borate stanza of Spenser
costs us too much trouble, even in the reading, to accomplish this end.
To effect this, the sense should come to us, instead of our going far
and wide in quest of the sense. In our conception also, the heroic line
of ten syllables, though favourable to the most dignified order of
poetry, appears to limp when forced into the service of sonneteers: and
poems in the metre before us, are, after all, little better than a
string of sonnets; of which it is the constituent principle to be rather
pretty than grand--rather tender than martial--rather conceited than
wise--to keep the sense suspended for eight lines, and to discharge it
with a point in the ninth. These observations are by no means designed
to apply especially to the author--the extreme gravity of whose general
manner and matter, in a measure covet the dignity of the heroic line.
But it is this discordancy of measure and subject, together with the
obviously laboured rhymes and the halting of the sense, which in
general, we think, have shut out the Spenserian school from popular
reading, and have caused a distinguished critic[J] to say, that the
"Faiery Queen will not often be read through;" and that, although it
maintains its place upon the shelf, it is seldom found on the table of
the modern library.

Whilst, however, Lord Byron participates in this defect of his great
original, he is to be congratulated, as a poet, but alas! in his
poetical character alone, on much happy deviation from him. In the first
place, he has altogether washed his hands of allegory; a species of
fiction open to a thousand objections. In the next place, he is
infinitely more brief than his prototype. And in the third place, he
philosophizes and moralizes (though not indeed in a very sound strain),
as well as paints--provides food for the mind as well as the
eye--kindles the feeling as well as gratifies the sense. Thus far, then,
we are among the admirers of his Lordship. But it is to be lamented,
that what was well conceived is, from the temperament of his mind, ill
executed; that his philosophy is, strictly speaking, "only philosophy so
called;" that the moral emotions he feels, and is likely to communicate,
are of a character rather to offend and pollute the mind, than to sooth
or to improve it. This defect, however, we fear, is to be charged, not
upon the poet, but upon the man, at least upon his principles. But,
whatever be the cause, the consequences are dreadf