ABSTRACT
The pieces least worthy of the author are those entitled ‘Moods of my own Mind,’ we certainly wish these ‘Moods’ had been less frequent, or not permitted to occupy a place near works, which only make their deformity more obvious; when Mr. W. ceases to please, it is by ‘abandoning’ his mind to the most common-place ideas, at the same time clothing them in language not simple, but puerile: what will any reader or auditor, out of the nursery, say to such namby-pamby as ‘Lines written at the foot of Brother’s Bridge.’
