The Minstrel; or the Progress of Genius: with some other poems

Pygmæo-gerano-machia: The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes 89 Epistle to the Hon. C. B. 101 The Hares: A Fable 105 Epitaph: being Part of an Inscription for a Monument, to be erected by a Gentleman to the Memory of his Lady 118 Ode on Lord H* * *’s Birth-Day 119 To the Right Hon. Lady Charlotte Gordon, dressed in a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with Plumes, &c. 125 The Hermit 127 Ode to Peace 130 Triumph of Melancholy 139 PREFACE TO THE MINSTREL. T he design was, to trace the progress of a Poetical Genius, born in a rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a Minstrel , that is, as an itinerant Poet and Musician;—a character, which, according to the notions of our fore-fathers, was not only respectable, but sacred. I have endeavoured to imitate Spenser in the measure of his verse, and in the harmony, simplicity, and variety, of his composition. Antique expressions I have avoided; admitting, however, some old words, where they seemed to suit the subject; but I hope none will be found that are now obsolete, or in any degree unintelligible to a reader of English poetry. To those, who may be disposed to ask, what could induce me to write in so difficult a measure, I can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation to the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits both of simplicity and magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza that I am acquainted with. It allows the sententiousness of the couplet, as well as the more complex modulation of blank verse. What some critics have remarked, of its uniformity growing at last tiresome to the ear, will be found to hold true, only when the poetry is faulty in other respects. THE MINSTREL; IN TWO BOOKS. Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musæ, Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore, Accipiant.—— Virgil. THE MINSTREL; OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS. I. A h ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep, where Fame’s proud temple shines afar! Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war! Checked by the scoff…