Quarterly Review, as far as poetry and works of taste are concerned, the writers have at least evinced their sincerity in one respect, that is, to have " PRINCIPLES" at all! either in poetry or criticism.

NO

Having thus replied to what appears most essential in the criticism of the Quarterly, I would willingly part with my Reviewer; but a few words more may be added on his concluding observations respecting the poetical character of him whose life and writings have caused these animadversions.

It is said, "In vain would our populace of poets estrange themselves from POPE, because

"He stoop'd to truth, and moralized his song.",

Answer. Where he stoop'd to truth, and moralized his song, his province is no longer that of imagination and PASSION; it is, and it must be, "truth and morals," and not " imagination and passion," the highest sources of the terrible, sublime, pathetic, and beautiful in poetry. But who, " among the populace of poets," would ́ ́estrange" themselves from POPE I know not. He has attained an unquestioned, an unrivalled place, in his own line of poetry, from which I should pity any one who could wish or attempt to remove him. His excellence in his art is unrivalled, and I, for one, have admitted that he stands before every poet in his line of art, ancient or modern.

Is HORACE no great poet? Is JUVENAL no great poet? Are OVID, TIBULLUS, CATULLUS, no great poets? I have already said, and I must repeat, his Eloisa stands as much above the elegies of CATULLUS, TIBULLUS, and OVID, as his satires are above those of JUVENAL and HORACE. Will the reader believe I have said this distinctly and unreservedly before?

If, in looking over what is remarked specifically of the Satires, I have dwelt too much on his bitter tone of personal invective, it was not for want of feeling his beauties that I did not say more, but because I thought, on these points, it was excellence that all admitted. I have endeavoured to show upon what principles his line of poetry could not be pronounced the most excellent, whilst HOMER and SHAKSPEARE, and SOPHOCLES, and EURIPIDES, live; and to prevent that confusion which often arises when we pronounce that this poet, or that painter, is at the head of his art! But, I should think that not only the "populace of poets," but all who have any discriminating sense and taste; who, whilst they know what distinguishes MILTON and DANTE, know also what distinguishes POPE; who read him, and recur to him, as much as they do who think he is "disparaged," have admitted, and cheerfully admit, that he carried his art

1

to the highest point of excellence, as far as his own excellence, in his own line, was concerned; that all who went before, in this line, never reached, and all who come after probably never will reach, this excellence; that he will still remain unrivalled for "the correctness and delicacy of his taste, as well as the vigor of his judgment;" that in "poetical expression" and versification, (with some abatements in the latter,) he will be superior, as long as poetical expression and exquisite versification distinguish his species of excellence; but that, nevertheless, "nature," not manners-passic and imagination, not "truth" or morals-will afford the highest specimens of the works of a great poet, provided the execution equals the subject, in spite of Quarterly Reviewers and all the FAMILY of GILCHRISTS, or D'ISRAELIS, in the world!

END OF NO XL.