Thrice he essay’d, but thrice in vain essay’d;
His tongue, throat, teeth, and lips, refus’d their aid:
Till now the stifled breath a passage broke;
He gasp’d, he gap’d—but not a word he spoke.
How accurately, and learnedly, has the poet enumerated all the organs of speech, which separately and jointly refuse to execute their respective offices! How superior is this to the simply cleaving of the tongue to the palate, the Vox faucibus hæsit of Virgil. For as Quintilian observes, a detail of particulars is infinitely better than any general expression, however strong. Then the poor Prophet obtains a little remission of his paroxysm; he begins to breathe convulsively—he gasped; he opens his mouth to its utmost extent—he gaped; our expectations are raised, and, alas! he still continues unable to utter—not a word he spoke. Surely nothing can be more natural in point of truth, than all the circumstances of this inimitable description: nothing more artful in point of effect, than the suspence and attention which it begets in the mind of the reader!
At length, however, MERLIN recovers his voice; and breaks out into a strain of most animated invective, infinitely superior to every thing of the kind in Homer; though the old Grecian must be acknowledged not to want spirit in the altercations, or scolding matches, of his heroes and Gods. The Prophet begins, as a man in any great emotion always must, at the middle of a verse;
——— ——— ———Tatterdemalions,
Scald miserables, Rascals and Rascalions,
Buffoons, Dependants, Parasites, Toad-eaters,
Knaves, Sharpers, Black-legs, Palmers, Coggers, Cheaters,
Scrubs, Vagrants, Beggars, Mumpers, Ragamuffins,
Rogues, Villains, Bravos, Desperados, Ruffians,
Thieves, Robbers, Cut-throats, &c. &c. &c.
And in this manner he proceeds, with single appellatives of reproach, for ten or twelve lines further; when, his virtuous indignation a little subsiding, or his Dictionary failing, he becomes more circumlocutory; as for instance,
Burglarious Scoundrels, that again would steal
The PREMIER’s Plate, and CHANCELLOR’s Great Seal;
Of public Murderers, Patrons and Allies,
Hirelings of France, their country’s enemies, &c.
which style he continues for more than twenty lines.
We are truly sorry, that the boundaries of our plan would not allow us to present our readers with the whole of this finished passage in detail; as it furnishes an indisputable proof, that, however the Greek language may have been celebrated for its copiousness, it must yield in that respect to the English. For if we were to collect all the terms of infamy bandied about[1], from Æschines to Demosthenes, and from Demosthenes back again to Æschines; and if to these we should add in Latin the whole torrent of calumny poured by Cicero on Antony and Piso; though the ancient orators were tolerably fluent in this kind of eloquence, they would, all together, be found to fall very short of our poet, shackled as he is with rhyme, in the force no less than the variety of his objurgatory epithets. At the same time it must not be concealed, that he possessed one very considerable advantage in the rich repositories of our ministerial newspapers. He has culled the flowers, skimmed the cream, and extracted the very quintessence of those elegant productions with equal industry and success. Indeed, such of our readers as are conversant with the Morning Post and Public Advertiser, the White-Hall, the St. James’s, and, in short, the greater part of the evening prints, will immediately discover the passage now before us to be little more than a cento. It is however such a cento as indicates the man of genius, whom puny scribblers may in vain endeavour to imitate in the NEW ROLLIADS.
It is possible, MERLIN might even have gone on much longer: but he is interrupted by one of those disturbances which frequently prevail in the House of Commons. The confusion is finely described in the following broken couplet:
Spoke! Spoke!—Sir—Mr. Speaker—Order there!
I rise—spoke! Question! Question!—Chair! Chair! Chair!