and express less, but he never was intended as an example, further than to show that early perversion of mind and morals leads to satiety of past pleasures and

and be either droll or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the humour strikes me; tr. if I mistake not, the measure which I have adopted simis equally of all these kinds of composition.»-disappointment in new ones, and that even the beauties wagthened in my opinion by such authority, and by te example of some in the highest order of Italian 1, I shall make no apology for attempts at similar victions in the following composition; satisfied that, they are unsuccessful, their failure must be in the tention, rather than in the design sanctioned by the Tactice of Ariesto, Thomson, and Beattie.

ADDITION TO THE PREFACE.

I have now waited till almost all our periodical jourhave distributed their usual portion of criticism. the justice of the generality of their criticisms I at nothing to object; it would ill become me to A with their very slight degree of censure, when, waps, if they had been less kind they had been more d. Returning, therefore, to all and each my best s for their liberality, on one point alone shall I ture an observation. Amongst the many objections y urged to the very indifferent character of the at Childe» (whom, notwithstanding many hints The contrary, I still maintain to be a fictitious perwae. it has been stated that, besides the anachron

he is very unknightly, as the times of the knights > times of love, honour, and so forth. Now it so *spens that the good old times, when «l'amour du vieux temps, l'amour antique» flourished, were the Est profligate of all possible centuries. Those who any doubts on this subject may consult St Palaye, , and more particularly vol. ii. page 69. The s of chivalry were no better kept than any other rows whatsoever, and the songs of the Troubadours se not more decent, and certainly were much less ed, than those of Ovid.-The Cours d'amour, parled'amour ou de courtoisie et de gentilesse,» had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness.-See Lindon the same subject with St Palaye.-Whatever Ker objection may be urged to that most unamiable prwnage Childe Harold, he was so far perfectly knight

in bis attributes-No waiter, but a knight templay the bye, I fear that Sir Tristram and Sir Laserlot were no better than they should be, although wer poctical personages and true knights « sans peur,»

gh not e sans reproche. If the story of the instion of the Garters be not a fable, the knights of and ender have for several centuries borne the badge of 1 Countess of Salisbury, of indifferent memory. So ath for chivalry. Burke need not have regretted at its days are over, though Maria Antoinette was te as chaste as most of those in whose honours anres were shivered, and knights unhorsed. Before the days of Bayard, and down to those of Sir ph Banks the most chaste and celebrated of anvat and modern times), few exceptions will be found this statement, and I fear a little investigation will

us not to regret these monstrous mummeries of ter middle ages.

I now leave Childe Harold» to live his day, such as

; it had been more agreeable, and certainly more to have drawn an amiable character. It had been

y to varnish over his faults, to make him do more

• Bese Letters.

The Rovers-Antejacobin.

of nature, and the stimulus of travel (except ambition, the most powerful of all excitements), are lost on a soul so constituted, or rather misdirected. Had I proceeded with the poem, this character would have deepened as he drew to the close; for the outline which I once meant to fill up for him was, with some exceptions, the sketch of a modern Timon, perhaps a poetical Zeluco.

TO IANTHE.

NoT in those climes where I have late been straying,
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd;
Not in those visions to the heart displaying
Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd,
Hath aught like thee, in truth or fancy seem'd:
Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek

To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd—
To such as see thee not my words were weak;
To those who gaze on thee what language could they
speak?

Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art,
Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring,
As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart,
Love's image upon earth without his wing,
And guileless beyond Hope's imagining!
And surely she who now so fondly rears
Thy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening,
Beholds the rainbow of her future years,
Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow disappears.
Young Peri of the West!-'t is well for me,
My years already doubly number thine;
My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee,
And safely view thy ripening beauties shine;
Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline,
Happier, that while all younger hearts shall bleed,
Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign
To those whose admiration shall succeed,
But mix'd with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours de-
creed.

Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the gazelle's,
Now brightly bold or beautifully shy,
Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells,
Glance o'er this page, nor to my verse deny
That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh,
Could I to thee be ever more than friend:
This much, dear maid, accord; nor question why
To one so young my strain I would commend,
But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend.

Such is thy name with this my verse entwined;
And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast
On Harold's page, Janthe's here enshrined
Shall thus be first beheld, forgotten last:
My days once number'd, should this homage past
Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre

Of him who hail'd thee, loveliest as thou wast,
Such is the most my memory may desire;

Though more than Hope can claim, could Friendship
less require?

And steer twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap. In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.

Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwash'd, Swept into wrecks anon by time's ungentle tide!