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the best parts of Mokanna, it has a far more and earn her hand by helping him to root out interesting story; and is not liable to any of those impious Ghebers whom he so much abthe objections we have been obliged to bring hors. The spirit of the patriot bursts forth at against the contrivance and structure of that this; and, without revealing his name or leading poem. The outline of the story is quality, he proudly avows and justifies the short and simple.-Al Hassan, the bigotted conduct of that luckless sect; and then, reand sanguinary Emir of Persia, had long waged | lenting, falls into a gentler and more pathetic a furious and exterminating war against the strain. votaries of the ancient religion of the land, the worshippers of Mithra, or his emblem, Or could this heart e'en now forget!

"Oh! had we never, never met! Fire-then and since designated by the name How link’d, how bless'd we might have been, of Ghebers. The superior numbers of the Had fate not frown'd so dark beiween! invader had overcome the heroic resistance Hadst thou been born a Persian maid; of the patriots, and driven them to take refuge In neighb'ring valleys had we dwelt, in a precipitous peninsula, cut off from the Through the same fields in childhood play'd, land by what was understood to be an im- Then, then, while all those nameless ties,

At the same kindling altar kneltpassable ravine, and exposing nothing but In which the charm of Country lies, bare rocks to the sea. In this fastness the Had round our hearts been hourly spun, scanty remnant of the Ghebers maintain them- Till Iran's cause and thine were one; selves, under the command of their dauntless While in thy lute's awak’ning sigh leader, Hafed, who is still enabled, by suuden And saw in ev'ry smile of thine

I heard the voice of days gone by, and daring incursions, to harass and annoy Returning hours of glory shine!their enemy. In one of those desperate en- While the wrong'd Spirit of our Land [thee ! terprises, this adventurous leader climbs to Liv'd, look'd, and spoke her wrongs through the summit of a lofty cliff, near the Emir’s God! who could then this sword withstand ? palace, where a small pleasure-house had

Its very flash were victory! been built, in which he hoped to surprise this far as the grasp of Fate can sever;

But now! Estrang’d, divorc'd for ever, bigotted foe of his country; but found only Our only ties what love has wovehis fair daughter Hinda, the loveliest and gen- Faith, friends, and country, sunder'd wide ;tlest of all Arabian maids-as he himself ex. And then, then only, true to love, presses it.

When false to all that's dear beside!

Thy father Iran's deadliest foe“ He climb'd the gory Vulture's nest,

Thyself, perhaps, ev'n now-but no And found a trembling Dove within !" Haie never look'd so lovely yet! This romantic meeting gives rise to a mu- The land of him who could forget

No!-sacred to thy soul will be tual passion-and the love of the fair Hinda All but that bleeding land for thee! is inevitably engaged, before she knows the When other eyes shall see, unmov'd, name or quality of her nightly visitant. In the Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, noble heart of Hafed, however

, love was but Thou’lt think how well one Gheber lov'd, a secondary feeling, to devotion to the free

And for his sake thou'lt weep for all!”

pp. 193, 194, dom and the faith of his country. His little band had lately suffered further reverses, and

He then starts desperately away; regains saw nothing now before them but a glorious his skiff at the foot of the precipice, and self-sacrifice. He resolves, therefore, to tear leaves her in agony and consternation. The all gentler feelings from his breast, and in one poet now proceeds to detail, a little more parlast interview to take an eternal farewell of ticularly, the history of his hero; and recounts the maid who had captivated his soul. In his some of the absurd legends and miraculous melancholy aspect she reads at once, with the attributes with which the fears of his enemieg instinctive sagacity of love, the tidings of their had invested his name. approaching separation; and breaks out into

"Such were the tales, that won belief, the following sweet and girlish repinings :

And such the colouring fancy gave "* I knew, I knew it could not last

To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief,'Twas bright, 'was heavenly-hut 'tis past !

One who, no more than mortal brave, Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour,

Fought for the land his soul ador'd, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ;

For happy homes and allars free ; I never lov'd a tree or flower,

His only talisman, the sword, But 'twas the first to fade away.

His only spell.word, Liberty! I never nurs'd a dear gazelle,

'Twas not for him to crouch the knee To glad me with its soft black eye,

Tamely to Moslem tyranny ;But when it came to know me well,

'Twas not for him, whose soul was cast And love me. it was sure to die !

In the bright mould of ages past, Now tno-the joy most like divine

Whose melancholy spirii, fed Of all I ever dreamt or knew,

With all the glories of the dead ;To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine,

'Twas not for him, to swell the crowd Oh mis'ry! must I lose that too!

of slavish heads, that shrinking bow'd Yet go!-on peril's brink we meet ;

Before the Moslem, as he pass'd, Those frighiful rocks-that treach'rous sea- Like shrubs beneath the poison-blastNo. never come again-hough sweet,

No-far he fled-indignant fled Though heav'n, it may be death to thee.'' The pageant of his country's shame;

pp. 187, 188. While every tear her children shed

Fell on his soul, like drops of flame; When he smiles sternly at the idea of dan. And, as a lover hails the dawn ger, she urges him to join her father's forces, Of a first smile, so welcom'd ho

The sparkle of the first sword drawn

When the blue waters rise and fall, For vengeance and for liberty !"-pp. 206, 207. In sleepy sunshine mantling all;

And ev'n that swell the tempest leaves The song then returns to Hinda

Is like the full and silent heaves

Of lover's hearts, when newly blest ; Whose life, as free from thought as sin,

Too newly to be quite at rest! Slepi like a lake, till Love threw in

“Such was the golden hour that broke His talisman, and woke the vide,

Upon the world, when Hinda woke And spread its trembling circles wide.

From her long trance; and heard around Once, Emir! thy unheeding child,

No motion but the water's sound Mid all this havoc, bloom’d and smil'd,

Rippling against the vessel's side, Tranquil as on some battle-plain

As slow it mounted o'er ihe ride.The Persian lily shines and towers,

But where is she ?-Her eyes are dark, Before the combat's reddening stain

Are wilder'd still-is this the bark, Has fall’n upon her golden flowers.

The same, that from Harmozia's bay Far other feelings Love has brought

Bore her at morn-whose bloody way Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness," &c. The sea-dog tracks ?—No!-Strange and new Ah! not the Love, that should have bless'd

Is all that meets her wond'ring view So young, so innocent a breast !

Upon a galliot's deck she lies, Noi the pure, open, prosp'rous Love,

Beneath no rich pavilion's shade, That, pledg’d on earih and seal'd above,

No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes, Grows in the world's approving eyes,

Nor jasmin on her pillow laid. In friendship's smile, and home's caress,

But the rude lilier, roughly spread Collecting all the hearts sweet tjes

With war-cloaks, is her homely bed, - Into one knot of happiness !"-pp. 215–217.

And shawl and sash, on javelins hung,

For awning o'er her head are flung."-p. 233-236 The Emir now learns, from a recreant prisoner, the secret of the pass to the Gheber's She soon discovers, in short, that she is a retreat; and when he sees his daughter faint captive in the hands of the Ghebers! and with horror at his eager anticipation of their shrinks with horror, when she finds that she final extirpation, sends her, in a solitary gal- is to be carried to their rocky citadel, and 10 ley, away from the scene of vengeance, to the the presence of the terrible Hafed. The galquiet of her own Arabian home.

ley is rowed by torchlight through frightful

rocks and foaming tides, into a black abyss And does the long-left home she seeks of the promontory, where her eyes are banLight up no gladness on her cheeks?

daged—and she is borne up a long and rugged The flowers she nursid-the well-known groves. ascent, till at last she is desired to look up, Where oft in dreams her spirit roves

and receive her doom from the formidable Once more to see her dear gazelles Come bounding with their silver bells;

chieftain. Before she has raised her eyes, the Her birds' new plumage 10 behold,

well known voice of her lover pronounces her And the gay, gleaming fishes count,

name; and she finds herself alone in the arms She left, all filleted with gold,

of her adoring Hafed! The first emotion is Shooting around their jasper fount

ecstasy.-But the recollection of her father's Her little garden mosque to see, And once again, at ev'ning hour,

vow and means of vengeance comes like a To tell her ruby rosary,

thundercloud on her joy ;-she tells her lover In her own sweet acacia bower.

of the treachery by which he has been sacriCan these delighis, that wait her now,

ficed; and urges him, with passionate eagerCall up no sunshine on her brow?

ness, to fly with her to some place of safety. No-silent, from her train apartAs if ev'n now she felt at heart

· Hafed, my own beloved Lord,' The chill of her approaching doom

She kneeling cries—first, last ador'd!
She sits, all lovely in her gloom

If in that soul thou'st ever felt
As a pale Angel of the Grave.”-pp. 227, 228. Half what thy lips impassion'd swore,
Her vessel is first assailed by a violent

Here, on my knees, chai never knelt

To any but their God before ! lempest, and, in the height of its fury, by a I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, flyhostile bark; and her senses are extinguished Now, now-ere yet their blades are nigh. with terror in the midst of the double conflict. Oh haste!--the bark that bore me hiiher At last, both are appeased—and her recollec

Can waft us o'er yon dark'ning sea tion is slowly restored. The following pas

Eası-west-alas ! I care not whither,

So thou art safe, and I wish thee! sage appears to us extremely beautiful and

Go where we will, this hand in thine, characteristic :

Those eyes before me beaming thus,

Through good and ill, through storm and shine, “How calm, how beautiful comes on

The world's a world of love for us! The stilly hour, when storms are gone;

On some calm, blessed shore we'll dwell, When warring winds have died away,

Where 'tis no crime to love too well !And clouds, beneath the glancing ray,

Where thus to worship tenderly Melt off, and leave the land and sea

An erring child of light like thee Sleeping in bright tranquillity

Will not be sin-or, if it be, Fresh as if Day again were born,

Where we may weep onr faults away, Again upon the lap of Morn!

Together kneeling, night and day, When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze, Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine, There blow a thousand gentle airs,

And I-at any god's, for shine!' And each a different perfume bears

Wildly these passionate words she spokeAs if the loveliest plants and trees

Then hung her head, and wept for shame; Had vassal breezeg of their own

Sobbing, as if a heart-string broke To watch and wait on them alone,

With ev'ry deep-heay'd sob that came. And wası no other breath than theirs !

pp. 261, 262.

p. 284,

Hafed is more shocked with the treachery High burst in air the fun'ral flames, to which he is sacrificed than with the fate to And Iran's hopes and hers are o'er ! which it consigns him:-One moment he

One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave

Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, gives up to softness and pity-assures Hinda, Where sull she fix'd her dying gaze, with compassionate equivocation, that they And, gazing, sunk into the wave ! shall soon meet on some more peaceful shore Deep, deep!-where never care or pain -places her sadly in a litter, and sees her Shall reach her innocent heart again!" bome down the steep to the galley she had

pp. 283, 284. lately quitted, and to which she still expects

This sad story is closed by a sort of choral that he is to follow her. He then assembles dirge, of great elegance and beauty, of which his brave and devoted companions-warns we can only afford to give the first stanza. them of the fate that is approaching--and ex. horts them to meet the host of the invaders / “ Farewell-farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! in the ravine, and sell their lives dearly to

(Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea) their steel. After a fierce, and somewhat too No pearl ever lay, under Oman's green water, sanguinary combat, the Ghebers are at last

More pure in its shell than thy Spirit in thee." borne down by numbers; and Hafed finds himself left alone, with one brave associate, The general tone of this poem is certainly mortally wounded like himself. They maké too much strained. It is overwrought through. a desperate effort to reach and die beside the out, and is too entirely made up of agonies consecrated fire which burns for ever on the and raptures ;—but, in spite of all this, it is a summit of the cliff.

work of great genius and beauty; and not

only delights the fancy by its general brilThe crags are red they've clamber'd o'er, The rock-weed's dripping with their gore

liancy and spirit, but moves all the tender Thy blade too, Hafed, false at length,

and noble feelings with a deep and powerful Now breaks beneath thy tott'ring strength

agitation. Haste, haste!-the voices of the Foe

The last piece, entitled “The Light of the Come near and nearer from below

Haram," is the gayest of the whole; and is One effort more-thank Heav'n! 'lis past, of a very slender fabric as to fable or invenThey've gain'd the topmost steep at last, tion. In truth, it has scarcely any story at And now they touch the temple’s walls, Now Haled sees the Fire divinem

all; but is made up almost entirely of beauWhen, lo!-his weak, worn comrade falls tiful songs and descriptions. During the sumDead, on the threshold of the Shrine.

mer months, when the court is resident in the *Alas! brave soul, too quickly fled !

Vale of Cashmere, there is, it seems, a sort of * And must I leave thee with'ring here, oriental carnival, called the Feast of Roses, * The sport of every ruffian's tread, • The mark for every coward's spear ?

during which every body is bound to be hapNo, by yon altar's sacred beams!

py and in good humour. At this critical peHe cries, and, with a strengih that seems

riod, the Emperor Selim had unfortunately a Not of this world, uplifts the frame

little love-quarrel with his favourite Sultana Of the fallin chief, and tow'rds the flame Nourmahal,—which signifies, it seems, the Bears him along !-With death-damp hand

Light of the Haram. The lady is rather unThe corpse upon the pyre he lays; Then lights the consecrated brand,

happy while the sullen fit is on her; and apAnd fires the pile, whose sudden blaze

plies to a sort of enchantress, who invokes a Like lightning bursis o'er Oman's Sea

musical spirit to teach her an irresistible song, Now Freedom's God! I come to Thee!' which she sings in a mask to the offended The youth exclaims, and with a smile

monarch ; and when his heart is subdued by Of triumph, vaulting on the pile, In that last effort, ere the fires

its sweetness, throws off her mask, and springs Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires !"

with fonder welcome than ever into his repp. 278, 279. pentant arms. The whole piece is written in

a kind of rapture,—as if the author had The unfortunate Hinda, whose galley had breathed nothing but intoxicating gas during been detained close under the cliff by the its composition. It is accordingly quite filled noise of the first onset, had heard with agony with lively images and splendid expressions, the sounds which marked the progress and and all sorts of beauties, except those of re-u catastrophe of the fight, and is at last a spec-serve or simplicity. We must give a few tatress of the lofty fate of her lover.

specimens, to revive the spirits of our readers " But see—what moves upon the height ?

alter the tragic catastrophe of Hafed ; and we Some signal!-'ris a torch's light.

may begin with this portion of the description What bodes its solitary glare ?

of the Happy Valley. In gasping silence tow'rd ihe shrine All eyes are turn'd-chine, Hinda, thine “Oh! to see it by moonlight,-when mellowly Fix iheir last failing life.heams there!

shines 'Twas but a moment-fierce and high

The light o'er its palaces, gardens and shrines; The death-pile blaz'd into the sky,

When the waterfalls gleam like a quick fall of stars, And far away o'er the rock and flood

And the nighlingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars Its melancholy radiance sent ;

Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet, While Hafed, like a vision, stood

From the cool shining walks where the young peo. Reveal'd before the burning pyre!

ple meel.Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire

Or at morn, when the magic of daylight awakes Shrin'd in its own grand element !

A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks, ""Tis he!'—the shudd'ring maid exclaims, Hills, cupolas, fountains, call'd forth every one

But, while she speaks, he's seen no more ! Out of darkness, as they were just born of the Sun,

p. 296.


p. 334.

When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day, Then come! thy Arab maid will be
From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away; The lov'd and lone acacia-tree,
And the wind, full of wantonness, woes like a lover The antelope, whose feet shall bless
The young aspen-irees vill they tremble all over. With their light sound thy loneliness !
When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes,
And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurl'd,

Come! if the love thou hast for me
Shines in through the mountainous porial that opes,

Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world!"

Fresh as the fountain under ground,

When first 'tis by the lapwing sound. The character of Nourmahal's beauty is

*But if for me thou dost forsake

Some other maid, -and rudely break much in the same taste: though the diction

Her worshipp'd image from its base, is rather more loose and careless.

To give to me the ruin'd place :“ There's a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright, Then, fare thee well !-I'd rather make Like the long sunny lapse of a summers day's My bow'r upon some icy lake light,

When thawing suns begin to shine, Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, Than trust to love so false as thine!'" Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour. This was not ihe beauty-oh! nothing like this, This strain, and the sentiment which :: That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of bliss ; embodies, reminded the offended monarch of But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays his charming Nourmahal; and he names her Like the light upon autumn's soft shadowy days, Now here and now there, giving warmth as it dies name in accents of tenderness and regret. From the lips to the cheek, from the cheek to the " The mask is off-the charm is wrought !

And Selim to his heart has caught, Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams, In blushes more than ever bright, Like the glimpses a saint has of Heav'n in his His Nourmahal, his Haram's Light!"

dreams! When pensive, it seem'd as if that very grace, That charm of all others, was born with her face. We have now said enough, and shows Then her mirth-oh! 'Iwas sportive as ever took enough, of this book, to let our readers une

wing From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in of it. Its great fault certainly is its excessive

(spring; derstand both what it is, and what we think Illum'd by a wit that would fascinate

sages, Yet playful as Peris just loos’d from their cages.

finery, and its great charm the inexhaustible While her laugh, full of life, without any controul copiousness of its imagery—the sweetness and But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her ease of its diction—and the beauty of the ob

soul; And where it most sparkl?d no glance could discerned. Its finery, it should also be observed,

{cover, jects and sentiments with which it is conIn lip, cheek or eyes, for she brighten'd all over, is not the vulgar ostentation which so often When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun.” disguises poverty or meanness—but the ex

pp. 302, 303. travagance of excessive wealth. We have We can give but a little morsel of the en

said this, however, we believe before-and chanting Song of the Spirit of Music.

suspect we have little more to say.

All poets, who really love poetry, and live " . For mine is the lay that lightly floats, in a poetical age, are great imitators; and And mine are the murm'ring dying notes, the character of their writings may often be That fall as soft as snow on the sea, And melt in the heart as instantly!

as correctly ascertained by observing whom And the passionale strain that, deeply going,

they imitate and whom ihey abstain from Refines the bosom it trembles through, imitating, as from any thing else. Mr. As the musk.wind, over the water blowing, Moore, in the volume before us, reminds us Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too!

oftener of Mr. Southey and Lord Byron, than • The warrior's heart, when touch'd by me, of any other of his contemporaries. The reCan as downy soft and as yielding be

semblance is sometimes to the Roderick of As his own white plume, that high amid death the first-mentioned author, but most frequent Through the field has shone--yet moves with a ly to his Kehama. This may be partly owing And, oh, how the eyes of Beauty glisten, (breath. I to the nature of the subject; but, in many

When Music has reach'd her inward soul, Like the silent stars that wink and glisten,

passages, the coincidence seems to be more While Heav'n's eternal melodies roll!'» radical—and to indicate a considerable con

pp. 318, 319.

formity, in taste and habits of conception. Nourmahal herself, however, in her Arabian Mr. Southey's tone, indeed, is more assumdisguise, sings a still more prevailing dittying, his manner more solemn, and his diction

weaker. of which we can only insert a few stanzas.

Mr. Moore is more lively — his

figures and images come more thickly; and “ Fly to the desert, fly with me!

his language is at once more familiar, and Our Arab tents are rude for thee ; But oh! the choice what heart can doubt

more strengthened with points and antitheses. of tents with love, or thrones without?

In other respects, the descriptive passages in

Kehama bear a remarkable affinity to many *Our rocks are rough ; but smiling there

in the work before us—in the brightness of Th’ acacia waves her yellow hair, Lonely and sweet-nor lov'd the less

the colouring, and the amplitude and beauty For flow'ring in a wilderness!

of the details. It is in his descriptions of love, • Our sands are bare ; but down their slope

and of female loveliness, that there is the The silv'ry-footed antelope

strongest resemblance to Lord Byron--at least As gracefully and gaily springs

to the larger poems of that noble author. In As o'er the marble courts of Kings. the powerful and condensed expression of

strong emotion, Mr. Moore seems to us rather There is one other topic upon which we are to have imitated the tone of his Lordship's not quite sure we should say any thing. On smaller pieces—but imitated them as only an a former occasion, we reproved Mr. Moore, original genius could imitate—as Lord Byron perhaps with unnecessary severity, for what himself may be said, in his later pieces, to appeared to us the licentiousness of some of have imitated those of an earlier date. There his youthful productions. We think it a duty is less to remind us of Scott than we can very to say, that he has long ago redeemed that well account for, when we consider the great error; and that in all his latter works that range and variety of that most fascinating and have come under our observation, he appears powerful writer; and we must say, that if as the eloquent champion of purity, fidelity, Mr. Moore could bring the resemblance a and delicacy, not less than of justice, liberty, little closer, and exchange a portion of his su- and honour. Like most other poets, indeed, perfluous images and ecstasies for an equiva- he speaks much of beauty and love; and we lent share of Mr. Scott's gift of interesting and doubt not that many mature virgins and caredelighting us with pictures of familiar nature, ful matrons may think his lucubrations on and of the spirit and energy which never rises those themes too rapturous and glowing to be to extravagance, we think he would be a safely admitted among the private studies of gainer by the exchange. To Mr. Crabbe youth. We really think, however, that there there is no resemblance at all; and we only is not much need for such apprehensions : mention his name to observe, that he and Mr. And, at all events, if we look to the moral Moore seem to be the antipodies of our present design and scope of the works themselves, we poetical sphere; and to occupy the extreme can see no reason to censure the author. All points of refinement and homeliness that can his favourites, without exception, are dutiful, be said to fall within the legitimate dominion faithful, and self-denying; and no other exof poetry. They could not meet in the mid. ample is ever set up for imitation. There is dle, we are aware, without changing their na- nothing approaching to indelicacy even in his ture, and losing their specific character; but description of the seductions by which they each might approach a few degrees, we think, are tried; and they who object to his enchantwith great mutual advantage. The outposts ing pictures of the beauty and pure attachof all empires are posts of peril:-though ment of the more prominent characters would we do not dispute that there is great honour find fault, we suppose, with the loveliness and in maintaining them with success.

the embraces of angels.

(November, 1816.) The Excursion ; being a Portion of the Recluse, a Poem. By WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

4to. pp. 447. London: 1814.* This will never do! It bears no doubt the unfortunately not half so visibly as that of his stamp of the author's heart and fancy: But peculiar system. His former poems were

I have spoken in many places rather too bit- I finally resolved, therefore, to reprint my review terly and confidently of the faults of Mr. Words- of". The Excursion ;'' which contains a pretty full worth's poetry : And forgetting that, even on my view of my griefs and charges against Mr. Wordsown view of them, they were but faults of taste, or worth ; sei forth too, I believe, in a more temperate venial self-partiality, have sometimes visited then, strain ihan most of my other inculpations,--and of I fear, with an asperity which should be reserved | which I think I may now venture to say farther, for objects of Moral reprobation. If I were now to that if the faults are unsparingly noted, the beauties deal with the whole question of his poetical merits, i are not penuriously or grudgingly allowed; but though my judgment might not be substantially commended to the admiration of ihe reader with at different, I hope I should repress the greater part least as much hearliness and good-will. of these vivacités of expression: And indeed so But I have also reprinted a short paper on the strong has been my feeling in this way, that, con. same author's

White Doe of Rylstone,''-in sidering how much I have always loved many of which there certainly is no praise, or notice of the attributes of his Genius, and how entirely I beauties, to set against the very unqualified cenrespect his Character. it did at first occur to me sures of which it is wholly made up I have done whether it was quite fitting that, in my old age and this, however, not merely because I adhere to these his, I should include in this publication any of those censures, but chiefly because it seemed necessary critiques which may have formerly given pain or to bring me fairly to issue with those who may not offence, to him or his admirers. Bur, when I re- concur in them. I can easily understand that many flected that the mischief, if there really ever was whose admiration of the Excursion, or the Lyrical any, was long ago done, and that I still retain, in Ballads, rests substantially on the passages which I substance, the opinions which I should now like 100 should join in admiring, may view with greater to have seen more gently expressed, I felt that to indulgence ihan I can do, the tedious and flat pas omit all notice of them on the present occasion, sages with which they are interspersed, and may might be held to import a retractation which I am consequently think my censure of these works a as far as possible from intending; or even be rep- great deal too harsh and uncharitable. Between resented as a very shabby way of backing out of such persons and me, therefore, there may be no sentiments which should either be manfully per- radical difference of opinion, or contrariety as to sisted in, or openly renounced, and abandoned as principles of judgment. But if there be any who untenable.

actually admire this While Doe of Rylstone, or

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