SPECTATOR'S LIBRARY.

POETRY,

The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore. collected by Himself. In ten volumes. Longman and Co. OrcroLoor, On Sex in the World to Come; an Essay. By the Rev. G. D.Ilaughton, B.A.

Boos*.

stoons's POEMS.

THE completion of Mr. MOORE'S collected edition of his Poetical Works appears a proper occasion to offer an estimate of their value, which it might not have been altogether fair to make at an earlier stage ; and which, indeed, could not have easily been done until their accessibility enabled a survey of the whole to be taken.

In running over the work from the beginning to the end, from

the translation of ANACREON to the miscellaneous pieces of the latter volumes, the most striking impression made upon the mind is the want of matter and thought. If by poetry we mean fluency of verse, brilliancy of diction, a profusion of sparkling though not always proper imagery, and social, or it may be said sensual sen- timents, sometimes graceful but often commonplace—then does this collection abound with poetry. But if, rising above the forme and mechanism of art, we hold a poet to be one who, whether by study or by instinct, masters his subject, so as to present those parts of it only which are universally true—whose thoughts, though seemingly obvious and intelligible to the common mass, are so deep and comprehensive that experience and study only enable his critical readers to perceive a larger meaning or greater fitness of purpose at each successive perusal—who considers the truth and nature of his ornaments with as proportionate a care as his fundamental thoughts—and uses that mastery over his language which every true poet must have acquired, to pre- sent his ideas in the clearest and most attractive form, considering words a means and not an end, a vehicle for thought and not a substitute for thought—then, if these things are necessary to poetry, there is not much of poetry in the ten volumes before us.

It may be said that this definition, however applicable to the

loftier branches of poetry—to the epic, the dramatic, and the greater lyric—does not apply to those kinds which Mr. Momm has chiefly attempted. We answer, that every kind of poetry has its prototype in nature, which the poet must reflect truly, or his works will not long attract the attention of mankind, whatever temporary popularity he may attain. Even the pastoral, rated as the lowest of all, and so long looked down upon even by schoolboys and An- nual rhymsters, has for its subjects the landscapes of nature modi- fied by cultivation, the occupations of rural labour, and the cha- racters of rustic life ; from which the true poet will select the mos% characteristic and pleasing features. So it is with amatory and convivial poetry. The pervading features, the principles of his subject, will be presented in the most attractive form : if the pas- sion of the poet inclines to Anteros, or he looks to his cups for animal excitement and coarse merriment, instead of the higher sentiments of love and sociality, be it so ; he will still be a poet if he pours forth his genuine feelings attractively and truly. But it is truth, not tricks of ingenuity, that stamps the poet. The follower of ARISTIPFUS is not expected to compose sermons ; but he is to give us his " experiences?' The works of this class; of ancient poets, says JOHNSON, in a passage we repeat from memory, contain thoughts which deserve to be studied, apart from the exhor- tations to enjoyment among which they are found, as the result of a wide and keen observation of life. When they call upon us to snatch the present opportunity, which once past may never return, or advise us not to terrify ourselves by looking anxiously to future evils that may never happen, and which if we could foresee we can- not prevent, we may follow them as genuine teachers of wisdom. But more than incidental truths may be deduced even from liber- tinism which is original and not imitative. The fleeting nature of sensual enjoyments, and the unsatisfactory feeling they leave behind, tinged with melancholy several of the ancient lyrists ; whose strains might warn others, though disposition and habit were too strong for themselves. But ancient licence, from the constitution of society, was rather a bad habit than an actual vice. The ancient roue might be an effeminate man and a useless citizen, but irregu- larity was chiefly indulged at a man's own expense ; it did not, like the licentiousness of modern times, harden the heart into selfishness or involve his victims in moral degradation and tem- poral abandonment. The modern ANACREON, therefore, who con- fines himself to echoing the ancient, will miss an element of modern poetry—the effect of licence upon character, which Beau has noted. I wave the quantum of the sin,

The hazard o' concealing, But oh l it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling."

In going through the Anacreontic and amatory poetry of MooRE, one is surprised to find how few large truths or general reflections it contains. Here and there something will be found deeper than praises, and sometimes lip praises, of love, wine, and friendship, or vows of eternal constancy alternating with defences of inconstancy : but as regards thought or feeling, (his manner we shall speak of

presently,) a great part of it consists of imitations of others or

repetitions of' himself. " Come send round the wine and leave points of belief" is about the nearest approach to a general truth in the whole range of this class of poems. Here, however, where the thought is good the execution is not felicitous : to an accurate ear some of the lines halt, others are tilled with expletives, and a few of the characteristic terms are ill-chosen—laboured, to produce an'effect which they fail of attaining.

But there is a lower kind of poetry than what we have spoken

which, though not containing in itself all that is contained in nature,

may be preserved by the harmony of its verse, the exquisite felicity of its diction, and the fire or feeling of the writer. In fire or feel- ing MOORE is deficient ; and this deficiency is the fatal fault of his poetry. Exceptions there are ; but the greater part of his poetry, whatever be its nature, seems more like exercises of ingenuity than effusions of the soul. His heart does not seem to be in his work.

The very labour of his understanding in the mechanical parts of poetry tends to increase this feeling—the accumulation, glitter, and even the wit of his imagery, where wit is not in place : the elabo- rated brilliancy of the diction, and the verse, mostly flowing, but sometimes polished into weakness, rather suggest the idea of a wit sitting down to ransack his brains, than of the inspired poet pouring forth the results of his natural feelings and acquired knowledge whether of life or of himself. To the charge, indeed, of over-orna- ment and elaboration, many exceptions may be pleaded. We know of very few as regards want of feeling. " When he who adores

thee," " Oh breathe not his name," " She is far from the land,"

" It is not the tear," and " I saw thy form," though not chargeable with too ornate a diction or too great an abundance of images, have no pathos ; and three of them have a far-fetched simile almost amounting to a conceit. Instead of bringing out the latent feeling in the subject, they fall very much below the naked theme ; forming

in this respect a striking contrast to SCOTT'S " Hellvellyn." Unless some accident biasses our judgment, the gem of MOORE'S lesser

lyrics is the following juvenile effusion.

SONG.

" When time, who steals our years away,

Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay, And half our joys renew.

Then, Julia, when thy beauty's flower Shall feel the wintry air, Remembrance will recall the hour When thou alone wert fair.

Then talk no more of future gloom; Our joys shall always last; For Hope shall brighten days to come, And Mem'ry gild the past.

" Come, Chloe, fill the genial bowl, I drink to Love and thee : Thou never canst decay in soul, Thou'lt still be young for me.

And as thy lips the tear-drop chase, Which on my cheek they find, So hope shall steal away the trace That sorrow leaves behind.

Then fill the bowl—away with gloom Our joys shall always last; For Hope shall brighten days to come, And Mem'ry gild the past.

" But mark, at thought of future years, When love shall lose its soul, My Chloe drops her timid tears, They mingle with my bowl. How like this bowl of wine, my fair, Our loving life shall fleet ; Though tears may sometimes mingle there, The draught will still be sweet. Then fill the cup—away with gloom!

Our joys shall always last ; For Hope will brighten days to come, And Mem'ry gild the past."

For mingled refinement, tenderness, and feeling—for a sensible but not obtruded philosophy, and for a graceful artlessness of diction, (perhaps in the first verse carried too far, by the unne- cessary repetition of the same or similar-sounding words)—we rate this not only as the chef d'oeuvre of its author, but as deserving the first rank among the songs of any nation, if indeed, in its peculiar way, it can be anywhere equalled. The image of the tear mingling with the wine, though in strictness a congeit, is so happily illus- trative and so skilfully used, that the "'disease becomes a com- modity." Had MooRE " written often thus, it had been vain to blame and useless to praise him."

Equally excellent in its way, though of a far lower kind of ex- cellence, is the melody AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW.

As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be ting'd with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.

One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes, To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring

For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting—

Oh this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay,

Like a dead leafless branch in the summer's bright ray;

The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain, It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again.

Of poetry considered as an abstract or intellectual operation,

these lines are perfect, (except the characteristic term " warm Bunny smile," which is not naturally predicable of such utter deso- lation.) The images are natural, tangible, and clear; they not only illustrate, but they bring out the meaning of the original ideas ; and the verse is flowing and finished, without being too elaborate or attracting attention to the words alone. The thought is also a universal truth ; but (and here is the failing) it is pro- pounded as a general proposition—metaphysics versified. We admit the truth of the ideas ; we admire the elegance of the com-

position; but we care nothing for the hopeless condition described, for we have no person with whom to sympathize. Yet these very qualities induce us to rate these lines as the most characteristic specimen of the graver lyrics of MOORE.

The want of deep feeling and earnestness in Mooaa mars all his higher lyrics. His warlike pieces, whether odes or so-called songs, are turgid or vapid ; or an attempt is made by brilliancy of language and imagery to substitute the colour of art for the glow of health and emotion. Some are better than others, but there is nothing which can be compared with the " Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled " of BURNS, or the " Battle of the Baltic " or the " Hohenlinden " of CAMPBELL. The same want of earnestness and heart is visible in his satires. Even when the case requires it, and he evidently desires it, he cannot rise to lofty indignation, or even to good vehement anger. The two best examples we remember are from the Irish Melody " When first I met thee," and the " Lines on the Death of Sheridan" ; both attacking GEORGE the Fourth—who seems, by the by, more capable of ex- citing him than anybody else.

THE AGE OP GEORGE THE FOURTH. Even now, tho' youth its bloom has shed,

No lights of age adorn-thee : The few who lov'd thee once have fled, And they who flatter scorn thee. Thy midnight cup is pledg'd to slaves, No genial ties enwreath it ; The smiling there, like light on graves, Has rank cold hearts beneath it.

MEANNESS OF GEORGE THE FOURTH.

And thou, too, whose life, a sick epicure's dream, Incoherent and gross, even grosser had passed, Were it not for that cordial and soul-giving beam Which his friendship and wit o'er thy nothingness cast.

No, not for the wealth of the land that supplies thee

With millions to heap upon Foppery's shrine—

No, not for the riches of all who despise thee,

Though this would make Europe's whole opulence mine—

Would I suffer what—ev'n in the heart that thou haat- AU mean as it is, must have consciously burned, When the pittance which shame had wrung from thee at last, And which found all his wants at an end, was returned!

Even of these, perhaps, it is only the first which was truly an exception to our remark ; for in the latter there is an endeavour by strong language to compensate for strength of feeling.

In Jighter satire—social and political squibs—MooRE is held to be unrivalled ; and undoubtedly is so, as regards fertility of fancy, piquancy of illustration, brilliancy of light wit, and animated fluency of verse. If he be compared with similar writers of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, we think he may be excelled in charac- teristic truth of delineation, in force of thought and sometimes of expression, as well as in the "punishing" character of the blow. Saying nothing of GRAY or CANNING, we think some of the poli- tical songs under the STUARTS, and the best of the squibs of Sir HANBURY WILLIAMS, would produce a greater effect, if both were read at an equally remote period from the occasion which produced them. It is the nature of temporary subjects to have a temporary public; but the class of persons is by no means rare who undertake to pronounce upon all times with only a knowledge of their own. Of the numerous jeer d'esprit that Mr. MOORE has thrown off at various times, it would be difficult to estimate the respective merits ; deciding, as we all do, upon party predilections, a knowledge of the persons, or even upon the circumstances under which they were first read. " Paddy's Metamorphosis," and " All in the Family Way," have, we think, a spirit in them beyond many of the others, especially of those which confine themselves to mere personal peculiarities ; but we incline to prefer the following, as containing a larger and more general view, without any deficiency in fancy or the lighter graces.

" TOUT POUR LA TRIPE."

' If, in China or among the natives of India, we claimed civil advantages which were connected with religious usages, little as we might value those forms in our hearts, we should think commuu decency required us to abstain from treating them with offensive contumely ; and though unable to consider them sacred, we would not sneer at the name of Fut, or laugh at the imputed divinity of Visthnou.'—eourier, Tuesday January 16. 1827.

" Come, take my advice, never trouble your cranium When' civil advantages' are to be gain'd, What god or what goddess may help to obtain you 'em, Hindoo or Chinese, so they 're only obtain'd.

In this world (let me hint in your organ auricular)

All the good things to good hypocrites fall; And he who in swallowing creeds is particular, Soon will have nothing to swallow at all.

Oh, place me where To (or, as some call him, Fot)

Is the god, from whom civil advantages' flow, And you'll find, if there's any thing snug to be got, -

I shall soon be on excellent terms with old Fo.

Or were I where Vishnu, that four-handed god,

Is the quadruple giver of pensions and places, I own I should feel it unchristian and odd

Not to find myself also in Vishnu's good graces.

For among all the gods that humanely attend

To our wants in this planet, the gods to soy wishes

Are those that, like Vishnu and others, descend In the form, so attractive, of loaves and of fishes!"

So take my advice—for if even the Devil Should tempt men again as an idol to try him, 'Twere best for us Tories, even then, to be civil, As nobody doubts we should get something by him."

It may be added, that MOORE often violates a rule if not a canon of stake, which directs that folly should be ridiculed and vice • Vishnu was as Sir W. Jones calls him) a lilac-Worm god,' his first Avatar being in the shape of a fill IL "

attacked : whereas he oftener treats the tyranny of Toryism or the libertinism of GEORGE the Fourth and his familiars as a good joke, than as any more serious matter. In his long work, Lallah Rookh, there is a story or succession of stories, told with clearness and with the sustained interest of a story throughout. That work, however, possesses two general defects—one natural, the want of dramatic power in creating living characters and inspiring an interest in their fate ; another, an affair of geography, the want of a living knowledge of Oriental manners and scenery. In his preface to the sixth volume of this collected edition, Mr. MooRE labours this point, telling bow many books he read about the East, and quoting vouchers to his fidelity from Mr. BUCKINGHAM, Sir JAMES MALCOLM, and a certain anonymous Co- lonel. But the vouchers of complimentary or non-critical persons cannot overturn the truth ; and BYRON'S estimate of the Irish Orientalism of these tales is about the true one. The mind of MooRE is not an alembic sufficiently powerful to distil the essential spirit from matter collected for him by others ; and we doubt whether any study can be a substitute to smaller minds for actual observation. We may quote authorities in foot-notes for every allusion ; but there is an unconscious accuracy, a natural truth, in repeating even commonplace occurrences we have seen, which study can never attain to; and it seems to be this simple truth that lends an attraction to many passages of mere description in SCOTT'S Scottish Poems, and BYRON'S Oriental Tales. The poetry of Lalla Rookh, however, is faulty in what it has as well as in what it wants. It is too Tom-Moorish : all the peculiarities of his style, or rather of his mannerism, are lavishly used ; and often where such orna- ment is inappropriate in itself—not to speak of the Eastern cha- racter of the subject. Of the four poetical tales of which the poem consists, we in- cline to prefer " Paradise and the Peri " ; for though "The Light of the Harem" seems more adapted to the author's genius, the subject is trivial, is not managed with any remarkable skill in its conduct or catastrophe, and wants the variety and relief of the other. But whether these two excel "The Fire-Worshippers," or it is to be preferred to them, there is no doubt that " The Veiled Prophet " is the worst. Part of this arises from the story being too sombre and tragical (though MooRE turns it into melodrama) for the poet ; but this intrinsic cause is rendered more apparent by the choice of the versification. MOORE always sinks under the heroic measure. Couplets may be picked out as an exception, but in general his heroic lines are weak, or cumbrous, or heavily laboured into a kind of vigorous bombast. Even his powers of harmony de- sert him ; his pauses are often harshly abrupt, and his lines un- musical.

It may be asked, if MooRE has such faults, how has he gained his celebrity ? Partly by the graces of his manner; which is ori- ginal, and pleasing to a high degree, especially on a first acquaint- ance with his writings ; partly by the animated sprightliness of some of his works ; by the convivial sentiment or general feeling of others ; and occasionally by a mournfulness of tone, submitting rather than resigning—the melancholy of the minor key ; of which examples may respectively be found in " We may roam through this world," "Farewell, but whenever you welcome the hour," "Love's young dream," and "Weep on, weep on, your hour is past." Al- though deficient in earnestness, be has a sort of social empress- ment, a feeling of the spirits rather than of the soul; and he is not devoid of geniality, though it is rather the geniality of a good fellow than of a great poet—such as appears in Bums, and in a lesser degree in CAMPBELL. Then Moons, as we have already said, is a master of the mechanism of his art. In despite of some broken figures and occasional obscurity, his language is clear and mostly pellucid ; his thoughts are intelligible, and never trouble the reader by their profundity. His verse—we are speak- ing of his more popular works—is always musical, sometimes highly so, and studded with ornaments which are generally striking even if inappropriate, and to the vulgar pleasing. The passions to which he administers, and the polished refinement he lent to licentiousness, have perhaps contributed to his acceptance with many ; though we think the evil effects of his verses may have been exaggerated.

These are intrinsic causes : accidents have had something to do with his celebrity. When he appeared on the field, he had few competitors, and the poetical world had become a complete de- sert, at least in the lighter and sensual branches of art. His com- bination of the qualities of poet and musician, and the lucky hit of the Irish Melodies, greatly contributed to his temporary popularity; for songs which have a run spread a writer's celebrity further than most poems can hope immediately to attain, and reach persons who fancy they can sing though they would plead guilty to not reading; though the popularity of verse which is sub- ordinate to or coordinate with music fades sooner than that which stands alone. The charm of Mr. Mooaes manners and of his convivial powers contributed somewhat to assist his popularity— not of course to cause it ; for, mixing with the world of fashion, he became a fashion in turn. The zeal with which he lent himself to party politics, and the steadiness with which, in the main, he adhered to his party, have also had their effect. A man who is constantly making smart attacks upon numbers, with which num- bers are delighted, acquires, ex necessitate, a certain attention. During a large part of his career Mr. MOORE has been a sort of publicist in metre.

But the operation of accidents is only temporary ; and we sus- pect that some, if not all of those we have enumerated, are already ,

on the decline. When their operation has 'altogether ceased, and the Poetical Works of Thomas Moore have to trust entirely to their own powers of attraction, there is little difficulty in predicting that the greater part of this collection will be neglected; for an age which has its own writers to attend to cannot be expected to peruse ten volumes that present no accurate reflection of nature, and from which little or nothing can be deduced for the conduct of life. Except the temporary run of his personal and political satires, the only works that have attracted much attention from his own age are " Little's Poems," the " Irish Melodies," and " Lelia Rookh " ; and probably a single volume of the Beauties of Taostas MOORE will be all that posterity will care to possess.