News from Parnassus, Ko. XXI f I. [May I, 



opinion of Bome Aristarchs, fendct the 

 poem before us unworthy of his lord- 

 ship's muse. Some years since, the 

 northern critics, in speaking of gar- 

 dcning, inserted among the permanent 

 beauties of horlicultuie, tiie grace of 

 unexpectedness, to the no small asto- 

 nishment of many of theirless metapliy- 

 sical readers. In the same manner, it 

 would seem that some of Lord Byron's 

 readers expect all his productions to 

 retain that charm of novelty which 

 belonged to his earlier poetical eiforts; 

 and we cannot greatly wonder that 

 such an expectation should be disap- 

 pointed. But to us tiie " Age of 

 Bronze" appears to be in every rc- 

 s|)eet cliaracteristic of the noble 

 author, and to abound in the beauties, 

 and, we regret to say, in the faults of 

 style likewise, by which his former 

 writings have been distinguished. A 

 harshness of construction, an abrupt- 

 ness of language, loose and digressive 

 parentheses, and the frequent employ- 

 ment of unusual epithets, are conspi- 

 cuous in many ])arts oFit. 'J'he versi- 

 fication, too, is often feeble and inac- 

 curate. Take f'-r an example the 

 following two couplets: — 



T>\it8cn, where fell the Swede of victojy, 

 Kelu.lris liim conqnei, — but, alas! not di,:: 

 I>resden surveys three de>pots fly oiict itiore 

 Before their sovereign,— sovereign h» before. 



Many similar instances might be 

 adduced : such lines would appear 

 quile in character from the pen of the 

 Hon. W. Fitzgerald, but they ought 

 not to proceed from Lord Byron. Wc 

 are the more concerned at this incor- 

 rectness in his lordship's writing, be- 

 cause, after his manly and brilliant 

 eulogiuni on Pope, (to whose school 

 we have certainly the weakness to bo 

 much attached,) we had hoped that he 

 would not, by his example, sanction 

 thai negligence,— any thing but grace- 

 ful, — so pre vAlcnt among many of his 

 contemporaries ; who, unable to attain 

 to exactness, attempt to dignify their 

 faults, by representing Ihcm as the in- 

 separable companions of genius. Lord 

 Byron can urge no such plea of ina- 

 bility ; we appeal to tlie passage, iri 

 the present poem, beginning " Behold 

 the grand result," whicii, to the end of 

 the stanza where it is found, exiiibits 

 a specimen of delineation of charac- 

 ter, and faitltlcssness of expression, 

 that involuntarily brings to our recol- 

 lection the happiest efforts of Pope in 

 the same line. And we are persuaded 

 that his lordship will regard this as a 

 more enviable praise than the lulsome 

 RdulatioQ 



S24 



The peace h;i8 made one general malcontent 

 Of tlicse htgli market patfiots; war was rentt 

 Their love ot country, millions all misspent, 

 How reconcile ? by fecoiicilinsf rent. 

 And will they not "repay the treasures lent ? 

 rvo ! down with every tliinir, and up with rent! 

 Their good, ill, healtn, wealth, joy, or discontent. 

 Being, end, aim, religion,— rent, rent, rent ! 

 Thou sold'st tliv birthright, Esau! for a messj 

 Thou thntildst have goUm more or eaten his; 

 Now thou hast swill'd thy pottajje, thy demands 

 Are idle, Israel sups the b:irf;ain stands. 



We fear we have already extended 

 our extracts to too great a lengtli, but 

 we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure 

 of presenting our readers with the fol- 

 lowing passage relative to Maria 

 Louisa, which we consider as not ex- 

 celled in pathos by any thing which 

 has proceeded from his lordship's pen. 



Enough of this, — a sight more mournful woos 



Tire averted eye of the reluctant Muse. 



The imperial daughter, the imperial bride, 



The imperial victim, sacrifice to pride; 



The mother of the hero's hope, the boy. 



The yonng Astyanax of modern Troy ; 



The still pale shadow of the loftiest queen. 



That eartii has yet to see, or e'er has seen ; 



She flits amidst the phantoms of the hour, 



The theme of pity, ami the wreck of power. 



©h. Cruel mockery ! could not Austria spare 



A daughter? What did France's widow there? 



Her fitter place was by St. Helen's wave, 



Her only throne is in'Napoleon's grave. 



But she appears ! Verona sees her shorn 



Of all her beams,— while nations gaze and mourn : 



Ere yet her husband's ashes have had time 



To chill in their inhospitable clime, 



(If e'er those awful ashes can grow cold; 



But no,— their embers soon will burst the monld,) 



She comes ! the Andromache, (but not Uacine's, 



Nor Homer's,) lo! on Pyrrhus' arm she leans. 



Yes! the riL'ht arm,— yet red from Waterloo, 



Which cut her lord's half-shalter'd sceptrethrough, — 



Is offei'd, and accepted! Could a slave 



Do more? or less! — and he\n his new grave! 



Her cheek, her eye, betray no inward stiife. 



And the ^j-Empress "rows as Ej a wife 1 



So much for human ties in royal breasts! 



Wliy spare men's feelings, when their own are jests ? 



From what wc have said, a ptetty 

 just idea may be formed of the merits 

 ©f this poem. It abounds in liberal 

 sentiments, powerful conception, and 

 energetic language. Without tiie ap- 

 pearance of design, the antho*^ has 

 found means to give to every subject 

 be introduces, its most approjiriulc 

 and effective situation in the piece ; 

 and the leading personages in the 

 political drama are hit Off with admi- 

 rable felicity. 



On the first appearance of * the Age 

 of Bronze," some of our contempora- 

 ries professed to have discovered indi- 

 cations of its not being written by 

 Lord Byron, and regarded it as the 

 production merely of a successful 

 imitator. We can only say, that we 

 would fp.in see such an imitator, and 

 would most gladly welcome his ap- 

 pearance, as a valuable addition to the 

 writers of the day. Our laste is not 

 fastidious enough, nor our perceptions 

 sufliciently acute, to enable us to spy 

 that jiaJpable falliD*-6ff, which, iu the 



