here Mr Coleridge drops the subject of Poetry for the present, and proceeds other important matters.
We regret that Mr Coleridge has passed over without notice all the years which he spent "in the happy quiet of ever-honoured Jesus College, Cambridge." That must have been the most important period of his life, and was surely more worthy of record than the metaphysical dreams or the poetical extravagancies of his boyhood. He tells us, that he was sent to the University "an excellent Greek and Latin scholar, and a tolerable Hebraist;" and there might have been something rousing and elevating to young minds of genius and power, in his picture of himself, pursuits, visions, and attainments, during the bright and glorious morning of life, when he inhabited a dwelling of surpassing magnificence, guarded, and hallowed, and sublimed by the Shadows of the Mighty. We should wish to know what progress he
Wordsworth and Coleridge assume, when speaking of this great Poet. They employ his immortal works as a text-book, from which they quote imaginary violations of and sound sense, and examples of vicious poetic diction. Mr Coleridge informs us that Wordsworth "couched him," and that, from the moment of the operation, his eyes were startled with the deformities of the "Bard" and the "Elegy in the Country Church-yard!" Such despicable fooleries are perhaps beneath notice; but we must not allow the feathers of a Bird of Paradise to be pecked at by such a Daw as Coleridge.
"Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows.
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm,
In gallant trim the gilded Vessel goes,
Youth at the Prow, and Pleasure at the Helm!
Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,
That, hush'd in grim repose, expects its evening Prey." Gray's Bard.
On this beautiful and sublime passage Mr Coleridge has not one word of admiration to bestow, but tells us with a sneer (for what reason we know not), that "realm" and "sway" are rhymes dearly purchased. He then says, "that it depended wholly in the compositor's putting or not putting a small capital, both in this and in many other passages of the same Poet, whether the words should be personifications or mere abstracts." This vile absurdity is followed by a direct charge of Plagiarism from Shakespeare.
"How like a younker or a prodigal
The skarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like a prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails,
Torn, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!" Shakespeare.
Now we put it to our readers to decide between us and the Critic. We maintain that here there is no plagiarism nor imitation. Both Poets speak of a Ship, and there all likeness ends. As well might Falconer be accused of imitation in his glorious description of a vessel in full sail leaving harbour—or Scott, in his animated picture of Bruce's galley beating through the Sound of Mull—or Byron, in his magnificent sketch of the Corsair's war-ship—or Wordsworth, in his fine simile of a vessel "that hath the plain of Ocean for her own domain"—or Wilson, in his vision of the moonlight vessel sailing to the Isle of Palms—or the Ettrick Shepherd, in his wild dream of the Abbot's pinnace buried in the breakers of Staffa—or Mr Coleridge himself, in his spectre-ship in the "Ancient Mariner." For, in the first place, Shakespeare describes his ship by likening it to something else, namely, a prodigal; and upon that moral meaning depends the whole beauty of the passage. Of this there is nothing in Gray. Secondly, Shakespeare does not speak of any ship in particular, but generally. The beauty of the passage in Gray depends on its being prophetic of a particular misfortune, namely, the drowning of young Prince Henry. Thirdly, in Shakespeare, the vessel "puts from her native bay;" and upon that circumstance the whole description depends. In Gray we only behold her majestically sailing in the open sea. Fourthly, in Shakespeare "she returns;" but in Gray she is the prey of the evening whirlwind. Fifthly, hi Shakespeare she returns "with over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails." In Gray she is sunk into the deep, "with all her bravery on." Sixthly, in Gray we behold a joyous company on her deck, "Youth at her prow, and Pleasure at her helm;" but in Shakespeare we never think of her deck at all. Seventhly, in Shakespeare she is a "skarfed bark;" in Gray, a "gilded vessel." Eighthly, Shakespeare has, in the whole description, studiously employed the most plain, homely, familiar, and even unpoetical diction, and thereby produced the desired effect. Gray has laboured his description with all the resources of consummate art, and it is eminently distinguished for pomp, splendour, and magnificence. Lastly, except articles, prepositions, and conjunctions, there is not a single word common to the two passages; so that they may indeed with propriety be quoted, to shew how differently the same object can appear to different poetical minds; but Mr Coleridge "has been couched," and Mr Wordsworth having performed the operation unskilfully, the patient is blind.
