The Sun.
London, England, 1827-11-20 00:00:00

,---and we
have no reason to doubt it ; having heard the
fact from a gentleman who has communicatedto us
some particulars respecting their unfortunate hero
-,-they make good the. valuable, old ada:e, that
" a rolling stone gathers no. moss." i - sub-
ject, it seems, is a young man from the West of
England ; who, imbibing. earliest youth a
disinterested passion for poetry, sacrificed awhile
every consideration to its indulgence. Unfor-
tunately this all-engrossing hobby (judging at
least from the specimens sprinkled through the
volumes before us,) was more the natural conse-
quence of youtb and high animal spirits, than ofany
original resistless bias. All very young men are
more or less poetical, it is the characteristic of
their age,.which sees no difficulty in attaining the
loftiest triumphs Of imagination. They would.
be equally fond of diplomacy or war, were the
chances of success as undefined ; but no youth
(however imaginative be may he) can, contrary
to actual fact, conceive himself a soldier or a
minister, while,* even in his soberest dreams over
his desk, at the counter, or on his walk by the
plough-side, *he may fancy that he IS a first-rate
poet, and drift,along from youth to age, uncOn-
Scious.for an instant that he is otherwise. That
Mr. Pennie has fallen into this mistake we de-
since_ from 14 OWn " ipse dixit." Shortly after his
poetic
,rabies; became
_partially subdued, he
zPountea.,..ito.seems,..a.fresh.:llobby,..and. turned
with equal readiness to the irama ; tired of this,
he started by way of novelty, as a small country
pedagogue ; thence he became a strolling ma-
nager, arid from that turned back again to his
original pursuit.; Carried sway in every instance,
by the mere animal impulse, of the moment.
Now, the true poet is throughout his life a poet,
and nothing else. His genius is a:pure vestal
fire that burns on the altar of his heart," un-

momenta
in ssecret
tt changepo
poverty
touched of other matter." Nothing has poWer
d
rtdyi.hadits
nature.suffering,
even
r ifsohr ‘C
like Robin Oig Maccombich's Highland pride,
it is ever ready to flash forth "as
circum-
stance and season may prompt; it knows
no fickle alternations of brilliancy and dulness, but
feeds its Own shrine:with a holy, lambent; and
persevering splendour; though all without may
be dim, hopeless, and desolate. It was this
light " from within," that illumined Milton's
age, even when his genius, as he expresses it,
" had fallen upon evil times"—that lent warmth
and vigor to Burns while he walked unnoticed
by the plough. side,----that shOwed ShaksPeare the
road to fame—and• sustained the mind of Byron
even amid the darkness. of dissipation. Oyer
Mr. Pennie it has had no such influence : it has
gradually faded, .died, and become extinct,' given
place to some other meteor equally valued for
the time being, and then been again' lit up -in
his breast. In his case, therefore, it is clearly an
ignis fatitus, not the steady illumination of
genius : the world has long since pronounced it
one, and Mr. Pennie has no right now to come
forward, and plead at the. bar of public opinion
that the former verdict should be set aside, and a
new trig be granted. Premising then that he is
fa removed from a first-rate poet, (that nature at
least has had little share in manufacturing his
genius)' we do not hesitate an instant to assert
that as a man of talent, spirit, and pleasant in-
formation,. he. has been long and undeservedly
neglected. . Surely when in these good-natured
times money can be made by every scribbler who
contributes his quota of cant or childishness to
gilt-edged and tastily illustrated' annuals, Itlr.
Pennie • has right to complain of -ill-luck
Why do we not, see frame attached to the
" Literary Souvenir," "Xeep-sake," "Forget-
me-not," or '' Friendship's Offering ?"
possesses at least as much industry and far more
talent than nine-tenths of the contributors. The
truth is, we suspect, that Mr. Pennie is a shy,
proud man : conscious of superior ability, he
expects that ability. to be instantly appre-
ciated ; he tosses off, for instance, a couple
of epics and a brace of tragedies, and
,then be-
cause they do not meet with proportionate en-
couragement, publishes 'three thick volumes to
prove that the world is unjust and himself neg-
lected. A man knows little of the' world, who
appeals to its sense of justice—and still less,
who thinks' like our author, that it has need of
his abilities. The greatest man that ever lived,
could just as readily be dispensed with, as though
he. had never existed. Self-love, Mr. Pennie, it
is, that tells us,
,whether as poets, warriors, or
statesmen, we' are necessary to mankind ; it is
this alone which persuades us that all eyes are
fixed on our parting, moments, when even our
next door neighbour is indifferent. So trifling,
in sober verity, is the gap caused by our absence
in society, that there needs no patriotic Curtius
to leap into it ; it closes'Without a miracle, the
instant -it is made, and none but a disinterested •
undertaker knows or cares
.for whom tolls our
passing bell. If then our author will but cease to
" lay this flattering unction to his soul," and
tackle in good earnest to the business of life ;
if instead of penning memoirs of himself (which
can interest few beyond his own circle) filled
from first last with querulous complaints
of the world, and specimens of his own
minstrelsy, he will set himself seriously down
to some particular task—to some tale, for
instance, which- may combine antiqUarian
lore and romance (for here he appears to be
at home) with pleasant and diversified
incident,
he will, we conceive, be a gainer by the change.
At present his mind seems bowed down—
cowed—emasculated ; it flies at every thing, and
is in earnest with nothing ; all this it must care-
fully' . weed out. It must its •
eradicate, also, epic
and dramatic • d'l pie tee tons—stick to a novel, and
we will answe4(on the faith of the clever volumes
before us) for its success. We have just said,
that Mr. Pennie 's
sarily depressed. The following affecting ex-
tract, with which we conclude our notice, will
sufficiently prove it so :
" This world is all a blank to me, and the grave is the
only retreat I look to for the sweet period °filly sufferings."
•"I am soured, disgusted, misanthropic ! The destruc-
tion of all my hopes has rendered me callous as the nether
millstone ! I neither court applause, nur heed the utmost
severity. lam buried deep in the grave of disappoint-
ment ; and those who should have kindly led me into light
and hope, have heaped oblivion on the ashes of my genius.
It cannot blaze again.
Neglect has done its worst.-
----Nothing earn touch me further.'
My spirits are destroyed, my health impaired, and my ex-
pectations blasted ; while the future is all darkness, save
that guiding beam of Providence which point, to another
and a brighter orb, where' the tears of misery are wiped
away, and the day of eternal joy succeeds to the gloom and
bitterness of the long and wintry night of life."

Sir E. CODRINGTON, some little time before
he left Englund to assume the command in the Medi-
L4rarwan, purchased Hampton-lodge, formerly the resi-
dence of Air. FAUNTLUROY, in Brighton, with the inten-
tion of living there; but having received a naval command,
subsequent/Y let it for a lengthened period to the Hon. 114.
TANNANT! by whom the house is now occupied,

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THREE VOL 9.a :'
iese volumes be founded on truth—