1822 ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

James Harley, in The Press, or Literary Chit-Chat. A Satire (1822) 26-27 &n.



POCUS.
Admire you Christabelle — "the" Christabelle?*

HOCUS.
Not in the least; it is a driv'lling tale
Without a line of beauty to atone
For crowing cocks, or mastiff bitches' moan;
'Tis arrant nonsense — so are both the scraps
Tack'd at the end, purloin'd from broken naps.
Who would imagine that the self-same wight
Remorse as well as Christabelle could write?

JOCUS.
"'Tis strange, 'tis passing strange—"

POCUS.
His Mariner
Is what can never from the mem'ry stir;
Though wild beyond compare, it somehow tells,
And to admire each wond'ring mind compels.

JOCUS.
In every work they write, how odd it is
These Lakish poets seem to woo the quiz!

* Coleridge's Christabelle is — what I am unable to describe. Well does it deserve the definite article bestowed upon it by its author, as it certainly is an unique production, unlike any thing "in the heavens above, or the earth beneath, or the waters under the earth." The following lines will be understood by those who have perused it, and the "curiosities" at the end of it.