The National Register.
London, England, 1817-09-15 00:00:00

REVIEW OF LITERATURE.

PARIS, IN 1815.-A POEM.

This is .a -production eminently calculated to wear.
*he public from that false poetic taste which has pre-
wailed of late, and to 'which almost every living poet
(we mast distinctly except Crabb,) has given himselt
up, fully satisfied that it is the only true style, and
that Pope, and the disciples of his school were all ig-
norant of the true principles of versification.!
In the Poem of" Paris," there is a nervous energy
of language, a soundness of political principle, and,
above all, a humble, yet fervent piety, that refreshes
the heart after all the gloomy atheistical trash that has
issued from the Bards of what is called the modern
The .author commences by describing his approach to
Paris, and the appearance of the city from the top of
Mont Martre. Entering the city, he paints the diffe-
rent objects as 'they arise, with a bold and masterly
hand ; and the fearful recollections which. are called up
by the sight of the Abbaye, Nuke Dame, the Tempk,
Tuileries, &e. are given with a heart-rending faithful-
ness. We select the following stanzas, not because
they are in a higher strain of.poetry than the rest, but
because they breathe a spirit of true British feeling—
as exiiltation in his country's glory, in which, we
trust, our readers will sympathise. On approaching
Mont Martre, the British Army was marching out to
tip era&
Sawn npon Mont Martre'! O'er the plain,
In flake and spire, the sunbeam plunges deep,
Bringing out shape, and shade, and summer stain:
Like a retiring host the blue mists sweep.
Looms on the farthest right Valerien's steep,
Crowa'd with its convent kindling in the day,
And owtftly sparkling from their bowery sleep,
Like matin stars, around th' horizon play
War. village vaues, td domes, and cabtle.turrets gray.

4Tis a richeceneti and yet the richest•eliarna
That e'er cloth'd earth in beauty,livrs isot here.
Winds no green fence around the mailed farm;
ltio blossom'd hawthorn bliisids the cottage dear.
The land.is•bright, and yet to thine how drear,
Unrivall'dEngland!—Well the thotglit may pine
For those sweet fields where, each a little sphere,
Iln shaded,aitered fruitfulness cloth shine,
.mud theleart higher brats that says," This spot is mine."

•VI.
t. Clout! How stately from the green hill's side
hboots.ap thy:Parian pile! His transient hold,
Who wore the iron crown ,of regicide!
lie treads its halls no more—his hour.is told.
Tkescircle widens ! Sevres bright and cold
Peeps out in vestal beauty from her throne,
4par'd fur Minetra's sake, when round her rolfil
From yon high brow tle Invaders fiery zone,
eiie►iitless, as can tell thy faded tuw'rs, Meadon!
VII.
A trnmpet !—et the sound Mont Martree spread
With martial crowds, a glittering, crimson tide,
Pouring incessant from its sunbught head.
Part, that in splendour deepen down its side,
In square, and line, and column wheeling wide
To many a solemn touch of harmony.
:Part to the far champaign that clangiag ride,
Like the long flashes of the summer sky,
Witte fresh-planted eagles darting from their eery high.
VIII.
'The British bands! A power is in thesound,
It speaks of freedom, valour, virtue nigh;
It calls upEnghtud upon foreign ground!
Far be from as the false philosophy
'Mat sswas'tsot-country's nobly-partial het
The thoughts that like a second nature some
In distance and in death to fix the eye
On the heart's classic soil;—by temple, tomb,
13y all love's-names endeared,—by all in one, our Home.

IX.

War has its mighty moments :—Heart of Mae!
'Here all thy makes vigour for a thrill
Treader than through these gallant bosoms ran
Whetrfirst iheirstandards waved ai,ove that hill?
When first they strove their downward gaze to fiU
Witi►the full grandeur of their glorious prize—
Paris ! the name that from their cradle still
Stung them in dreams ; now, glittering in theircy#44
• New woo- woo by the Victory of Victories!