TO MR. HENRY CARY, ON THE PUBLICATION OF HIS SONNETS.
Prais'd be the Poet, who the Sonnet's claim, Severest of the orders that belong Distinct and separate to the Delphic Song, Shall venerate, nor its appropriate name Lawless assume. Peculiar is its frame, From him deriv'd, who shunn'd the City Throng, And warbled sweet thy rocks and streams among, Lonely Valclusa!--and that Heir of Fame, Our greater MILTON, hath, by many a lay Form'd on that arduous model, fully shown That English Verse may happily display Those strict energic measures, which alone Deserve the name of SONNET, and convey A grandeur, grace and spirit, all their own.
Marcellus, since the ardors of my strain To thy young eyes and kindling fancy, gleam With somewhat of the vivid hues, that stream From Poesy's bright orb, each envious stain Shed by dull Critics, venal, vex'd and vain, Seems recompens'd at full;--and so wou'd seem Did not _maturer_ Sons of Phœbus deem My verse Aonian.--Thou, in time, shalt gain, Like them, amid the letter'd World, _that_ sway Which makes encomium _fame_;--so thou adorn, Extend, refine and dignify thy lay, And Indolence, and Syren Pleasure scorn; Then, at high noon, thy Genius shall display The splendors promis'd in its shining morn.
Nobly to scorn thy gilded veil to wear, Soft Simulation!--wisely to abstain From fostering Envy's asps;--to dash the bane Far from our hearts, which Hate, with frown severe, Extends for those who wrong us;--to revere With soul, or grateful, or resign'd, the train Of mercies, and of trials, is to gain A quiet Conscience, best of blessings here!-- Calm Conscience is a land-encircled bay, On whose smooth surface Tempests never blow; Which shall the reflex of our life display Unstain'd by crime, tho' gloom'd with transient woe; While the bright hopes of Heaven's eternal day Upon the fair and silent waters glow.
ON DOCTOR JOHNSON'S UNJUST CRITICISMS IN HIS LIVES OF THE POETS[1].
Cou'd aweful Johnson want poetic ear, Fancy, or judgment?--no! his splendid strain, In prose, or rhyme, confutes that plea.--The pain Which writh'd o'er Garrick's fortunes, shows us clear _Whence_ all his spleen to GENIUS.--Ill to bear A Friend's renown, that to his _own_ must reign, Compar'd, a Meteor's evanescent train, To Jupiter's fix'd orb, proves that each sneer, Subtle and fatal to poetic Sense, Did from insidious ENVY meanly flow, Illumed with dazzling hues of eloquence, And Sophist-Wit, that labor to o'er-throw Th' awards of AGES, and new laws dispense That lift the _mean_, and lay the MIGHTY low.