Lo! modern Critics emulously dare
Ape the great Despot; throw in pompous tone
And massy words their true _no meaning_ down!
But while their envious eyes on Genius glare,
While axioms false assiduously they square
In arrogant antithesis, a frown
Lours on the brow of Justice, to disown
The _kindred malice_ with its mimic air.
Spirit of Common Sense[2]! must we endure
The incrustation hard without the _gem_?
Find in th' Anana's rind the wilding sour,
The Oak's rough knots on every _Osier_'s stem?
The dark contortions of the Sybil bear,
Whose inspirations never meet our ear?
1: In jargon, like the following, copied from a REVIEW, are the works
of Genius perpetually criticized in our public Prints: “Passion has
not sufficient coolness to pause for metaphor, nor has metaphor ardor
enough to keep pace with passion.”--Nothing can be less true.
Metaphoric strength of expression will burst even from vulgar and
illiterate minds when they are agitated. It is a natural effort of
roused sensibility in every gradation, from unlettered simplicity to
the highest refinement. Passion has no occasion to _pause_ for
metaphors, they _rush_ upon the mind which it has heated. Similies,
it is true, are not natural to strong emotion. _They_ are the result
of spirits that are calm, and at leisure to _compare_.
2: This idea is from a speech of Mr. Burke's, recorded by Boswell.