He spoke, and furious with indignant ire
Hurl’d the vast hairy texture on the fire;
Then sternly silent sate—the active flame
Remorseless wastes the soft and tender frame:
Writhed to and fro consumes the tortured hair,
And lost in smoke attenuates to air.
From The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge. London. Cadell and Davies, 1803.
It is sometimes objected to parodies, that they tend to bring into ridicule the finest productions of genius; but this is an imaginary, rather than a real ground of complaint. Who does not admire the Mantuan Poet though Cotton has burlesqued his Æneid? And though the Iliad has been more than once travestied, do we not still dwell with enthusiastic pleasure on every line attributed to Homer? We see therefore no need of apology in submitting to our readers a parody of the following beautiful lines of Pope:—
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,