nically, and does not know what he is talking about. Pope has _not_
but one invariable caesura to his verse. He has an ordinary range of four
places for his caesura, and the variety and music which he manages to give
his verse under that scheme, dictated by a sensitive ear, is truly
wonderful. That Pope is only a satirist, and can find nothing in humanity
but its faults, infirmities, and disgraces to feed upon with delight, is a
shameful falsehood. He is as generous in praise as he is galling in
sarcasm; and the voice of Christian Europe has pronounced him a moral and
religious poet. It is rather strange to see the stickler for the beauty
and exaltation of poetry, diligent in purifying and ennobling the taste of
his countrymen, by raking in the dirt for disgusting and loathsome images,
to express his slanderous character of a writer, eminent among the best
for purity and refinement. We take leave of Mr Lowell with remarking, that
his affected and hyperbolical praises heaped on the old English dramatists
are as nauseous as any ignorant exaggeration can be, bombastically
protruded on us at second-hand, from an article in an old number of the
_Retrospective Review_, from which most of the little he knows is taken,
and in the taking, turned into most monstrous nonsense.

Friends of our soul! Permit us, now, in this our Supplement, to suggest to
your recollection, that Satire is public or private. Public satire is, or
would he, authoritative, robed, magisterial censure. Private satire is
private warfare--the worst plague of the state, and the overthrow of all
right law. It is worse. For when baron besieges baron, there is high
spirit roused, and high deeds are achieved. But private malice in verse is
as if the gossiping dames of a tea-table were armed with daggers instead
of words, to kill reputations--the School for Scandal turned into a
tragedy. We are groaning now over the inferior versifiers. To the Poets,
to the mighty ones, we forgave every thing, a month ago. We say then,
again, that although duly appointed to this Chair of Justice in which we
sit, and having our eyes bandaged like the Goddess whose statue is in the
corner of the hall, yet our hands are open, and we are willing--as in all
well-governed kingdoms judges have been willing--to take bribes. But we
let it be known, we must be bribed high. Juvenal, Persius, Horace, Dryden,
and Pope have soothed the itching of our palms to our heart's content; and
each has gain