May thy tears with soft pity for other woes flow,
Oh dear! what sentimental stuff I’ve written,
Only fit to tear up and play with a kitten.
Now adieu, my dear—, I’m sure I must tire,
For if I do, you may throw it into the fire,
So accept the best love of your cousin and friend,
Which brings this nonsensical rhyme to an end.
April 1811, xxxvii, 408-9
When we ventured to say that poetical taste and genius abound in the present day, we by no means intended to assert, that we always meet with either the one or the other. Miserable, indeed, are the attempts which we are often doomed to encounter; so miserable sometimes that it seems quite wonderful how any individuals fancying themselves able to write should be so far behind their contemporaries. One of the unknown authors of this volume begins by complaining, most sincerely, we are convinced, of the difficulty of writing grammatically, but there is another difficulty, which seems never to have entered the lady’s head (if a lady!)—that is, the difficulty of writing metrically. In this she is still less successful than in the other, and does not seem at all to suspect it. The verse intended to be used is that of ‘The Bath Guide, ’ and so it is sometimes; but sometimes also not. For example;
This they friendly will tell, and n’er make you blush,
With a jeering look, taunt, or an O fie! tush!
Then straight all your thoughts in black and white put,
Not minding the if’s, the be’s, and the but’s. P. 6.
My excuse shall be hunble, and faithful, and true
Such as I fear can be made but by few. —P. 7.