ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE.

New Zealander, Volume 7, Issue 595, 27 December 1851, Page 3

ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE.

On bloated pedantry to pour my rage, And hiss preposterous fustian from the stage. GIFfORD.

To the Editor of the New Zealandee. Sir, — Mount Egmont is the true Parnassus. An effusion from " W. T.," of New Plymouth, in this day's Cross, under the head of " Original Poetry," proves the fact. As, however, its originality is a good deal in the way of its intelligibility, there appeal's subjoined an explanatoi'y index to the more refined allusions of his Muse, which ! might otherwise "blush unseen" by uninitiated i readers. This is the only part not strictly original, for we have heard of an eminent painter who was wont to superscribe his portraits with the name of the species of the animal drawn. The poem commences with an invocation of the " Bard of the changeful Seasons," (Thomson, see index) to inform him, as may be gathered ten lines afterwards, " What shame were thine to see Tbe sons of those who quelled the Lion's pride In blood, before the Fox bend low the knee." The index tells us (and I could not have guessed it) the Lion means Charles the Ist, and the Fox, Sir George Grey, who is also called soon afterwards " the Arch Impostor." But lam getting on too fast,— the invoked Bard is supposed to survey " Whftre amorous Ocean laves Our Eden fair," a delicate allusion, I suppose, to the -open roadstead at New Plymouth, and to the breakers which generally give an amorous ducking to the unfortunate person who attempts to land. " Nor Winter stern unlocks his icu caves, Save where the Giant Guardian heavenward waves His snowy crest of fear." This Giant, the index tells us, is Mount Egmont, but does not explain how he manages to " wave Ms snowy crest of fear" or what sort of a crest that is, — a coxcomb with a white feather, I should imagine. Having done with Thomson, who is only invoked to shame, " W. T." appeals in terrible strains of passionate patriotism to the "loved land of his adoption," "to rise" and "be free." He bids it " Burst, in thy might, the arch-impostor's yoke, As the red levin rends the regal oak !'' The appositeness of metaphor which makes the "red levin" of liberty rend the "regal oak" of tyranny and imposture is, to say the least, remarkable. Now for a heroic burst. " Would that my Muse could, trurapet-tongued evoke 'I he patriot's ardour which, of \ ore, awoke In liampden's dauntless heat t,' when Tyranny, With flag accurst, floated the English shy, And the sad earth w.is wet with kindred blood ; Could fire the Godlike zeal which taught to die Stern Sydney's Roman soul" (query nose) " snd Russell [good." Whether this fervent appeal is to raise Civil War, and wet New Zealand "with kindred blood," ami dispel " dark Oppression's brood," I cannot tell, — but his threats in that quarter are far more venial than the doggrel which contains them. It is delightful to know that we have a Brutus at Taranaki, in case of need ; but, in the meantime, it is painful to read the effusions of his (I hope feigned) stupidity.

I am sorry to check the aspiring ambition of 1113 Muse, ■which, it seems, wishes " To rob Rome's ancient geese of all their glories, And cackling Slay the monarchy of Tories ;" but though I am willing to forgive his sanguinary intentions on behalf of Liberty, it is impossible to overlook a cold-blooded murder of Poetry, Sense> and Grammar. I remain, Sir, Your obedient Servant, Anti-Ckusca;