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RAYLEY’S 
these, will perceive that they are in all 
their parts either servilely copied, or 
stolen, or more dishonestly translated. 
We shall notice only one poem more, 
in which Mr. Peter Bayley has com- 
pletely reversed the dream of the alche- 
mist, and succeeded in transmuting gold 
into lead. _ 
«¢ And that sweet warbling, in her face 
Call'd up a new and lively grace : 
That warbling moulded every look, 
And feelings born of sound bid rise 
Soft radiance in her kindling eyes ; 
And all her frame with sweet emotion shook. 
Then in each feature I could see 
The workings of that sympathy, 
‘Lhe silent joy that o’er her stole.” 
Bayiey, 101. 
© Nor shall she fail to see 
Even in the motions of the storm, 
Grace that shall mould. the maiden’s form 
By silent sympathy. 
The stars of midnight shall be dear 
To her, and she shall lean her car 
In many asecret place, 
Where rivulets dance their wayward round, 
And beauty born of murmuring sound, 
Shall pass into her face.” 
Lyrical Ballads, vol. ii. 137. 
*« £ & *€ 
*¢ And oh, thelook! when from that tree 
At length she turn’d her eyes on me! 
That look may never pass away ; 
Even now it works upon my mind, 
And in its magic I shall find 
Subject and food for many a future day.” 
Bayley, 102. 
« The look with which they look'd on me 
Had never pass’d away.” 
Lyrical Ballads, i. 163. 
— “with pleasing hopes 
That in this moment there is life and food 
For future years.” 
. hid eo 19 
This is by no means an uninteresting 
specimen of Mr. Bayley’s general prac- 
tice of plagiarism; having the Lyrical 
Ballads by heart, he fits in the scraps as 
they are wanted, with the same facility 
that a school-boy caps verses. 
« Why is my hand upon aie i 
ayley, 100. 
and again, in the last stanza of. the same 
poem 
Therefore my hand is on my heart. 
I look, the wh is empty space, 
* Jknow not what I trace, ; 
But when I cease to look, my hand is on my 
© heart.” Me 
‘ Lyrical Ballads, ii. 77. 
551 
PGEMS.» 
Mr. Bayley, in this “ Ivy Seat,” has 
kept his eye throughout upon the last 
quoted poem. His Gentle Maid, in this 
piece of patch-work, is a second translation 
from the Nightingale--with this differ- 
ence, that the Nightingale is changed 
into a Blackbird. Yet Mr. Peter Bay- 
ley himself thinks, that to pass off com- 
pilations for original compositions, is 
roguery. “ Mr. Kelly does compile with 
a vengeance,” says honest Mr. Peter 
Bayley. “ When a man publishes in his 
owa name mere musical centos, it is time to 
hint to him, that borrowing here a little, and 
there a little, procured Arne the appellation of 
‘ pilfering Tommy Arne? But enough of 
musical rogues.” p. 138. 
Pilfering Peter Bayley perhaps sup-, 
poses, that he has made the thoughts of 
others his own by his manner of remo- 
delling them. There is a passage in one 
of Donne’s Satires which will fit this 
gentleman. 
** But he is worst who, beggarly doth chaw 
Others wits fruits, and in his rav’nous maw 
Rankly digested, doth those things out-spue 
As his own things ; and they're his own "tis 
true: 
For if one eat my meat, tho’ it be known 
The meat was mine, ioe 
Old Donne is somewhat coarse in his 
expression; but Mr. Bayley may turn 
to the thirtieth line of his second satire, 
to see how such gentlemen as himself ap- 
. propriate their neighbours meat. 
But enough of versifying rogues. It is 
sufficient to add, that Mr. Peter Bayley 
has pillaged Akenside as he has Mr. 
Bowles and Mr. Wordsworth; that he 
miay be tracked to Cowper and to Char- 
lotte Smith; in short, that his whole vo- 
lume is one mass of patchwork. Lxough 
of versifying rogues! We have a heavier 
charge than that of simple roguery to 
bring against this dishonest man. 
That Mr. Bayley should never praise, 
never refer to the authors whom he has 
plundered, was to be expected; to have 
so named them would have been giving 
a hint to his detection. This isthe come 
mon trick of plagiarists; but Mr. Bay 
ley is no common plagiarist, and he has 
advanced one step farther in meanness: 
After having made up his own poems by 
scraps from Mr. Wordsworth’s, he has 
had the baseness to attempt to ridicule 
Mr. Wordsworth, and has sneered at him 
by name; in the hope, that those of his 
readers who have-neverread the Lyrical 
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