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English Bards, And Scotch Reviewers, A Satire [by Lord Byron.]. [extra-illustr.].
George Gordon Byron (invariably known as Lord Byron), later Noel, 6th Baron Byron of Rochdale FRS was a British poet and a leading figure in Romanticism. Amongst Byron's best-known works are the brief poems She Walks in Beauty, When We Two Parted, and So, we'll go no more a roving, in addition to the narrative poems Childe Harold's Pilgrimage and Don Juan. He is regarded as one of the greatest British poets and remains widely read and influential, both in the English-speaking world and beyond.
Byron's notabilty rests not only on his writings but also on his life, which featured upper-class living, numerous love affairs, debts, and separation. He was notably described by Lady Caroline Lamb as "mad, bad, and dangerous to know". Byron served as a regional leader of Italy's revolutionary organization, the Carbonari, in its struggle against Austria. He later travelled to fight against the Ottoman Empire in the Greek War of Independence, for which Greeks revere him as a national hero. He died from a fever contracted while in Messolonghi in Greece.
A very funny satire slamming contemporary poets and critics in a way very similar to how Pope did. Entertaining, even though Byron renounced it later.
Favorite lines: “a would be satirist, a hired buffoon,/ a monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,/ condemned to drudge, the meanest of the mean, / and furbish falsehoods for a magazine,/ devotees to scandal his congenial mind;/ Himself a living libel on mankind.” (973-980)
Byron had barely established himself in the literary world before releasing this satirical poem on his contemporary poets and critics, boldly calling out their flaws.
What a power move.
That fact that I enjoyed a mere portion of this poem (my edition of his works appears to only contain a portion) to the point where I immediately want to seek out the full version is reason enough to give this 5 stars.
Hard work as my knowledge of critics and reviewers of the day is sorely lacking. Once you sink into the writing style you still seem to bob on the surface of the subilties Byron is picking the borax at. Wish I knew more and expected less.
What a satire. After publishing his first poetry collection ‘Hours of Idleness’, Byron was reportedly already working on a satire about contemporary poets of the time, when he came across a scathing (though not undeservedly so) critique of his collection by the Edinburgh Review. He responded with this extended satirical poem, and widened it to include reviewers and critics generally into his wonderful attack. For a young Lord and relatively new poet this is quite the statement, and trust me Byron does not hold back, even against some of the bigger names in the scene such as Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge. With wit, profundity and stylish humour Byron laments the loss of great early poets and accuses the popular bards of the time of everything from pilfering older works, writing for pay rather than for art, simplicity and dullness, undeserved respect, and unoriginality. To the critics, he hits them with scathing lines suggesting that while every other profession requires learned skill, critics come ready made to find flaws in the works of others, while not producing anything of worth themselves. Even more pertinent though, are the accusations of conspiracy, of poets sleeping with critics or bribing them with food, drink, and friendship in order to receive favourably critiques. To a few of the female poets, he alludes to them using their sexuality to make up for bad writing, and paints a host of other poets of both sexes as lascivious prostitutes, both of their bodies and their minds. This poem is so very quotable and outright hilarious, but it's also very very ballsy, and as only the second official release from Byron it's in keeping with the character he ended up growing as someone Lady Caroline Lamb would infamously go on to call “mad, bad, and dangerous to know”.
It is obvious that Byron was very intelligent and very talented from a very young age. However, this poem is a bit long for my taste. Also, you need to know a long list of who's who in British society at the time in order to truly get the sarcasm.
"Fools are my theme, let satire be my song" (line 5). With that, Byron goes on to produce an amazing poetical attack of many contemporary writers. Byron created this work in response to the savage attack by the Edinburgh Review on his first published work of poetry, Hours of Idleness.
Holding up Alexander Pope, John Dryden, John Milton and Homer as the best examples, Byron rages against those whom he considers mediocre or worse. The recipients of his couplets include Robert Southey, William Wordsworth, Samuel T. Coleridge and Walter Scott. With respect to Scott, I think Byron more attacks his poetry, suggesting he keep to writing prose. Byron also aims his razor-sharp wit at many minor Romantic era writers. His rhymed takedowns are memorable, fierce and bold. I laughed out loud at times. When attacking Nathaniel Bloomfield, he writes
Him too the Mania, not the Muse, has seized Not inspiration, but a mind diseased."
For any writer that has feared a critic, this is an encouraging read!