Mr. Southey's
defence (for he has partially anticipated this objection) is that the
names are conformable to history or analogy, which we are not inclined
to dispute: but it is not requisite to tread so closely in the traces of
barbarity. Truth does not constitute the essence of poetry: but it is
indispensably necessary that the lines should be agreeable to the ear,
as well as to the sense. Sorry, indeed, we are to complain that Mr.
Southey, in attempting a new method of writing,--in professing to set
aside the old models, and to promote his own work to a distinguished
place in the library,--has failed to interest our feelings, or to excite
our admiration. The dull tenor of mediocrity, which characterizes his
pages, is totally unsuitable to heroic poetry, regular or irregular.
Instead of viewing him on a _fiery Pegasus_, and "snatching a grace
beyond the reach of art," we behold the author mounted on a strange
animal, something between a rough Welsh poney and a Peruvian sheep,
whose utmost capriole only tends to land him in the mud. We may indeed
safely compliment Mr.
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