I think I met with something there, Imprimis, pray observe his hat; Well! what is it from thence we gather? In the next place, his feet peruse; Wings grow again from both his shoes: Design'd, no doubt, their part to bear, And waft his godship through the air. And here my simile unites For, in a modern poet's flights, I'm sure it may be justly said, His feet are useful as his head. Lastly, vouchsafe to observe his hand, Fill'd with a snake-encircled wand, By classic authors term'd caduceus, And highly fam'd for several uses; Though ne'er so much awake before, Add, too, what certain writers tell With this he drives men's souls to hell. The serpents round about it twin'd Denote him of the reptile kind Denote the rage with which he writes, His frothy slaver, venom❜d bites; This difference only, as the god With his goose-quill the scribbling elf And here my simile almost tripp'd; Well! what of that? out with it-stealing; In which all modern bards agree, Being each as great a thief as he. But even this deity's existence Shall lend my simile assistance: Our modern bards! why, what a-pox Are they but senseless stones and blocks? URN, gentle hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray; R II. "For here, forlorn and lost, I tread With fainting steps and slow Where wilds, immeasurably spread, III. "Forbear, my son," the hermit cries, For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. esteemed pieces of Poetry, 1767; with an additional stanza the 30th -given by the author to Richard Archdal, esq., from The Miscellaneous Works, 1801. This ballad requires no explanation; but, as its originality has been contested, it may be desirable to compare the statements on each side. In 1767 the author was censured, in an anonymous communication to the printer of the St. James's Chronicle, a paper noted for wit and sarcasm, as the inferior copyist of Percy. He thus replied: "SIR, "A correspondent of yours accuses me of having taken a ballad I published some time ago, from one [ The Friar of orders gray] by the ingenious Mr. Percy. I do not think there is any great resemblance between the two pieces in question. If there be any, his ballad is taken from mine. I read it to Mr. Percy some years ago, and he—as we both considered these things as trifles at best-told me, with his usual good-humor, the next time I saw him, that he had taken my plan to form the fragments of Shakspeare into a ballad of his own. He then read me his little cento, if I may so call it, and I highly approved it. Such petty anecdotes as these are scarce worth printing; and, were it |