Poets, he might perhaps have written the best | be this-that the partial conception and confined parts of Childe Harold—and had he the disposition knowledge which they naturally possessed of a or the whim to be egotistical, he might lay bare a country, so opposed in the character of its inhamind of his own as proudly and as passionately bitants and the aspect of its scenery to their own, organized as the great lord did, whom some one occasioned them, after the manner of all imperdescribes << to have gutted himself body and soul, fect apprehenders, to seize upon its prominent for all the world to walk in and see the show. » features and obvious characteristics, without enSo much for the preliminary cavils which are tering more deeply into its spirit, or catching its thrown in the teeth of Moore's admirers. They retired and less palpable beauties. The sudden have been picked up by the small fry of critics, transplantation of a European mind into Asiatic who commenced their career with a furious at- scenes can seldom be favourable to its well-being tack on him, Pope, and Campbell, but have since and progress; at least none but those of the first thought it becoming to grow out of their early order would be enabled to keep their imaginalikings. And at present they profess to prefer tions from degenerating into inconsistency and the great works which they have never read, and bombast, amid the swarms of novelties which which they will never be able to read, to those start up at every step. Thus it is that, in nearly classic poems, of which they have been the most all the oriental poems added to our literature, destructive enemies, by bethumbing and quoting we had the same monotonous assemblage of intheir beauties into triteness and common-place. sipid images, drawn from the peculiar phenomena and natural appearances of the country. The merits of Pope and of Moore have suffered depreciation from the same cause - the facility of being imitated to a certain degree. And as vulgar admiration seldom penetrates beyond this degree, the conclusion is that nothing can be easier than to write like, and even equal to, either of these poets. In the universal self-comparison, which is above mentioned, as the foundation of modern criticism; feeling is assumed to be genius-the passive is considered to imply the active power. No opinion is more common or more fallacious-it is the « flattering unction» which has inundated the world with versifiers, and which seems to under-rate the merit of compositions, in which there is more ingenuity and elegance than passion. Genius is considered to be little more than a capability of excitementthe greater the passion the greater the merit; and the school-boy key on which Mr Moore's love and heroism are usually set, is not considered by any reader beyond his reach. This is certainly Moore's great defect; but it is more that of his taste than of any superior faculty. We shall now proceed to notice the most laboured and most splendid of Mr Moore's productions- Lalla Rookh » : Then if, while scenes so grand, So beautiful, shine before thee, Should haply be stealing o'er thee; O'er pride itself victorious, To think how man hath curst What Heaven hath made so glorious. We have always considered Asia as naturally the home of poetry, and the creator of poets. What makes Greece so poetical a country is, that at every step we stumble over recollections of departed grandeur, and behold the scenes where the human mind has glorified itself for ever, and played a part, the records of which can never die. But in Asia, to the same charm of viewing the places of former power-of comparing the present with the past-there is added a luxuriance of climate, and an unrivalled beauty of external nature, which, ever according with the poet's soul, Temper, and do befit him to obey It was reserved for Mr Moore to redeem the character of oriental poetry, in a work which stands distinct, alone, and proudly pre-eminent above all that had preceded it on the same subject. Never, indeed, has the land of the sun shone out so brightly on the children of the north-nor the sweets of Asia been poured forth-nor her gorgeousness displayed so profusely to the delighted senses of Europe, as in the fine oriental romance of Lalla Rookh. The beauteous forms, the dazzling splendours, the breathing odours of the East, found, at last, a kindred poet in that Green Isle of the West, whose genius has long been suspected to be derived from a warmer clime, and here wantons and luxuriates in these voluptuous regions, as if it felt that it had at Several of our modern poets had already cho-length recognised its native abode. It is amazing, sen the luxuriant climate of the East for their imaginations to revel in, and body forth their shapes of light; but it is no less observable that they had generally failed, and the cause we believe to indeed, how much at home Mr Moore seems to be in India, Persia, and Arabia; and how purely and strictly Asiatic all the colouring and imagery of his poem appears. He is thoroughly imbued with the character of the scenes to which he trans- consisting of many pages, should have detached ports us; and yet the extent of his knowledge is and distinguishable beauties in every one of them. less wonderful than the dexterity and apparent No great work, indeed, should have many beaufacility with which he has turned it to account, ties: if it were perfect it would have but one, and in the elucidation and embellishment of his poetry. that but faintly perceptible, except on a view of There is not a simile, a description, a name, a the whole. Look, for example, at what is the trait of history, or allusion of romance, which most finished and exquisite production of human belongs to European experience, or does not in-art-the design and elevation of a Grecian temple, dicate entire familiarity with the life, nature, and in its old severe simplicity. What penury of orlearning of the East. nament - what neglect of beauties of detail what masses of plain surface-what rigid economical limitation to the useful and the necessary! The cottage of a peasant is scarcely more simple in its structure, and has not fewer parts that are superfluous. Yet what grandeur—what elegance what grace and completeness in the effect!— The whole is beautiful-because the beauty is in the whole; but there is little merit in any of the Nor are the barbaric ornaments thinly scattered to make up a show. They are showered lavishly over the whole work; and form, perhaps, too much the staple of the poetry, and the riches of that which is chiefly distinguished for its richness. We would confine this remark, however, to the descriptions of external objects, and the allusions to literature and history-to what may be termed the matériel of the poetry we are speak-parts except that of fitness and careful finishing. ing of. The characters and sentiments are of a different order. They cannot, indeed, be said to be copies of a European nature; but still less like that of any other region. They are, in truth, poetical imaginations; —but it is to the poetry of rational, honourable, considerate, and humane Europe that they belong and not to the childishness, cruelty, and profligacy of Asia. Contrast this with a Dutch or a Chinese pleasurehouse, where every part is meant to be beautiful, and the result is deformity-where there is not an inch of the surface that is not brilliant with colour, and rough with curves and angles,—and where the effect of the whole is displeasing to the eye and the taste. We are as far as possible from meaning to insinuate that Mr Moore's poetry is of this description; on the contrary, we think his ornaments are, for the most part, truly and exquisitely beautiful, and the general design of his pieces extremely elegant and ingenious: all that we mean to say is, that there is too much ornament-too many isolated and independent beauties—and that the notice and the very admiration they excite, hurt the interest of the general design, and withdraw our attention too importunately from it. There is something very extraordinary, we think, in this work-and something which indicates in the author, not only a great exuberance of talent, but a very singular constitution of genius. While it is more splendid in imagery—and for the most part in very good taste-more rich in sparkling thoughts and original conceptions, and more full indeed of exquisite pictures both of all sorts of beauties, and all sorts of virtues, and all sorts of sufferings and crimes, than any other poem we know of; we rather think we speak the Mr Moore, it appears to us, is too lavish of his sense of all classes of readers, when we add, gems and sweets; and it may truly be said of that the effect of the whole is to mingle a certain him, in his poetical capacity, that he would be feeling of disappointment with that of admira- richer with half his wealth. His works are not tion,—to excite admiration rather than any warm- only of rich materials and graceful design, but er sentiment of delight—to dazzle more than to they are everywhere glistening with small beauenchant—and, in the end, more frequently to star- ties and transitory inspirations-sudden flashes tle the fancy, and fatigue the attention, with the of fancy that blaze out and perish; like earthborn constant succession of glittering images and high-meteors that crackle in the lower sky, and unseastrained emotions, than to maintain a rising in-sonably divert our eyes from the great and lofty terest, or win a growing sympathy, by a less pro- bodies which pursue their harmonious courses in fuse or more systematic display of attractions. a serener region. The style is, on the whole, rather diffuse, and too unvaried in its character. But its greatest fault is the uniformity of its brilliancy-the want of occasional plainness, simplicity, and repose. We have heard it observed by some very zealous admirers of Mr Moore's genius, that you cannot open this book without finding a cluster of beauties in every page. Now, this is only another way of expressing what we think its greatest defect. No work, We have spoken of these as faults of stylebut they could scarcely have existed without going deeper; and though they first strike us as qualities of the composition only, we find, upon a little reflection, that the same general character belongs to the fable, the characters, and the sentiments-that they all are alike in the excess of their means of attraction-and fail to interest, chiefly by being too interesting. make it possible for him even to counterfeit dulWe must now take a slight glance at the ness. poetry. The first piece, entitled the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, is the longest, and, we think, certainly not the best of the series. The story, which is not in all its parts extremely intelligible, is founded on a vision, in D'Herbelot, of a daring impostor of the early ages of Islamism, who pretended to have received a later and more authoritative mission than that of the Prophet, and to be destined to overturn all tyrannies and superstitions We have felt it our duty to point out the faults of our author's poetry, particularly in respect to Lalla Rookh, but it would be quite unjust to characterize that splendid poem by its faults, which are infinitely less conspicuous than its manifold beauties. There is not only a richness and brilliancy of diction and imagery spread over the whole work, that indicate the greatest activity and elegance of fancy in the author; but it is everywhere pervaded, still more strikingly, by a strain of tender and noble feeling, poured out with such warmth and abundance, as to steal insensibly on the heart of the reader, and gradually | on the earth, and to rescue all souls that believed to overflow it with a tide of sympathetic emotion. There are passages indeed, and these neither few nor brief, over which the very genius of poetry seems to have breathed his richest enchantment -where the melody of the verse and the beauty of the images conspire so harmoniously with the force and tenderness of the emotion, that the whole is blended into one deep and bright stream of sweetness and feeling, along which the spirit of the reader is borne passively through long reaches of delight. Mr Moore's poetry, indeed, where his happiest vein is opened, realizes more exactly than that of any other writer, the splendid account which is given by Comus of the song of His mother Circe, and the sirens three, Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul, And though it is certainly to be regretted that he The legend of Lalla Rookh is very sweetly and gaily told; and is adorned with many tender as pom Milton, who was much patronized by the illustrious House of Egerton, wrote the Mask of Comus, upon John Egerton, then Earl of Bridgewater, when that nobleman, in 1634, was appointed Lord President of the principality of Wales. It was performed by three of his Lordship's children, before the Earl, at Ludlow Castle.-See the Works of the present Earl of Bridgewater. in him. To shade the celestial radiance of his brow, he always wore a veil of silver gauze, and was at last attacked by the Caliph, and exterminated with all his adherents. On this story Mr Moore has engrafted a romantic and not very probable tale : yet, even with all its faults, it possesses a charm almost irresistible, in the volume of sweet sounds and beautiful images, which are heaped together with luxurious profusion in the general texture of the style, and invest even the faults of the story with the graceful amplitude of their rich and figured veil. «Paradise and the Peri» has none of the faults just alluded to. It is full of spirit, elegance, and beauty; and, though slight in its structure, breathes throughout a most pure and engaging morality. The Fire-worshippers» appears to us to be indisputably the finest and most powerful poem of them all. With all the richness and beauty of diction that belong to the best parts of Mokanna, it has a far more interesting story; and is not liable to the objections that arise against the contrivance and structure of the leading poem. The general tone of the Fire-worshippers is certainly work of great genius and beauty; and not only too much strained, but, in spite of that, it is a delights the fancy by its general brilliancy and spirit, but moves all the tender and noble feelings with a deep and powerful agitation. The last piece, entitled The Light of the Haram,» is the gayest of the whole; and is of a very slender fabric as to fable or invention. In truth, it has scarcely any story at all; but is made up almost entirely of beautiful songs and fascinating descriptions. On the whole, it may be said of « Lalla Rookh," that its great fault consists in its profuse finery; but it should be observed, that this finery is not the vulgar ostentation which so often disguises poverty or meanness-but, as we have before hinted, the extravagance of excessive wealth. Its great charm is in the inexhaustible copiousness of its imagery—the sweetness and ease of its diction -and the beauty of the objects and sentiments with which it is conceived. Whatever popularity Mr Moore may have acquired as the author of Lalla Rookh, etc., it is as the author of the « Irish Melodies » that he will go down to posterity unrivalled and alone in that delightful species of composition. Lord Byron has very justly and prophetically observed, that Moore is one of the few writers who will survive the age in which he so deservedly flourishes. He will live in his Irish Melodies'; they will go down to posterity with the music; both will last as long as Ireland, or as music and poetry.» tional music of Scotland, it seems to us, that Allan Ramsay's literary existence must have terminated its earthly career long since; but, in the divine melody of « The Yellow-hair'd Laddie,» he has secured a passport to future ages, which mightier poets might envy, and which will be heard and acknowledged as long as the world has ears to hear. This is not a mere fancy of the uninitiated, or the barbarous exaggeration of a musical savage, who has lost his senses at hearing Orpheus's hurdy. If, indeed, the anticipation of lasting celebrity gurdy, because he never heard any thing better. be the chief pleasure for the attainment of which One of the greatest composers that ever charmed poets bestow their labour, certainly no one can the world-the immortal Haydn-on being rehave engaged so much of it as Thomas Moore.quested to add symphonies and accompaniments It is evident that writers who fail to command to the Scotch airs, was so convinced of their duimmediate attention, and who look only to pos- rability, that he replied-« Mi vanto di questo terity for a just estimate of their merits, must lavoro, e per cio mi lusingo di vivere in Scozia feel more or less uncertainty as to the ultimate molti anni dopo la mia morte.» result, even though they should appreciate their own productions as highly as Milton his Paradise Lost; while they who succeed in obtaining a large share of present applause cannot but experience frequent misgivings as to its probable duration : prevailing tastes have so entirely changed, and works, the wonder and delight of one generation, have been so completely forgotten in the next, that extent of reputation ought rather to alarm than assure an author in respect to his future fame. But Mr Moore, independently of poetical powers of the highest order-independently of the place he at present maintains in the public estimation-has secured to himself a stronghold of celebrity as durable as the English tongue. It is not without reason, therefore, that Mr Moore indulges in this kind of second-sight, and exclaims (on hearing one of his own melodies re-echoed from a bugle in the mountains of Killarney), Oh, forgive if, while listening to music, whose breath In truth, the subtile essences of these tunes present Like the gale that sighs along Almost every European nation has a kind of primitive music, peculiar to itself; consisting of short and simple tunes or melodies, which at the same time that they please cultivated and scientific ears, are the object of passionate and almost exclusive attainment by the great body of the people, constituting, in fact, pretty nearly the sum of their musical knowledge and enjoyment. Being the first sounds with which the infant is soothed in his nursery, with which he is lulled to repose at night, and excited to animation in the day, they make an impression on the imagination that can never afterwards be effaced, and are consequently handed down from parent to child, from generation to generation, with as much uniformity as the family features and dispositions. It is evident, therefore, that he who first successfully invests them with language becomes thereby himself a component part of these airy existences, and commits his bark to a favouring wind, before which it shall pass on to the end of the stream of time. Without such a connexion as this with the na- known than those of the Scotch and Irish. Some Is the grateful breath of song, That once was heard in happier hours; Though the flowers have sunk in death; His mem'ry lives in Music's breath! Almost every European nation, as we before observed, has its own peculiar set of popular melodies, differing as much from each other in character as the nations themselves; but there are none more marked or more extensively of these may be traced to a very remote era; while of others the origin is scarcely known; and this is the case, especially, with the airs of Ireland. With the exception of those which were produced by Carolan, who died in 1738, there are few of which we can discover the dates or composers. light remains, the more highly is Irish border minstrelsy extolled. «The oldest Irish tunes (says the same writer) are said to be the most perfect," and history ac cords with this opinion. Vin. Galilei, Bacon, Stanishurst, Spenser, and Camden, in the 16th century, speak warmly of Irish version, but not so highly as Polydore Virgil and Major, in the 15th, Clynn, in the middle of the 14th, or Fordun, in the 13th. As we recede yet further, we find Giraldus Cambrensis, G. Brompton, and John of Salisbury, in the 12th century, bestowing still more lofty encomiums; and these, again, falling short of the science among us in the 11th and 10th centuries. In conformity with this, Fuller, That many of these airs possess great beauty and pathos, no one can doubt who is acquainted with the selections that have been made by Mr Moore; but as a genus or a style, they also exhibit the most unequivocal proofs of a rude and barbarous origin; and there is scarcely a more striking instance of the proneness of mankind to exalt the supposed wisdom of their ancestors, and to lend a ready ear to the marvellous, than the ex-in his account of the Crusade conducted by Godaggerated praise which the authors of this music have obtained. It is natural to suppose that in music, as in all other arts, the progress of savage man was gradual; that there is no more reason for supposing he should have discovered at once the seven notes of the scale, than that he should have been able at once to find appropriate language for all the nice distinctions of morals or metaphysics. We shall now pass to some interesting accounts of the Bards of the « olden time,» which come within the scope of our subject when speaking of the present Bard of Erin, and his « Irish Melodies.» frey of Bologne, says, « Yea, we might well think that all the concert of Christendom in this war would have made no music, if the Irish Harp had been wanting. » In those early times the Irish bards were invested with wealth, honours, and influence. They wore a robe of the same colour as that used by kings were exempted from taxes and plunder, and were billeted on the country from Allhallowtide to May, while every chief bard had thirty of inferior note under his orders, and every secondrate bard fifteen. John of Salisbury, in the 12th century, says, Dr Burney observes, that the first Greek mu- that the great aristocrats of his day imitated sicians were gods; the second, heroes; the third, Nero in their extravagant love of fiddling and bards; the fourth, beggars!» During the infancy singing; that they prostituted their favour by of music in every country, the wonder and af- bestowing it on minstrels and buffoons; and fections of the people were gained by surprise; that, by a certain foolish and shameful munifibut when musicians became numerous, and the cence, they expended immense sums of money on art was regarded of easier acquirement, they lost their frivolous exhibitions. » The courts of their favour, and, from being seated at the tables princes,» says another contemporary writer, « are of kings, and helped to the first cut, they were re-filled with crowds of minstrels, who extort from duced to the most abject state, and ranked amongst them gold, silver, horses, and vestments, by their rogues and vagabonds. That this was the cause flattering songs. I have known some princes of the supposed retrogradation of Irish music we who have bestowed on these minstrels of the Deshall now proceed to show, by some curious ex-vil, at the very first word, the most curious gartracts from contemporary writers. ments, beautifully embroidered with flowers and pictures, which had cost them twenty or thirty marks of silver, and which they had not worn above seven days!» The Bards, the earliest professors of whom we have not any account, having united to their capacity of musicians the function of priests, could not fail to obtain for themselves, in an age of From the foregoing account, by Salisbury ignorance and credulity, all the influence and John, the twelfth century must, verily, have been respect which that useful and deserving class of the true golden age for the sons of the lyre; who men have never failed to retain, even among na- were then, it seems, clothed in purple and fine tions who esteem themselves the most enlight- linen, and fared sumptuously every day. It is ened. But the remotest period in which their true, they were flatterers and parasites, and did character of musician was disengaged from that dirty work» for it in those days; but, at any of priest is also the period assigned to the high-rate, princes were then more generous to their est triumph of their secular musical skill and re- poet-laureates, and the sackbut and the song spectability. << It is certain," says Mr Bunting were better paid for than in a simple butt of (in his Historical and Critical Dissertation on the Harp), « that the further we explore, while yet any sack. According to Stowe, the minstrel had still a с |