consideration only that induces us to give Lord Byron's poems a place
in our Review, besides our desire to counsel him, that he do
forthwith abandon poetry, and turn his talents, which are
considerable, and his opportunities, which are great, to better
account.

"With this view we must beg leave seriously to assure him, that the
mere rhyming of the final syllable, even when accompanied by the
presence of a certain number of feet; nay, although (which does not
always happen) these feet should scan regularly, and have been all
counted upon the fingers, is not the whole art of poetry. We would
entreat him to believe that a certain portion of liveliness, somewhat
of fancy, is necessary to constitute a poem; and that a poem in the
present day, to be read, must contain at least one thought, even in a
little degree different from the ideas of former writers, or
differently expressed. We put it to his candour, whether there is
anything so deserving the name of poetry, in verses like the
following, written in 1806, and whether, if a youth of eighteen could
say anything so uninteresting to his ancestors, a youth of nineteen
should publish it:


Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant, departing
From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu;
Abroad or at home, your remembrance imparting
New courage, he'll think upon glory and you.

Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation,
'Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret;
Far distant he goes with the same emulation,