University of
Southern J
Library J
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
POETRY AND POETS.
^
BEING A COLLECTION OF THE CHOICEST
ANECDOTES
RELATIVE TO THE
POETS OF EVERY AGE AND NATION.
TOGETHER WITH
SPECIMENS OF THEIR WORKS AND SKETCHES OF THEIR
BIOGRAPHY.
WRITTEN AND COMPILED BY
RICHARD RYAN,
AUTHOR OF " POEMS ON SACRED SUBJECTS,' '• BALLADS ON THE
FICTIONS OK THE ANCIENT IRISH," &c. &c. &e.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
ILLUSTRATED BY ENGRAVINGS.
VOL. III.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, GILBERT, & PIPER,
I-ATEHNOSTER BOW.
1826.
LONDON :
Printed by D. S. Maurice, Fenchureh-street.
v»3
CONTENTS TO VOL. III.
La PoDtaino
77222r:.
Page.
1
Pieter Corueiis Hooft .. ,, ^^ 7
Hugo Grotius .. .. .. ,, 9
WIjj are Professional Men indifferent Poets ? . . 12
Addison's Opinion of Blank Verse .. .. 19
Dr} den, and Dr. Lockier . . , , . . 20
Mrs. Mary Tighe . . . . . . 2I
Wjcljerlej's Marriage .. .. ,.23
George Bolejn .. .. ., 24
Moorish Ballads .. .. ., ..26
Deatb of Lord Byron .. ,, ,. 39
Robert Barns, .. ' .. .. ..44
Sir Walter Scott .. ., ., 51
Henry Teonge .. .. .. .. ib.
Goldsmith .. .. .. .. 54
The Rev. George Crabb, and the Hon. Edraand Burke 56
Si. John the Bnptisl'ii Day .. ,. . , fiO
Petrarch . . . . _ . jj2
Ben Jonson'g Sacred Poetry . . , . . . 63
Pastoral Poetry . . . . . . 05
Boiloau's Villa at Autenil .. .. ..70
VOL. III. J.
ir CONTENTS TO VOL. III.
Page.
Korner .. .. .. .. 73
Poems of Madame De Surville .. .. 77
Last Verses of the Due de Nivernois . . 85
Love Songs . , . . . • . . 86
De&lb of Aliieri .. .. .• ..87
" Paradise Lost." .. .. .. 88
Voltaire, and Shakspeare .. .. ., ib.
Jobo Keats .. .. .. .• 89
Turlough Garolsn .. .. .. ..91
Milton's Love of Music .. •• .. 99
Tlioinas Moore .. .. .. •• 100
Jacob Cats . . . . . . . . 102
Poetical Genealogy .. .. .. .. 105
TborasoD, and Mallet .. .. •• 113
Haller .. c. .. .. 114
George Henrj Smith .. .. .. 115
John Heywood .. .. .. •• 120
Dionysius, King of Sicily . . . . . • 125
Mrs. Pilkington .. .. .. . . ih,
George Gascoignc . ; . . • • 127
George Fredeiick Palmer .. •• .< 133
Joseph Atkinson . . . t • • 135
Hindoo Poetry .. .. .. .. 137
Fondness of Poets for Rivers . . . . 139
Gay's" Beggars' Opera," &c. .. ..142
Dr. Johnson, and " Doug4a?." .. •• .. 147
Shakspeare, and Gerard Brandt .. .. 148
Shakspeare, and D'Avenaot .. .. .. 151
Sortes Virgilianae .. .. .. 152
Petrarch's Laura .. •• •• •• 154
CONTENTS TO VOL. Ill, V
Page
Petrarch at Vancl use .. ,. ... 155
Gower'g Anachronisms ., .. ., 157
Addison's Description of tlie " Iliad" and the " 2Ent\A." 160
Petrarch's Precision ,, .. .. 1G2
Melastasio .. .. ., .. ib.
Drammond of Hawthoruden . . . . 1G4
Verses written by a Maniac .. .. 16G
Calamities of Poets .. .. .. .. 167
Richard Edwards .. .. .. 172
Milton's " Paradise Lost." .. .. ,, 178
Harte, and Dr. Johnson .. .. .. 179
Kbemnitzer .. .. .. .. I6O
Poetry of the Hindoos and the Persians ,. 183
The Earl of Essex ., .. ., .. 184
Richard Tarlton .. .. ,. .. 1S5
Voltaire, and Dr. Young .. .. .. 191
Christmas Carols .. .. .. ib.
Wachter ; and Frederick, King of Prussia .. .. 195
Abbotsford, the Residence of Sir Walter Scott 196
Queen Elizabeth, and Joseph Ritson ., .. 197
Poetical Deaths .. .. .. 202
Coryat's Poetry .. ., .. 209
Georpje Peele .. , . ,. ..21
Alonzo D'Ercilla .. .. .. 210
Metastasio .. .. .. ,, jb,
Winstaulcy and Milton ., .. ^, 217
Robert Devcrenx, Earl of Essex .. .. 218
Pope and Warbarton .. .. .. 220
Qaaintne:is of Expression ' .. ,, .. 221
Batler's Character of a Plav-wriler .. 222
»i CONTENTS TO VOL. III.
Gray .. .. .. .. .. 224
Sadi, and Lis Wife .. .. ., 226
Nonsense Verses . . . . . . w . 227
Pope's Nurse ,, .. .. .. 235
Drinking Cops . . . . . . . . 236
Addison, and the famous Duke of Wbarton ,. 238
Modern " Flash Poetry." . . . . . . 239
Lord Byron's " Mazeppa." .. .. .. 243
Dryden's " Medal." .. .. ..244
James Montgomery ,. .. ,. 245
Akenside .. .. ., .. 247
Poetical Recollections connected with various parts of
the Metropolis .. .. .. ., 250
MS. of Pope's "Iliad." .. .. .. 262
Pope's Remuneration for the " Iliad." ,. .. ib.
A truly poetical Night .. .. .. 263
An Epigram, and a Receipt ., .. .. 272
Rouoher .. .. .. .. 273
Wycherley's Memory ,. .. .. 274
Phaer and Slanyhorst's " Virgil." ., ., 275
Pope, and Lord Halifax .. .. .. 280
Vida .. .. .. .. 282
Dirk Coornhert .. ., .. .. 283
The Person of Pope .. ., .. 284
Female Favourites of Poets .. .. .. 286
Caroline Symmons . . . . . , 288
Addison designed for the Church .. ,, 289
Henry Kirke White .. ,. .. 290
POETRY AND POETS.
//■•« JCulf-'
LA FONTAINE.
La Fontaine, the celebrated French fabulist,
is recorded to have been one of the most absent
of men ; and Furetiere relates a circumstance,
which, if true, is one of the most singular aber-
rations possible. Fontaine attended the l)urial
VOL. III. B
2 'Ipoetry and poets.
of one of his friends, and, some time afterwards,
he called to visit him. At first, he was shocked
at the information of his death ; but recovering
from his surprise, he observed, " It is true
enough, for now I recollect I went to his
burial."
The generous and witty Madame de la Sabliere
furnished him witli a commodious apartment in
her house ; and one day, having discharged all
her servants in a pet, declared that she had only
retained three animals in her house, which were
her dog, her cat, and Fontaine. In this situation
he continued twenty years ; and a day or two
after losing his generous patroness, met his ac-
quaintance, M. d'Hervart : " My dear Fontaine,
(said that worthy man to him,) I have heard of
your misfortune, and was going to propose your
coming to live with me."—" I was going to
you," answered Fontaine.
It was difficult to restrain him sometimes
when on a particular subject. One day, dining
with Moliere and Despreaux, he inveighed
against the absurdity of making performers
speak aside what is heard by the stage and the
whole house. Heated with this idea, he would
listen to no argument. " It cannot be denied,"
> i.
POETRY AND POETS.
exclaimed Despreaux, in a loud key, " it cannot
be denied, that La Fontaine is a rogue, a great
rogue, a villain, a rascal, &c." multiplying his
terms of abuse, and increasing the loudness of
his voice. P''ontaine, without paying any regard
to his abuse, went on declaiming. At last the
company's roar of laughter recalled him to
himself. " What is this roar of laughter about }"
said he. "At what!" cried Despreaux, "why,
at you, to be sure ; you have not heard a word
of the abuse which I have been bawling at your
ears, yet you are surprised at the folly of sup-
posing a performer not to hear what another
actor whispers at the opposite side of the stage."
When the F'ables of La Motte appeared, it
was fashionable in France to despise them. One
evening, at an entertainment given by the Prince
de Vendome, several of the first critics of the
kingdom made themselves exceedingly merry
at the expense of the author. Voltaire happened
to be present : " Gentlemen, (said he,) I per-
fectly agree with you. What a difference there
is between the style of La Motte and the style
of La Fontaine ! Have you seen the new edition
of the latter?" The company answered in the
4 POETRY AND POETS.
negative. " Then you have not read that beau-
tiful Fable of his, which was found among the
papers of the Duchess of Bouillon." He ac-
cordingly repeated it to them. Every one present
was charmed with it. " Here (said he) is
the spirit of La Fontaine ; — here is nature in
her simplicity. What naivete — what grace ! —
Gentlemen, (resumed Voltaire,) you will find
this Fable among those of La Motte." Confu-
sion took possession of all but Voltaire, who
was happy in exposing the folly of these pre-
tended judges.
It has been observed, that the best writers,
and the deepest thinkers, have usually been but
indifferent companions. This was the case with
La Fontaine ; for having once been invited to
dine at the house of a person of distinc-
tion, for the sake of entertaining the guests,
though he ate very heartily, yet not a word
could be got from him ; and when, rising soon
after from the table, on pretence of going to
the Academy, he was told he would be too soon,
" Oh, then," said he, " I'll take the longest way."
Being one day with Boileau, Racine, and other
men of eminence, among whom were Ecclesias-
POETRY AND POETS. i>
tics ; St. Austin was talked of for a considerable
time, and with the highest commendations.
Fontaine listened with his natural air, and at
last, after a profound silence, asked one of the
Ecclesiastics, with the most unaffected serious-
ness, " whether he thought St. Austin had more
wit than Rabelais." The Doctor, eyeing Fon-
taine from head to foot, answered only by
observing, " that he had put on one of his
stockings the wrong side out," which happened
to be the case. The nurse who attended Fontaine
in his illness, observing the fervour of the priest
in his exhortations, said to him, " Ah, good Sir,
don't disturb him so ; he is rather stupid than
wicked.
In the year 1692, he was seized with a
dangerous illness ; and when the priest came to
converse with him about religion, concerning
which, he had hitherto been totally unconcerned,
though he had never been either an infidel or
a libertine, Fontaine told him, that " he had
lately bestowed some hours in reading the New
Testament, which he thought a good book."
Being brought to a clearer knowledge of reli-
gious truths, the priest represente<l to him, tliat
6 I'OETRY AND f GETS.
he had received intelligence of a certain dra-
matic piece of his, which was soon to be acted ;
but that he could not be admitted to the sacra-
ments of the church, unless he suppressed it.
This appeared too rigid ; and Fontaine appealed
to the Sorbonne, who confirming what the priest
had said, this sincere penitent threw the piece
into the fire, without keeping even a copy. The
priest then laid before him the evil tendency of
his " Tales," which are written in a very wanton
manner: he told him, that while the French
language subsisted, they would be a most dan-
gerous inducement to vice ; and that he could
not justify administering the sacraments to him,
unless he would promise to make a public ac-
knowledgment of his crime at the time of
receiving, and a public acknowledgment before
the Academy of which he was a member, in
case he recovered ; and to exert his utmost en-
deavours to suppress the book. La Fontaine
thought these very severe terms, but, at length,
yielded to them all.
He did not die till the 13th of April, 1695,
when, if we believe some, he was found with a
hair shirt on.
POETRY AND POETS. 7
PIETER CORNELIS HOOFT.
PiETER CoRNELis HooPT was born at Amster-
dam on the 16th of ]\Iarch, 1581. At the age
of 19 he was already a member of the " Amster-
damsche Kamer in Liefde Bloeijende/' which
was entirely distinct from, and far more celebra-
ted than, the other literary societies of that
period. His earliest productions were not
distinguished by any of that sweetness of ver-
sification and occasional force which after-
wards lent such charms both to his prose works
and poetry. He went to France and Italy,
and gave the first promise of an improved
style and more cultivated taste, in a poetical
epistle, written at Florence, to the members
of the " Amsterdamsche Kamer." He appears
to have made the Greek, Latin, and Italian
writers his peculiar study. By reading the lat-
ter he was first taught to impart that melody to
his own language of which it had not hitherto
been deemed susceptible. To no man, indeed,
is Dutch literature more indebted than to Hooft.
He refined the versification of his age, without
divesting it of its vigour. His mind had drunk
deeply at the founts of knowledge, and his pro-
ductions are always harmonious and often sub-
8
POETRY AND POETS.
lime. The great Vondel, who was too truly
noble to be jealous of his fame, calls him
" Of Holland's poets most illustrious head."
It is difficult to decide whether Hooft or Von-
del was most honoured by this eulogium.
He died on the 21st of May, in the year 1647-
His Granida is one of the most beautiful spe-
cimens of harmony in the Dutch language ; and
the critics of Holland are fond of contrasting the
flowing music of Hooft with the harsh and cum-
brous diction of Spiegel, his forerunner. The
original of the following lines (Sc. i. of the Gra-
nida) deserves every eulogy for its poetical
grace :
Het vinnigh straalen van de son
Ontschuil ik in't boschaudje.
" I'll hie me to the forest now,
The sun shines bright in glory :
And of our courtship every bough
> Perchance may tell the story.
Our courtship ? No! Our Courtship .' Yes! '
There's folly in believing ;
For, of a hundred youths, I guess,
■fO shame !) they're all deceiving.
POETRY AND POETS. 9
A gaysome swain is wandering still ,
New pleasures seeking ever ;
And longer than his wanton will
His love endureth never.
My heart beats hard against my breast.
So hard — can I confide now ?
No ! confidence might break my rest,
And faith will not be tried now.
Oft, in the crowd, we trip and fall.
And who escape are fewest :
I hear my own deliverer call —
Of all the true the truest.
But, silly maiden ! look around,
And see thy cherish'd treasure ;
Who rests or tarries never found
And ne'er deserv'd a pleasure.
Should he disclose his love to me
Whilst in this forest straying.
Were there a tongue in every tree,
What might they not be saying !"
BATAVIAN ANTHOLOGY.
HUGO GROTIUS.
HuiG DE Groot (commonly known by the
name of Hugo Grotius) was born at Delft on
the 10th of April, 1583. When he was only
10 POETRY AND POETS.
fifteen years old, Henry the Fourth called him
the Wonder of Holland : at eighteen, he ob-
tained, as a Latin poet, a distinguished reputa-
tion. Of his classical attainments and general
knowledge we need scarcely speak ; they are
every where felt and allowed. His very name
calls up all that the imagination can conceive of
greatness and true fame.
His most elaborate poem in the Dutch
language, Bewijs van denwaeren Godtsdiesnt
(Evidence of the true Religion,) was written
during his confinement at Louvesteijn, in the
year 1611. He laid the ground- work of that
attention to religious duties which is so uni-
versal in Holland. The authority of his great
name, always associated Avith Christianity —
with peace — with literature — with freedom and
suffering and virtue — has ever been a bulwark
of truth and morals. Holland is at this mo-
ment disturbed by a renewal of the contro-
versy in which Grotius and Barneveldt took
the leading part j and it would seem as if the
better cause has the weaker advocates. The
modest epitaph which Grotius wrote for himself
covers his remains at Delft :
" Grotius hie Hugo est, Batavuin captivus et exul.
Legatus regni, Suecia magna, tui."
POETRY AND POETS. 11
His poetical works in his native language seem
hardly worthy of his astonishing reputation. His
son Pieter de Groot was a more successful Dutch
poet than his illustrious father. A single spe-
cimen may be allowed to intrude, if it were only
that it is the production of Hugo Grotius. It
is the Dedication of the religious poem which
we have mentioned.
Neemt naet onwaerdig aen dit werkstuk mijner handen.
" Receive not with disdain this product from my hand,
O mart of all the world ! O dower of Netherland !
Fair Holland! Let this live, tho' I may not, with thee
My bosom's queen ! I show e'en now how fervently
I've lov'd thee through all change— thy good and evil
days —
And love, and still will love, till life itself decays.
If here be aught on which thou may'st a thought bestow.
Thank Him without whose aid no good from man can flow.
If errors meet thy view, i-emember kindly then
What gathering clouds obscure the feeble eyes of men ;
And rather spare than blame this humble work of mine,
And think 'Alas! 'twas made — 'twas made at Louves-
teijn."
BATAVIAN ANTHOLOGY.
• Louvesteijn was the place of confinement whence his
wife liberated him.
12 POETRY AND POETS.
WHY ARE PROFESSIONAL MEN INDIFFERENT
POETS ?
Professional avocations have a deadening
influence on the finer sensibilities of the mind ;
they destroy and annihilate our loftier aspira-
tions, and reduce all that we perceive and feel
to the dull standard of reality. Many of the
great poets lived in the infancy of science, and
the great ones who have lived as it was ap-
proaching maturity, have endeavoured as much
as possible to blind their eyes to its progress ;
and to represent things as they seem, and not as
they can be demonstrated to be.
Professional avocations are entirely at variance
with the phantasms of imagination. It is theore-
tically a fine thing, (for instance,) to make the
practice of law a profession, to devote our lives
to the distribution of justice, to settle the diffe-
rences of our neighbours, to come forward as
the advocate of the oppressed, to plead the cause
of the innocent, and to be the champion of those
who have no earthly help. Nor is it a less fine
thing to alleviate the corporeal sufferings of our
fellow creatures, to smooth the pillow of sick-
ness^ to disseminate the blessing of health, and
POKTRY AND POETS.
13
to cause the languid and filmy eye of the dying
man to look a blessing on our kind, though en-
deavours are unavailing. Turn the picture; and
what do we behold in the actual and breathing
world ? The lawyer selling his eloquence to the
support of any cause, and prostituting his talents
for the sake of gain ; while the physician mea-
sures out his kindnesses and attentions in the
direct ratio of his expectations of being repaid.
It is not to be supposed that a divine, one
who has made the oracles of truth his chief
study, and the promulgation of them the serious
business of his life, could even for a moment
throw over his lines the flush of the ancient su-
perstitions, at once so imaginative and poetical ;
and describe Jupiter in the conclave of Deities
on the top of Olympus, instead of the everlast-
ing and omnipresent " I AM," whose shadow
Moses saw in the burning bush ; and, instead of
the sun and moon, which he has created, deli-
neate Apollo with the golden bow, " the lord of
poesy and light," and Diana with her wood-
nymphs.
It is not to be supposed that he will coincide in
the opinions of a Dante, or a Homer, or promul-
gate their sublime, but often vague and absurd
14 POETRY AND POETS.
illustrations of religion and morality ; in making
the princely game of war the theme of his muse,
and accounting the savage valour of the comba-
tants as the acme of perfection ; or distort the
doctrine of future rewards and punishments into
a scheme of his own formation. His poetry must
of necessity be regulated by the principles he
professes, and by the views which it is his duty
to inculcate.
Can it for a moment be supposed that a phy-
sician, one whose business it is to be acquainted
with the weaknesses and miserable diseases to
which our bodies are subject ; that one whose
daily occupation is the inspection of loathsome
sores, and putrifying ulcers ; could, in despite of
his own observations, preserve, in the penetralia
of his mind, a noble and unblemished image of
human beauty ; or that the anatomist, who has
glutted over the debasing and repellent horrors
of a dissecting table, where the severed limbs of
his fellow creatures, "the secrets of the grave,"
are displayed in hideous deformity, to satisfy
the hysena-lust of knowledge, could look upon a
female face with the rapture which the mind
that conceived Shakspeare's Juliet must have
done ? or with that sense of angelic delicacy.
POETRY AND POETS. 15
which must have penetrated the mind of Spen-
ser, ere he conceived the glorious idea of
*' Heavenly Una, with her milk-white lamb ?
Nor is it to be supposed that the lawyer, one
whose youthful days, the days of the romance
and chivalry of the imagination, are spent in
poring over volumes, which can only operate in
rendering " darkness visible," and in wrapping
up that in mystery and clouds which nature in-
tended to form as clear as " daylight truth's sa-
lubrious skie^/' should unlearn what he has
learned; and, deeming
" where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise,"
at length accord to the omnipotence of Virtue,
and agree with JMilton in his ' Comus,' that the
lion of the desert itself would turn away abashed
from the face of innocent beauty. Lord JMans-
field, ere he devoted his attention to " law's dry
musty arts," shewed so great an aptitude for
polite letters, that Pope himself bewails
" How sweet an Ovid was in Murray lost."
And Judge Blackstone, ere he thought of com-
16 POETRY AND POETS.
posing his Commentaries on the Laws, Avrote
verses, which at least augured well of what he
might have accomplished in that way. Aken-
side brought out his ' Pleasures of Imagination/
when a very young man ; took to the study of
medicine, was made physician to the Queen, and
then published lyrics, which nobody cares about
reading.
As Wordsworth most truly and poetically
observes,
' ' The world is too much with us, early and late."
Counting-houses and ledgers have taken the
place of generosity, romance, and chivalry ; and
though they have made us richer, have undoubt-
edly added little to our intellectual character as
a nation. Life has become a scene of every-
day experience, of sickness, dullness, and forma-
lity ; etiquette has succeeded to simplicity, and
ardour of spirit has left its place to politeness.
In a short time, it will be impossible for us to
conceive of such men as Alfred, or Lord Surrey,
James Crichton, or Sir Philip Sidney.
The poetry of life is the sublimated essence of
human existence, and not the every-day casual-
ties that surround us and beset us ; consequent-
POETRY AND POETS. 17
ly an incessant intercourse with these alone, and
the perpetual exercise of the judging and rea-
soning faculties, obliging the imagination to lie
unused and dormant, has a deadening, a chil-
ling, a withering influence on the mind, and
tends entirely to obliterate those feelings and
aspirations, on which the production of poetry
depends. The poetical constitution, above all
others, is remarkable for its delicacy, as the fine-
ness of its conceptions sufficiently indicates ; and
it, no doubt, is as impossible to preserve this
undestroyed, and untainted, amid the dull rou-
tine of the world, as it would be to expect fleet-
ness and nimbleness in the animal that has been
accustomed to the slow step and unvarying
paces of a loaded wain. The beauty of the fields
and the sublimity of the mountains come to be
considered in no other light, but tliat of their
utility, as being barren of pasture, or rich of
grain, what rent they bring, and what is the
extent of their acres. The ocean, whose waters
teach " Eternity, — Eternity, and Power," comes
to be regarded, only in as far as it furnishes a
communication between us and distant lands, for
the extension of commerce. Man, " with the
human face divine," is not considered so much
18 POETRY AND POETS.
as a Being of majestic attributes, and an immor-
tal destiny, but as being of few days, and full
of ti'ouble, a petty insignificant creature, full of
fraud and deceit, and selfishness, and subject to
an infinite variety of diseases and infirmities.
Woman is not the demi-celestial object, without
whose presence earth would be a wilderness,
the paragon of ideal beauty, subsisting on the
strength of the affections, which bind her to
stronger man ; but a necessary part of society,
increasing its comforts, and keeping up the race.
Childhood is not the state of innocent beauty
and simplicity, of piu-e thovights and warm feel-
ings, but the idiocy of our minds, which re-
quires training, and correction, and cultivation,
to render us sober men, and useful citizens.
These are the common opinions of society, the
chilling and disheartening truths, which we
hear from all lips " every day, and all day long,"
— and they are unpoetical. How is it to be
supposed, then, that the men who are continually
exposed to the withering influence of these cur-
rent maxims, and who, to preserve unanimity,
are obliged to echo them back, and to concur
in their infallibity — ^how is it to be supposed,
that they are to throw off the load that
POETRY AND POETS. 19
oppresses them — to forget what they hear every
day — and to shut their eyes to every thing
that is passing around them — and, in despite
of their contracted and desolate view of human
nature and the external world, form a bower of
happiness for themselves, in the paradise of
imagination ?*
Addison's opinion of blank verse.
" Mr. Addison was not a good-natured man,
and very jealous of rivals. Being one evening
in company with Philips, and the poems of
Blenheim and The Campaign being talked of, he
made it his whole business to run down blank
verse. Philips never spoke till between eleven
and twelve o'clock, nor even then could do it in
his defence. It was at Jacob Tonson's ; and a
gentleman in the company ended the dispute by
asking Jacob what poem he ever got the most
by } Jacob immediately named Milton's Para-
dise Lost."
spence.
' We are indebted for this able article to " Blackwood's
MagaziDc."
VOL. III. C
20 POETRY AND POETS-
DRYDEN AND DR. LOCKIER.
" I WAS about seven years old, when I first
came up to town, an odd looking boy, with
short rough hair, and that sort of awkwardness
which one always brings up at first out of the
country with one. However, in spite of my
bashfulness and appearance, I used, now and
then, to thrust myself into Wills' s, to have the
pleasure of seeing the most celebrated wits of
that time, who then resorted thither. The se-
cond time that I was ever there, Mr. Dryden
was speaking of his own things, as he frequently
did, especially of such as had lately been pub-
lished. ' If any thing of mine is good,' says he,
' 'tis ' Mac Flecno ;' and I value myself the more
upon it, because it is the first piece of ridicule
written in heroics.' On hearing this I plucked
up my spirit so far as to say, in a voice just loud
enough to be heard, that 'Mac Flecno' was a very
fine poem, but that I had not imagined it to be
the first that was ever writ that way.' On this,
Dryden- turned short upon me, as surprised at
my interposing ; asked me how long I had been
a dealer in poetry ; and added, with a smile,
' Pray, Sir, what is it that you did imagine to
POETRY AND POETS. 2l
have been writ so before ?' I named Boileau's
'Lutrin/ and Tassoni's 'Secchia Rapita;' which I
had read, and knew Dryden had borrowed some
strokes from each. — ' 'Tis true,' said Dryden, ' I
had forgot them.' — A little after, Dryden went
out ; and, in going, spoke to me again, and de-
sired me to come and see him the next day. I
was highly delighted with the invitation ; went
to see him accordingly : and was well acquaint-
ed with him after as long as he lived."
DR. LOCKIER, from SPENCE's ' ANECDOTES.'
MRS. MARY TIGHE.
This very superior female, both in mind and
acquirements, was a native of the Sister Isle.
Her beautiful poem of " Psyche" will be remem-
bered as long as elegance and classical taste can
excite admiration, nor will her minor poems be
soon forgotten. With the profits arising from
the publication of these effusions of genius, a
Hospital Ward has been endowed and attached
to the House of Refuge, (a charitable institu-
tion formed by her mother, in the county of
Wicklow,) which is called * The Psyche Ward.'
The following verses were the last production
of this highly gifted and amiable being, penned
22 POETRY AND POETS.
only three months before her death, and under
the pressure of an illness plainly prophetic of a
fatal termination.
ON RECEIVING A BRANCH OF MEZERON, WHICH FLOWERED
AT WOODSTOCK, IN DECEMBER, 1809.
Odours of Spring '. my sense ye charm
With fragrance premature,
And since these days of dark alarm.
Almost to hope allure.
Methinks, with purpose soft you come
To tell of brighter hours.
Of May's blue skies, abundant bloom.
The sunny gales and showers.
Alas ! for me shall May in vain
The powers of life restore ;
'JTiese eyes that weep and watch in pain
Shall see her charms no more.
, No, No, this anguish cannot last ;
Beloved friends, adieu !
The bitterness of death were past
Could I resign but you.
But oh ! in every mortal pang
That rends my soul from life,
That soul, which seems on you to hang,
Through each convulsive strife ; —
Q
POETRY AND POETS. 2
Even now with agonizing grasp
Of sorrow and regret.
To all in life its love would clasp,
Clings close and closer yet.
Vet why, immortal vital spark !
Thus mortally opprest?
Look up, ray soul, through prospects dark !
And bid thy sorrows rest.
Forget, forego thy earthly part,
Tliine heavenly being trust ;
Ah ! vain attempt ; my coward heart,
Still shuddering, clings to dust.
Oh ye, who soothe the pangs of death
With love's own patient care,
Still, still, retain this fleeting breath,
Still pour the fervent prayer.
wycherley's marriage.
Wycherley's nephew, on whom his estate
was entailed (but with power to settle a widoVs
jointure,) would not consent to his selling any
part of it ; which he wanted much to do, to pay
his debts, about a thousand pounds. He had,
therefore, long resolved to marry ; in order to
make a settlement from the estate, to pay off
his debts with his wife's fortune : and ' to plague
his damned nephew,' as he used to express it.
24 POETRY AND POETS.
This was just about the time he had intended
for it: as he only wanted to answer those ends
by marrying ; and dreaded the ridicule of the
world for marrying while he was old. After
allj the woman he did marry proved a cheat;
and was a cast mistress of the person who re-
commended her to him ; and was supplied by
nim with money for her wedding clothes.
After Wycherley's death, there were law quar-
rels about the settlement. Theobald was the at-
torney employed by his old friend ; and it was
by their means that Theobald came to have
Wycherley's papers in his hands.
SPENCE.
GEORGE BOLEYN.
Olde Rochfort clombe the statilie throne
Which Muses hold in Hellicone.
George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford, was
Son of Sir Thomas Boleyn, afterwards Earl of
Wiltshire and Ormond, and at Oxford disco-
vered an early propensity to polite letters and
poetry. He was appointed to several dignities
and offices by King Henry VIIT. whose second
unfortunate queen was his sister. With her he
was suspected of a criminal familiarity, the
POETRY AND POETS. 25
chief ptoof of which appears to have been, that
he was seen to whisper with her one morning
while she was in bed. As he had been raised
by the exaltation, he was involved in the mis-
fortunes, of that injured princess, who had no
other fault but an unguarded and indiscreet
frankness of nature ; and whose character has
been blackened (without measure and without
end) by the bigoted historians of the Catholic
party, merely because she was the mother of
Queen Elizabeth.
To gratify the ostensible jealousy of the King,
who had conceived a violent passion for a new
object, this amiable nobleman was beheaded on
the first of May, 1536. His elegance of person,
and sprightly conversation, captivated all the
ladies of Henry's Court. Wood says, that at the
" royal Court he was much adored, especially by
the female sex, for his admirable discourse, and
symmetry of body." From these irresistible
allurements his enemies endeavoured to give a
plausibility to their infamous charge of an inces-
tuous connection. After his commitment to the
Tower, his sister, the Queen, on being sent to
the same place, asked the lieutenant, with a de-
gree of eagerness, " Oh ! where is my sweet bro-
26 POETRY AND POETS.
ther ?" Here was a specious confirmation of his
imagined guilt ; and this stroke of natural ten-
derness was too readily interpreted into a licen-
tious attachment.
Bale mentions his "Rhythmi elegantissimi,"
of which Wood speaks as consisting of " several
Poems, Songs, and Sonnets, with other things of
the like nature." Warton suspects that some of
the compositions of this amiable victim to the
tyranny of the most lustful and sanguinary mon-
ster that ever sat upon the English throne are
inserted among the "Uncertain Authors," in Sur-
rey's Poems ; which, by the way, attribute ex-
pressly to Sir Thomas Wyatt a performance of
singular merit ; — the Author's address to his
lute, which the Editor of the " Nugae Antiquae"
ascribes to ' the Earl of Rochford,' a title which,
hs Ritson observes, never existed.
MOORISH BALLADS.
The truest and best proof of the liberality
of the old Spaniards, is to be found in their
beautiful ballads. Throughout the far greater
part of these compositions, many of which must
be, at least, as old as the 10th century, there
breathes a charming sentiment of charity and
POETRY AND POETS. 27
humanity towards those Moorish enemies with
whom the combats of the national heroes are
represented.
The Spaniards and the Moors lived together
in their villages beneath the calmest of skies,
and sun-ounded with the most lovely of land-
scapes. In spite of their adverse faiths — in
spite of their adverse interests — they had much
in common — loves, and sports, and recreations —
nay, sometimes their haughtiest recollections
were in common, and even their heroes were
the same. Bernard de Carpio, Alphonso VI.,
the Cid himself — every one of the favourite
heroes of the Spanish nation had, at some period
or other of his life, fought beneath the standard
of the Crescent ; and the minstrels of either na-
tion might, therefore, in regard to sorne instances
at least, have equal pride in the celebration of
their prowess. The praises which the Arab
poets granted to them in their Monwachchah, or
girdle verses, were repeated by liberal enco-
miums on Moorish valour and generosity, in
Castillian and Arragonese Redondillera.s. Even
in the ballads most exclusively devoted to the
celebration of some feat of Spanish heroism, it
is quite common to find some redeeming com-
28 POETRY AND POETS.
pliment to the Moors mixed with the strain
of exultation. Take, for example, the famous
ballad on Don Raymon of Butrago — translated
in the " Edinburgh Annual Register" for 1816.
" Your horse is faint, my king, my lord, your gallant horse
is sick,
His limbs are torn, his breast is gored, on his eye the
film is thick ;
Mount, mount on mine, oh mount apace, I pray thee
mount and fly,
Or in my arms I'll lift your Grace— their trampling hoofs
are nigh.
My King, my King, you're wounded sore, the blood runs
from your feet.
But only lay your hand before, and I'll lift ye to your
seat;
Mount, Juan, mount — the Moors are near, I hear the
Arab cry,
Oh mount and fly for jeopardy, I'll save ye though I die.
Stand, noble steed, this hour of need, be gentle as a lamb,
I'll kiss the foam from off thy mouth, thy master dear
I am ;
— Mount, Juan, ride, whate'er betide, away the bridle
fling,
And plunge the rowels in his side— Bavieca, save my
King.
*****
POETRY AND POETS. 29
Kiug Juan's horse fell lifeless— Don Raymon's horse
stood by,
Nor king, nor lord, would mount him, they both prepare
to die ;
'Gainst the same tree their backs they placed — they
hacked the King in twain,
Don Raymon's arms the corpse embraced, and so they
both were slain. —
But when tlie Moor Almazor beheld what had been done,
He oped Lord Raymond's visor, while down his tears did
run;
He oped his visor, stooping then he hissed the forehead cold,
God grant may ne'er to Christian men this Moorish shame
be told."
Even in the more remote and ideal chivalries
celebrated in the Castillian ballads, the parts of
glory and greatness were just as frequently at-
tributed to Moors as to Christians; — Calaynos
was a name as familiar as Guyferos. At some-
what a later period, when the Conquest of
Granada had mingled the Spaniards still more
effectually with the persons and manners of the
Moors, we find the Spanish poets still fonder of
celebrating the heroic achievements of IMoors :
and, without doubt, this their liberality towards
the " Knights of Granada, Gentlemen, albeit
30 POETRY AND POETS.
Moors," must have been very gratifying to the
former subjects of King Chico. It must have
counteracted the bigotry of Confessors and
Mollahs, and tended to inspire both nations with
sentiments of kindness and mutual esteem.
Bernard de Carpio, above all the rest, was the
common property and pride of both people.
Of his all-romantic life, the most romantic in-
cidents belonged equally to both. It was with
jMoors that he allied himself, when he rose up
to demand vengeance from King Alphonso, for
the murder of his father. It was with Moorish
brethren in arms, that he marched to fight
against Charlemagne, for the independence of
the Spanish soil. It was in front of a Moorish
host, that Bernard couched his lance, victorious
alike over valour and magic —
" When Roland brave and Oliver,
And many a Paladin and Peer,
At Roncesvalles fell.—"
All the picturesque details, in fine, of that
splendid, and not unfrequently, perhaps, fa-
bulous career, were sung witli equal transport
to the shepherd's lute on the hills of Leon, and
POETRY AND POETS. 31
the courtly guitars of the AlgeneralifFe, or the
Alhamra.
The history of the children of Lara is another
series from which many rich illustrations of our
proposition might be borrowed ; but we decline
entering upon it at present^ for similar reasons :
and as to the ballads of the Campeador himself,
our readers may refer to the best of them,
translated by iMr. Frere.* The dark and bloody
annals of Pedro the Cruel are narrated in
another long and exquisite series. As a speci-
men of the style in which they are written,
we present our readers with the following, con-
taining the narrative of the Tyrant's murder of
Blanche of Bourbon, his young and innocent
Queen, whom he sacrificed, very shortly after
his marriage, to the jealous hatred of his Jewish
mistress, IMaria de Pedilla.
'* THE DEATH OF QUEEN BLANCHE.
Maria de Pedilla, be uot thus of dismal mood,
For if I twice have wedded me, it all was for thy good;
But if upon Queen Blanche ye will that I some scorn should
show,
For a banner to Medina my messenger shall go ;
• At the end of Southey's History of the Cid.
32 POETRY AND POETS.
The work shall be of Blanche's tears, of Blanche's blood
the ground ;
Such pennon shall they weave for thee, such sacrifice be
found.
Then to the Lord of Ortis, that excellent Baron,
He said, now hear me, Ynigo, forthwith for this begone.
Then answer luade Don Ynigo, such gift I ne'er will bring.
For he that harmeth Lady Blanche, doth harm my Lord
the King.
Then Pedro to his chamber went, his cheek was burning
red.
And to a bowman of his guard the dark command he said.
The bowman to Medina pass'd, when the Queen beheld
him near,
Alas ! she said, my maidens, he brings my death, I fear.
Then said the archer, bending low, the King's command-
ment take.
And see thy soul be order'd well with God that did it make.
For lo ! thine hour is come, therefrom no refuge may there
be-
Then gently spoke the Lady Blanche, my friend, I pardon
thee ;
Do what thou wilt, so be the King hath his commandment
given.
Deny me not confession— if so, forgive ye, heaven.
Much griev'd the bowman for her tears and for her beauty's
sake.
While thus Queen Blanche of Bourbon her last complaint
did make ; —
POETRY AND POE'fS. 33
' Oh France ! my noble country — oh blood of high Bouibon,
Not eighteen years have I seen out, before my life is gone.
' The King hath never known me. A virgin true I die.
Whate'er I've done, to proud Castille no treason e'er did f .
The crown they put upon my head was a crown of blood
and sighs,
God grant me soon another crown more precious in the
skies.'
These words she spake, then down she knelt, and took the
bowman's blow —
Her tender neck was cut in twain, and out her blood did
flow."
After this series, in all the collections we have
seen, the greater part of the ballads are altogether
Moorish in their subjects ; and of these, we shall
now proceed to give a few specimens. They
are every way interesting ; but, above all, as
monuments, for such we unquestionably consider
them to be, of the manners and customs of a
noble nation, of whose race no relics now remain
on the soil they so long ennobled. Composed
originally by a Moor or a Spaniard, (it is often
very difficult to determine by which of the two,)
they were sung in the village-greens of Anda-
lusia in either language, but to the same tunes,
and Listened to with equal pleasure by man.
34
POETRY AND POETS.
woman, and child— IMussulman and Christian.
In* these strains, whatever other merits or de-
merits they may possess, we are, at least, pre-
sented with a lively picture of the life of the
Arabian Spaniard. We see him as he was in
reality, " like steel among weapons, like w^ax
among women."
The greater part of these ballads refer to the
period immediately preceding the downfall of
the throne of Granada — the amours of that
sj^lendid Court — the bull-feasts and other spec-
tacles, in which its lords and ladies delighted '
no less than the Christian Courts of Spain — the
bloody feuds of the two great Moorish families
of the Zegris and the Abencerrages, which con-
tributed so largely to the ruin of the Moorish
cause — and the incidents of that last war itself,
in which the power of the Mussulman was en-
tirely overthrown by the arms of Ferdinand
and Isabella. The following specimens, of the
amatory kind, will speak for themselves.
" ANDALLA's BRmAL.
I.
Rise up — rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down,
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town
POETRV AND POETS. 35
From gay guitar and violiu the silver uotes are flowing.
And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpet's
lordly blowing;
And banners bright from lattice light are wa^aug every-
where.
And the tall tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats
proudly in the air :
Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down.
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town.
II.
Arise, arise, Xarifa, I see Audalla's face,
He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace ;
Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadalquiver,
Rode forth bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely,
never.
Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow of azure mix'd with
white,
I guess 'twas wreath'd by Zara, whom he will wed to-night.
Rise uj), rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cusliion down.
Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town.
III.
" Whataileth thee, Xarifa, what makes thine eyes look
down ?
Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the
Town ?
I've heard you say, on many a day, and sure you said the
truth,
Andalla rides witliout a peer, among all Granada's youth.
roL. 111. D
36 POETRY AND POETS.
Witliouta peer he rideth, and yon milk-white horse doth go
Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and slow;
Then rise, oh rise, Xarifa- — lay the golden cushion down,
Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all the
Town."
IV.
The Zegri Lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down,
Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the Town ; —
But tho' her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers
strove,
And tho' her needle press'd the silk, no flower Xarifa wove ;
One bonny rose-bud she had traced, before the noise drew
nigli— -
That bonny bud a tear effaced slow drojiping from her eye.
" No — no," she sighs — " bid me not rise, nor lay my
cushion down,
To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing Town."
V.
" Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down ?
Wily gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing Town ?
Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people,
cry,—
He stops at Zara's palace-gate — why sit ye still — oh why ?"
" At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate; in him shall I
discover
Tlie dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and
was my lover ?
I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor lay my cushion down,
To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing Town."
POETRY AND POETS. 37
" zara's ear-rings.
I.
' My ear-rings! my ear-rings 1 they've dropt into the well,
Aud what to say to INIu^a, I cannot, cannot tell ;'—
'Twas thus Granada's fountain by, spoke Albuharez'
daughter ;
' The well is deep, far down they lie, beneath the cold blue
water —
To me did Muqa give them, when he spake his sad farewell.
And what to say when he comes back, alas 1 I cannot tell.
II.
My ear-rings I my ear-rings ! they were pearls in silver set,
'ITiat, when my Moor was far away, I ne'er should him
forget ;
That I ne'er to other tongue should list, nor smile on others'
tale,
But remember he my lips had kiss'd, pure as those ear
rings pale —
When he comes back, and hears that I have dropp'd them
in the well.
Oh what will Mu9a think of me, 1 cannot, cannot tell.
III.
My ear-rings ! my ear-rings 1 he'll say they should have
been,
Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and glittering sheen,
Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining clear.
Changing to the changing light, with radiance insincere —
38 POf:TRY AND POETS.
That changeful mind unchanging gems are not befitting
well-
Thus will he think — and what to say, alas ! T cannot tell.
IV.
He'll think when I to market went, I loiter'd by the way —
He'll think a willing ear I lent to all the lads might say —
He'll think some other lover's hand, among my tresses
noos'd.
From the ears where he had placed them, my rings of
pearl unloos'd —
He'll think when I was sporting so beside this marble well.
My pearls fell in — and what to say, alas ! I cannot tell.
V.
He'll say 1 am a woman, and we are all the same —
He'll say I lov'd when he was here to whisper of his flame-
But when he went to Tunis, my virgin troth had broken.
And thought no more of Mu9a, and cared not for his token.
My ear-rings! my ear-rings! oh! luckless, luckless well.
For what to say to Mu^a, alas ! I cannot tell.
VI.
I'll tell the truth to Mu(ja, and I hope he will believe —
That I thought of him at morning, and thought of him at
eve —
That musing on my lover, when down the sun was gone.
His ear-rings in my hand 1 held, by the fountain all alone.
And that my mind was o'er the sea, when from my hand
they fell.
And that deep his love lies in my heart, as they lie in the
well."
POETRY AND POETS. 39
DEATH OF LORD BYRON.
The following very affecting letter from one
who was intimate with^ and highly esteemed
by. Lord Byron, cannot fail of interesting every
reader. It is extracted from the Hon. Colonel
Leycester Stanhope's Journal, entitled " Greece
in 1823 and 1824;" the 2nd Edition of which,
comprising the Colonel's reminiscences of Lord
Byron, has just met the public eye.
" From Capt. Trelawny to Col. Stanhope.
" Missolonghi, April 28th, 1824.
" My dear Colonel,
" With all my anxiety, I could not get
here before the third day. It was the second,
after having crossed the first great torrent, that
I met some soldiers from Missolonghi. I had
let them all pass me, ere I had resolution enough
to inquire the news from IMissolonghi. I then
rode back, and demanded of a straggler the
news. I heard nothing more than — ' Lord Byron
is dead,' — and I proceeded on in gloomy silence.
With all his faults, I loved him truly; he is
connected with every event of the most inte-
resting years of my wandering life : his every-
day companion, — we lived in ships, boats, and
in houses together, — we had no secrets — no re-
40 POETRY AND POETS.
serve, and, though we often differed in opinion,
never quarrelled. If it gave me pain witnessing
his frailties, he only wanted a little excitement
to awaken and put forth virtues that redeemed
them all. He was an only child, — early an
orphan, — the world adopted him and spoilt
him, — ^Jiis conceptions were so noble when his
best elements were aroused, that we, his friends,
considered it pure inspiration. He was violent
and capricious.
" In one of his moments of frailty, two years
back, he could think of nothing which could
give him so much pleasure as saving money, and
he talked of nothing but its accvimulation, and
the power and respect it would be the means of
giving him; and so much did he indulge in this
contemptible vice, that we, his friends, began to
fear it would become his leading passion : how-
ever, as in all his other passions, he indulged it
to satiety, and then grew weary. I was absent
from him in Rome when he wrote pie from
Genoa, and said, ' Trelawny, you must have
heard I am going to Greece ; why do you not
come to me ? I can do nothing without you,
and am exceedingly anxious to see you : pray
come, for I am at last determined to go to Greece,
it is the only place I was ever contented in. I
POETRY AND POETS. 41
am serious, and did not write before, as I might
have given you a journey for nothing: they all
say I can be of use to Greece ; I do not know
how, nor do they ; but, at all events, let's go.'
I who had long despaired of getting him out of
Italy, to which he had become attached from
habit, indolence, and strong ties; I lost no time;
every thing was hurried on, and, from the mo-
ment he left Genoa, though twice driven back,
his ruling passion became ambition of a name,
or, rather, by one great effort, to wipe out the
memory of those deeds which his enemies had
begun to rather freely descant on in the public
prints, and to make his name as great in glorious
acts, as it already was by his writings.
" He wrote a song, the other day, on his
birth-day, his thirty-sixth year, strongly ex-
emplifying this. — It is the most beautiful and
touching of all his songs, for he was not very
happy at composing them. It is here amongst
his papers.
* If thou regret thy youth, why live ?
The land of honourable death
Is here. Up to the field and give
Away thy breath.
Awake ! mt Greece, hUc id awake !
Awake I mt) spirit.'
42 POETRY AND POETS.
" He died on the 19th April, at six o'clock at
night ; the two last days he was altogether in-
sensible, and died so, apparently without pain.
From the first moment of his illness, he ex-
pressed on this, as on all former occasions, his
dread of pain and fearlessness of death. He
talked chiefly of Ada, both in his sensible and
insensible state. He had much to say, and
many directions to leave, as was manifest from
his calling Fletcher, Tita, Gamba, Parry, to his
bed-side : his lips moved, but he could articulate
nothing distinctly. ' Ada — my sister — wife —
say — do you understand my directions?' said he,
to Fletcher, after muttering thus for half an
hour, about — ■' Say this to Ada,' — ' this to my
sister,' — wringing his hands ; ' Not a word, my
Lord,' said Fletcher. — ' That's a pity,' said he,
* for 'tis now too late, — for I shall die or go
mad.' He then raved, said — ' I will not live a
madman, for I can destroy myself.' I know the
reason of this fear he had of losing his senses ;
he had lately, on his voyage from Italy, read,
with deep interest, ' Swift's Life,' and was
always talking to me of his horrible fate.
" Byron's malady was a rheumatic fever ; was
brought on by getting wet after violent per-
spiration from hard riding, and neglecting to
POETRY AND POETS. 43
change his clothes. Its commencement was
trifling. On the 10th, he was taken ill; his
Doctors urged him to be bled, but this was one
of his greatest prejudices, — ^he abhorred bleed-
ing. Medicine was not efficient; the fever gained
rapid ground, and on the third day the blood
shewed a tendency to mount to his head: he
then submitted to bleeding, but it proved too
late ; it had already affected his brain, and this
caused his death. Had he submitted to bleeding
on its first appearance, he would have assuredly
recovered in a few days.
" On opening him, a great quantity of blood
was found in the head and brain : the latter,
his brain, the Doctor says, was a third greater
in quantity than is usually found, weighing four
pounds. His heart is likewise strikingly large,
but performed its functions feebly, and was very
exhausted ; his liver much too small, which
was the reason of that deficiency of bile, which
necessitated Jiim to continually stimulate his
stomach by medicine. His body was in a perfect
state of health and soundness. They say his
only malady was a strong tendency of the blood
to mount to the head, and weakness of the
vessels there; that he could not, for this reason.
44
POETRY AND POETS.
have lived more than six or seven years more.
I do not exactly understand this ; but the Doctor
is going to write me a medical account of his
illness, death, and state of his body.
" His remains are preparing to send by way
of Zante to England, he having left no directions
on this head. I shall ever regret I was not with
him when he gave up his mortality.
" Your pardon, Stanhope, that I have turned
aside from the great cause in which I am em-
barked ; but this is no private grief; the world
has lost its greatest man, I my best friend,
and that must be my excuse for having filled a
letter with this one subject. To-morrow, (for
Mavrocordato has delayed my courier till his
letters are ready,) I will return to duty.
" Yours, very sincerely,
" Edward Trelawny."
robert burns.
If there could be any doubt as to the disgrace
which attaches to the gentlemen of Scotland,
for suffering a man of Bui-ns's talents to de-
scend to the station of an ordinary exciseman,
to toil for his daily bread, there can be none
whatever as to the everlasting shame which they
POETRY AND POETS. 45
incurred by allowing him to remain for years
in that degraded rank.
When Burns at first applied for a contingent
appointment in this service, intending to hold it
as something in reserve against the worst that
might befal him, he suppressed the feelings
with which it was impossible for a man of his
noble and aspiring soul not to regard it; but
when necessity had at last thrust the situation
upon him, and when he had seen years pass
away Avithout any generous offer to raise him
above it, he scrupled not to avow how much he
felt it had degraded him. In a letter written
to Mr. Grahame, of Fintry, to vindicate himself
from some injurious representations which had
been made to the Board of Excise, respecting
his conduct, he has the following eloquent
passage :
" Often in blasting anticipation have I listened
to some future hackney scribbler, with heavy
malice of savage stupidity, exultingly asserting
that Burns, notwithstanding the fanfaronade of
independence to be found in his works, and
after having been held up to public view, and
to pubHc estimation, as a man of some genius,
yet quite destitute of resources within himself
46
POETRY AND POETS.
to support his borrowed dignity, dwindled into
a iKiUry exciseman, and slunk out the rest of his
insignificant existence 171 the meanest of jmrsuits
and among the lowest of mankind.
" In your illustrious hands. Sir, permit me to
lodge my strOng disavowal and defiance of such
slanderous falsehoods. Burns was a poor man
from his birth, and an exciseman by necessity ;
but I will say it, the sterling of his honest worth,
poverty could not debase, and his independent
British spirit, oppression might bend, but could
not subdue."
It has been said, and too often repeated, that
Burns, during his latter years, nay, from the
very moment of entering into society, gave him-
self up to habits of intemperance, and died its
victim. How little to be envied are the feelings
of those who can take pleasure in drawing aside
the veil from the social follies or weaknesses of
such a man as Burns ! Were the fact even as
represented, does it become that country which
so cruelly neglected him, to speak with severity
of any alleviation which his wounded spirit
may have sought from the state of humiliation
and misery to which he was ungenerously con-
signed.^ Does it become those who imposed
POETRY AND POETS. 47
upon him one of " the meanest pursuits," and
an association with the " lowest of mankind/' to
talk of the excesses to which he may have fled,
to lull for the moment the revolting sense of his
deeradation ? — But the fact has been mis-stated.
Burns was never the dissolute man that he has
been represented : he mingled much in society,
because it was the only sphere in which he could
gratify that strong, and certainly not injurious,
passion which he possessed, for observing the
ways and manners of men; and because the
active indulgence of this passion was the only
chance which he had of escape from that con-
stitutional melancholy which never ceased to
pursue him. He was fond too, most enthusias-
tically fond, of the social hour which was spent
in communion Avith men of souls congenial to
his own ; and when seated with such over the
flowing bowl, it is not to be wondered that he
was sometimes slow to rise : yet whatever might
be the social pleasures of Burns, he was never
the man to sacrifice to them either his business,
his independence, or his self-respect. The su-
pervisors of his conduct as as an officer, testify
that he performed all the duties of his office
with exemplary regularity. The state of his
48 POETRY AND POETS.
affairs at his death shew that^ small as his in-
come was, he kept rigidly within it; and his
most intimate associates allow that, however
freely he may have partaken in company, he
never sunk into habits of solitary indulgence.
It is not possible, either morally or physically,
that the man who was thus regular, thus eco-
nomical, thus privately abstinent, could have
been the habitual slave of intemperance, which
some writers would have us believe: that his
constitution, naturally delicate, may have been
unequal to the limited indulgences which he
permitted himself, and that his death may have
been hastened by them, is but too likely. But
how much does it not add to his country's shame,
that, possessing a man of genius, whose loss they
could never repair, who could only have lived
long by living with exceeding temperance, that
he was not placed in a situation of life, where
the comforts of life, the refinements of elegant
society, and pursuits of a literary nature, might
have removed every temptation to live otherwise
than the good of his health demanded. Burns,
as he tells us, lived on " for the heart of the man
and the fancy of the poet :" — he could not exist
without a plenitude of emotions, and it was not
POETRY AND POETS. 49
his fault that he was forced to seek them where
alone he could find them.
The fate of Burns may excite compassion;
but to a person who has at all mingled with that
elevated class to whom he looked for patronage,
it can excite no surprise. Was it at all likely
that a man would be encouraged by his superiors
in wealth, who had the honesty to tell them that
he was bred to the plough, and whether they
chose to patronize him or not, he was inde-
pendent of them? He was too much in the
habit of calling things by their right names, to
bask long in the smiles of the rich and powerful.
Burns knew the secret of winding himself into
the favour of the great, as well as any man, but
he both contemned and abhorred it. He knew
that to flatter their vices, to laugh at their po-
litical prostitutions, and, in short, to strive to
make them think most favourably of themselves,
was his path to temporal comfort and substantial
patronage. Honesty and fair fame lay in quite
a different road; and he unhesitatingly chose
it, beset as it was with difficulties and terrors.
It certainly is highly creditable to the Nobles
and Sages of the "Modern Athens," that now the
Jiard is (juietly entombed, and can ask nothing
50
POETRY AND POETS.
further at their hands^ these worthies are putting
statues up to him as if they thought his poetry
would not be so lasting as their memorials, or
as if they imagined this tardy recognition of
his wondrous powers was an " amefide honorable"
for the neglect and contempt to which he was
consigned while living. The sculptor who gains
by their generosity, and the menials who may
be employed to keep them clean, may thank
them for erecting these monuments ; but the
majority of Burns's countrymen will not. His
poetry lives in their hearts — will live as long as
time itself shall last; and ages hence, Scotia
will rejoice in the poetic glory of her honest and
highly-gifted Ploughman, as universally as she
does at the present moment.
POETRY AND POETS. 51
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
It is related of Sir Walter Scott, that, not
long before his " Lay of the Last jMinstrel"
made its appearance, while crossing the Frith of
Forth in a ferry-boat, with a friend, they pro-
posed to beguile the time, by writing a number
of verses on a given subject ; and at the end of
an hour's poring and hard study, the product
of Sir Walter's (then jMr. Scott) fertile brain,
adding thereto the labours of his friend, was
six lines. " It is plain," said Scott, to his fellow-
labourer, then unconscious of his great powers,
" that you and I need never think of getting
our living by writing poetry."
HENRY TEONGE.
Ajiong our English Song-writers, we must
not forget to notice the name of this jolly Divine,
which, although of some antiquity, has never
been inscribed upon the list until the com-
mencement of the present year, when the pub-
lication of his " Diary" first made his pretensions
known to the world. The character of our
worthy Chaplain may easily be collected from
this publication — the only memorial of him
VOL. in. E
52 POETRY AND POETS.
which remains, and which is well worthy of
the attentive perusal of those who delight to
contemplate the manners of the " olden time,"
of which, especially as relates to " life at sea," it
presents a striking picture.
Writing as he did, without any sort of
disguise, he exhibits himself, not, indeed, as
possessing any very constant sense of religious
obligation, but, considering the laxity of the
morals of the period in which he lived, and the
society in which he moved, as affording a very
respectable specimen of a sea-chaplain of that
era. — He enjoys his punch and his claret, and
he revels in the most luxurious description of
the good cheer by which he was occasionally
surrounded ; but he appears to have been con-
stant in the observance of the offices of his
calling. His mind appears to have been re-
markably acute and vigorous. He diligently
observes whatever is new and curious, and
brings to the subject a considerable share of
■ book-learning, sometimes, indeed, inaccurate
and ill-digested, and frequently mixed up with
a very singular portion of superstition, but
altogether affording abundant evidence of his
talents and acquirements.
POETRY AND POETS.
53
His poetical compositions are often very far
above those of " the mob of gentlemen who write
with ease;" and some of his ballads, making
allowance for the bad taste of his age, — the
Chlorises and the Amyntas, the Phyllises and
the Amaryllises, are in some respects worthy of
taking their place amongst the standard com-
positions of this description.
In support of this observation, we need only
adduce the following specimen, the beautv and
feeling of which, our readers cannot fail justly
to appreciate.
" A SONNET,
Composed October the First, over against the East Part
of Candia.
O ! Ginnee was a bony lasse,
Wliich maks the world to woontler
How ever it should com to passe
That wee did part a sunder.
The driven snow, the rose so rare,
The glorious sunn above thee.
Can not witli my Ginnee compare,
Shee was so woonderous lovely.
Her merry lookes, her forhead high,
Her hayre like golden-wyer,
Her hand and foote, her lipe or eye,
Would set a saint on fyre.
54 POETRY AND POETS.
And for to give Ginnee her due,
Thers no ill part about her ;
The turtle-dove 's not halfe so true :
Then whoe can live without her ?
King Solomon, where ere he lay.
Did nere imbrace a kinder :
O ! why should Ginnee gang a way.
And I be left behind her ?
Then will I search each place and roome
From London to Virginny,
From Dover-peere to Scanderoone,
But I will finde my Ginny.
But Ginny's turned back I feare,
Wheu that I did not mind her ;
Then back to England will I steare,
To see where I can find her.
And haveing Ginnee once againe.
If shee'l dee her indeavour,
The world shall never make us twaine —
Weel live and dye together."
GOLDSMITH.
The frequency with which Islington is men-
tioned in Goldsmith's writings, has been consi-
dered worthy of remark. To this village, it
appears, he was very partial ; and there he spent
much of his time ; and there, at one period, he
POETRY AND POETS. 55
occupied apartments. It was his custom occa-
sionally to enjoy what he called a shoemaker's
holiday, which was a day of great festivity with
the Doctor, and was spent in the following in-
nocent manner.
Three or four of his intimate friends rendez-
voused at his chambers to breakfast, at about ten
o'clock in the morning: at eleven, they proceeded
by the City Road, and through the fields, to
Highbury Barn, to dinner : at about six o'clock
in the evening, they adjourned to " White-Con-
duit House," to drink tea; and concluded the
evening by supping at the " Grecian," or
" Temple," Coffee-Houses, or at " The Globe,"
in Fleet Street.
There was a very good ordinary, of two dishes
and pastry, kept at Highbury Barn, at this
time, (about fifty years ago,) at ten-pence per
head, including a penny to the waiter ; and the
company generally consisted of literary cha-
racters, a few Templars, and some citizens who
had left off trade. The whole expenses of this
day's fete never exceeded a crown, and oftener
from 3.V. 6d. to 4s., for which the party obtained
good air and exercise, good living, the example
of simple manners, and good conversation.
56
POETRY AND POETS.
THE REV. GEORGE CRABBE, AND THE HON.
EDMUND BURKE.
To Mr. Burke, Mr. Crabbe, when a young
man, — with timidity, indeed, but with the strong
and buoyant expectation of inexperience, — sub-
mitted a large qviantity of miscellaneous com-
positions, on a variety of subjects, which he
was soon taught to appreciate at their proper
value ; yet, such was the feeling and tenderness
of his judge, that, in the very act of condemna-
tion, something was found to praise. Mr. Crabbe
had sometimes the satisfaction of hearing, when
the verses were bad, that the thoughts deserved
better, and that, if he had the common faults of
inexperienced writers, he frequently had the
merit of thinking for himself. Among the
number of those compositions, were poems of
somewhat a superior cast. " The Library," and
" The Village," were selected by Mr. Burke ;
and benefited by his judgment and penetra-
tion, and comforted by his encouraging pre-
dictions, Mr. Crabbe was enjoined to learn
the duty of sitting in judgment upon his best
efforts, and without mercy to reject the rest.
When all was done that his abilities permitted.
POETRY AND POETS. 57
and when Mr. Burke had patiently waited the
progress of improvement in the individual whom
he conceived to be capable of it, he took " The
Library" himself to Dodsley, the Bookseller,
and gave to many lines the advantage of his
own reading and comments. IMr. Dodsley
listened with all that respect due to the highly-
gifted reader, and all that apparent desire to
be pleased with the poem, that would be grate-
ful to the feelings of the writer ; and Dodsley
was as obliging also in his reply as, in the
true nature of things, a bookseUer can be sup-
posed to be towards a young adventurer for
poetical reputation. " He had declined the
venturing upon any thing himself: — there was
no judging of the probability of success: — the
taste of the town was very capricious and un-
certain : — he paid the greatest respect to JMr.
Burke's opinion ; the verses were good, and he
did, in part, think so himself; but he declined
the hazard of publication : yet he would do all
he could for IMr. Crabbe, and take care that his
poem should have all the benefit which he could
give it."
The worthy Bookseller was mindful of his en-
gagement ; he became even solicitous for the sue-
58 POETRY AND POETS.
ess of the work j and its speedy circulation was, no
doubt, in some degree expedited by his exertions.
This, and more than this, he did : although by
no means insensible to the value of money, he
gave to the Author his profits as a publisher
and vendor of the pamphlet ; and Mr. Crabbe
has taken every opportunity that has at any
time presented itself, to make acknowledgment
for such disinterested conduct, at a period when
it was more particularly beneficial and ac-
ceptable. The success which attended " The
Library," procured for its author some share of
notice, and which occasioned the publication of
his second poem, " The Village;" a considerable
portion of which was written, and the whole
corrected, in the house of his excellent and
faithful friend and patron, whose activity and
energy of intellect would not permit a young
man, under his tried guardianship and protection,
to cease from labour, and whose correct judgment
directed that labour to its most useful attain-
ments.
The exertions of Burke in favour of a young
author, were not confined to one mode of af-
fording assistance. IMr. Crabbe was encouraged
to lay open his views, past and present, to dis-
POETRY AND POETS.
59
play whatever reading and acquirements he
possessed ; to explain the causes of his disap-
pointments, and the cloudiness of his prospects :
in short, nothing was concealed from a protector
so able to shield inexperience from error, and
so willing to pardon inadvertency.
He was invited to the seat of his friend,
at Beaconsfield, and was there placed in a
convenient apartment, supplied with books
for his information and amusement, and made a
member of a family, with whom it was honour
as well as pleasure to be associated. If ^Ir.
Crabbe, noticed by so great a man, and received
into such a home, should have given way to
some emotions of vanity, and should have sup-
posed there must have been merit on one part,
as well as benevolence on the other, he has no
slight plea to offer for his frailty, especially as,
we conceive, it may be added, that his vanity
never at any time extinguished any portion of
his gratitude, and that it has been ever his de-
light to think, as well as his pride to speak, of
Mr. Burke as a father, friend, and guide; nor
did that gentleman ever disallow the name to
which his conduct gave sanction and propriety.
fiO POETRY AND POETS.
ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST'S DAY.
The morning of this day is still regarded, in
many parts of Europe, in something like the
same light with our own Allhallows Eve, the
Scottish observances and superstitions connec-
ted with which have been so beautifully treated
by Burns in his Halloween.
This holiday, in olden time, was equally re-
verenced by the Christian and the Moorish in-
habitants of Andalusia ; and such of our readers
as are acquainted with the ballad of the Admiral
Guarinos, (which Cervantes has introduced Don
Quixote as hearing sung by a peasant going to
his work at daybreak) will recollect the mention
that is made of it there.
" Three days alone they bring him forth a spectacle to be
The feast of Pasch and the great day of the Nativity ;
And on that morn more solemn yet when the maidens strip
the bowers,
And gladden mosque and minaret with the first fruits of
the flowers."
The following is a very literal version of the
ballad, which has been, for many centuries, sung
by the maidens on the banks of the Guadalqui-
POETRY AND POETS. 61
vir, in Spain, when they go forth to gather
flowers, on the morning of the Day of John the
Baptist : —
" Come forth, come forth, my maidens, 'tis the day of good
St. John,
It is the Baptist's morning that breaks the hills upon ;
And let us go forth together, while the blessed day is
new.
To dress with flowers the snow-white wether, ere the sun
has dried the dew.
Come forth, come forth, &c.
Come forth, come forth, my maidens, the hedgerows all
are green ,
And the little birds are singing the opening leaves be-
tween ;
And let us all go forth together, to gather trefoil by the
stream.
Ere the face of Guadalquivir glows beneath the strengthen-
ing beam.
Come forth, come forth, &c.
Come forth, come forth, my maidens, and slumber not
away
The blessed blessed morning of John the Baptist's day ;
There's trefoil on the meadow, and lilies on the lee,
And hawthorn blossom on the bush, which you must
pluck with me.
Come forth, come forth, &c.
62 POETRY AND POETS.
Come forth, come forth, my maidens, the air is calm aud
cool.
And the violet blue far down ye'll view, reflected in the
pool ;
And the violets and the roses, and the jasmines all toge-
ther,
We'll bind in garlands on the brow of the strong and
lovely wether.
Come forth, come forth, &c.
Come forth, come forth, my maidens, we'll gather myrtle
boughs,
And we all shall learn, from the dews of the fern, if our
lads will keep their vows :
If the wether be still, as we dance on the hill, and the
Baptist's blessing is ours.
Come forth, come forth, my maidens, 'tis the day of good
St. John,
It is the Baptist's morning that breaks the hills upon ;
And let us all go forth together, while the blessed day is
new.
To dress with flowers the snow-white wether, ere the sun
has dried the dew."
PETRARCH.
Petrarch had long wished to climb the sum-
mit of Mount Venoux, a mountain presenting a
wider range of prospect than among the Alps or
POETRY AND POETS. 63
Pyrenees. With much difficulty he ascended.
Arrived at its summit, the scene presented to
his sight was unequalled !— After taking a long
view of the various objects which lay stretched
below, he took from his pocket a volume of
" St. Augustine's Confessions ;" and opening the
leaves at random, the first period that caught
his eye was the following passage : — " Men tra-
vel far to climb high mountains, to observe the
majesty of the ocean, to trace the source of
rivers — ^but — they neglect themselves." Admi-
rable reasoning ! conveying as admirable a les-
son ! Instantly applying the passage to him-
self, Petrarch closed the book, and falling into
profound meditation, — " If," thought he, " I
have undergone so much labour in climbing the
mountain, that my body might be the nearer
to heaven, what ought I not to do, in order
that my soul may be received in those immortal
regions."
BEN JONSON'S sacred POETRY.
This admirable dramatist, amid the varied
stores of his literary acquisitions (in which he
was inferior to none, even in his learned age),
did not entirely neglect the cultivation of the
64 POETRY AND POETS.
Sacred Muse. Three of his pieces are distin-
guished in his works by the title of " Poems of
Devotion;" they exhibit, however, but few
traces of that vigorous genius which so pre-
eminently characterizes his Plays, and of that
ease and elegance which many of his Songs and
Lyrical effusions display in as high a degree as
any that are to be found in our language. Pure
strength of thought, clothed in simple but
powerful language, and adorned with an unam-
bitious rhyme, form the distinguishing features
of most of the compositions of this learned
writer.
The following specimen is by no means cal-
culated to give that high opinion of his ta-
lents and judgment with which the reader of
his other works cannot fail to be impressed ; it
is more in the manner of Donne (with whom he
was on terms of the closest intimacy), and ap-
pears not to have been intended for publication.
AN HYMN ON THE NATIVITY OF MY SAVIOUR.
I sing the birth was born to-night,
' The Author both of life and light ;
The Angels so did sound it,
And like theravish'd Shepherds said,
Who saw the light and were afraid.
Yet search'd, and true they found it.
POETRY AND POETS. 65
The Son of God, th' Eternal King,
That did us all salvation bring,
And freed the soul from danger ;
He whom the whole world could not take,
The Word, which Heaven and Earth did make.
Was now laid in a manger.
The Father's wisdom will'd it so,
Tlie Son's obedience knew no no,
Both wills were in one stature ;
But as that Wisdom had decreed.
The Word was now made Flesh indeed.
And took on him our Nature.
What comfort by him do we win.
Who made himself the price of sin,
To make us heirs of glory !
To see this Babe, all innocence,
A Martyr born in our defence ;
Can iNIan forget this story ?
PASTORAL POETRY.
{From the " PItUosophrj of Nature")
Theqcritus, the father of pastoral poetry,
was born in a country abounding in every
species of landscape, and ble.st with the most
fortunate climate for the practice of the poet's
precepts. This Poet was as much superior to
Virgil in beauty, in originality of thought, as
66 POETRY AND POETS.
Virgil is superior to the numerous host of his
literal imitators. The "Aminta" of Tasso is
the most elegant pastoral drama* in any lan-
guage, and, with Guarini's " Pastor Fido," and
Bonarelli's " Filli de Sciro," was frequently re-
presented by the Italian nobility in gardens and
groves, having no other scenery than what the
places in which they were represented naturally
afforded.
Among the British, pastoral has attained lit-
tle of excellence, since the days of Spenser,
Drayton, and Browne. Affectation has long
been substituted for passion, and delicacy and
elegance for that exquisite simplicity of lan-
guage and sentiments, which constitutes the
principal charm of this delightful species of
poetry. Phillips is but an awkward appro-
priator of Virgil's imagery, and an unsuccessful
* Surely, Rapin becomes fanciful, when he .endeavours
to trace the orif,'in of the pastoral drama to the " Cy-
clops" of Euripides.
When Tasso read " II Pastor Fido," he exclaimed,
" Had Guarini never seen the ' Amynta,' he had never
excelled it." — A noble instance of modesty and confix
dence.
POETRY AND POETS. C7
imitator of Spenser's phraseology. As a pas-
toral, Milton's " Lycidas," notwithstanding the
applause which has been heaped upon it, is
frigid and pedantic, while his " Epitaphium
Damonis," boasting many agreeable passages,
merely denotes the elegance of an accomplished
scholar. Pope is too refined, his versification is
too measured, and his ideas are little more than
derivations from the more polished and courtly
passages of his INIantuan and Sicilian masters.
He addresses the genius of the Thames, rather
than of the Avon, and adapts his sentiments
more to the meridian of Hagley and Stowe, than
to the meadows of Gloucestershire or the Vales
of Devon.
The " Gentle Shepherd " of Fletcher, may be
placed in competition with its prototype Gua-
rini ; and the pastoral songs of Burns, and other
Scottish poets, are equal, if not superior, to those
of any other age or nation. But of all the wri-
ters of pastoral poetry, ancient or modern, none
excel, or even equal, the mild, the gentle, the
captivating Gessner ; whose simplicity and ten-
jlemess have power to animate the bosom of
age, and to refine the passions of the young.
VOL III. p
68 POETRY AND POETS.
Superior to the rural poets of France and Spain,
of England, Scotland, and Italy,
** Kind Nature owii'd him for her favouiite son."
His " Death of Abel," is worthy of the pen of
Moses ; his " First Navigator" combines all the
fancy of the Poet with the primeval simplicity
of the Patriarch ; and his Idylls are captivating
to all but the ignorant, the pedant, and the sen-
sualist.
" Nothing," says a celebrated traveller,
delights me so much, as the inside of a Swiss
cottage; all those I have visited, convey the
liveliest images of cleanliness, ease, and sim-
plicity, and cannot but strongly impress on the
observer, a most pleasing conviction of the pea-
sant's happiness." With such models constantly
before him, it is no subject for astonishment,
that Gessner should be capable of painting
such exquisite companion pieces, as his " Idylls"
and " Pastorals." — But for a man, bred in the
school of dullness, as a country town invariably
is, associating with players, and reading, for the
principal part of his life, in all the dust and poi-
son of a city, how much is our wonder and ad-
POETRY AND POETS. 69
miration excited, when we read the delightful
delineations of pastoral manners, as they are
drawn in several dramas of that grand creator
of words, and delineator of passion, Shakspeare.
That a master, so skilled in the minute anatomy
of the heart, should be capable of divesting him-
self of all those metropolitan associations, and
sound " wood-notes wild," worthy of the reed
of Tasso, is, of itself, a singular phenomenon.
Who can read the following song without fan-
cying himself surrounded by a group of pasto-
ral innocents, Avith Perdita singing in the midst
of them ?
" Come, come, my good shepherds, our flocks we must
shear ;
In your holiday suits, with your lasses appear :
The happiest of folks arc the guileless and free.
And who are so guileless, aud happy, as we ?
That giant Ambition we never can dread ;
Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head ;
Content and sweet cheerfulness open our door.
They smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.
When love has possess'd us, that love we reveal ;
Like the flocks that we feed, or the passions we feel ;
So harmless, so simple, we sport and we play.
And leave to fine folks, to deceive and betray."
70 POETRY AND POETS.
BOILEAU'S VILLA AT AUTEUIL.
One of the most celebrated villages in the
environs of Paris is Auteuil, situated at the
entrance of the Bois de Boulogne : owing to the
pleasant situation of this place and its vicinity
to the capital, to the Bois de Boulogne, and to
the high road from Paris to Versailles and St.
Cloud, many villages have, from time to time,
been erected there. Some of these houses have
been inhabited by celebrated persons, such as
Boileau, Moliere, La Chapelle, Franklin, Con-
dorcet, Helvetius, and Rousseau.
The most remarkable of these villas is that
where Boileau resided, which is still to be seen
near the church in the road to St. Cloud. Here
the legislator of the French Parnassus com-
monly passed the summer, and took delight in
assembling under his roof the most celebrated
geniuses of his age — especially La Chapelle,
Racine, Moliere, and La Fontaine. When he
invited these writers to dine with him, litera-
ture furnished the chief topic of conversation.
Chapellain's " Pucelle " commonly lay upon the
table, and whoever made a gi-ammatical error in
speaking, was obliged, by way of punishment,
to read a passage from that work. Racine the
POETRY AXD POETS. jl
younger gives the following account of a droll
circumstance, Avhich occurred at a supper at
Auteuil, with the above - mentioned literati :
— " At this supper, at which my father was not
present, the sage Boileau was no more master
of himself than any of his guests. After the
wine had led them into the gravest train of mo-
ralizing, they agreed that life was but a state
of misery ; that the greatest happiness con-
sisted in having never been born, and the next
greatest in an early death ; and finally, they
formed the romantic resolution of throwing
themselves, without loss of time, into the river.
Accordingly, the river not being far distant,
they actually went thither, ^foliere, however,
remarked that ' such a noble and heroic action
ought not to be buried in the obscurity of night ;
but was worthy to be performed in the open
day.' This observation produced a pause ; they
looked on each other, and said ' he is right.' —
' Gentlemen,' said Chapelle, ' we had better wait
till the morning to throw ourselves into the wa-
ter, and, meanwhile, we will return home to
finish our wine.' This anecdote has been brought
upon the stage, by Andrieux, in a piece entitled
' IVIoliere and his friends at the supper at Au-
teuil.'"
72 POETRY AND POETS.
One of Boileau's favourite amusements at
Auteuil was^ playing at skittles. " This game/'
says the younger Racine, " he plays with an
extraordinary skill. I have repeatedly seen
hira knock down all the nine pins at a single
throw." " It cannot be denied," said Boileau,
(speaking of himself,) " that I possess two dis-
tinguished talents, both equally useful to man-
kind — the one, that I can play well at skittles;
the other, that I can write good verses."
Boileau was advanced in years when he found
himself necessitated to sell his villa at Auteuil,
a circumstance which not a little tended to em-
bitter the remaining part of his life. " You
shall be as much at home as ever in your own
villa," said Monsieur Le Verier, who purchased
it of him; " and I beg that you will retain an
apartment, and come very often to stay in it."
Boileau, a few days after, really went to this
residence, walked about the garden, and missed
an arbour which had afforded the most pleasing
associations. " What is become of my arbour.^"
exclaimed the indignant bard, to Antoine, the
gardener, whom he has celebrated in his Epistles.
" Mons. Le Verier ordered it to be cut down,"
replied Antoine. " What have I to do here .^"— ■
POETRY AND POETS. 73
continued Boileau, — " here! where I am no
longer master ?" He mounted into his carriage,
and quickly returned to Paris, and never after-
wards beheld his Tivoli.
Gendron, the celebrated physician, in the
sequel became the proprietor of Boileau's villa.
Voltaire, when he paid him his first visit there,
complimented him in the following clever im-
promptu ;
" C'est ici le vrai Parnasse
Des vrais enfans d'ApoUon;
Sous le nom de Boileau ces lieux virent Horace,
Esculape y paroit sous celui de Genuron."
KORNER.
Charles Theodore Korner, the celebrated
young German Poet and Soldier, was killed in
a skirmish with a detachment of French troops,
on the 26th August, 1813, a few hours after the
composition of his popular piece, " The Sword
Song." This he composed during the halt of
his regiment, in a forest not far from Rosenberg.
In the glimmering dawn of the morning of the
26th, he noted it down in his pocket-book, and
was reading it out to a friend, when the signal
for the onset was given.
The engagement took place on the road which
74 POETRY AND POETS.
leads from Gadebusch to Schwerin : the enemy
were more numerous than had been expected,
but fled, after a short resistance, over a narrow
plain into a neighbouring thicket. Among those
who were most active in the pursuit was Korner,
and there he met that glorious death which he
had often anticipated in his poems with so much
animation. The Sharp-shooters, who had formed
an ambush in the under-wood, poured from
thence a heavy shower of balls upon the Cavalry
who were inpursuit. One of these, after passing
through his horse's neck, hit Korner in the belly,
traversed his liver and spine, and deprived him,
at once, of speech and consciousness. He fell,
and his companions in arms carefully raised
him from the ground : his features remained
unaltered, and exhibited no traces of any painful
sensation. Nothing was omitted which could
possibly have tended to restore him ; but all was
in vain.
He was buried at the village of Wobbelin, in
Mecklenburgh, under a beautiful oak, in a recess
of which he had frequently deposited verses,
composed by him while campaigning in its
vicinity. The monument, erected to his me-
mory beneath this tree, is of cast-iron, and the
upper part is wrought into a Sword and Lyre, a
POETRY AND POETS. 75
favourite emblem of Korner's, from which one
of his works had been entitled. Near the grave
of the Poet is that of his only sister, who died
of grief for his loss, having only survived him
long enough to complete his portrait, and a
drawing of his burial-place. Over the gate ot
the cemetery is engraved one of his own lines :
" Versiss die treuen Todten nicht ;" — Forget not
the faithful dead.
THE GRAVE OF KiiRNER. {By Mrs. HemaHS.)
" Green wave the Oak for ever o'er thy rest !
Thou that beneath its crowning foliage sleepest,
And, in the stillness of thy Country's breast.
Thy place of memory, as an altar, keepest !
Brightly thy spirit o'er her hills was pour'd.
Thou of thfe Lyre and Sword !
Rest, Bard ! rest, Soldier I — By the father's hand.
Here shall the child of after-years be led,
With his wreath-offering silently to stand
In the hiLsh'd presence of the glorious dead.
Soldier and Bard I — For thou tliy i)iitli hast trod
With Freedom and with God 1 *
* The Poems of Korner, which were chiefly devoted to
the cause of his country, are strikingly distinguished by
religious feeling, and a confidence in the Supreme Justice,
for the final deliverance of Germany.
76 POETRY AND POETS.
The Oak wav'd proudly o'er thy burial-rite ;
On thy crown'd bier to slumber, warriors bore thee,
And with true hearts thy brethren of the fight
Wept as they vail'd their drooping banners o'er thee ;
And the deep guns with rolling peals gave token.
That Lyre and Sword were broken '.
Thou hast a hero's tomb !— A lowlier bed
Is hers, the gentle girl, beside thee lying.
The gentle girl, that bow'd her fair young head,
When thou wert gone, in silent sorrow dying.
Brother I true friend 1 the tender and the brave '.
She pin'd to share thy grave.
Fame was thy gift from others— but for her
To whom the wide earth held that only spot —
— She lov'd thee ! lovely in your lives ye were,
And in your early deaths divided not !
Thou hast thine Oak — thy trophy— what hath she ?
Her own blest place — by thee.
It was thy spirit. Brother ! which had made
The bright world glorious to her thoughtful eye.
Since first, in childhood, 'midst the vines ye play'd,
And sent glad singing through the free blue sky !
Ye were but two ! — and when that spirit pass'd.
Woe for the one, the last I
Woe, yet not long !— She linger'd but to trace
Thine image from the image in her breast j
POETRY AND POETS. 77
Once, once again to see that buried face
But smile upon her ere she went to rest !
Too sad a smile ! — its living light was o'er,
It answer'd hers no more !
The Earth grew silent when thy voice departed,
Tlie Home too lonely whence thy step had fled ;
^\Tiat then was left for her, the faithful-hearted ?
Death, death, to still the yearning for the dead!
Softly she perish'd — he the Flow'r deplor'd,
Here, with the Lyre and Sword '.
Have ye not met ere now ? — So let those trust,
That meet for moments but to part for years,
That weep, watch, pray, to hold back dust from dust,
That love, where love is but a fount of tears!
Brother 1 sweet Sister ! — peace around ye dwell !
Lyre, Sword, and Flower, farewell!"
POEMS OF MADAME DE SURVILLE.
In 1804, a small volume was published at
Paris, with the following title : " Poesies de
Marguerite-Eleonore Clotilde de Vallon-Chalys,
depuis IMadame de Surville, poete Fran9ais du
XV. siecle, publiees par Ch. Vanderbourg." In
the preface to this little work there is some ac-
count given of the way in which these poems
were discovered, and also of the author of them.
In the year 1782, a M. de Surville, a de-
78 POETRY AND POETS.
scendant of this poetess, in searching among the
neglected archives of his family, discovered
some IMS. poems, the beauty and excellence of
which excited his astonishment and admiration.
He applied himself diligently to the study of
decyphering the hand-writing, and, with con-
siderable trouble, he succeeded in transcribing
the greater part of the MSS. M. de Surville
was driven from France by the Revolution, and
the originals of the poems were unfortunately
consumed by fire. M. de Surville did not live
to present to the public the monuments of his
ancestor's genius^ which had been preserved in
his transcription; but in a letter to his wife,
written shortly before his execution in the
revolutionary tumults of the 7th year of the
Republic, he says, " I beseech you to commu-
nicate these poems to some one who is capable
of appreciating them. Do not suffer the fruit
of my researches to be lost to posterity, espe-
cially for the honour of my family, of which my
brother is now the sole representative."
Of the existence even of M. de Surville, we
know not whether we ought to doubt, though
an accurate memoir is given of him, and an
anecdote related of a duel between him and the
POETRY AND POETS. 7^
commander of an English vessel, of the name
of IMiddleton, respecting the relative merits of
the two nations. The editor of the poems in-
forms us, that, in the year 1794, (but by what
means he does not tell us,) he was favoured
with a sight of M. de Surville's copy, and that
afterwards, on his return to France from abroad,
he succeeded, with much difficulty, in discover-
ing it. But besides these poems, some JMSS. of
M. de Surville fell into his hands, containing
accounts of several poetesses in the age of the
Troubadours, and also a memoir of the writer
of these singular poems, of which, as it is rather
an interesting piece of biography, we shall give
a slight sketch.
Marguerite- Eleonore Clotilde de Vallon-
Chalys, afterwards iMadame de Surville, was
bom in a beautiful chateau, on the left bank of
the Ardeche, about the year 1405. Her mother,
Pulcherie de Fay-Collan, passed some years in
Paris, where she acquired a taste for literature,
and learned to write a beautiful hand — no mean
accomplishment at that day. She was invited by
Agnes of Navarre, the wife of Gaston-Phebus,
Count de Foix, to the Court of that Prince,
which was enriched by a valuable library, not
O" I'OETRY AND POETS.
only of classical MSS., but also of such of the
Italian and French writers as were then extant.
Under the direction of Froissard, and by the
desire of the Countess, Pulcherie copied some
of the works of the Trouveurs, and more espe-
cially of those poetesses who, after Heloise de
Fulbert, had cultivated the French, or romance
language.
This valuable collection, both of ancient and
modern poetry, on the death of her benefactress,
Pulcherie was allowed by the Count to carry
away with her. Peculiar misfortunes separated
Madame de Vallon, for some time, from her
husband and her sons; and on her return to
Vallon, her great consolation was in the educa-
tion of her daughter Clotilde. The talents of
this child were very precocious. At eleven
years of age, she translated into French verse
one of the Odes of Petrarch, with considerable
ability. Many circumstances concurred to de-
velope the genius of Clotilde. A strict friend-
ship existed between her and some other young
females, which was strengthened by the ties of
similar tastes and occupations.
In the year 1421, not long after the death of
her mother, Clotilde became attached to Berenger
POETRY AND POETS. 81
de Surville, and they were soon afterwards mar-
ried. Immediately after that event had taken
place, M. de Surville was called on to join the
standard of Charles VII., then Dauphin; and it
was on this occasion, probably, that the beautiful
verses which we shall shortly transcribe, may
be presumed to have been written ; and at this
time, also, the " Heroide a son espoulx Berenger"
was composed, which, it is said, was seen, though
not admired, by Alain Chartier. The life of
Berenger de Surville was not long — he perished
the victim of his own valour, in a dangerous
expedition which he undertook during the siege
of Orleans, leaving only one son by his wife.
Madame de Surville now devoted herself more
assiduously to her poetical labours; and she
gained considerable notice by some severe at-
tacks on Alain Chartier, between whom and
herself there existed much animosity. After
the death of her daughter-in-law, Heloise de
Vergy, who died in 1468, Madame de Surville
found her only consolation in the society of her
grand-daughter Camilla, upon whose death, she
once more visited the place of her birth. In
this retreat, she appears to have passed the re-
mainder of her life, writing, in her extreme age.
82 POETRY AND POETS.
verses which would have done honour to the
freshest mind at a much more favourable period.
The precise time of her death is not known; but
she lived and composed to her ninetieth year.
The poems which are contained in this little
volume, are principally poems of sentiment and
satire ; but as the latter must necessarily have
lost much of the poignancy, which is their chief
merit, we shall confine ourselves to a single
extract from those of the former description ;
the beauty of which, amply compensates for its
length.
" VERSES TO MY FIRST-BORN.
My cherish'd infant ! image of thy sire !
Sleep on the bosom which thy small lip i)resses ;
"Sleep, little one, and close those eyes of fire,
Those eyelets which the weight of sleep oppresses.
Sweet friend ! dear little one ! may slumber lend thee
Delights which I must never more enjoy!
I watch o'er thee, to nourish and defend thee.
And count these vigils sweet, for thee, my boy.
Sleep, infant, sleep! my solace and my treasure!
Sleep on my breast, the breast which gladly bore thee !
And though thy words can give this heart no pleasure,
. It loves to see thy thousand smiles come o'er thee.
POETRY AND POETS. 83
Yes, thou wilt smile, young friend ! when thou awakest,
Ves, thou wilt smile, to see my joyful guise ;
Thy mother's face thou never now mistakest.
And thou hast learn'd to look into her eyes.
What ! do thy little fingers leave the breast.
The fountain which thy small lip press'd at pleasure ?
Couldst thou exhaust it, pledge of passion blest I
Even then thou couldst not know my fond love's
measure.
My gentle son ! sweet friend, whom I adore '.
My infant love ! my comfort, my delight !
I gaze on thee, and gazing o'er and o'er,
1 blame the quick return of every night.
His little arms stretch forth — sleep o'er him steals —
His eye is clos'd — he sleeps — how still his breath 1
But for the tints his flowery cheek reveals.
He seems to slumber in the arms of death.
Awake, my child !— I tremble with affright'. —
Awaken ! — Fatal thought, thou art no more—
My child I one moment gaze upon the light.
And e'en with thy repose my life restore.
Blest error ! still lie sleeps — I breathe again—
May gentle dreams delight his calm repose '.
But when will he, for whom I sigh — oh when
Will he, beside me, watch thine eyes uudose ?
VOL. III. G
84 POETRY AND POETS.
When shall I see him who hath giveu thee life,
My youthful husband, noblest of his race ?
Methinks I see, blest mother, and blest wife!
Thy little hands thy father's neck embrace.
How will he revel in thy first caress,
Disputing with thee for my gentle kiss !
But think not to engross his tenderness,
Clotilda too shall have her share of bliss.
How will he joy to see his image there,
The sweetness of his large cerulean eye !
His noble forehead, and his graceful air,
Which Love himself might view with jealousy.
For me — I am not jealous of his love.
And gladly I divide it, sweet, with thee ;
Thou shalt, like him, a faithful husband prove,
But hot, like him, give this anxiety.
I speak to thee — thou understand'st me not —
Thou couldst not understand, though sleep were fled-
Poor little child ! the tangles of his thought.
His infant thought, are not unravelled.
We have been happy infants, as thou art ;
Sad reason will destroy the dream too soon ;
Sleep in the calm repose that stills thy heart,
pre long its very memory will be gone !"
POETRY AND POETS. 85
LAST VERSES OP THE DUC DE NIVERNOIS.
This venerable Peer, the negociator of the
peace of 1763, died at St. Ouen, near Paris, in
June, 1797j at the age of eighty-two. His
poetical talents, and his friendship for Bar-
thelemi, the author of " Anacharsis," are well
known. A few hours before his death, it was
recommended to have a consultation of phy-
sicians; but he declined the proposal, by ad-
dressing the following note to his friend and
physician, Lacaille, who regularly attended him:
" Ne consultons point d'avocats ;
Hippocrates ne viendrait pas :
Je n'eu ai point d'autres en ma cure
Que I'Amitiii, que la Nature,
Qui font bonne guerre au tr^pas.
Mais peut-etre dame Nature
A deji decid6 mon cas ;
Moi du moins &ans clianger d'allure
Je veux mourir eutre vos bras."
TRANSLATION.
" Now advocates shall plead in vain,
Hippocrates his aid denies ;
None other counsel I'll retain,
Than Nature's power, sweet Friendship's ties.
86 POETRY AND POETS.
Or Death will hear them and obey :
Or Nature has pronounc'd my doom,
In thy lov'd arms no fears dismay,
Let Friendship lead me to the tomb."
LOVE BONGS.
A LITERAL translation of the love songs of
the various races of mankind, from the mere
savage to the enlightened European, would
afford a curious display of similar sentiments,
diversified with local costume. Not a few which
have been applauded by elegant circles in both
London and Paris, but are much inferior to the
following effusion of a Finland peasant girl,
which was given to Colonel Skioldebrand, as a
literary curiosity, by one of the most esteemed
poets of Sweden :
" Oh ! if my beloved would come,
If my well-known would appear ;
How my kisses should fly to his lips.
Though they were tinged with the blood of the wolf,
How I would lock his hands in mine.
Though a serpent were intervowen with them.
Why has not the breath of the wind a voice f
Why has it not a tongue
To bear my thoughts to my love.
POETRY AND POETS. 87
And bring the looks to me ;
To exchange the discourse of two fond hearts ?
I would refuse the feasts of the Curate,
I would reject the dress of his daughter,
Rather than resign the dear object :
He whom I have tried to enslave in the summer,
And to subdue in the winter !"
DEATH OP ALFIERI.
When Alfieri was near his end, he was per-
suaded to see a priest. When the priest came,
he said to him with an uncommon affability,
" Have the kindness to look in to-morrow ; I
trust that Death will wait for four-and-twenty
hours." The sacred monitor again appeared
next day. Upon his entrance, Alfieri was sitting
in his arm-chair, and said, " At present I fancy
I have but few minutes to spare." He begged
that the Countess of Albany, widow of Charles
Edward Stuart, the Pretender, and who was, as
the inscription on his tomb records, " his only
love," might be brought in ; and at the instant
he saw her, he exclaimed, " Clasp my hand, my
dear friend, I die."
88 POETRY AND POETS.
" PARADISE LOST."
This poem, when ready for the press, was
nearly being suppressed through the ignorance
or malice of the Licenser, who saw or fancied
treason in the following noble simile :
'* As when the sun new risen
Looks through the horizontal misty air
Sliorn of his beams : or from behind the moon,
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs."
This obstacle overcome, Milton sold the copy-
right for five pounds, ready-money ; to be paid
the same sum when one thousand three hundred
of the books should have been disposed of, and
five more pounds when a second and third
edition were published. By this agreement,
Milton received but fifteen pounds ; and after-
wards, his widow gave up every claim for eight
pounds.
VOLTAIRE AND SHAKSPEARE.
An Englishman once complained to Voltaire,
that few foreigners relished the beauties of
POETRY AND POETS. 89
Shakspeare. " Sir," replied he, " bad transla-
tions torment and vex them, and prevent their
understanding your great Dramatist. — A blind
man, Sir, cannot conceive the beauty of a rose,
who only pricks his fingers with the thorns."
JOHN KEATS.
This imaginative being died at Rome, Feb.
23rd, 1821, whither he had gone for the benefit
of his health. His complaint was a consumption,
under which he had languished for some time ;
but his death was accelerated by a cold, caught
in his voyage to Italy. It is rather singular,
that, in the year 1816, he expressed an ardent
desire to visit these classic regions , — and, five
years after, his wish was gratified.
The Sonnet, in which he expresses a hope that
he may at some period visit the shores of Italy,
is one of his earliest productions, and is too
beautiful to be omitted in this humble tribute
to his memory.
" Happy in England ! I could be content
To see no other verdure than its own ;
To feel no other breezes than are blown
Through its tall woods with high romances blent ;
90 POETRY AND POETS.
Yet, do I sometimes feel a languish ment
For skies Italian, and an inward groan
To sit upon an Alp as on a throne,
And half forget what world or worldling meant.
Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters ;
Enough their simple loveliness for me.
Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging ;
Yet do I often warmly burn to see
Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing.
And float with them about the summer waters."
Keats was, in the truest sense of the word, a
Poet. There is but a small portion of the public
acquainted with the writings of this young man ;
yet they are full of elevated thoughts and
delicate fancy, and his images are beautiful
and more entirely his own, perhaps, than those
of any living writer whatever. He had a fine
ear, a tender heart, and, at times, great force and
originality of expression ; and notwithstanding
all this, he has been suffered to rise and pass
away, almost without a notice. The laurel has
been awarded (for the present) to other brows ;
bolder aspirants have been allowed to take
their station on the slippery steps of the Temple
of Fame, while he has been hidden among the
crowd during his life, and died at last, solitary
and sorrowful, in a foreign land.
POKTRY AND POETS. 91
TURLOUGH CAROLAV.
This minstrel bard, sweet as impressive, will
long claim remembrance, and float down the
stream of time, whilst poesy and harmony have
power to charm. He was born in the year 1670,
in the village of Nodder, in the county of
Westmeath, on the lands of Carolan's town,
which were wrested from his ancestors by the
family of the Nugents, on their arrival in this
kingdom, with King Henry II. His father was
a poor farmer, the humble proprietor of a few
acres, which afforded him a scanty subsistence.
Of his mother little is known ; — probably the
daughter of a neighbouring peasant, in the
choice of whom, his father was guided rather by
nature than by prudence.
It was in his infancy that Carolan was depri-
ved of his sight by the small-pox. This depri-
vation he supported with cheerfulness, and
would merrily say, " my eyes are transplanted
into my ears." His musical genius was soon
discovered, and procured him many friends,
who determined to aid its cultivation, and at
the age of twelve, a master was engaged to in-
struct him on the harp ; but his diligence in the
regular modes of instruction was not great, yet
92 POETRY AND POETS.
his harp was rarely unstrung, for his intuitive
genius assisted him in composition, whilst his
fingers wandered amongst the strings, in quest
of the sweets of melody. In a few years this
"child of song" became enamoured of Miss
Briget Cruise. His harp, now inspired by love,
would only echo to the sound ; though this lady
did not give him her hand, it is imagined she
did not deny him her heart, but, like Apollo,
when he caught at the nymph " he filled his
arms with bays," and the song which bears her
name is considered his chef-d'oeuvre ; it came
warm from his heart, while his genius was in its
full vigour.
Our bard, however, after a time, solaced him-
self for the loss of Miss Cruise, in the arms of
Miss Mary Maguire, a young lady of good fa-
mily in the county of Fermanagh. She was
gifted in a small degree with both pride and ex-
travagance, but she was the wife of his choice,
he loved her tenderly, and lived harmoniously
with her. On his entering into the connubial
state, he fixed his residence on a small farm near
Moshill, in the county of Leitrim : here he built
a neat little house, in which he practised hospi-
tality on a scale more suited to his mind than to
his means: his profusion speedily consumed the
POETRY AND POETS. 93
produce of his little farm, and he was soon left
to lament the want of prudence, without which
the rich cannot taste of pleasure long, or the
poor of happiness.
At length Carolan commenced the profession
of an itinerant musician. Wherever he went,
the gates of the nobility and others were thrown
open to him ; he was received with respect, and
a distinguished place assigned him at the table :
" Carolan," says Mr. Ritson, " seems, from the
description we have of him, to be a genuine re-
presentative of the ancient bard."
It was during his peregrinations that Carolan
composed all those airs which are still the de-
light of his countrymen. He thought the tri-
bute of a song due to every house in which he
was entertained, and he seldom failed to pay it,
choosing for his subject either the head of the
family, or the loveliest of its branches.
The period now approached at which Caro-
lan's feelings were to receive a violent shock.
In the year 1733, the wife of his bosom was torn
from him by the hand of death, and as soon as
the transport of his grief was a little subsided,
he composed a monody teeming with harmony
and poetic beauties. Carolan did not continue
04 POETRY AND POETS.
long in this " vale of sorrow " after the decease
of his wife. While on a visit at the house of
Mrs. M'Dermot, of Alderford, in the county of
Roscommon, he expired in the month of March,
1738, in the sixty-eighth year of his age, and
was interred in theparish-church of Killronan, in
the diocese of Avedagh, but " not a stone tells
where he lies."
The manner of his death has been variously
related ; but that his excessive partiality for a
more sparkling stream than flows at Helicon,
was the cause of his decease, is a point that all
his biographers have agreed on. Goldsmith
says " his death was not more remarkable than
his life. Homer was never more fond of a glass
than he. He would drink whole pints of usque-
baugh, and, as he used to think, without any ill
consequence. His intemperance, however, in
this respect, at length brought on an incurable
disorder, and when just at the point of death,
he called for a cup of his beloved liquor. Those
who were standing round him, surprised at the
demand, endeavoured to persuade him to the
contrary, but he persisted ; and when the bowl
was brought him, attempted to drink but could
not ; wherefore, giving away the bowl, he obser-
POETRY AND POETS. 95
ved with a smile, that it would be hard if two
such friends as he and the cup should part, at
least without kissing, and then expired."
Walker, in his account of the Irish Bards,
inserts a letter, which states that " Carolan, at
an early period of his life, contracted a fondness
for spirituous liquors, which he retained even to
:he last stage of it. His physicians assured
^im, that, unless he corrected this vicious habit,
I scurvy, which was the consequence of his
ntemperance, would soon put an end to his
nortal career. He obeyed with reluctance ; and
eriously resolved upon never tasting that for-
bidden, though (to him) delicious cup. The
own of Boyle, in the county of Roscommon,
vas at that time his 2)rincipal place of residence;
here, while under so severe a regimen, he
valked, or rather wandered about, like a reveur.
lis usual gaiety forsook him ; no sallies of a
ively imagination escaped him; every moment
vas marked with a dejection of spirits, ap-
•roaching to the deepest melancholy ; and his
avourite harp lay in some obscure corner of
lis habitation neglected and unstrung.
Passing, one day, by a spirit-store in the town,
ur Irish Orpheus, after a six weeks' quarantine.
96
POETRY AND POETS.
was tempted to step in — undetermined whether
he should abide by his late resolution, or whether
he should yield to the impulse which he felt at
the moment. ' Well, my dear friend,' cried he
to the young man who stood behind the compter,
' you see I am a man of constancy ; for six long
weeks I have refrained from whiskey. Was
there ever so great an instance of self-denial ?
But a thought strikes me, and surely you will
not be cruel enough to refuse one gratification
which I shall earnestly solicit. Bring hither a
measure of my favourite liquor, which I shall
smell to, but, indeed, shall not taste.' The lad
indulged him on that condition ; and no sooner
did the fumes ascend to his brain, than every
latent spark within him was rekindled, his
countenance glowed with an unusual brightness,
and the soliloquy, which he repeated over the
cup, was the effusion of a heart newly animated,
and the rambling of a genius great and un-
tutored.
"At length, to the great peril of his health, and
(contrary to the advice of his medical friends,)
he once more quaffed the forbidden draught, and
renewed the brimmer, until his spirits were
sufficiently exhilarated, and until his mjnd
POETRY AND POETS. 97
had fully resumed its former tone. He then
set about composing that much-admired song
which goes by the name of ' Carolan's (and some-
times Stafford's) Receipt.' For sprightliness of
sentiment, and harmony of numbers, it stands
unrivalled in the list of our best modern drink-
ing songs. He commenced the words, and be-
gan to modulate the air, in the evening at Boyle ;
and, before the following morning, he sung and
played this noble offspring of his imagination in
]\Ir. Stafford's parlour, at Elfin.
" Carolan's inordinate fondness," continues
Walker, " for Irish Wine (as Pierre le Grand
used to call whiskey) will not admit of an excuse ;
it was a vice of habit, and might therefore have
been corrected. But let me say something in
extenuation. He seldom drank to excess ; be-
sides, he seemed to think — nay, was convinced
from experience, that the spirit of whiskey was
grateful to his muse, and for that reason gene-
rally offered it when he intended to invoke her."
" They tell me," says Dr. Campbell in his Sur-
vey of the South of Ireland, " that in his (Caro-
lan's) latter days, he never composed without
the inspiration of whiskey, of which, at that cri-
tical hour, he always took care to have a bottle
beside him." " Nor was Carolan," continues
98
seiETRY AND POETS.
Walker, " the only bard who drew inspiration/
from the bottle ; there have been several planets
in the poetical hemisphere, that seldom shone,
but when illuminated by the rays of rosy wine."
He then proceeds to infer the advantages of a
state of demi-drunkenness, as far as regards
poetic composition, and instances Cunningham,
Addison, and Homer, as three authors whose
works bear ample testimony to the efficacy of so
pleasing a method of procuring inspiration. That
Carolan was not indifferent to advice of this des-
cription, he proved most satisfactorily; and, in
all probability, both he and Mr. Walker
thought true talent similar to those richly pain-
ted vases in the east, the most brilliant tints of
which could not be discovered unless wine were
poured into them.
POETRY AND POETS. 99
BflLTON's LOVE OF MUSIC.
Milton, we suspect, is generally believed by
the gay and thoughtless to have been an austere
crabbed Puritan, hostile to all the elegancies and
enjoyments of life; but this is a great mistake.
His love of music, for instance, was glowing
and profound. From among other testimonials
in its praise, take the following fine passage in
his " Tractate on Education," which, of itself, is
music.
" The interval of convenient rest after meat,
may both with profit and delight be taken up in
recreating and composing the travailed spirits,
with the solemn and divine harmonies of music,
heard or learnt: either while the skilful organist
plies his grave and fancied descant in lofty
figures, or the whole symphony, with artful and
imimaginable touches, does adorn and grace the
well-studied chords of some choice composer;
sometimes the lute, or soft organ-stop, waiting
on elegant voices, either to religious, martial,
or civil ditties, wliich have power over disposi-
tions and manners, to smooth and make them
gentle, from rustic harshness and distempered
passions."
VOL. III. H
100 POETRY AND POETS.
THOMAS MOORE.
This Poet, whose lyrical effusions have so
eminently distinguished him above his contem-
porai'ies, is a native of Dublin, but has long been
a resident in England. His Cottage (a view of
which we present the reader with) is beautifull
situated about five miles west of Devizes, in
Wiltshire. It was selected, we understand, by
Mr. Moore, on account of its vicinity to Bowood,
the seat of the Marquess of Lansdown, whose
friendship our Poet is honoured Avith.
Mr. Moore's songs are exquisite as productions
of splendour, fancy, or imagery ; but the reader
who shall expect to find in them those touches
of feeling and nature which brings Poetry home
to every man's bosom, will be disappointed :
they are admirably suited to the Banquet-Hall
or the Palace, where every thing that is artificial
shines pre-eminent.
As a Satirist, among those productions which
may be attributed to his pen, are to be found
strokes of wit at once classic, keen, and bril-
liant. Many of his repartees and Jeux d' esprits
are on record, partaking, also, of the same
qualities. The following, we understand, Mr.
POETRY AND POETS. 101
Moore wrote at a house in the country, where
he had arrived just in time to dress for dinner,
and where some distinguished personages were
assembled; but he was obliged to go away
again, upon finding that his servant had forgot
to put a pair of breeches in his portmanteau :
" Between Adam and me the great difference is.
Though a Paradise each has been forc'd to resign,
That he never wore breeches till turn'd out of his.
While for want of my breeches I'm banish'd from
mine."
Mr. jMoore, it is well known, is the author
of a volume published under the title of " Lit-
tle's Poems ;" which name, it is supposed, he
adopted in allusion to his shortness of stature,
and which furnished his friends with subjects
for repartees and epigrams in abundance. At
this period, our bard was in the habit of paying
frequent visits to Carlton House, when a
Great Personage, after the perusal of the
volume in question, is reported to have ad-
dressed him thus wittily and briefly : — " More,
Little ; — Little Moure."
The following eight lines made their appear-
102 POETRY AND POETS.
ance when he published his " Translation of
Anacreon/' and certainly boast mvich point.
" When Moore in amorous strains first sigh'd,
And felt the fond poetic glow ;
The enraptiu'd world, enamour'd, cried,
' Man wants hut Little here below.'
But, bursting from concealment's span.
He gave each heart Anacreon's store ;
Tho' Little was the wish of man.
He found that yet he wanted Moore."
JACOB CATS.
Jacob Cats, less the poet of imagination than
of truth ; less the inciter to deeds of heroism
and sublimity, than the gentle adviser to acts of
virtue and enjoyments of innocence; less capable
of awaking the impulses of the fancy than of
calling into exertion the dormant energies of
reason and morality, was born at Brouwershaven,
a small town in Zealand, in the year 1577- He
was well versed in the ancient and modern lan-
guages, and as celebrated for the purity of his
life as remarkable for the sound sense and vir-
tuous tendency of his writings. He possessed
an admirable knowledge of men and manners.
POETRY AND POETS. 103
a correct judgment, and a striking simplicity of
language : indeed, it is a question whether he
did not indulge too freely in his love for un-
varnished matters of fact. The " foreign aid
of ornament/' skilfully employed, might have
set off to advantage that earnest and interesting
zeal in favour of truth and piety, which is so
prominent in his works. But there is, not-
withstanding, something so hearty in his un-
sophisticated style, something so touching in
his simplicity, and something so frank and
noble in his precepts, — that we can scarcely
regret his having given them to us unchanged
by refinement and unadorned by art.
Cats had all Vondel's devotion, kindled at a
purer and a simpler altar. His wisdom was
vast, and all attuned to religious principle ; his
habits were those of sublime and aspiring con-
templation ; and his poetry is such as a prophet
would give utterance to. He was the poet of
the people. In his verses, they found their du-
ties recorded, and seeming to derive additional
authority from the solemn and emphatic dress
they wore. He is every where original, and
often sublime.
From Mr. Bowring's elegant little volume we
104 POETRY AND POETS.
select the following metaphorical illustration of
one of the most necessary rules for the conduct
of life.
" When ivy twines around a tree,
And o'er tlie boughs hangs verdantly,
Or on the bark, however rough.
It seems indeed polite enough;
And (judging from external things)
We deem it there in friendship clings ;
But where our weak and mortal eyes
Attain not — hidden treach'ry lies :
'Tis there it brings decay unseen.
While all without seems bright and green ;
So that the tree which flourish 'd fair,
Before its time grows old and bare ;
Then, like a barren log of wood.
It stands in lifeless solitude.
For treach'ry drags it to its doom,
Which gives but blight — yet promis'd bloom.
Thou, whom the pow'rful Fates have hurl'd
'INIidst this huge forest call'd the world.
Know, that not all are friends whose faces
Are habited in courteous graces ;
But think, that 'neath the sweetest smile
Oft lurk self-int'rest, hate, and guile ;
Or, that some gay and playful joke
Is Spite's dark sheath, or Envy's cloak.
POKTRY AND POETS. 105
Then love not each who offers thee, "
In seeming truth, his amitj-;
But first take heed, and weigh with care,
Ere he thy love and favour share ;
For those who friends too lightly choose.
Soon friends and all besides may lose."
BATAVIAN ANTHOLOGY.
POETICAL GENEALOGY.
" It is a curious and pleasant thing to con-
sider, that a link of personal acquaintance can
be traced up from the authors of our own times
to those of Shakspeare's era, and to Shakspeare
himself Ovid, in recording, with fondness,
his intimacy with Propertius and Horace, re-
grets that he had only seen Virgil. (' Trist.'
book 4, V. 51.) But still he thinks the sight
of him worth remembering. And Pope, when
a child, prevailed on some friends to take him
to a coffee-house which Dry den frequented,
merely to look at him ; which he did, to his
great satisfaction. Now, such of us as have
shaken hands with a living poet, might be able,
perhaps, to reckon up a series of connecting
shakes to the very hand that wrote of Hamlet,
and of FalstafF, and of Desdemona.
106 POETRY AND POETS.
" With some living poets, it is certain. There
is Thomas IMoore, for instance, who knew
Sheridan. Sheridan knew Johnson, who was
the friend of Savage, who knew Steele, who
knew Pope. Pope was intimate with Con-
greve, and Congreve with Dryden. Dryden is
said to have visited Milton. INIilton is said to
have known Davenant, and to have been saved
by him from the revenge of the restored Court,
in return for having saved Davenant from the
revenge of the CommonAvealth. But if the
link between Dryden and Milton, and INIilton
and Davenant, is somewhat apocryphal, or,
rather, dependent on tradition, (for Richardson,
the painter, tells us the latter from Pope, who
had it from Betterton, the actor, one of
Davenant's company,) it may be carried, at
once, from Dryden to Davenant, with whom he
was unquestionably intimate. Davenant then
knew Hobbes, who knew Bacon, who knew
Ben Jonson, who was intimate with Beaumont
and Fletcher, Chapman, Donne, Drayton, Cam-
den, Selden, Clarendon, Sydney, Raleigh, and,
perhaps, all the great men of Elizabeth's and
James's time, the greatest of them all un-
POETRY AND POETS. 107
doubtedly. Thus Ave have a link of 'beamy
hands' fi-om our own times up to Shakspeare.*
" In this friendly genealogy we have omitted
the numerous side-branches, or common friend-
ships ; but of those we shall give an account
by and by. It may be mentioned, however,
in order not to omit Spenser, that Davenant
resided some time in the family of Sir Fulke
Greville, Lord Brooke, the friend of Sir Philip
Sydney. Spenser's intimacy with Sydney is
mentioned by himself, in a letter, still extant,
to Gabriel Harvey.
" We will now give the authorities for our
intellectual pedigree. Sheridan is mentioned
in Boswell as being admitted to the celebrated
club, of which Johnson, Goldsmith, and others,
were members. He had then, if we remember,
just written his ' School for Scandal,' which
made him the more welcome. Of Johnson's
friendship with Savage, (we cannot help begin-
• Were it not for the pleasure of noticing the inter-
mediate links, and the delightful recollections which they
awaken in our bosoms, the connection might, at once, be
made between D'Avenant and Shakspeare, who was his
god-father. — Editor.
108 POETRY AND POETS.
ning the sentence with his favourite leading
preposition,) the well-known " Life" is an in-
tei'esting and honourable, but melancholy, re-
cord. It is said, that, in the commencement of
their friendship, they have sometimes wandered
together about London for want of a lodging ;
— more likely for Savage's want of it, and
Johnson's fear of offending him, by offering a
share of his own. But we do not remember
how this circumstance is related by Boswell.
" Savage's intimacy with Steele is recorded in
a pleasant anecdote, which he told Johnson.
Sir Richard once desired him, ' with an air of
the utmost importance,' says his biographer,
' to come very early to his house the next
morning. Mr. Savage came as he had promised,
found the chariot at the door, and Sir Richard
waiting for him, and ready to go out. What
was intended, and whither they where to go.
Savage could not conjecture, and was not wil-
ling to enquire ; but immediately seated himself
with Sir Richard. The coachman was ordered
to drive, and they hurried, with the utmost ex-
pedition, to Hyde-park Corner, where they
stopped at a petty tavern, and retired to a pri-
vate i-oom. Sir Richard then informed him
POETRY AND POETS. 109
that he intended to publish a pamphlet, and
that he had desired him to come thither that he
might write for him. They soon sat down to
the work. Sir Richard dictated, and Savage
wrote, till the dinner that had been ordered was
put upon the table. Savage was surprised at
the meanness of the entertainment, and, after
some hesitation, ventured to ask for wine;
which Sir Richard, not without reluctance, or-
dered to be brought. They then finished their
dinner, and proceeded in their pamphlet, which
they concluded in the afternoon.
" ']\Ir. Savage then imagined that his task
was over, and expected that Sir Richard would
call for the reckoning, and return home ; but
his expectations deceived him, for Sir Richard
told him, that he was without money, and that
the pamphlet must be sold before the dinner
could be paid for ; and Savage was, therefore,
obliged to go and offer their new production for
sale for two guineas, which, with some diffi-
culty, he obtained. Sir Richard then returned
home, having retired that day only to avoid his
creditors, and composed the pamphlet only to
discharge his reckoning.'
" Steele's acquaintance with Pope, who wrote
110 POETRY AND POETS.
some papers for his ' Guardian, ' appears in
the letters, and other works, of the wits of that
time. Johnson supposes, that it was his friendly
interference which attempted to bring Pope and
Addison together, after a jealous separation.
Pope's friendship with CongreA^e appears, also,
in his letters. He also dedicated the ' Iliad'
to him, over the heads of peers and patrons.
Congreve, whose conversation, most likely, par-
took of the elegance and wit of his writings,
and whose manners appear to have rendered
him an universal favourite, had the honour, in
his youth, of attracting singular respect and
regard from Dryden. He was publicly hailed
by him as his successor, and affectionately
bequeathed the care of his laurels. Dryden
did not know who had been looking at him in
the coffee-house.
' Already I am woiii with cares and age,
And just abandoning th' ungrateful stage ;
Unprofitablj' kept at Heaven's expense,
I live a rent- charge on his providence.
But you, whom every Muse and Grace adorn,
Whom I foresee to better fortune born.
Be kind to my remains ; and O defend,
Against your judgment, your departed friend ;
POETRY AND POETS. Ill
Let not th' insulting foe my fame pursue,
But shade those laurels which descend to you.'
Congreve did so, with great tenderness.
" Dryden is reported to have asked Milton's
permission to turn his " Paradise Lost" into a
rhyming tragedy, -which he called, " The State
of Innocence, or the Fall of Man;" a work,
such as might be expected from such a mode of
alteration. The A'enerable Poet is said to have
answered, — ' Ay, young man, you may tag my
verses, if you will.' Be the connection, how-
ever, of Dryden with JNIilton, or of IMilton
with Davenant, as it may, Dryden wrote the
alteration of Shakspeare's ' Tempest,' as it is
now perpetrated, in conjunction with Daven-
ant. They were great hands, but they should
not have touched the pure grandeur of Shak-
speare. The intimacy of Davenant with Hobbes
is to be seen by their correspondence prefixed
to ' Gondibert.' Hobbes was, at one time,
secretary to Lord Bacon ; a singularly illus-
trious instance of servant and master. Bacon
is, also, supposed to have had Ben Jonson for
a retainer in some capacity ; but it is certain
that Jonson had his acquaintance, for he records
112 POETRY AND POETS.
it in his ' Discoveries.' * And had it been
otherwise, his link with the preceding writers
could be easily supplied through the medium of
Greville and Sydney, and, indeed, of many
others of his contemporaries. Here, then, we
arrive at Shakspeare, and feel the electric virtue
of his hand. Their intimacy, dashed a little,
perhaps, with jealousy on the part of Jonson,
but maintained to the last by dint of the nobler
part of him, and of Shakspeare's irresistible
fineness of nature, is a thing as notorious as
their fame. Fuller says, ' Many were the wit-
combates betwixt (Shakspeare) and Ben Jon-
son, which two I behold like a Spanish great
galleon, and an English man-of-war : IMaster
Jonson (like the former) was built far higher
in learning : solid, but slow in his perfor-
mances. Shakspeare, with the English man-
of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing,
could turn with all tides, tack about, and take
* Published after Lord Bacon's degradation, and when
he was almost universally deserted : an honourable me-
morial of the fallen greatness of the one, and of the inde-
pendence of the other.— Editor.
POETRY AND POETS. 113
advantage of all winds, by the quickness of
his wit and invention.' This is a happy simile,
with the exception of what is insinuated about
Jonson's great solidity. But let Jonson shew
for himself the affection with which he re-
garded one who did not irritate or trample
down rivalry, but rose above it, like the quiet
and all-gladdening sun, and turned emulation
to worship.
' Soul of the age !
Th' applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage !
My Shakspeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or hid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room :
Thou art a monument without a tomb ;
And art alive still, while thy book doth live.
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
• » « »
He was not of an age, but for all time.' "
LEIGH HUNT.
THOMSON, AND MALLET.
" Thomson and IMallet were both educated
at the University of Edinburgh. Thomson
came up to town without any certain view :
.Mallet got him into a Nobleman's family as
tutor. lie did not like that affair; left it in
about three quarters of a year, and came down
114 POETRY AND POETS.
to Mallet, at Twiford. There he wrote single
Winter Pieces. They, at last, thought il
might make a Poem. It was, at first, refusec
by the Printer ; but received by another
Mallet wrote the Dedication to the Speaker
Dodington sent his services to Thomson by Dr
Young, and desired to see him : that was
thought hint enough for another dedication t<
him ; and this was the first introduction to tha
acquaintance. ' They make him promises, bu
he has nothing substantial as yet.' Thomson';
father was a Presbyterian parson."
SPENCE.
HALLER.
Poets change their opinions of their owi
productions wonderfully, at different periods c
life.
Baron Haller was, in his youth, warmly at
tached to poetic composition. His house wa
on fire ; and, to rescue his poems, he rushe(
through the flames. He was so fortunate as t
escape with his beloved manuscripts in hi
hands. Ten years afterwards, he conducte
to the flames those very poems which he ha
ventured his life to preserve.
POETRY AND POETS. 115
GEORGE HENRY SMITH.
Garrick, Henderson, and about half-a-dozen
actors of celebrity, wrote (when the fit was on
them) poetry, or what they intended the world
should deem such ; but these offsprings of their
i\Iuse are, for the most part, gone quietly to sleep
in the lap of oblivion.
The individual before us, whose " Attempts
in Verse" (as he calls them) have excited our at-
tention, was a performer in that city of elegance
and fashion, yclept Bath, and is a brother of Mrs.
Bartley, our justly-celebrated tragic actress. —
His book, which wears the unassuming air of
true talent, is replete with poetic beauties, and
sentiments the most pure and elevating.
The subjects of the poems are very much at
variance with each other, and display a more
than ordinary versatility of talent. The volume,
we perceive, was published by subscription;
and truly happy should we feel, if this slight
notice should increase its sale; as it is but seldom
that the press presents us with a book of poesy
so talented and so unassuming, and whose every
page affords abundant proofs of correctness of
taste and amiability of disposition.
yoL. III. I
110 POETRY AND POETS.
We have little doubt our readers will agree
with us in thinking that the following lines de-
serve to exist as long as the verses of the sweet
Poet whose decease called them forth.
" TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.
I.
When to cold earth the Great return,
Wakes the slav'd Harp its venal strain —
Nay, int'rest lureth men to mourn.
With courtly woe, in polish'd plain.
The worthless heirs of others' fame,
The Titled refuse of the earth,
Whose only glory was their shame,
Their pride and blur an honour'd birth.
II.
Peals the loud Lyre its proudest praise,
When Conqu'rors — conquer'd are by Death,
And prostitutes its choicestlays.
To honour crime, with angels' breath.
Still does the Bard his verse bequeath.
To grace the dust a crown hath worn.
And weaves too oft a laurell'd wreath,
By bloodshed 'filed, injustice torn.
III.
And shall unsung, unhonour'd, lie
The lowly, innocent, and meek ?
Shall talent, worth, unnotic'd die.
And none to pay due homage seek?
POETRY AND POETS. 117
Not one their praises love to speak,
Nor to their memory drop tlie tear ?
Unpractis'd though my voice, and wealv —
May not such theme its words endear ?
IV.
Ah ! ye, who love the simple verse,
WTiich tells of rural joys and pains,
To hear an artless mind rehearse
'llie peaceful lives of artless swains.
Who love the page where Natui*e reigns.
And holiest feelings point the tale —
View not with scorn these untaught strains.
But sweetest Bloomfield's death bewail !
V.
Vet humble measures well may suit
The Minstrel of the " Farmer's Boy ;"
Unmeet the passion- breathing Lute
Or regal Psaltery to employ.
His name to laud— whose chiefest joy
Was still the shepherd's Doric reed.
And who, in notes which cannot cloy,
Trill'd the chaste music of the mead.
VI.
Sweet as the lark her carol pours,
When blithe she springs to greet the morn,
And pleasing as the hedge-row flow'rs.
Or the white blossoms of the thorn,
118 POETRY AND POETS.
The rhymes his guileless tales adorn.
The modest thoughts those tales illume.
These still are ours— but Fate has borne
Their gentle Author to the tomb.
VII.
Still waveth wood, and smileth dale.
Still streamlets lave the rushy soil.
And vvelcometh the morning gale.
The ploughman to his early toil ;
Still careful housewives busy coil
The snowy flax, and ply the wheel-
But He has left this vj'orldly moil.
Who taught the world such scenes to feel !
VIII.
Though homely was his rustic style.
Nor blaz'd with gems from classic lore.
It stole unto the heart the while
And Virtue's fascination wore ;
Nor ever foul pollution bore
To taint the wholesome springs of youth.
Nor, like the tempter Fiend of yore.
Gave haggard Vice the mien of Truth.
IX.
Aye reverenc'd he the Poet then.
Who never sought the vain acclaim
Of luring o'er his fellow men.
With worse than murder's deadly aim ;
POETRY AND POETS. 119
To worship at the Bestial Fane,
Where scoffing Sceptics worship pay,
And glorying in their mortal stain.
Reject the Soul— to cling to Clay !
X.
Alas ! that Genius lends its grace, '
By false ambition madly driven.
Its own bright splendour to efface.
And sinks to Earth — the powers of Heaven.
Not always is the chaplet given
To deck the swift, or crown the strong,
And lays which have to virtue risen,
Alone to dateless time belong.
XI.
Then, Bloomfield, shall thy verse remain,
When prouder Baids shall be forgot.
For Darkness must resign her reign,
The Light of Nature dieth not !
And happier far thy anxious lot,
Uncheer'd by Fortune's fav'ring sun,
Tliati who for gold their manhood blot.
Or follow fame to be undone.
XII.
Ye Rich, ye Noble, bow your head.
Writhe to the dust in conscious shame,
For Bloomfield sunk among the dead,
In sicknesa, poverty, and pain ;
120 POETRY AND POETS.
His honest breast knew not to feign,
Disdaiu'd the Laureate's varnish'd style.
Nor dar'd the sacred Muse profaue,
To win by lies your patron smile.
XIII.
Blush, Wealth and Power ! if blush ye can.
That Merit should unsuccour'd die ;
That sharp Neglect's unworthy ban
Should cloud the brow, and force the sigh.
Of Him whose Spirit now, on high.
Pleads meekly for our sinful race,
And still retains that sympathy
Your heartlessness could ne'er efface.
XIV.
Ah ! ye, who love the simple verse.
Which tells of rural joys and pains.
To hear an artless mind rehearse
The peaceful lives of artless swains.
Who love the page where Nature reigns
And holiest feelings point the tale.
View not with scorn these untaught strains.
But sweetest Bloomfield's death bewail !"
JOHN HEYWOOD.
John Heywood, commonly called " The
Epigrammatist," was beloved and rewarded by
Henry the Eighth for his buffooneries. On
POETRY AND POETS. 121
leaving the University, he commenced author,
and was countenanced by Sir Thomas IMore,
for his facetious disposition. To his talents of
jocularity in conversation, he joined a skill in
music, both vocal and instrumental. His mer-
riments were so irresistible, that they moved
even the rigid muscles of Queen IMary; and her
sullen solemnity was not proof against his songs,
his rhymes, and his jests. One of these is preser-
ved in the Cotton MS. Jul. F. x. " When Queene
Mary tolde HeyAvoode that the priestes must
forego their wives, he merrily answered, ' Then
your Grace must allow them lemmans (mis-
tresses), for the clergie cannot live without
sauce.' "
Another is recorded by Puttenham, in his
" Arte of English Poesie, 1589."—" At the
Duke of Northumberland's bourd, merry John
Heywood was allowed to sit at the table's end.
The Duke had a very noble and honorable
mynde always to pay his debts well, and when
he lacked money, would not stick to sell the
greatest part of his plate ; so had he done a few
dayes before. Heywood being loth to call for
his drinke so oft as he was dry, turned his eye
toward the cupbord, and sayd, ' I finde great
122 POETRY AND POETS.
itiisse of your Grace's standing cups.' The
Duke, thinking he had spoken it of some know-
ledge that his plate was lately sold, said, some-
what sharply, ' Why, Sir, will not these cups
serve as good a man as yourselfe ? ' Hey wood
readily replied, ' Yes, if it please your Grace ;
but I would have one of them stand still at
myne elbow full of drinke, that I might not be
driven to trouble your men so often to call for
it.' This pleasaunt and speedy turn of the former
words, holpe all the matter againe ; whereupon
the Duke became very pleasaunt, and dranke a
bolle of wine to Heywood, and bid a cuppe
should always be standing by him."
One of Heywood's works is a Poem in long
verse, with the following curious title : " A
Dialogue, containing in Effect the Number of al
the Proverbes in the English Tongue, compact
in a INIatter concerning Two Marriages." All
the proverbs of the English language are here
interwoven into a very silly comic tale: — the
idea is ingenious, and the repertory, though ill-
executed, is at least curious.
The following anecdote relating to this work,
has been transmitted among some " witty aun-
sweres and saiengs of Englishmen," in the Cotton
POETRY AND POETS. 123
MS. before referred to. " William PaM-lett,
JMarques of Wynchester and Highe Treasurer of
Engelande, being presented by John Heywood
with a booke, asked him what it conteyned?
And when Heywoode told him 'All the Pro-
verbes in English/ — ' WhaX., all }' quoth my
Lorde; ' No; Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton; is
that in your booke?' — 'No, by my faith, my
Lorde, I thinke not/ aunswered Heywoode."
But the neatest replication of this professed
court-wit, seems to be recorded in " Camden's
Remains, 1605," p. 234. Heywood being asked
by Queen ]\Iary/' What wind blew him to the
Court?" — he answered, " Two specially; the
one to see your Majesty." " We thank you for
that," said the Queen ; " but, I pray you, what
is the other?" — " That your Grace," said he,
" might see me."
IMost of his sallies, however, are contemptible
enough; and the same may be said of his
" Epigrams," which are six hundred in number,
and, perhaps, were often extemporaneous jests,
made and repeated to the company. The mi-
serable drolleries and pitiful quibbles with which
they are pointed, indicate great want of refine-
ment. From this heap of rubbish, it may be
124 POETRY AND POETS.
worth while to extract the following specimen,
which is in Heywood's very best manner.
" AN OLD wife's BOON.
In old world, when old wives bitterly prayed,
One, devoutly, as by way of a boon,
Ask'd vengeance on her husband ; and to him said,
' Thou wouldst wed a young wife ere this week were
done,
(Were I dead,) but thou shalt wed the devil as soon.'
' I cannot wed the devil,' quoth he — ' Why?' quoth she,
* For I have wedded his dam before,' quoth he."
The following lines, however, afford the most
favourable instance of his versification.
" ON MEASURE.
' Measure is a merry meane.
Which filde with noppy drinke,
When merry drinkers drinke off cleane,
Then merrily they winke.
Measure is a merry meane.
But I meane measures gret ;
Where lippes to litele pitchers leane,
Those lippes they scantly wet.
Measure is a merry meane,
And measure is this mate ;
To be a deacon or a deane,
Thou wouldst not change the state.
POETRY AND POETS. 125
Measure is a merry meane.
In volevvmes full or flat.
There is no chapter nor no sceane
That thou appliest like that."
DIONYSIUS, KING OF SICILY.
DiONYSius THE Elder, King of Sicily, pos-
sessed a passion for poetry. He contended for
the prize at Athens, and, when he gained it,
shewed more satisfaction than when victory
crowned his arms in the field. On that occasion,
he entertained the whole city with extraordinary
magnificence, and spent an immense treasure in
public feasts and banquets, which continued
several days. In the midst of this rejoicing, he
was seized with a disease, which terminated his
life.
MRS. PILKINGTON.
Mrs. Pilkington, whose poetical talents and
frailties were, at one time of day, the alternate
theme of praise and commiseration, tells us, in
her IVIemoirs, that " from her earliest infancy
she had a strong disposition to letters ;" but, her
eyes being weak, lier mother would not permit
her to look at a book, lest it should affect them.
As she did not place so high a value, however.
126 POETRY AND POETS.
on those lucid orbs as her mother, and as restraint
only served to quicken her natural thirst for
knowledge, she availed herself of every oppor-
tunity that could gratify it; so that, at five
years old, she could read, and even taste, the
beauties of some of the best English Poets. She
continued in this manner to improve her mind
by -Stealth, till she had accomplished her twelfth
year, when her brother, a little playful boy,
brought her a slip of paper one day, and desired
her to write something on it that would please
him; on which she wrote the following lines:
Oh, spotless paper, fair, and white !
On thee by force constrain'd to write.
Is it not hard I should destroy
Thy purity to please a boy ?
Ungrateful I, thus to abuse
The fairest servant of the Muse.
Dear friend, to whom I oft impart
The choicest secrets of my heart,
Ah ! what atonement can be made
For spotless innocence betray'd ?
How fair, how lovely, didst thou shew
Like lilied banks, or falling snow :
But now, alas ! become my prey,
Not tears can wash thy stains away :
Yet, this small comfort I can give,
That what destroy'd shall make thee live.
POETRY AND POETS. 127
GEORGE GASCOIGNE.
" Chaucer by writing purchas'd fame,
And Gower got a worthy name ;
Sweet Surrj' sucked Parnassus' springs,
And Wyatt wrote of wondrous things ;
Old Rochford clambe the stately throne
Which Muses hold in Helicoue ;
Then thither let good Gascoigne go.
For sure his verse deserveth so."
There are several reasons for which Gas-
coigne claims a particular notice in a work ilhis-
trative of English Poetry and Poets. His
" Steele Glas " is one of the earliest specimens
of blank verse, as well as of legitimate satire, in
our language; his "Jocasta" is the second
theatrical piece written in that measure; and
his " Supposes," (a translation from the Italian
of Ariosto,) the first comedy ever written in
prose. Shakspeare's obligations to the latter
piece, in his " Comedy of Errors," have been
accurately stated by Warton and Farmer ; they
are not, however, very extensive.
George Gascoigne was born of an ancient fa-
mily in Essex, but, for some unknown reason,
128 POETRY AND POETS.
disinherited by his father. "Having," says
Anthony Wood, "a rambling and unfixed head,
he left Gray's Inn, went to various cities in Hol-
land, and became a soldier of note, which he
afterwards professed as mvich, or more, as learn-
ing, and therefore made him take the motto.
Tarn Marti quam Mercurio. From thence he
went to France and fell in love with a Scottish
dame." The latter part of this account rests
on very slight foundation ; it is doubtful whe-
ther or no he went to France, and the story of
the " Scottish Dame" relies only on some lines
in his " Herbes," written, probably, in an assu-
med character.
What is more certain is, that he took service
in Holland, under the gallant William, Prince of
Orange, who was then (in 1572) engaged in the
glorious struggle which emancipated his coimtry
from the iron yoke of Spain. He there acqui-
red considerable military reputation ; but quar-
relling with his Colonel, he repaired to Delf,
where he resigned his commission into the
hands of the Prince, who in vain endeavoured
to reconcile his officers.
About this period, a circumstance occurred
which had nearly cost our poet his life. A
POETRY AND POETS. 129
lady at the Hague (then in possession of the
enemy) with whom Gascoigne had been on in-
timate terms, had his portrait, (or his " counter-
fay t," as he calls it,) in her hands, and resolving
to part with it to him alone, wrote a letter on
the subject, which fell into the hands of his
enemies in the camp, and from which they
meant to have raised a report unfavourable to
his fidelity. On its reaching his hands, how-
ever, Gascoigne immediately laid it before the
Prince, who saw through their design, and gave
him passports to visit the lady. The Burghers,
however, watched his motions with malicious
caution, and he was called in derision " the Green
Knight." At the siege of IMiddleburg, he re-
ceived from the prince a sum of 300 guilders in
addition to his regular pay, with a promise of
future promotion, for the zeal and fidelity which
he displayed there. He was, however, soon
after surprised by 3000 Spaniards, when com-
manding, under Captain Sheffield, 500 English-
men lately landed, and retired in good ordei*,
at night, under the walls of Leyden ; but the
jealousy of the Dutch was then openly displayed
by their refusing to open the gates, in conse-
quence of which our military bard and his little
130
POETRY AND POETS.
band were made captives. Of this. Whetstone
speaks in his " Remembrance of the well-em-
ployed life and godly end of George Gascoigne,
Esquire/' from his own information, in the fol-
lowing terms.
Well placed at length among the drunken Dutch,
(Though rumours lewd impaired my desert,)
I boldly vaunt the blast of fame is such.
As proves 1 had a froward sours heart.
My slender gain a further witness is,
For worthiest men the spoils of war do miss.
Even there the man , that went to fight for pence,
Caught by sly hap, in prison vile was popt;
Yea, had not words fought for my life's defence.
For all my hands, my bi-eath had there been stopt ;
But I, in fine, did so persuade my foe.
As (set free) I was homewards set to go.
On his return to England he gave himself up
to the Muses, and in the summer of 1575, ac-
companied Queen Elizabeth in one of her stately
progresses, during which he composed a sort of
mask, entitled, " The Princely Pleasures of
Kenilworth Castle," reprinted in Nichols's Pro-
gresses, and also, very lately, in a separate form.
He afterwards settled at Walthamstow, where
he wrote his " Steele-Glas of Government," and
POETRY AND POETS. 131
Other principal works, and died, according to
Whetstone, at Stamford, in Lincolnshire, Oct. 7?
1577- His works went through two editions in
his life -time, and a third a few years after his
death. These are all very scarce : of the first,
indeed, only two perfect copies are known ; it
contains only his earlier productions, and was
printed in 1572. The second is, also, by no
means complete.
Mr. Alexander Chalmers has reprinted part
of Gascoigne in his " Collection of the English
Poets," from which we copy, both as a specimen
of his style and of English blank verse prior to
Shakspeare, the following severe satire on the
Vices of the Clergy, which forms a part of his
" Steele Glas." This was a favourite subject
with our early satirists, for the vast power then
engrossed by the priesthood naturally engen-
dered all manner of corruptions.
" Lo ! these, ray Lord, be my good praying priests.
Descended from Melchizedic by line,
Cousins to Paul, to Peter, James, and John ;
ITiese be my priests, the seasoning of the Earth,
Which will not lose their savouriness, I trow.
Not one of these, for twenty hundred groats,
Will teach the text which bids him take a wife,
VOL. III. K
132 POETRY AND POETS-
Ahd yet he cambered with a concubine :
Not one of these will read the holy writ
Wliich doth forbid all greedy usury.
And yet receive a shilling for a pound :
Not one of these will preach of patience,
And yet be found as angry as a wasp :
Not one of these can be content to sit
In Taverns, Inns, or Alehouses, all day.
But spends his time devoutly at a book :
Not one of these will rail at rulers' wrongs.
And yet be bloated with extortion :
Not one of these will point out worldly pride,
And he himself as gallant as he dare :
Not one of these rebuketh avarice,
And yet procureth proud pluralities :
Not one of these reproveth vanity,
While he himself, his hawk upon his fist
And hounds at heel, doth quite forget his text :
Not one of these corrects contentions
For trifling things, and yet will sue for tithes r
Not one of these, not one of these, my Lord,
Will be ashamed to do e'en as he teacheth.
My priests have learned to pray unto the Lord,
And yet they trust not in their lip-labour :
My priests can fast and use all abstinence
From vice and sin, and yet refuse no meats :
My priests can give, in charitable wise.
And love also to do good almes-deeds,
Although they trust not in their own deserts :
My priests can place all penance in the heart.
POETRY AND POETS. 133
Without regard of outward ceremonies •
My priests can keep their temples undefiled.
And yet defy all superstition.
Lo ! now, my Lord, what think you of my priests ?
GEORGE FREDERICK PALMER.
This young man, who was a favorite of the
Muses, entered into the naval service when very
young, in 1807; and had scarcely made two
voyages during the late war, when the vessel
(Flora frigate) was wrecked off the Texel, on the
coast of Holland. The crew were all made pri-
soners, with the exception of nine, who met a
watery grave. Owing to the difficulties that
then prevailed with the two governments in set-
tling the exchange of prisoners. Palmer was de-
tained a considerable period ere he was released.
It was during his confinement that he culti-
vated a taste for poetry. The pieces he wrote
were generally of a transient nature, and were
destroyed almost immediately after they were
written. The walls of the different prisons in
which he was confined (the French government
seldom permitting the English prisoners to re-
main long in one place) contained many of his
verses. The only poem of any note which
reached his friends in England, is " The
134 POETRY AND POETS.
Evening's Contemplation in a French Prison,"
(Valenciennes,) in imitation of Gray's "Elegy:"
and it is but truth to state that its composition
would have been no discredit to some of our
more able poets.
Palmer had contracted a disease during his
long confinement, which never forsook him.
At the invasion of France by the Allies, the En-
glish prisoners were removed from depot to
depot, lest they should fall into the hands of the
conquering Powers, and be released. The re-
peated harassing marches Palmer underwent
on these occasions, added to his already weak
state of body, considerably hastened his decease.
His severe illness prevented his removal to Eng-
land for some time after the conclusion of the
Peace. He died shortly after arriving in his
native country, in the Naval Hospital at Deal,
June 9th, 1814, after an absence of seven years.
For the gratification of our readers, we sub-
join a few verses from the " Elegy" in ques-
tion ; the reader must bear in mind, that the
scene is a French prison, and that the Poet is a
British Sailor.
" Perhaps iu ' durance vile' here may be plac'd
Some heart susceptive of poetic fire ;
POETBY AND POETS. 135
Hands which the svrord of Duncan might have grac'd.
Or tun'd,like Falconer, the living lyre.
But science on their birth refus'd to smile,
Nor gave th' instructive volume to their sight ;
Their lives were destin'd to perpetual toil,
Unseen the rays of intellectual light.
Full many a song the tuneful bird of night
Warbles unheard amid some lonely place ;
Full many a sun, of dazzling lustre bright,
Is lost in distance in the boundless space.
Some generous Howard, who, with godlike zeal,
Rov'd o'er the world to set the pris'ner free,
May here the hoiTors of confinement feel.
Nor e'er again his home or country see.
Some gallant Nelson here unknown may rest
In cells ungenial, lost his soul of fire.
His mind of vigour, and that dauntless breast.
Danger could ne'er appal, nor labour tire."
m * * * *
JOSEPH ATKINSON
was a native of Ireland, and was Treasurer of
the Ordnance, under the administration of the
Earl of j\Ioira. He was the intimate of Moore,
Curran, and the rest of the galaxy of Irish ge-
nius; and was, himself, a poet of more than
136 POETRY AND POETS.
ordinary ability, as the following jeu d'esprit,
addressed to his friend Moore, on the birth of
his third daughter, will evince :
" I'm sorry, dear Moore, there 's a damp to your joy,
Nor think my old strain of mythology stupid.
When 1 say, that your wife had a right to a hoy.
For Venus is nothing without a young Cupid.
But since Fate, the boon that you wish'd for, refuses,
By granting three girls to your happy embraces.
She but meant, while you wander'd abroad with the
Muses,
Your wife should be circled at home by the Graces J"
He died in Dublin, at the age of seventy-five,
in October, 1818, and was sincerely regretted
by all who knew him ; being admired by the
young for his conviviality, and respected by
the aged for his benevolence and numerous good
qualities.
The following beautiful lines, from the pen
of his intimate, Moore, are intended to be en-
graved on his sepulchre :
" If ever lot was prosperously cast.
If ever life was like the lengthen'd flow
Of some sweet music, sweetness to the last,
'Twas his, who, mourn'd by many, sleeps below.
», POETRY AND POETS. 137
The sunny temper, bright where all is strife.
The simple heart that mocks at worldly wiles,
Light wit, that plays along the calm of life.
And stirs its languid surface into smiles.
Pure Charity, that comes not in a shower,
Sudden and loud, oppressing what it feeds ;
But, like the dew, with gradual silent power.
Felt in the bloom it leaves along the meads.
The happy grateful spirit that improves.
And brightens ev'rj' gift by Fortune given ;
That, wander where it will, with those it loves,
Makes ev'ry place a home, and home a heaven !
All these were his — Oh ! thou, who read'st this stone,
When for thyself, thy children, to the sky
Thou humbly prayest, ask this boon alone,
That ye like him may live, like him may die."
HINDOO POETRY.
The subjects of many slight popular poems,
among the Hindoos, are highly curious. Major
Broughton, in his slight but pleasing volume on
that subject, has preserved the two following,
which we deem well worthy of being presented
to our readers.
" The daughter of a certain Raja, young and
beautiful, fell suddenly into a deep melancholy.
138
POETRY AND POETS.
No art was left untried to effect a cure ; plays
and pantomimes were acted before her; the
most ridiculous mimics and buffoons were sent
for, and exhibited in her presence : but all in
vain ; the young Ranee could by no means be
induced to smile. At length, a facetious Brahmun
undertook to cure her ; and, in the character of
a jeweller, offered some fine pearls for sale. The
following lines contain the Brahmun's speech,
with its effect ; the first hyperbole failed ; but
in the next attempt he was more successful.
* O say, within that coral cell
What mighty magic power can dwell ;
That cheats my hope?, my sight misleads.
And makes my pearls seem coral beads!
In those black eyes now fury burns ; —
To crabs'-eyes all my coral turns !
But see, she smiles ; — my fears were vaiu ;
My worthless beads are pearls again.'"
" A young gu-1, just blooming into youth,
laments, in the following lines, the loss of the
liberty and ease she enjoyed, while regarded
only as a child, in her father's house ; and com-
plains of the restraint imposed upon her in that
of her husband, to which she has now been
removed. When she goes to draw water at the
POETRY AND POETS. 139
well, (the general resort of all the females in a
Hindoo village,) her jet black hair and beautiful
features excite the admiration and despair of the
men, and the eny.y and spite of her female com-
panions ; -while at home, she is tormented by the
watchful jealousy of all her new relations— who
are to be understood by the terms mother, sister,
and brother.
' Though hair as black as glossy raveu.
On me's bestow'd by bounteous Heaven,
The gift I find a source of pain ;
Vet who of Heaven may dare complain ?
They sneer, and scoff, and taunting swear
I'm proud, because my face is fair :
And how should such a child as I
Restrain tlieir cruel raillery ?
My mother, if I stir, will chide ;
My sister watches by my side ;
And then my brother scolds me so.
My cheeks with constant blushes glow :
Ah then, kind Heaven ! restore to me
The happy days of infancy ;
And take this boasted youth again.
Productive but of care and pain !*"
FONDNESS OP POETS FOR RIVERS.
Rivers have, in all ages, been themes for the
Poet ; and in what esteem they were held by
140
POETRY AND POETS.
ancient writers, may be inferred from the num-
ber of authors who wrote of them, previous to
the time of Plutarch. The Aufidus, the Tiber,
and the Po, have been celebrated by Horace,
Virgil, and Ovid ; Callimachus immortalized the
beautiful waters of the Inachus ; and while the
Arno, the Mincio, and the Tagus, boast their
Petrarch, Boccacio, and Camoens ; the Severn,
the Ouse, and the Trent, the Avon, the Derwent,
and the Dee, have been distinguished by the
praises of many an elegant and accomplished
poet. Who is not charmed with Spenser's
" Marriage of the Thames and the Medway ?"
And what personifications in Ovid or Hesiod
are more beautiful than the " Sabrina" of Milton
and the " Ladona" of Pope ?
On the banks of Ilyssus, Plato taught his
system of Philosophy ; and on the shores of the
Rocnabad, a river flowing near the Chapel of
Mosella, the poets and philosophers of Shiraz
composed their most celebrated works. Ossian
is never weary of comparing rivers to heroes ;
and so enamoured were Du Bartas and Drayton
of river scenery, that the one wrote a poetical
catalogue of those which were the most cele-
brated, and the other composed a voluminous
POETRY AND POETS.
141
work upon their history, topography, and land-
scapes. On the borders of the Cam, Milton
enjoyed the happiest moments of his life. —
This Poet enumerates all the principal rivers in
England, and gives to them their appropriate
epithets, in a poem, which has been imitated by
Drummond of Hawthornden.
" Rivers, arise ! whether thou be the son
Of utmost Tweed, or Ouse, or gulphy Dun;
Of Trent, who, like some earth-born giant, spreads
His thirsty arms along th' indented meads ;
Or sullen Afole, that runneth underneath.
Or Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death ;
Of rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lee,
Or coaly Tyne, or ancient hallowed Dee;
Or Humber loud, that keeps the Scj-thian's name.
Or Medway smooth, or royal-tower'd Thame."
Not only rivers, but fountains, have been held
sacred by almost every nation, and equally are
they beloved by the Poets. Who has not pe-
rused with pleasure Sannazaro's " Ode to the
Fountain of Mergillini;" Petrarch's Address to
that of Vaucluse ; and Horace's " Ode to the
Fountain of Blandusium," situated among rocks,
and surrounded with woods }
142 poetry and poets.
gay's " beggars' opera," &C.
Gay got, altogether, about sixteen hundred
pounds by the " Beggars' Opera." This play
caused considerable bustle. In the year 1773,
Sir John Fielding told the bench of Justices,
that he had written to Mr. Garrick, concerning
the impropriety of performing the " Beggars'
Opera," which never was represented on the
stage, without creating an additional number of
thieves; and they particularly requested that he
would desist from performing that opera on a
Saturday evening.
Such, also, were the fears of the Church, as
to the effect of this play, that Dr. Herring, then
Archbishop of Canterbury, preached a sermon
against it: — ^but Dean Swift wrote (as might
be guessed) in favour of it in the " Intelli-
gencer !" We learn, from Boswell's " Life of
Johnson," that Mr. Courtney, in his lively way,
called Gay (the author of it) " The Orpheus
of Highwaymen." That ingenious Critic, Mr.
Hazlitt, thinks " it is a vulgar error to call this
a vulgar play; so far from it, that we (Mr.
Hazlitt) do not scruple to declare our opinion,
POETRY AND POETS. 143
that it is one of the most refined productions in
the language." — (Round Table, vol. i., p. 209.)
The quarrel-scene between Peachum and Lockit
was a burlesque imitation of that between Brutus
and Cassius.
While on the subject of the " Beggars' Opera/'
perhaps the reader will excuse our presenting a
real Macheath.
On the 23d of March, 1761, was executed, at
Oxford, Isaac Dark, alias Dumas, for a robbery
near Nettlebed, in Oxfordshire. He was re-
spectably bred, but unfortunately turned out a
good fellow, a spirited dog, nobody's enemy but
his own. He sung his song well, told a good
story, was apt at a sentiment, drank freely, so
that, at the clubs of the day — who but he } The
ladies, of course, occupied his attention ; and he
became so great a favourite, that he soon took
to the road, to consolidate his ascendancy— for
he was very generous. In 1758, however, he
was cast for death, at Chelmsford Assizes ; but,
on account of his youth, the sentence was com-
muted to fourteen years' transportation.
While he lay in gaol, a scheme was formed
by the prisoners to escape, by murdering the
144 POETRY AND POETS.
keeper ; but he divulged the plot, and received
a pardon, provided he went to Antigua. There
he found soldiering so disagreeable, that, by
bribery and address, he escaped, and, arriving
in England, begun his new campaigns on the
Bath road. Having replenished his purse, he
entered as a midshipman on board the Royal
George ; and now and then, upon leave of ab-
sence, levied contributions as usual; one of
which was upon Lord Perceval, for which he
was taken up, but acquitted. While confined
in Salisbury Gaol, he was frequently visited by
ladies of the highest character and respectability,
on whom he made such a sensible impression, by
his genteel address and captivating manners, as
to become the tea-table chat of that town. Im-
mediately after his acquittal at the Assizes, he
received the following :
" CERTAIN BELLES TO DUMAS.
Joy to thee, lovely thief ! that thou
Hast 'scap'd the fatal string ;
Let gallows groan with ugly rogues,
Dumas must never swing.
Dost thou seek money ? to thy wants
Our purses we'll resign ;
POETRY AND POETS. 145
Could we our hearts to guineas coin.
Those guineas all were thine.
To Bath in safety let my Lord
His loaded pockets carry ;
Thou ne'er again shalt tempt the road.
Sweet youth ! if thou wilt marry.
No more shall niggard travellers
Avoid thee ; we'll ensure 'em :
To us thou shalt consign thy balls
And pistol : — we'll secure 'em.
Yet think not, when the chains are off,
Which now thy legs bedeck.
To fly ; — in fetters, softer far.
We'll chain thee by the neck."
He never failed to captivate the fair sex,
Avherever he came, on which he valued himself;
and he was discovered by means of some letters
directed to them. His character seems to have
been a medley of levity, composed of virtues
and vices: he had a large share of understanding,
with a tolerable scholastic education. When in
necessity, he was daring beyond credibility; and
his courage was frequently restrained, by his
high notion of honour, which he defined, — de-
testing a mean appearance, and an abhorrence
146
POETRY AND POETS.
of cruelty. He possessed a soul, which, in
every hazardous enterprise, overlooked all dan-
gers and difficulties ; and which was so firmly
attached to his paramours, that his shameful
end must be imputed to their extravagances : he
was fond of elegance in dress, and of being
thought handsome.
He suffered before he arrived at the age of
twenty-one; and behaved with great intrepidity
at the gallows, preparing his neck for the rope,
putting it on, and then throwing himself off" the
ladder, without giving the executioner the signal
agreed on to turn him off".
The character of Macheath was his delight,
and with it he diverted himself while in Ox-
ford Gaol.
POETRY AND POETS. 147
DR. JOHNSON AND " DOUGLAS."
Whilst Johnson was sitting in one of the
coffee houses at Oxford, about the time when he
had a Doctor's degree conferred on him by the
University, some young men approached him
with a view to entertainment. They knew the
subject of Scotch poetry and Scotch literature
would call him forth. They talked of " Ossian"
and Home's tragedy of " Douglas ;" and one of
them repeated, from th latter,
"Ere a sword was drawn.
An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief,
Who wore that day the arms which now I wear.
Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd
The shepherd's slotliful life, and having heard
That our good king had summon'd his bold peers
To lead their warriors to the Carron side,
I left my father's house, and took with me
A chosen servant to conduct my steps."
After which he called out, " there's imagery
for you. Dr. Johnson ! there's description ! did
you ever know any man write like that ?" John-
son replied, with that tone of voice for which he
was so remarkable, and which it is said Garrick
used to mimic most inimitably, " Yes, Sir, many
a man, many a woman, and m;:ny a child !"
VOL. MI. I,
J 48 POETRY AND POETS.
Cooke, the translator of" Hesiod," used to say
that Johnson was " half a madman, half a scho-
lar, three parts a Roman Catholic^ and a complete
Jacobite."
SHAKSPEARE, AND GERARD BRANDT.
Gerard Brandt, a Dutch Poet of some
eminence, was born at Amsterdam iij 1626, and
intended to pursue the business of his father,
who was a watchmaker ; but the love of song
had taken possession of his mind, and caused
him to turn his thoughts to that difficult, but, in
those days, much-esteemed branch of literature
— the Tragic Drama. At the age of seventeen,
he produced a piece entitled " The Dissembling
Torquatus;" the scene of which is laid at Rome,
without, however, any other adherence to his-
tory, or even to the original names. We copy
from Mr. Bowring's delightful work, the " Ba-
tavian Anthology," the following observations
of a Dutch Critic, Van Kampen, on this singular
production.
" There is in this piece a remarkable resem-
blance to Hamlet : Shakspeare has drawn from
an old Northern tradition preserved by Saxo
Grammaticus : Brandt's idea seems to be entirely
POETRY AND POETS. 149
original. Torquatus is at Athens (just as Ham-
let at Wittenberg) pursuing his studies, while
his father (^IManlius) is murdered at Rome by
his own brother (Noron), who espouses the
widow (Plaucina). Who does not here imme-
diately recognize Claudius, Gertrude, and the
murdered King, of Shakspeare.? Torquatus
says, too, at the commencement,
* Hast thou, O Heaven ! e'er seen a wretch like me ?
Perfidious, joyless uncle, traitorous slave !
How dar'dst thou thus my wailike father slay,
And stain ray mother's fame ?'
" Yet again. The Ghost of Manlius appears
to his son, and incites him to avenge his death.
Torquatus feigns madness, like Hamlet. The
object of his affections (Juliana) is also intro-
duced. But the most striking point of resem-
blance is in the scene where the heroes of both
tragedies reproach their guilty mothers.
" ' Noron, being sore afraid of his nephew,
cunningly introduces his wife (Plaucina) in a
chamber where Torquatus is, after having con-
cealed one of his counsellors under a couch, for
the purpose of hearing whether he would openly
avow his suspicions to his mother. Torquatus,
150 POETRY AND POETS.
aware of this, suddenly despatches him, and
reproaches his mother for her immodesty, who,
having vindicated herself, promises to be faith-
ful/
" Here is, in fact, a repetition of the scene
where Polonius, behind the arras, falls by Ham-
let's sword, and the Queen suffers the taunts
and upbraidings of her son. Parts of the lan-
guage have a striking coincidence :
TORQUATUS.
' Approach me not with thine adulterous lips ;
For very shame benrl down the eyes that fir'd
The accursed Noron's lust.
Lascivious Queen !
Go — go — caress thy tyrant.'
HAMLET.
' O shame! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell.
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax.
And melt in her own fire.'
PLAUCINA.
' For Heaven's sake, cease ! Ah ! what must I not hear ?
I start at mine own shadow.'
GERTRUDE.
' O Hamlet ! speak no more,
Tliou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul,.
POETRY AND POETS. 151
" The catastrophe is certainly quite different.
Torquatus triumphs by means of Juliana ; who,
however, being dishonoured by Noron, like
Lucretia, destroys herself. The disastrous end
of Hamlet is well known. Still the resemblance
is sufficiently forcible to justify the question,
whether Brandt was acquainted with Shak-
speare, and, consequently, whether the know-
ledge of English literature, about the middle of
the 17th century, was more universal than is
generally supposed ? We (adds Van Kampen)
believe this not to have been the case, at least
not when Brandt wrote this tragedy. We might
more easily imagine this of Huijgens, although
even he, who understood and translated some
English poets of mediocrity, does not once
mention the incomparable poet of Hamlet and
Macbeth."
SHAKSPEARE, AND d'aVENANT.
Shakspeare, in his frequent journeys between
London and his native place, Stratford-upon-
Avon, used to lie at D'Avenant's, " The Crown,"
in Oxford. He was very well acquainted with
Mrs. D'Avenant; and her son (afterwards Sir
William) was supposed to be more nearly re-
lated to him than as a godson only. One day.
152
POETRY AND POETS.
when Shakspeare was just arrived^ and the boy
sent from school to him, a head of one of the
Colleges (who was pretty well acquainted with
the affairs of the family) met the child running
home, and asked him whither he was going in
so much haste ? The boy said, " To my God-
father Shakspeare." — " The child ! (says the
old gentleman,) why are you so superfluous?
have you not learned yet that you should not
use the name of God in vain ?"
Pope, in Spence's Anecdotes.
SORTES VIRGILIANiE.
In the time of the late civil wars. King
Charles I. was at leisure for a little diversion. A
motion was made to go to the Sortes Virgilianoe;
that is, take a Virgil, and either with the finger,
or sticking a pin, or the like, upon any verses,
at a venture, and the verses touched shall
declare his destiny that toucheth, which some-
times makes sport, and at other times is signi-
ficant, or not, as the gamesters choose to apply.
The King laid his finger on the place towards
the latter end of the fourth ^Eneid, which con-
tains Dido's curse to Mneas :
" At bello audacis populi vexatus et armis,
Fiaibus extonis, coniplexu avulsus liili.
POETRY AND POETS. 155
Auxiliuin imploict, videatque indigna suorum
Funera ; iiec quiiui .^e sub leges pacis iuiquse
Tradiderit, regno aut optata luce fruatur,
Sed cadat ante diem, inediaque inlauuatus arena !"
This made the sport end in vexation, as much
as it began in merriment : the King read the fate
which followed him in too many particulars, as
time discovered. He was then, and afterwards,
ccxed with the conquering arms of his subjects j
he would have been glad to have escaped with
banishment ; he was torn from his son, the Prince;
he saw the deaths of most of his friends ; he
would gladly have made peace (at the Isle of
Wight) upon hard terms; he neither enjoyed his
crotvn nor life long, but was beheaded on a scaj-
fold before his own dour, and God knotvs where
buried ! jMr. Cowley was desired to translate the
above lines into English (without being in-
formed that the King had drawn them), which
he did, as follows :
By a bold people's stubborn arms oppress'd,
Forc'd to forsake the land which he posses^d ;
Torn from his dearest son, let him in vain
Be.' help, and see his friends unjustly slain :
Let him to base unequal terms submit,
In hopes to save his crown, yetlo.se both it
And life at once : untimely let him die,
And on an open stage unburied lie 1"
154 POETRY AND POETS.
Lord Falkland and some others were with the
King at the time.
This anecdote is taken from the first leaf of
Bishop Wilkins's Virgil^ where it is written in
his own hand- writing.
Petrarch's laura.
The arguments of Lord Woodhouslee, prov-
ing that Laura lived and died unmarried^ are
strictly conclusive ; — the memoirs of Petrarch^,
written by De Sade, being little more than a
romance. " Petrarch," his Lordship observes,
" composed 318 sonnets, 59 canzoni, or songs,
and 6 trionfi; a large volume of poetry, entirely
on the subject of his passion for Laura ; not to
include a variety of passages in prose works,
where the favourite topic is occasionally treated,
and even discussed at very great length. In the
whole of these Avorks, there is not a single pas-
sage which intimates that Laura was a married
woman. ^ Is it to be conceived, that the Poet,
who ha'S exhausted language itself, in saying
every thing possible of his mistress ; who men-
tions not only her looks, her dress, her gestures,
her conversations, but her companions, her fa-
vourite walks, and her domestic occupations.
SHAKSPEARE.
From the Dust in Stratford-on-Avon Church.
POETRY AND POETS. 155
would have omitted such capital facts, as being
married, and the mother of many children ;
married, too, as the author asserts, to a man who
was jealous of her, and who used her with harsh-
ness and unkindness, on Petrarch's account?"
Laura died in 1348, and was buried at Avignon.
Her grave was opened by J'rancis the First,
King of France; wherein was found a small
box, containing a medal and a few verses,
written by Petrarch. — On one side of the medal
was impressed the figure of a woman ; on the
reverse the characters of M. L. M. J., signifying
Madona Laura viorte jacet.
The gallant and enthusiastic Monarch re-
turned every thing into the tomb, and wrote an
epitaph in honour of her memory.
PETRARCH AT VAUCLUSE.
It is impossible to describe the pleasure which
Petrarch enjoyed in his hermitage at Vaucluse.
He was never truly happy when away from it ;
he was never weary of celebrating its beauties,
and never fatigued with describing them to his
friends. There, as he informs us in a letter to
the Bishop of Cavoillon, he went when a child ;
thither he returned when a youth ; in manhood.
156
POETRY AND POETS.
he passed there some of the choicest years of his
life; and had he been capable of reflection, at
so awfully sudden a period, he would have la-
mented, that there he was not permitted to close
his mortal existence.* The manner in which
he passed his time in that elegant retirement,
he thus describes in a letter to one of his inti-
mate friends. — " Nothing pleases me so much as
my personal freedom. I rise at midnight ; I
go out at break of day ; I study in the fields as
in my closet; I think, read, and even write
*here. I combat idleness ; I chase away sleep,
indulgence, and pleasures. In the day, I run
over the craggy mountains, the humid vallies,
and shelter myself in the profoundest caves ; .
sometimes I walk, attended only by my reflec-
tions, along the banks of the Sorgia, meeting
with no person to distract my mind. I become
every day more calm, and send my cares some-
times before ; sometimes, I leave them behind
me. Fond of the place I am in, every situation
was
* Petrarch died of an apoplexy, at Argua— He
found dead iu his library, July the 18th, 1374 ; with one
arm leaning on a book.
POETRY AND POETS. 157
becomeSj in turn, agreeable to me except Avig-
non ; I find Athens, Rome, and Florence as my
imagination desires : here I enjoy my friends,
not only those with whom I have lived, but
those who have long been dead, and whom I
only know in their works."
gower's anachronisms.
It is pleasant to observe the strange mistakes
which Gower, a man of great learning, and the
most general scholar of his age, has committed
in his " Confessio Amantis," concerning books
which he never saw, his violent anachronisms,
and misrepresentations of the most common
poets and characters: he mentions the Greek
Poet ^lenander as one of the first historians, or,
to quote his own expression, " the first enditours
of the olde cronike," together with Esdras, So-
linus, Josephus, Claudius Salpicius, Termegis,
Pandulfe, Frigidilles, Ephiloquorus, and Pan-
das. In this singular list, the omissions of which
are as curious as the insertions, we are equally
at a loss to account for the station assigned to
some of the names as to the existence of others,
which it would require an Q'^dipus to unriddle.
In the next paragraph, it is true, he mentions
158 POETRY AND POETS.
Herodotus ; yet not in his character of an early
Historian, but as the first writer of a system of
the metrical art, " of metre, of ryme, and of ca-
dence." We smile when Hector, in Shakspeare,
quotes Aristotle; but Gower gravely informs
his reader that Ulysses was a clerke, accom-
plished with a knowledge of all the sciences, a
great rhetorician and magician ; that he learned
Rhetoric of Tully, Magic of Zoroaster, As-
tronomy of Ptolomy, Philosophy of Plato, Divi-
nation of the Prophet Daniel, Proverbial In-
struction of Solomon, Botany of Macer, and
Medicine of Hippocrates. And in the seventh
book of the Poem, Aristotle, or the philosopkre,
is introduced reciting to his scholar, Alexander
the Great, a disputation between a Jew and
a Pagan, who meet between Cairo and Babylon,
concerning their respective religions : the end of
this story is to shew the cunning, cruelty, and
ingratitude of the Jew, which are, at last, deser-
vedly punished. But I believe Gower's apo-
logy must be, that he took this narrative from
some Christian Legend, which was feigned for a
religious purpose, at the expense of all probabi-
lity and propriety.
Among the Astrological writers he reckons
POETRY AND POKTS. ]59
Noah, Abraham, and Moses ; but he is not sure
that Abraham was an author, having never
seen any of that Patriarch's Works ; and he pre-
fers Trismegistus to Moses. Cabalistical tracts
were, however, extant, not only under the names
of Abraham, Noah, and Moses, but of Adam,
Abel, and Enoch. He mentions with particular
regard Ptolomy's Almagest, the grand source of
all the superstitious notions propagated by the
Arabian Philosophers concerning the science of
divination by the Stars. These infatuations
seem to have completed their triumph over hu-
man credulity in Gower's age, who, probably,
was an ingenious adept in these false and frivo-
lous speculations of this admired species of study.
His account of the progress of the Latin lan-
guage is exceedingly curious. He supposes that
it was invented by the old Tuscan Prophetess,
Carmens ; that it was reduced to method by the
grammarians Aristarchus, Donatus, and Didy-
mus ; adorned with the flowers of eloquence and
rhetoric by Tully ; then enriched by translations
from the Chalda?an, Arabic, and Greek langua-
ges, more especially by the version of the He-
brew Bible into Latin, by Saint Jerome (in the
fourth century) ; and that at length, after the
160 POETRY AND POETS.
labours of many celebrated writers, it received
its final consummation in Ovid, the Poet of
lovers. At the mention of Ovid's name, the
Poet, with the dexterity and address of a true
master of transition, seizes the critical moment
of bringing back the dialogue to its proper
argument — Love.
WARTON.
Addison's description of the " iliad " and
THE " ^NEID."
Addison contrasts the " Iliad" and " Mneid"
by the different aspects of grand and of beauti-
ful scenery. — " The reading of the ' Iliad,' " says
he, " is like travelling through a country uninha-
bited, where the fancy is entertained Avith a
thousand savage prospects of the deserts, wide
and uncultivated marshes, huge forests, mis-
shapen rocks and precipices. On the contrary,
the ' JEneid" is like a well-ordered garden,
where it is impossible to find any part un-
adorned, or to cast our eyes upon a single spot,
that does not produce some beautiful plant or
flower."
In another place, when comparing those
poets, who are indebted, principally, to their own
POETRY AND POETS. 161
resources and genius, with those who have been
formed by rules, and whose natural parts are
chastened by critical precepts, Addison ele-
gantly says, "the genius in both authors may
be equally great, but shews itself after a dif-
ferent manner. In the first, it is like a rich soil,
in a happy climate, that produces a whole wil-
derness of plants, rising in a thousand beautiful
landscapes, without any certain order and regu-
larity. In the other, it is the same rich soil, un-
der the same happy climate, that has been laid
out in walks and parterres, and cut into shape
and beauty, by the skill of the gardener.
It is not out of place here to add, that Father
Brumio, speaking of the three great dramatic
writers of Greece, — iEschylus, Sophocles, and
Euripides, says — the first, as the inventor and
father of Tragedy, is like a torrent rolling impe-
tuously over rocks, forests, and precipices ; the
second resembles a canal, which flows gently
througli delicious gardens; and the third may
be compared to a river that does not follow its
course in a continual line, but loves to turn and
wind its silver wave through flowery meads and
rural scenes."
162
POETRY AND POETS.
PETRARCH S PRECISION.
This celebrated Italian Poet is wonderfully
accurate and precise about his Laura. These
are his own words : — " Laura, illustrious by the
virtues she possessed, and celebrated, during
many years, by my verses, appeared to my eyes,
for the first time, on the 6th day of April, in the
year 1327, at Avignon, in the Church of Saint
Clare, at six o'clock in the morning. I was then
in my early youth. In the same town, on the
same day, and at the same hour, in the year
1348, this light, this sun, withdrew from the
world."
METASTASIO.
Metastasio was a successful author, for he
lived to see the seventieth edition of his works.
Being a character so singular, we cannot
avoid extracting a notice of him from Mrs.
Piozzi, who seems to have had it from the best
authorities, viz. from the family in which he
lived, theMesdemoiselles de Martinas, at Vienna,
at least sixty-five years.
** Metastasio's peculiarities were these : that
POETRY AND POETS. 163
he had constantly lived half a century at Vienna,
without ever wishing to learn its language ; that
he had never given more than five guineas, in
all that time, to the poor; that he always sat
in the same seat at church, but never paid for
it, and that nobody dared ask him for the trifling
sum ; that he was grateful and beneficent to the
friends who began by being his protectors,
leaving them every thing. He never changed
the fashion of his wig, the cut or colour of his
coat : his life was arranged with such methodical
exactness, that he rose, studied, chatted, slept,
and dined at the same hours, for fifty years
together, enjoying health and good spirits, which
were never ruffled, excepting when the word
death was mentioned before him ; no one was
ever permitted to mention that ; and even if any
one named the sraall-pox before him, he would
see that person no more. No solicitation had
ever prevailed on him to dine from home, nor
had liis nearest intimates ever seen him eat more
than a biscuit with his lemonade ; every meal
being performed with mysterious privacy to
the last. He took great delight in hearing the
lady he lived with sing his songs : this was
visible to every one. An Italian Abbot once
VOL. III. M
164 POETRY AND POETS.
said, comically enough, ' Oh, he looked like a
man in the state of beatification always, when
Mademoiselle de Martinas accompanied his
verses with her fine voice and brilliant finger.'
" The father of Metastasio was a goldsmith,
at Rome, but his son had so devoted himself to
the family he lived with, that he refused to hear,
and took pains not to know, whether he had, in
his latter days, any one relation left in the world."
Poor Metastasio should have been corporeally
immortal, in the way Mr. Godwin prophesies
we shall be some day, as well as poetically so ; —
such was his hatred of the grim all-subduing
tyrant — Death.
DRUJIMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN.
The influence of scenery over the mind and
heart of Drumraond of Hawthornden, consti-
tuted one of the principal charms of liis life,
after the death of the accomplished Miss Cun-,
ningham. His retirement to Hawthomden was
the renewal of happiness. There, in the me-
ridian of life, Drummond tasted the hours of
enjoyment, which had been denied to his youth.
Thither Johnson travelled, to enjoy the pleasures
of his conversation; and there, with attention.
POKTRY AND POETS. 165
he perused the best of the Greek, Roman, and
Italian authors ; charming the peaceful hours
in playing upon his lute favourite Scottish and
Italian airs ; and many an hour was by him dei-
voted to the fascinating movements of chess.
The loss of Miss Cunningham, in his youth,
increased that habitual melancholy to which he
was constitutionally disposed, and gave rise to
many of those sonnets, the sweetness and ten-
derness of which — possessing all the Doric
elegancies of " Comus" — for mellowness of
feeling and tender elevation of sentiment, may
vie with some of the best Grecian models.
How beautiful is the " Sonnet to his Lute" —
and the one so well imitated from a passage in
Guarini's "II Pastor Fido!"
" Sweet Spring ! thou com'st with all thy goodly train,
Thy head in flames, thy mantle bright with flowers.
The zephjTS curl the green locks of the plain.
The clouds for joy in pearls weep down the showers.
Sweet Spring ! — thou com'st — but ah ! my pleasant
hours,
And happy days, with thee come not again ;
The sad memorials only of my pain,
Do with thee come, which turn my sweets to sours ;
166 POETRY AND POETS.
Thou art the same, which still thou wert before,
Delicious, lusty, amiable, fair ;
But she, whose breath embalm'd the wholesome air.
Is gone ; nor gold, nor gems, cau her restore : —
Neglected virtue, seasons go and come.
When thine, forgot, lie closed in a tomb ! — "
VEKSHS WRITTEN BY A MANIAC.
A GARDENER, much afflicted with melancholy
and hypochondriacal symptoms, was, at his own
request, some years ago, admitted into that ex-
cellent asylum, " The Retreat" — an institution
near York for insane persons of the Society of
Friends; and gave the following account of him-
self, almost verbatim : —
" I have no soul; I have neither heart, liver,
nor lungs ; nor any thing at all in my body, nor
a drop of blood in my veins. My bones are all
burnt to a cinder ; I have no brain ; and my
head is sometimes as hard as iron, and sometimes
as soft as a pudding."
A fellow-patient, also an hypochondriac,
amused himself in turning into verse this af-
fectingly ludicrous description, in the following
lines:
POETRY AND POETS. 167
•* A miracle, my friends, come view,
A man, (admit his own words true,)
Who lives without a soul :
Nor liver, lungs, nor heart, has he,
Yet sometimes can as cheerful be
As if he had the whole.
His head, (take his own words along,) •
Now, hard as iron, yet ere long
Is soft as any jelly ;
All burnt his sinews, and his lungs ; —
Of his complaints, not fifty tongues
Could fiud enough to tell ye.
— Yet he who paints his likeness here
Has just as much himself to fear ;
He's wrong from top to toe :
Ah, friends ! pray help us, if you ean.
And make us each again a man.
That we from hence may go."
CALAMITIES OP POETS.
Butler was fortunate, for a time, in having
Charles II. to admire his " Iludibras." That
Monarch carried one in his pocket: hence his
success, though the work has great merit. Yet,
does merit sell a work in one case out of twenty .-'
Butler, after all, was left to starve; for, according
to Dennis, the author of " Hudibras" died in a
garret.
168 POETRY AND POETS.
Samuel Boyse, author of " The Deity," a
poem, was a fag author, and, at one time, em-
ployed by Mr. Ogle to translate some of
Chaucer's Tales into modern English, which he
did, with great spirit, at the rate of tljiree-pence
per line for his trouble. Poor Boyse wore a
blanket, because he was destitute of breeches ;
and was, at last, found famished to death with a
pen in his hand.
Collins, that elegant poet, moaned and raved
amidst the cloisters of Chichester Cathedral, and
died insane, in consequence of literary disap-
pointment : however, there was a pretty monu-
ment raised to his memory !
Poor Chatterton, one of the greatest ge-
niuses of any age, who destroyed himself through
want, (though insanity would be the better
term, since it was in the family,) still left
v/herewithal, by the aid of friends, to preserve
his sister from want and poverty in her latter
years, and enabled her also to leave her only
child sufficiently provided for, according to her
rank in life. This act of justice came late, as it
usually does.
POETRY AND POETS. 169
Henry Carey^ author and composer of " God
Save the King," was reduced to such abject
poverty, that, in a fit of desperation, October 4,
1743, he laid violent hands upon himself.
CoRNEiLLE suffered all the horrors of poverty.
This great Poet used to say, his poetry went
away with his teeth. Some will think that they
ought to disappear at the same time, as one
would not give employment to the other.
There is no doing without a patron. Of
Churchill's " Rosciad," which had so great a
run afterwards, ten copies were sold in the first
five days: in four days more, six copies were
sold : but, when Garrick found himself praised
in it, he set it afloat, and Churchill then reaped
a large harvest.
Dante had not the good fortune to please
his patron at Verona. The great Candella
Scala gave him to understand that he was weary
of him, and told him one day, it is a wonderful
thing that such a one, who is a fool, should
please us all, and make himself beloved by every
body, which you, who are accounted a wise
170 POETRY AND POETS.
man, cannot do. " This is not to be wonder'ed
at/' answered Dante ; " you would not admire
such a thing, if you knew how much the con-
formity of characters knits men together."
Falconer's deaf and dumb sister, notwith-
standing the success of the " Shipwreck," was,
not many years since, and, perhaps, still is, the
tenant of an hospital, says some modern writer ;
we believe, D'Israeli.
Savage was in continual distress, independent
of an .unnatural mother's persecution : he sold
his " Wanderer" for ten pounds.
Spenser lived in misery and depression. It
is thought Lord Burleigh withheld the bounty
Queen Elizabeth intended for Spenser. But he
is more clearly stigmatized in these remarkable
lines, where the misery of dependence on court-
favour is painted in fine colours :
" Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried.
What hell it is, in suing long to bide ;
To lose good days, that might be better spent ;
To waste long nights in pensive discontent ;
To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow.
To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow ;
POETRY AND POETS. 171
To have thy princess' grace, yet want her peers' ;
To have thy asking, yet wait many years ;
To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares ;
To eat thy heart thro" comfortless despairs ;
To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run ;
To spend, to give, to want, to be undone-"
MOTHER Hubbard's tale.
These lines exasperated still more the in-
elegant, the illiberal, Burleigh. So true is the
observation of i\Ir. Hughes, that, e\en the sighs
of a miserable man are sometimes resented as an
affront by him that is the occasion of them.
Christopher Smart, the translator of " Ho-
race,** and no mean poet, died in the rules of the
King's Bench. Poor Smart, when at Pembroke
College, wore a path upon one of the paved
walks.
Thomson's first part of his " Seasons,"—
Winter, lay like waste paper at the bookseller's,
till a gentleman of taste, INIr. Blichell, pro-
mulgated its merits in the best circles, and then
all was right. Thomson got from Andrew
Millar, in 1729, one hundred and thirty-seven
172 POETRY AND POETS.
pounds ten shillings for " Sophonisba," a tra-
gedy, and " Spring," a poem. For the rest of
the " Seasons," and some other pieces, one
hundred and five pounds of John Millar; Avhich
were again sold to Millar, nine years afterwards,
for one hundred and five pounds. When Millar
died, his executors sold the whole copy-right to
the trade for five hundred and five pounds.
Gray, the Poet, speaks thus of Thomson : —
" He has lately published a poem, called the
' Castle of Indolence,' in which there are some
good stanzas." " In an ordinary critic, pos-
sessed of one-hundredth part of his sensibility
and taste, such total indifference to the beauties
of this exquisite performance would be utterly
impossible." — (Stewart's Philos. Essays.)
RICHARD EDWARDS.
This Poet, who enjoyed considerable emi-
nence in the early part of Queen Elizabeth's
reign, was born about 1523. He early became
a courtier, and, in the year 1561, was constituted
a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal, and Master
of the singing boys.
When Queen Elizabeth visited Oxford in
POETRY AND POETS. 173
1566, she was attended by Edwards, who was
on this occasion employed to compose a play
called " Palamon and Arcite," which was acted
before her INIajesty in Christ Church Hall.
Another of his plays is entitled " The Tragical
Comedy of Damon and Pythias:" it was acted
at Court, and is reprinted in Dodsley's Col-
lection. This is a very curious specimen of
the early English Drama, when it was ap-
proaching to something of a regular form;
and there is much humour in the dialogue
of some of the inferior characters: but the scenes
intended to be serious are many of them full of
low and ludicrous expressions.
The following may serve to give some idea of
the style of this heterogenous composition.
" CARISOPUUS.
The sturdy kuave is gone, the devil him take!
He hath made my head, shoulders, arras, sides, and all to
ake.
Thou whoreson villain boy, why didst thou wait no better ?
As he paid me, so will I not die thy debtor.
JACK.
.Master, why do you fight with me ? I am not your matrh,
you see ;
You durst not fight with him that's gone, and will you
wreak your anger on me ?
174 POETRY AND POETS.
CARISOPHUS.
Thou villain, by thee I have lost mine honour,
Beaten with a cudgel like a slave, a vagabond, or a lazy
lubber.
And not given one blow again : hast thou handled me well ?
JACK.
Master, I handled you not ; but who did handle you very
handsomely, you can tell.
CARISOPHUS.
Handsomely! thou crack-rope.
JACK.
Ye», Sir, very handsomely : I hold you a groat,
He handled you so handsomely, that he left not one mote
in your coat.
CARISOPHUS.
Oh! I had firk'd him trimly, thou villain, if thou hadst
given me my sword.
JACK.
It is better as it is. Master, believe me at a word."
The first edition of this Play was printed in
1570, only twenty years before Shakspeare pro-
duced the earliest of his inimitable Dramas ; and
yet so little progress had dramatic poetry at that
time made in this country, that Puttenham, in
his " Arte of English Poetry, 1589," gives the
POETRY AND POETS. 17^
prize to Edwards for comedy and interlude;
and Meres, in his " Palladis Tamia, 1598," re-
cites " Maister Edwards of her IMajesty's Chapel
as one of the best for comedy."
In the " Paradise of Dainty Devices," a col-
lection of miscellany Poems, published in 1576,
the " pithy precepts, learned counsels, and ex-
cellent inventions," in which are said, in the title,
to be " devised and written for the most part by
Master Edwards," are numerous songs and other
pieces from his pen. Of these, there is one on
Terence's well-known apophthegm of " Aman-
tium irce amoris inlegratio est," which Sir Egerton
Brydges, who has reprinted this Miscellany,
considers, even without reference to the age
which produced it, among the most beautiful
morgeaux of our language. As we fully coincide
in this opinion, we cannot refrain from inserting
this exquisite little piece, in order to give the
reader an opportunity of judging for himself
" [» going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept,
I heard a wife sing to her child that long before had
wept ;
She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, to bring the babe
to rest,
That would not cease, but cried still, in lucking at her
breaat.
176 POETRY AND 'POETS.
She was full weaiy of her watch, and grieved with her
child,
She rocked it and rated it till that on her it smiled ;
Then did she say, ' Now have I found this proverb true
to prove.
The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'
Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write.
In register for to remain of such a worihy wight.
As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat.
Much matter utter'd she<of weight, in place whereat she
sat,
And proved plain there was no beast, nor creature bearing
life.
Could well be known to live in love, without discord and
strife ;
Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God above,
' The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'
She said that neither King nor Prince, nor Lord, could
live aright,
Until their puissance they could prove, their manhood
and their might.
When manhood shall be matched so that fear can take
no place.
Then weary works make warriors each other to embrace.
And leave their force that failed them, which did con-
sume the rout.
That might before have liv'd their time and their full
nature out.
POETRY AND POETS. 177
Then did she sing as one that thought no man could her
leprove,
' The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'
She said she saw no fish nor fowl, nor beast within her
haunt,
That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a
taunt ;
Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath suc-
ceed,
And force who fight to fall to play, in pasture where they
feed;
So noble Nature can well end the works she hath begun.
And bridle well that will not cease her tragedy in some.
Thus in her song she oft rehearst, as did her well behove,
' The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'
' 1 marvel much, pardie,' quoth she, ' for to behold the
rout,
To see man, woman, boy, and beast, to toss the world
about ;
Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and
some can smoothly smile,
And some embrace others in arm, and there think many
a wile ;
Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and
some stout.
Yet they are never friend indeed, until they once fall out.'
Thus ended she her song, and said, before she did
remove,
' The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.' "
1 78 poetry and poets.
Milton's " paradise lost."
Milton, who did not begin writing his
" Paradise Lost" until he was forty-seven, sold
it for five pounds to Samuel Simmons, April 27,
1667- In two years more, he had five pounds
for the second edition. In 1680, Mrs. Milton
sold all her right for eight pounds. Simmons
then sold the copyright for twenty-five pounds.
This was the book, too, that Milton had great
difficulty in getting licensed; whereas, after-
wards, the editors of that great poet, Dr. Bentley,
got one hundred guineas for his edition; and
Dr. Newton no less than six hundred and thirty
pounds for the " Paradise Lost," and one hun-
dred and five pounds for the " Regained."
It was an extraordinary misjudgment of the
celebrated Waller, who speaks thus of the first
appearance of " Paradise Lost :" — " The old
blind schoolmaster, John Milton, hath published
a tedious poem on the Fall of Man: if its length
be not considered as merit, it has no other." —
Poor Milton was obliged to keep school for his
livelihood.
Dr. Johnson, in his " Life of Milton," de-
scribing the school once kept by this author.
POETRY AND POETS. 179
has the following paragraph : " Of institutions
we may judge by their effects. From this
wonder-working academy, I do not know that
there ever proceeded any man very eminent for
knowledge : its only genuine product, I believe,
is a small History of Poetry, written in Latin
by his nephew, of which, perhaps, none of my
readers have ever heard."
We may be sure that Dr. Johnson had never
seen the book he speaks of; for it is entirely com-
posed in English, though its title begins with
two Latin words, viz. " Theatrum Poetarum;
or, a Complete Collection of the Poets, &c."
a circumstance that probably misled the bio-
grapher of Milton.
HARTE, AND DR. JOHNSON.
Walter Harte, the Poet and Historian,
was one of Dr. Johnson's earliest admirers. —
Johnson's " Life of Savage" was published in
1744: soon after which, Harte, dining with
Mr. Cave, the projector of " The Gentleman's
Magazine," at St. John's Gate, took occasion to
speak very handsomely of the work, which was
anonymous. Cave, the next time they met, told
Harte that he made a man very happy the other
VOL. III. N
180 POETRY AND POETS.
day at his house, by the encomiums he bestowed
on the author of Savage's " Life." " How could
that be ?" said Harte ; " none were present but
you and I." Cave replied, " You might have
observed, I sent a plate of victuals behind the
screen : there skulked the biographer, one John-
son, whose dress was so shabby, that he durst
not make his appearance. He overheard our
conversation ; and your applauding his per-
formance delighted him exceedingly."
KHEMNITZER.
Ivan Ivanovich Khemnitzer, a celebrated
Russian Fabulist, may be compared, in many
respects, to La Fontaine, his pattern and fore-
runner. The same goodness of heart, the same
blind confidence in his friends, the same care-
lessness and inoffensiveness, and the same ab-
sence of mind, which formed the prominent
features of La Fontaine's character, were de-
veloped with singular fidelity in that of Khem-
nitzer. Of the last trait we will give an example
or two. When in Paris, he once went to see
the representation of " Tancred." On Le Kain's
appearance, he was so struck with the noble and
majestic presence of that renowned actor, that
POETRY AND POETS. 181
he rose from his seat and bowed with lowly
reverence. An universal roar of laughter brought
him back to himself One morning, a friend,
for whom he had the highest regard, related to
him an interesting piece of news. Khemnitzer
dined with him afterwards, and, as a piece of
remarkable intelligence, narrated to his host that
which his host had before communicated to
him. His friend reminded him of his forget-
fulness. Khemnitzer was greatly distressed,
and in his perplexity, instead of his handker-
chief, he put his host's napkin into his pocket.
On rising from table, Khemnitzer endeavoured
to slip away unobserved ; his friend saw him,
followed him, and tried to detain him. Khem-
nitzer reproached him for unveiling his weak-
nesses, and would not listen to any entreaties.
" Leave my napkin, then, at least, which you
pocketed at table," said the other. Khemnitzer
drew it forth, and stood like a statue. The loud
laugh of the company recovered him from his
trance, and with the utmo.st good nature he
joined in the general mirth.
The following elegant version of one of his
Fables is extracted from Mr. Bowring's de-
182 POETRY AND POETS.
lightful selections, under the title of " Russian
Anthology." The reader will, probably, feel
some surprise to see the Councils of Kings
treated with such manly freedom by a Russian
Poet of the last century.
" THE lion's council OF STATE.
A Lion held a court for State affairs :
Why ? That is not your business, Sir, 'twas theirs !
He call'd the Elephants for counsellors — still
The council-board was incomplete ;
And the King deem'd it fit
With Asses all the vacancies to fill.
Heaven help the State — for lo ! the bench of Asses
Tlie bench of Elephants by far surpasses.
He was a fool — the 'foresaid King — you'll say; ,
Better have kept those places vacant, surely,
Than fill them up so poorly.
O no ! that's not the Royal way ;
Things have been done for ages thus — and we
Have a deep reverence for antiquity -.
Nought worse. Sir, than to be, or to appear
Wiser and better than our fathers were.
The list must be complete, even though you make it
Complete with Asses ; for the Lion saw
Such had for ages been the law —
He was no radical — to break it !
POETRY AND POETS. 183
' Besides,' he said, ' my Elephants' good sense
Will soon my Asses' ignorance diminish,
For wisdom has a mighty influence.*
They made a pretty finish !
The Asses' folly soon obtain'd the sway;
The Elephants became as dull as they!"
POETRY OF THE HINDOOS AND THE PERSIANS.
" In their descriptions of female charms, the
images of the Hindoo poets are invariably taken
from nature ; consequently, are seldom extrava-
gant, and they are always calculated to raise in
the mind the sweet ideas of tenderness and de-
licacy. The Hindoo nymph is lovely, but her
charms are never heightened by that kind of
bacchanalian tint which glows in the attractions
of the Persian beauty. With the one, we sigh
to repose among shady bowers, or wander by
the side of cooling streams ; to weave chaplets
of the lotus, or the jessamine, for her hair; and
even fancy ourselves enamoured of one of the
legitimate shepherdesses of our pastoral poetry.
With the other, we burn to share the luxurious
pleasures of the banquet ; to celebrate her eyes
in anacreontic measures; or toast her jetty
ringlets in bowls of liquid ruby. Our heated
184 POETRY AND POETS.
imagination pourtrays a Phryne or a Lais, and
we picture to ourselves the wanton attractions
of a Grecian or Roman courtezan. Love is
equally the ruling passion of both, but it is of
different kinds : that of the Hindoo is evident,
yet tender ; that of the Persian, voluptuous and
intoxicating.
" Nor is the character of their lovers less
distinctly marked : the passion of the Hindoo
youth is breathed for his mistress only ; while
that of the Persian is equally excited bv wine
and music, by roses and nightingales, as by all
the blandishments of his ' sugar'd' charmer."
Broughton, 07i the Poetry of the Hindoos.
THE EARL OF ESSEX.
The elegant courtier, but unfortunate Earl of
Essex, was a lover of nature in all her wild
varieties ; and when ordered to take the com-
mand of the army in Ireland, a commission
which most willingly he would have foregone,
he wrote a letter to his Mistress, Queen Eliza-
beth, in which he complained of the appointment
as a species of banishment, and closed his letter
with the following lines :
POETRY AND POETS. 185
*' Happy he could furnish forth his fate.
In some unhaunted desert, most obscure
From all society, from love and hate
Of worldly folk ; then should he sleep secure.
Then 'wake again, and yield God ev'ry praise,
Content with hips and haws and brambleberry ;
In contemplation passing out his days.
And change of holy thoughts to make him merry.
Who, when he dies, his tomb may be a bush.
Where harmless robin dwells with gentle thrush."
RICHARD TARLTON.
This ancient Comedian, more celebrated as a
clown and a jester than as a poet, like too many
of his fraternity, joined some humour to a great
deal of profligacy. He was brought to London
by Queen Elizabeth's Earl of Leicester, who
found him in a field keeping his father's swine,
and " being," says Fuller, " highly pleased
with his happy unhappy answers," took him
into his service. He afterwards became an
actor at the Bull, in Bishopsgate Street; and,
according to the veracious Chronicler, Sir Ri-
chard Baker, " for the Clown's part he never
had his equal, nor ever will."
" He was, perhaps," says GifFord, " the most
180 POETRY AND POETS.
popular comic performer that ever trod the
stage ; and his memory was cherished with fond
delight by the vulgar, to the period of the
Revolution. It is afflicting to add, that this
extraordinary man lived and died a profligate ;
for I give no credit to the ' songs and sonnets*
which tell of his recantation and repentance.
These were hawked about as commonly as
' dying-speeches,* and were, probably, of no
better authority."
Not to mention the repentant verses thus
doubtfully ascribed to Tarlton, he wrote " Tra-
gical Treatises, containing sundry discourses
and pretty conceits, both in prose and verse ;"
and, also, " Toys," in verse.
A Collection of old stories newly polished,
and of some new ones, was published in 1611,
under the title of " Tarlton's Jests ;" and se-
veral of his witticisms are also to be found in
Chettle's " Kind-heart's Dream." Some of these
stories are ridiculous enough : for instance,
during the time that he kept the Tabor, a
tavern, in Gracechurch Street, he was chosen
Scavenger, but was often complained of by the
Ward, for neglect: he laid the blame on the
POETRY AND POETS. 187
Raker^ and he again on his horse, which, being
blooded and drenched the preceding day, could
not be worked. " Then," says Tarlton, " the
horse must - suffer ;" so he sent him to the
Compter, and when the Raker had done his
work, sent him there also, to pay the prison fees
and redeem his horse.
Another story is told of him, that, having run
up a large score at an ale-house in Sandwich,
he made his boy accuse him for a seminary
priest- The officers came and seized him in his
chamber, on his knees, crossing himself; so they
paid his reckoning, with the charges of his
journey, and he got clear to London. When
they brought him before the Recorder, Fleet-
wood, he ■ knew him, and not only discharged
him, but entertained him very courteously.
This tale, however, is altogether too like that
which is told of Rabelais and others, to be
genuine.
Tarlton was married to a wife, named Kate,
who is eaid to have cuckolded him ; for which
reason, a waterman, who was bringing him from
Greenwich, landed him at Cuckold's Point. He
does not seem to have been particularly fond of
188
POETRY AND POETS.
his helpmate ; for it is related, that, being once
in a great storm, as they were sailing from
Southampton, and every man being directed to
throw overboard the baggage that he could best
spare, he offered to throw his wife over, but the
company rescued her. This, again, is but an
old joke foisted upon him, for the purpose of
filling up the pamphlet.
" Much of his merriment," says honest Fuller,
" lay in his very looks and actions. Indeed,
the self-same words spoken by another, would
hardly move a merry man to smile, which,
uttered by him, would force a sad soul to
laughter." In fact, he was the "Liston" of his
age.
" When Queen Elizabeth was serious," con-
tinues Fuller, " (I dare not say sullen) and out
of good-humour, he could undumpish her at his
pleasure. Her highest favourites would, in
some cases, go to Tarlton before they would go
to the Queen ; and he was their usher, to pre-
pare their advantageous access unto her. In a
word, he told the Queen more of her faults than
most of her chaplains, and cured her melancholy
better than all her physicians."
POETRT AND POETS. 189
He was the author of a dramatic performance,
never published, called " The Seven Deadly
Sins," the plot of which was formerly in the
possession of Mr. Malone. In one of Gabriel
Harvey's controversial pamphlets, mention is
made of a work written by Nash, — " right
formally conveyed according to the style and
tenour of Tarlton's precedent, his famous play
of ' The Seven Deadly Sins,' which most deadly,
but most lively, play, I might have seen in
London, and was very gently invited thereunto
at Oxford by Tarlton himself; of whom I mer-
rily demanding which of the seven was his own
deadly sin, he bluntly answered after this
manner : ' By , the sin of other gentlemen,
letchery.' ' Oh, but that, Mr. Tarlton, is not
your part upon the stage ; you are to blame that
dissemble with the world, and have one part
for your friends' pleasure, another for your own.'
' I am somewhat of Doctor Feme's religion,'
quoth he, and abruptly took his leave."
In an elegant book of large ornamented ca-
pital letters and specimens of fine writing, by
John Scottowe, in the time of Queen Elizabeth,
preserved among the Ilarleian MSS. in the
British Museum, is a portrait of" Mr. Tharlton,"
190 POETRY AND POETS.
playing on his pipe and tabor, and in the margin
these verses.
" The picture here set down.
Within this letter T,
.Aright doth shew the form and shape
Of Tarltou unto thee.
When he in pleasant wise
The counterfeit exprest
Of Clown with coat of russet hue.
And startups, with the rest.
Who merry many made.
When he appear'd in sight ;
The grave and wise, as well as rude.
In him did take delight.
The party now is gone.
And closely clad in clay ;
Of all the jesters in the land.
He bare tKe praise away.
Now hath he play'd his part.
And sure he is of this,
If he in Christ did die, to live
With him in lasting bliss."
He is represented with a flat cap on his head,
a flat nose on his face, a budget at his girdle, a
short jacket, trousers, and shoes buckled at the
side of the ancle.
POETRY AND POETS. 191
VOLTAIRE, AND DR. YOUNG.
" Voltaire, like the French in general,
shewed the greatest complaisance outwardly,
and had the greatest contempt for us inwardly.
He consulted Dr. Young about his Essay in
English, and begged him to correct any gross
faults he might find in it. The Doctor set very
honestly to work, marked the passages most
liable to censure ; and when he went to explain
himself about them, Voltaire could not help
bursting out a laughing in his face.
" It was on the occasion of Voltaire's cri-
ticism on the Episode of ' Death and Sin,' that
Dr. Young spoke that couplet to him —
' TTion art so witty, profligate, and thin,
Tliat thou thyself art Milton's ' Death and Sin.'
" Voltaire's objection to that fine Episode was,
that Death and Sin were non-existents." spence.
CHRISTMAS CAROLS.
Bourne deduces the word carol from cantare,
to sing, and rola, an interjection of joy. It is
an imitation of the Gloria in Excelsis by the
angels, sung in the Church itself, and by the
bishops in their houses among the clergy.
192 POETRY AND POETS.
Fosbroke, in his " Encyclopaedia of Antiqui-
tiesj" says, " it was usual in ancient feasts to
single out a person, and place him in the midst
to sing a song to God ;" and Mr. Davies Gilbert
states, that, till lately, in the West of England,
on Christmas eve, about seven or eight o'clock
in the evening, " cakes were drawn hot from
the oven ; cyder or beer exhilarated the spirits
in every house ; and the singing of carols was
continued late into the night. On Christmas-
day, these carols took the place of psalms in all
the Churches, especially at afternoon service,
the whole congregation joining ; and at the end,
it was usual for the parish-clerk to declare, in a
loud voice, his wishes for a merry Christmas and
a happy new year to all the parishioners."
Hone, in his curious work, the " Ancient
Mysteries," says, " The custom of singing carols
at Christmas, prevails in Ireland to the present
time. In Scotland, where no Church feasts have
been kept since the days of John Knox, the
custom is unknown. In Wales, it is still pre-
served to a greater extent, perhaps, than in
England: at a former period, the Welsh had
carols adapted to most of the ecclesiastical fes-
tivals, and the four seasons of the year, but at
POETRY AND POETS.
193
this time they are limited to that of Christmas.
After the turn of midnight, at Christmas eve,
service is performed in the Churches, followed
by singing of carols to the harp. Whilst the
Christmas holydays continue, they are sung in
like manner in the houses ; and there are carols
especially adapted to be sung at the doors of
the houses by visitors before they enter. I-ffy"'
Carolan, or the Book of Carols, contains sixty-
six for Christmas, and five summer carols;
Blodeugerdd Cymrii, or the Anthology of Wales,
contains forty-eight Christmas carols, nine sum-
mer carols, three May carols, one winter carol,
one nightingale carol, and a carol to Cupid."
The following Christmas Carol was written
expressly for " Time's Telescope," by the Editor
of these volumes :
" IT IS THE DAY ! THE HOLY DAY '. .
I.
It is the Day! the Holy Day! on which Our Lord was born.
And sweetly doth the 9un-b<iani gild the dew-besprinkled
tJiorn ;
'Hic birds sing thro' the heavens, aud the breezes gently
play,
And song and sunshine lovelily begin this Holy Day.
194
POETRY AND POETS.
IF.
"IVas in a humble manger, a little lowly shed,
With cattle at his infant feet, and shepherds at his head,
The Saviour of this sinful world in innocence first lay,
While wise men made their off 'rings to him this Holy Day.
III.
He came to save the perishing — to waft the sighs to heav'n
Of guilty men, who truly sought to weep and be forgiv'n :
An Intercessor still he shines, and Man to him should
pray
At his Altar's feet for meekness upon this Holy Day.
IV.
As flowers still bloom fair again, though all their life seems
shed,
Thus we shall rise with life once more, tho' number'd with
the dead :
Then may our stations be near Him to whom we worship
pay.
And praise, with heartfelt gratitude, upon this Holy Day!"
POETRY AND POETS. 195
WACHTEH, AND FREDERIC, KING OF PRUSSIA.
Amongst the anti-poetical, may be placed
the father of the great monarch of Prvissia.
Frederic would not suffer the Prince to read
verses; and when he was desirous of study,
or of the conversation of literary men, he was
obliged to do it secretly. Every Poet was
odious to his Majesty.
One day, having observed some lines written
on one of the doors of the palace, he asked
a courtier their signification. They were ex-
plained to him. They Avere Latin verses, com-
posed by Wachter, a man of letters, then
resident in Berlin. The King immediately
sent for the Bard, who came warm with the
hope of receiving a reward for his ingenuity.
He was astonished, however, to hear the King
accost him, — "I order you immediately to
quit this city, and my kingdom." Wachter ac-
cordingly took refuge in Hanover.
This want of taste in the father was amply
compensated by the distinguished patronage
extended, by the son, to Poets, and men of ge-
nius, of all countries.
VOL. III. o
196
POETRY AND POETS.
ABBOTSFORD, THE RESIDENCE OF SIR WALTER
SCOTT.
The following description of the dwelling of
this celebrated northern Bard elicits our admi-
ration so strongly, that, without further pre-
face, we introduce it to the notice of our readers.
It is to that talented work, " Peter's Letters to
his Kinfolks," that we are indebted for it.
Speaking of " the Tweed," the writer of the
Epistle says, — " I saw this far-famed river for
the first time, with the turrets of its Poet's man-
sion immediately beyond it, and the bright fo-
liage of his young larches reflected half way
over in its mirror.
" You cannot imagine a more lovely river ;
it is as clear as the purest brook you ever saw,
for I could count the white pebbles as I passed,
and yet it is broad and deep, and, above all,
extremely rapid; and although it rises some-
times to a much greater height, it seems to fill
the whole of its bed magnificently. The Ford
(of which I made use) is the same from which
the House takes its name, and a few minutes
brought me to its gates.
" Ere I came to it, however, I had time to
1>0ETRY AND POETS. 197
see that it is a strange fantastic structure, built
in total defiance of all those rules of uniformity,
to which the modern architects of Scotland are
so much attached. It consists of one large
tower, with several smaller ones clustering
around it, all built of fine grey granite, their
roofs diversified abundantly with all manner of
antique chimney-tops, battlements, and turrets,
the windows placed, here and there, with appro-
priate irregularity, both of dimension and posi-
tion, and the spaces between or above them
not unfrequently occupied with saintly niches,
and chivalrous coats of arms. Altogether it
bears a close resemblance to some of our true
old English manor-houses, in which the forms
of religious and warlike architecture are blended
together, with no ungraceful mixture."
QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND JOSEPH RITSON.
Few of our readers can be ignorant that
" good Queen Bess," as she has been whimsi-
cally nick-named, was a woman of great learn-
ing, and wrote Poetry ; most of them must,
also, have heard of Joseph Ritson, the Poetical
Antiquarian, whose unhappy temper and unso-
cial peculiarities kept him involved in constant
198 POETRY AND POETS.
hostility with all who happened to cross his
path. The following extract from his " Bi-
bliographia Poetica," (a work of consummate
research^ containing the most ample catalogue
extant of the Poets of Great Britain, and their
productions, down to the close of the sixteenth
century,) will illustrate his remarkable style of
writing, and oddities of spelling, as well as the
rancorous spirit with which he was imbued.
" Elizabeth Tudor, Queen of England, wrote,
in 1555, while prisoner at Woodstock, with a
charcoal on a shuter, some certain versees,
printed in ' Hentzner's Travels ;' and a couplet,
with her diamond, in a glass window, printed
in Foxes ' Actes and Monumentes ;' also, a
Poem, touching the practicees of the Queen of
Scots and her adherents, preserve'd in Putten-
ham's 'Arte of English Poesie,' 1589; and,
apparently, other things ; since, according to
that flattering courtier, her 'learned, delicate,
noble Muse,' easeyly surmounted all the rest
that had writen before her time, or since, ' for
sence, sweatnesse, and subtillitie,' were it in
' ode, elegie, epigram, or any other kinde of
Poeme, heroicke or lyricke,' wherein it should
please her Majesty to employ her pen, ' even by
POETRY AND POETS. 199
as much oddes as her owne gallant estate and
dearree ' exceeded ' all the rest of her most
humble vassalls.' The following ' Epitaph,
made by the Queene's Majestic, at the death of
the Princesse of Espinoye/' inserted among
the Poems of one Soothern, printed in her time,
is here given merely as a curiosity ; since there
cannot wel be a more abominable composition,
the 3Iusees haveing favour'd her just as much
as Venus or Diana.*
' \\Tien the warrier Phoebus goth to make his round.
With a paiuefull course, to toother hemisphere :
A darke shadowe, a great horror, and a feare.
In I knoe not what cloudes inveron the ground.
And eren so for Pinoy, that fayre vertues lady,
(Although Jupiter liave in this orizon,
Made a starre of her, by the Ariaduan crowne)
RIorns, dolour, aud griefe, accompany our body.
O Atropos, thou hast doone a worke perverst.
Aud as a byrdc that hath lost both young and nest,
About the place where it was makes many a tourne.
Even so dooth Cupid, that infaunt, god of amore.
• " Bolton, however, is of a different opinion. * Q.
Elizabeth's verses,' says he, ' those which I have seen and
read, are princely, as her prose.' "
200 POETRY AND POETS.
Flie about the tombe, where she lies all in dolore.
Weeping for her eyes, wherein he made soiourne.'*
" Bolton after citeing a fulsome and parasiti-
cal dedication to this Queen, (or, rather, quean,
as one who would not onely scold, and swear
By God ! at her nobles, and maids of honour,
but, occasionally, box their ears,) by Sir Henry
Savil, before his abominable perversion of ' Ta-
citus,' (principally, he says, to incite her, as
by a foil, to communicate to the world, if not
those admirable compositions of her own, yet,
at the least, ' those most rare and excellent
translations of histories,' if he ' may call them
translations, which have so infinitely exceeded
the originals,' ! ! !) proceeds as follows : — ' Some-
what it may detract from the credit of this
seeming hyperbolical praise, both because it was
written in her life-time, and, also, to herself |^a
censure which may apply, with no less justice
* " ' Two little authemes, or thinges in meeter of her
Majestie,' were license'd to Mr. Barker, her Majesties
printer, the 15th of November, 1578. She is generally
represented as beautiful, chaste, and an accomplish'd
poetess 5 and was all, no doubt, with equal truth."
POETRY AND POETS. 201
or propriety, to Puttenham, and the rest of her
servile flatterers] : but I can believe they were
excellent. For, ' perhaps,' the world never saw
a lady, in whose person more greatness of parts
met ' than' in hers ; unless it were in that most
noble princess and heroine, Mary, Queen of
Scots, inferior to her only in her outward for-
tunes; in all other respects and abilities, at least
her equal.' This panegyric, though eloquently
deliver'd, is, at any rate, a poor compliment to
Queen Mary, to put her on an equal footing
with a ' green-eye'd monster,' (the illegitimate
spawn of a bloody and lustful tyrant) who, not
onely, imprison'd that most beautyful and ac-
complish'd Princess (to whom she had hypo-
critically and seductively offer'd a refuge) for
the eighteen best years of her life and reign ;
but, upon the falseest suggestions, and the gros-
sest forgerys, with a savage and malignant cru-
elty, unparallel'd even in the Furies or Gorgons of
antiquity, deprive'd of crown and kingdom, and
deliberately shed the sacred and precious blood
of her nearest relation, and, even, the presump-
tive heir to her own realm, to which, in fact,
she had a better title than herself
202 POETRY AND POETS.
* O, tigress' heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide.' "*
Such are the terms in which this morbidly
irritable Antiqviarian speaks of the "Virgin
Queen," whose praises have been the never-
failing theme of Poets without number, and
whom some historians even have not scrupled
to represent as the " glory of her sex and na-
tion," while others have pictured her in the
darkest colours which imagination could de-
vise. The truth, as usual, is to be found be-
tween the two extremes ; but, were she even all
that her enemies, and Ritson among the rest,
have represented her, nothing can excuse the
grossness of the language, and the vulgarity of
the terms, in which his censure is conveyed.
POETICAL DEATHS.
There must be some attraction existing in
Poetry, which is not merely fictitious ; for often
have its genuine votaries felt all its power on
the most trying occasions. They have dis-
played the energy of their mind by composing
* Ritson, " Bib. Poet." p. 363.
POETRY AND POETS. 203
or reciting verses^, even witli death on their lips.
The Emperor Adrian, dying, made that cele-
brated address to his soul which is so happily
translated by Pope. Lucan, when he had his
veins opened, by order of Nero, expired reciting
a passage from his " Pharsalia," in a\ hich he
had described the wound of a dying soldier.
Petronius did the same thing, on the same occa-
sion. Patris, a Poet of Caen, perceiving him-
self expiring, composed some verses which are
justly admired. In this little Poem he relates a
dream, in which he appeared to be placed next
to a beggar ; when, having addressed him in the
haughty strain he would, probably, have em-
ployed on this side of the grave, he receives
tjie following reprimand :
" Ici tous sout ^gaux, je ne te dois plus rieu,
Je suis sur mon fumier, comme toi sur le tien."
" Here all are equal ! now thy lot is mine ;
I on my duugliill, as thou artou thiue."
Des Barreaux, it is said, wrote on his death-
bed that well-known sonnet which is translated
in " The Spectator."
IMargaret of Austria, when she was nearly
perishing in a storm at sea, composed her epi-
204 POETRY AND POETS.
taph in verse. Had she perished, what would
have become of the epitaph ? and if she escaped,
of what use was it ? She should rather have
said her prayers. The verses, however, have
all the naivete of the times.
" Cy gist Margot, la gente demoiselle
Qu' eut deiix maris, et si mourut pucelle."
" Beneath this tomh is high-born Margaret laid.
Who had two husbands, and yet died a maid.'
She was betrothed to Charles VIII. of France,
who forsook her ; and being next intended for
the Spanish Infant, in her voyage to Spain she
wrote these lines in a storm.
Mademoiselle de Serment was surnamed
" The Philosopher." She was celebrated for
her knowledge and taste in polite literature.
She died of a cancer in her breast, and suffered
with exemplary patience. She expired on finish-
ing these verses, which she addressed to Death :
" Nectare clausa sue
Dignum tantorum pretium tulit ilia laborum."
It was after Cervantes had received extreme
vmction, that he wrote the dedication of his
" Persiles."
POETRY AND POETS. 205
Wentworth Dillon, Earl of Roscommon, at
the moment he expired, with an energy of voice
that expressed the most fervent devotion, ut-
tered these two lines of his version of " Dies
Irs:"'
" My God, my father, and my friend.
Do not forsake me in my end."
Waller, in his last moments, repeated some
lines from Virgil ; and Chaucer seems to have
taken his farewell of all human vanities by a
moral ode, entitled, " A Balade made by Gef-
frey Chaucyer upon his dethe-bedde, lying in his
grete anguysse."
Cornelius de Wit fell an innocent victim to
popular prejudice. His death is thus noticed
by Hume : — " This man, who had bravely
served his country in war, and who had been
invested with the highest dignities, was deli-
vered into the hands of the executioner, and
torn in pieces by the most inhuman torments.
Amidst the severe agonies which he endured,
he frequently repeated an ode of Horace, which
contained sentiments suited to his deplorable
condition." It was the third ode of the third
206 POETRY AND POETS.
book, which this martyred philosopher and
statesman then repeated.
We add another instance, in the death of that
delightful Poet, Metastasio. After having re-
ceived the sacrament a very short time before
his last moments, he broke out, with all the en-
thusiasm of poetry and religion, into the follow-
ing stanzas :
" T' offro il tuo proprio Figlio
Che gia d'amore in pegno
Racchiuso in picciol segno
Si voile a noi donar.
A lui rivolgi il ciglio
Guarda chi t' offio, e poi
Lasci, Signer, se vuoi
Lascia di perdonar."
(translated.)
" I offer to thee, O Lord! thy own Son, who already
has given the pledge of love, enclosed in this thin emblem.
Turn on him thine eyes : ah ! behold whom I offer to
thee, and then desist, O Lord 1 if thou can'st desist from
mercy."
" The Muse that has attended my course
(says the dying Gleim, in a letter to Klopstock)
POETRY AND POETS.
207
Still hovers round my steps to the very verge of
the grave." A collection of lyrical Poems, en-
titled, "Last Hours," composed by Gleim on
his death-bed, was intended to be published.
The death of Klopstock was one of the most
poetical. In this Poet's " INIessiah," he had
made the death of iMary, the sister of IMartha
and Lazarus, a picture of the death of the just;
and on his own death-bed he was heard repeat-
ing, with an expiring voice, his own verses on
Mary. He was exhorting himself to die, by the
accents of his own harp, — the sublimities of his
own Bluse. The same Song of ]\Iary (observes
JMadame de Stael) was read at the public funeral
of Klopstock.
Chatellar, a French gentleman, beheaded in
Scotland, for having loved the Queen, and even
for having attempted her honour, Brantome
says, would not have any other viaticum than
a Poem of Ronsard's. When he ascended the
scaffold, he took the hymns of this Poet, and,
for his consolation, read that on death, which,
he says, is well adapted to conquer its fears.
The Marquis of Montrose, when he Avas con-
demned by his judges to have his limbs nailed
to the gates of four cities, the brave soldier said.
208 POETRY AND POETS.
that " he was sorry he had not limbs sufficient
to be nailed to all the gates of the cities in Eu-
rope, as monuments of his loyalty." As he
proceeded to his execution, he put this thought
into beautiful verse.
Philip Strozzi, when imprisoned by Cosmo,
the first Great Duke of Tuscany, was appre-
hensive of the danger to which he might expose
his friends, who had joined in his conspiracy
against the Duke, from the confessions which
the rack might extort from him. Having at-
tempted every exertion for the liberty of his
country, he considered it as no crime to die.
He resolved on suicide. With the point of the
sword with which he killed himself, he cut out
on the mantle-piece of the chimney, this line of
Virgil :
" Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor."
" Rise some avenger from our blood !"
The following stanzas were begun by Andre
Chenier in the dreadful period of the French
Revolution. He was waiting for his turn to be
dragged to the guillotine, when he commenced
this Poem.
POETHY AND POETS. 209
" Comnie un dernier rayon, comme un dernier Zephyre
Anime la fin d'un beau jour,
Au pied de I'echafaud j'essaie encore ma lyre ;
Peut-etre est-ce bieutot mou tour.
Peut-etre avant que 1' heure en cercle promen^e
Ait pos^ sur r email brillant
Dans les soixante pas ou sa route est bornee
Son pied sonore et vigilant,
Le sommeil du tombeau pressera ma paupiere."
At this pathetic line was Andre Chenier sum-
moned to the guillotine ! Never was a more
beautiful effusion of grief interrupted by a
more affecting incident.
coryat's poetry.
CoRYAT, so celebrated by his " Crudities,'
does not appear to have been much of a versi-
fier, though he is said to have written a song,
in the Somersetshire dialect, upon the excel-
lency of the Bath waters. According to his
own account, however, he had a rare extempore
talent, which he employed on a very ludicrous
occasion.
He journeyed with a friend to the Ruins of
Troy, and was there, by that friend, (as Coryat
very seriously relates, in a letter inserted in
210 POETRY AND POETS.
Purchas's "Pilgrims") dubbed the first "Knight
of Troy." Our traveller received the honour
with these words^ M^ith which his Muse favored
him for occasion.
" Lo, here, with prostrate knee, I do embrace
The gallant title of a Trojan Knight,
In Priam's Court, which time shall ne'er deface,
A grace unknown to any British wight.
This noble knighthood shall fame's trump resound.
In Odcombe's * honour, maugre envie fell.
O'er famous Albion throughout that island round,
Till that my mournful friends shall ring my knell."
SCHILLER.
This celebrated German Poet had a patent of
nobility conferred upon him by the Emperor of
Germany, which he never used. Turning over
a mass of papers one day, in the presence of a
friend, he came to his patent, and shewed it
carelessly to his friend, with this observation : —
" I suppose, you did not know I was a Noble ;"
and then hastily and contemptuously buried it
again in the mass of miscellaneous papers,
amidst which it had long lain undisturbed.
• His residence.
POETRY AND POETS. 211
GEORGE PEELE.
George Peele, " the veriest knave that ever
escaped transportation/' was a Poet of no mean
rank in the Elizabethan galaxy. He was a
native of Devonshire, and took his degree of
M. A. in Christ Church College, Oxford : he
after \v'ards came to London, where he was ap-
pointed Poet-Laureate to the Corporation, in
which capacity he had the ordering of the City
pageants. He was a good pastoral writer ; and
Wood informs us that his plays " were not only
often acted with great applause in his life-time,
but did also endure reading, with due com-
mendation, many years after his death."
Peele was almost as famous for his tricks and
merry pranks, as Scogan or Tarlton; and as
there are books of theirs in print, so there are
also of his, particularly one, which has lately
been reprinted, entitled " IMerrie conceited
Jests of Geo. Peele, Gentleman, sometime
Student of Oxford : wherein is shewed the
course of his life how he lived. A Man very
well known in the City of London and else-
where." The Editor might have added, " better
known than trusted ;" for these " jests," as they
vol-. III. p
212 POETRY AND POETS.
are called, might with more propriety be termed
the tricks of a sharper : one of them, for instance,
representing him as inviting a gentleman of
property to sleep at his house, and absconding
the next morning with his guest's clothes and
money.
Steevens has suggested that the character of
Pieboard (evidently a pun upon the name), in
the comedy of " The Puritan," one of the seven
plays falsely attributed to Shakspeare, was in-
tended for Peele ; and the coincidence between
several of the incidents in that play, and those
related in the " Jests," proves this conjecture to
be well-founded. Take the " Jest of George
and the Barber," as an example : George Peele
had stolen a lute from a Brentford barber, (for
barbers, in those days, were in the habit of
keeping musical instruments in their shops, for
the amusement of their customers,) who fol-
lowed him to London, and demanded it. George
vows that he was just about to send for it from
a gentleman in the City, (to whose daughter he
had lent it,) that he might return it. In fact,
Peele had made away with it, to gratify some
of his extravagancies, being in want of money,
and being also, as the " Jests" say, " of the
POETRY AND POETS. 213
poetical disposition — never to write so long as his
money lasted ;" but he promised to take the
barber to the gentleman's house, to whom he
had to read a Mask, or Pageant, which he had
written. The barber accompanies him to the
dwelling of an Alderman, whose porter Peele
knew ; and while the barber and porter are con-
versing at some distance, Peele, making action
as if he were reading poetry, in fact applies
to the Alderman to let him escape at the back
door. He pretends that he only wishes to avoid
bailiffs, who are pursuing him ; and " the kinde
gentleman, little dreaming of George Peele's
deceit, tooke him into the parlor, gave him a
brace of angels, and caused one of his servants
to let George out at the garden doore."
In the play, the Story of the Barber is ju-
diciously omitted, and Pieboard is represented
as really hunted into cover by Puttock and
Ravenshaw, a bailiff and his follower, or,
they were then called, " two Serjeants." He
makes them believe that a gentleman of fortune
is about to purchase the device of a Mask of
him for five pounds, and that he is on his way
to him to receive the money. They agree to
214 POETRY AND POETS.
accompany him, and he resorts to the same
trick of poetical action, while making his sup-
plication. After a most pitiful speech, by which
he works on the easy nature of the gentleman,
he discloses his scheme of escape, on which the
latter exclaims, " By my troth, an excellent
device !" One of the bailiffs whispers the other,
" An excellent device, he says ; he likes it won-
derfully :" and his fellow replies, " Oh, there's
no talk on it; he's an excellent scholar, and
specially at a Mask." Thus the Serjeants fall
into the trap, and Pieboard escapes out of it.
Peele " was living," says Wood, " in his middle
age, in the latter end of Queen Elizabeth, but
when or where he died I cannot tell ; for so it
is, and always -hath been, that most poets die
poor, and consequently obscurely, and a hard
matter it is to trace them to their graves."
/It is lamentable to think that such should have
been the life and such the death of a Poet who
could write verses like the following, which
form the Prologue to his " Love of King David
and Fair Bethsabe ; with the Tragedy of Ab-
salom ;" a piece of which Hawkins justly says,
that it " abounds with the most masterly strokes
POETRY AND POETS. 215
of a fine genius, and a genuine spirit of poetry
runs through the whole."
" Of Israel's sweetest singer now I sing.
His holy style and happy victories ;
Whose Muse was dipt in that inspiring dew,
Archangels 'stilled* from the breath of Jove,
Decking her temples with the glorious flow'rs
Heav'ns rain'd on tops of Sion and Mount Sinai.
Upon the bosom of his ivory lute
The cherubims and angels laid their breasts ;
And when his consecrated fingers struck
The golden wires of his ravishing harp.
He gave alarum to the host of heaven,
That, wing'd with lightning, brake the clouds, and
cast
Their crystal armour at his conqu'ring feet.
Of this sweet Poet, Jove's Musician,
And of his beauteous son, I press to sing. —
Then help, divine Adonai, to conduct.
Upon the wings of my well-temper'd verse.
The hearers' minds above the tow'rs of heaven,
And guide them so in this tlirice haughty flight,
Their mounting feathers scorch not with the fire
That none can temper but thy holy hand :
To thee for succour flies my feeble Muse,
And at thy feet her iron pen doth use."
Which archangels distilled.
216
POETRY AND POETS.
ALONZO D ERCILLA.
This celebrated warrior was an enthusiastic
admirer of fine landscapes. During the time
when he was, with a small force under his
command, in Chi i, he was engaged in a war
with the inhabitants of Auracauna, a ferocious
tribe of America. Amid the toils and dangers
which he encountered in this dreadful warfare,
he composed a poem, which has been considered
as honourable to the literature of his country.
On the midnight watch, stretched on a rock,
or reclining near an impetuous torrent, he con-
ceived ideas which astonished his countrymen,
and for himself established an immortal fame
in the annals of Spanish literature.
METASTASIO.
Although the biographer of the Abate Me-
tastasio has neglected to notice the circumstance,
it is not to be questioned but that the magnificent
works of nature and art in the neighbourhood
of Naples, contributed, in no small degree, to
overcome the resolution of that elegant man,
when he had bade, as he thought, an eternal
POETRV AND POETS. 217
farewell to poetry. He had wasted his fortune
in unprofitable yet uncriminal dissipation, and
had put himself under the care of the celebrated
Advocate Palietti of Naples, with the firm re-
solution of resuming a profession he had long
neglected.
For some time, he exercised the greatest
tyranny over his own inclinations, till, by the
earnest entreaties of the Countess of Althan, he
was persuaded to write an Epithalamium on the
marriage of the Marquess Pignatelli; to this
succeeded the drama of " Endymion," " The
Gardens of the Hesperides," and " Angelica ;"
until, captivated by this irresistible recall to
poetry, and animated by the lovely scenes by
which the Bay of Naples is embellished, he
again forsook the law, and gave himself up to
his favourite amusement.
WINSTANLEY AND MILTON.
WiNSTANLEV, author of " The British Wor-
thies," and " The Lives of the English Poets,"
was contemporary with INIilton, and in one of
his works, gives an account of that great Poet.
It should appear that Winstanley was attached
to the Royal party ; and this circumstance will
218 POETRY AND POETS.
account for the malevolence displayed in the
following passage. After allowing some little
merit to that greatest of all poems, " Paradise
Lost," he proceeds, and says of the Author :
" But his fame is got out like the snufF of a
candle, and will continue to stink to all posterity,
for having so infamously belied that glorious
martyr and king, Charles I."
ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARI. OF ESSEX.
CoxETER says, in his MSS., according to
Warton, that he had seen one of Ovid's Epistles
translated by this celebrated and unfortunate
Nobleman. This piece, however, like many
others which Coxeter has noticed, is not now
known to exist. Some of his Sonnets, and
other trifling productions, are to be found among
the Ashmolean and Sloanean MSS., but they
are said by Warton to have no marks of poetic
genius.
The following stanzas are quoted by Mr.
Collier, in his " Poetical Decameron," from a
beautiful Song attributed to him, in Dowland's
" Musical Banquet, 1610."
" Change thy mind since she doth change,
Let not fancy still abuse thee ;
219
POETRY AND POETS.
Thy untruth cannot seem strange
When her falsehood doth excuse thee.
Jove is dead and thou art free,
She doth live, but dead to thee.
Die 1 but yet, before thou die,
Make her Isnovv what she has gotten ;
She in whom my hopes did lie.
Now is chang'd, I quite forgotten .
She is chang'd, but changed base.
Baser in so vile a place.
" But if Essex was no great poet himself,"
says Warton, " few noblemen of his age were
more courted by poets. From Spenser to the
lowest rhymer, he was the subject of numerous
sonnets or popular ballads. I could pi-oduce
evidence to prove, that he scarce ever went out
of England, or even left London, on the most
frivolous enterprize, without a pastoral in his
praise, or a panegyric in metre, which were
sold and sung in the streets. This is a light in
which Lord Essex is seldom viewed. I know
not if the Queen's fatal partiality, or his own
inherent attractions, his love of literature, his
heroism, integrity, and generosity, qualities
220
POETRY AND POETS.
which abundantly overbalance his presumption,
vanity, and impetuosity, had the greater share
in dictating these praises. If adulation were
any where justifiable, it must be when paid to
the man wlio endeavoured to save Spenser from
starving in the streets of Dublin, and who bu-
ried him in Westminster Abbey with becoming
solemnity.
" Spenser was persecuted by Burleigh, be-
cause he was patronized by Essex."
POPE AND AVARBURTON.
Among other instances of adroitness, may be
mentioned the management of Dr. Warburton,
as defender of Pope's " Essay on Man" against
the objections of Crousaz.
The censures of this learned foreigner, many
of them well-founded and unanswerable, were
directed against thejrst edition of that pleasing
poem ; but in his defence of the Poet, the Ec-
clesiastic quoted succeeding impressions, in
which Pope had seen and corrected many of his
errors.
The whole passed off undetected ; the anxieties
of Pope, irritable and alive all over, were gra-
dually soothed ; the clergy were pacified ; and
POETRY AND POETS.
221
Warburton, by favour of the man of verse, was
introduced to Mr. Allen, married his niece, and
inherited his wealth.
QUAINTNESS OF EXPRESSION.
In the Poem of " Psyche, or Love's jMystery,"
by Dr. J. Beaumont, we have an example of
(juaintness of poetical expression, in the de-
scription which Aphrodisius gives of the court
paid to him, and the pretty messages sent him
by the ladies.
'* How many a pretty embassy have I
Receiv'd from them, which put me to my wit
How not to understand — but by-aud-bye
Some comment would come smiling after it ;
But I had other thoughts to fill my head,
Books caU'd me up — and hooks put me to bed."
The following ludicrous title of a collection
of old poems, by George Gascoigne, has the
appearance of being too intentionally absurd to
be called quaint :
" A hundred sundrie flowers bound up in one
small posie, gathered, partly by translation, in
the fine and outlandisli gardens of Euripides,
Ovid, Petrarch, Ariosto, and others, and partly
by invention, out of our own fruitful gardens
222
POETRY AND POETS.
of England — yielding sundrie sweet savours of
tragicall, comically and moral discourses, both
pleasant and profitable to the well- smelling
noses of learned readers,"
butler's character of a play-avriter.
"A PLAY- WRITER of our times is like a fanatic,
that has no wit in ordinary easy things, and yet
attempts the hardest task of brains in the whole
world, only because, whether his play or work
please or displease, he is certain to come off bet-
ter than he deserves, and find some of his own
latitude to applaud him, which he could never
expect any other way ; and is as sure to lose no
reputation, because he has none to venture.
" Like gaming rooks, that never stick
To play for hundreds upon tick ;
'Cause, if they chance to lose at play,
Th'ave not one half-penny to pay ;
And, if they win a hundred pound,
Gain, if for sixpence they compound."
"Nothing encourages him more in his under-
taking than his ignorance, for he has not wit
enough to understand so much as the difficulty
of what he attempts; therefore he runs on
boldly like a fool-hardy wit ; and fortune, that
POETRY AND POETS.
223
favours fools and the bold, sometimes takes no-
tice of him for his double capacity, and receives
him into her good graces. He has one motive
more, and that is the concurrent ignorant judg-
ment of the present age, in which his sottish
fopperies pass with applause, like Oliver Crom-
well's oratory among fanatics of his own canting
inclination. He finds it easier to write in rhyme
than prose ; for the world being overcharged
with romances, he finds his plots, passions, and
repartees, ready-made to his hand ; and if he
can but turn them into rhyme, the thievery is
disguised, and they pass for his own wit and
invention without question ; like a stolen cloak
made into a coat, or dyed into another colour.
Besides this, he makes no conscience of stealing
any thing that lights in his way, and borrows
the advice of so many to correct, enlarge, and
amend, what he has ill-favouredly patched to-
gether, that it becomes like a thing drawn by
council, and none of his own performance, or
the son that has no certain father.
" He has very great reason to prefer verse
before prose in his compositions ; for rhyme is
like lace, that serves excellently well to hide thn
224
POETRY AND POETS.
piecing and coarseness of a bad stuff, contributes
mightily to the bulk, and makes the less serve
by the many impertinencies it commonly re-
quires to make Avay for it; for very few are
endowed with abilities to bring it in on its own
account. This he finds to be good husbandry,
and a kind of necessary thrift; for they that
have but a little, ought to make as much of it
as they can. His prologue, which is commonly
none of his own, is always better than his play ;
like a piece of cloth that's fine in the beginning,
and coarse afterwards; though it has but one
topic, and that's the same that is used by ma-
lefactors when they are to be tried, to except
against as many of the jury as they can."
GRAY.
The mother of Gray the Poet, to whom he
was entirely indebted for the excellent education
he received, appears to have been a woman of
most amiable character, and one whose energy
supplied to her child that deficiency, which the
improvidence of his other parent would have
occasioned. The following extract from a Case
submitted by Mrs. Gray to her Lawyer, de-
POETRY AND POETS. 225
velops the disposition and habits of her husband
in a hght not the most favourable, while it
awakens no common sympathy for herself.
" That she hath been no charge to the said
Philip Gray; and, during all the said time, hath
not only found herself in all manner of apparel,
but also for her children to the number of twelve,
and most of the furniture of his house, and
paying forty pounds a-year for his shop, almost
providing every thing for her son at Eton
School ; and now he is at Peter-House, Cam-
bridge.
" Notwithstanding which, almost ever since
he hath been married, the said Philip hath used
her in the most inhuman manner, by beating,
kicking, pinching, and with the vilest and most
abusive language ; that she hath been in the
utmost fear of her life, and hath been obliged
this last year to quit his bed and lie with her
sister. This she was resolved to bear if possible,
not to leave her shop of trade, for the sake of
her son, to be able to assist him in the main-
tenance of him at the University, since his father
won't."
To the love and courage of this mother. Gray
22n POETRY AND POETS.
owed his life when a child : she ventured to do
what few women are capable of doing, to open
a vein with her own hand, and thus removed
the paroxysm arising from a fulness of blood,
to which, it is said, all her other children had
fallen victims. — We need not wonder that Gray
mentioned such a mother with a sigh..
SADI, AND HIS WIFE.
This celebrated Persian Poet and Moralist
was taken prisoner by the Turks, and con-
demned to work at the fortifications at Tripoli.
While in this deplorable state, he was redeemed
by a merchant of Aleppo, who had so much
regard for him as to give him his daughter in
marriage, with a dowry of one hundred sequins.
This lady, however, being an intolerable scold,
proved the plague of his life, and gave him that
unfavourable opinion of the sex, which appears
occasionally in his works. During one of their
altercations, she reproached him with the favours
her family had conferred on him — " Are not you
the man," said she, " my father bought for ten
pieces of gold ?" " Yes," answered Sadi, " and
he sold me again for a hundred sequins."
POETRY AND POETS. 227
NONSENSE VERSES.
Amphigourie is a word composed of a Greek
adverb, signifying about, and of a substantive,
signifying a circle ; it must, therefore, convey
an idea somewhat similar to what plain Eng-
lishmen familiarly express by the term circum-
bendibus. It is a word much employed by
the French, to distinguish certain little lyrical
parodies of a burlesque nature, and which,
turning on words and ideas, without order, or
any particular meaning, appear, in spite of this
incoherence, to cai-ry some sense.
Here is one, imitated from the French. It is
as unmeaning a piece of verse as ever posed an
admirer of the Cruscan school, but it sounds
well, and is what the French call richly
rh3-med.
" How happy to defend our heart,
When Love has never thrown a dart!
But all ! unhappy when it hends,
While pleasure her soft bliss suspends.
Sweet in a wild disordered strain,
A lost and wandering heart to gain.
Oft, in mistaken language wooed,
The skilful lover's understood."
vol.. III. o
228 POETRY AND POETS.
This song has such a resemblance to mean-
ing, that the celebrated Fontenelle, hearing it
sung, imagined he discovered in it a glimpse of
sense, and desired to have it repeated. " Don't
you see," said Madame de Tencin, " they are
nonsense verses ? " " It resembles so much,"
replied the malignant wit, " the fine verses I
have heard here, that it is not surprising I
should, for once, be mistaken."
There is a certain kind of pleasure which we
receive from absvu-d poetry ; but ordinary non-
sense verses are not sufficiently nonsensical.
Taylor, the water-poet, has described the plea-
surable sensation which exquisite nonsense can
give. In addressing himself to Coriat, who
had a very happy turn for the nonsensical, he
says, — " Your plenteous want of wit is won-
drous witty."
One of the finest specimens of this sort of
verses, is to be found in No. 59 of " Black-
wood's Magazine;" and this has an additional
zest from the circumstance of its having been
frequently copied as an example of beautiful
writing. " I wrote it," says its witty author,
" merely to prove I could write fine, if I liked ;
but it cost me a lot ef trouble. I actually had
POETRY AND POETS. 229
to go to the Commercial Buildings, and swal-
low seven cups of the most sloppish Bohea I
could get, and eat a quartern loaf cut into thin
slices, before I was in a fit mood to write such
stuff. If I were to continue that diet, I should
be the first of your pretty song writers in the
empire ; but it would be the death of me in a
week. I am not quite recovered from that
breakfast yet ; and I do not wonder at the un-
fortunate figure the poor Cockneys cut, who are
everlastingly suffering the deleterious effects of
tea-drinking."
" 'Tis sweet upon th' irapassion'd wave
To hear the voice of nnisic stealing,
And while the dark winds wildly rave,
To catch the genuine soul of feeling !
While all around, the ether blue
Its dim majestic beam is shedding,
And roseate tints of heavenly hue
Are through the midnight darkness spreading I
.So is it, when the thrill of love
Through every burning pulse is flowing ;
And, like the foliage of the grove,
A holy light on all bestowing I
O ! never from this fever'd heart
Shall dreams on wings of gold be flying;
230 POETRY AND POETS.
But even when life itself shall part,
I'll think on thee, sweet maid, though dying!
'Twas thus, upon the mountain's height,
Young Dermod sung his plaint of sorrow,
Regardless of the evening light.
That ushers in the gay to-morrow !
For love had of his cheek bereft
ITiat smile — that glow — of joyous gladness,
And sympathy's cold sting had left
Nought there — but pale and gloomy sadness ! "
But clever as this is, it is hardly equal to
Swift's " Love Song in the modern taste,
1733," which it would be almost impossible to
excel in its way.
" P'luttering spread thy purple pinions,
Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart ;
I a slave in thy dominions :
Nature must give way to art.
Mild Arcadians, ever blooming.
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks.
See my weary days consuming.
All beneath yon flowery rocks.
Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping,
Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth !
POETRY AND POETS. 223
Him the boar, in silence creeping,
Gor'd witli unrelenting tooth.
Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers ;
Fair Discretion, string the lyre ;
Sooth my ever-waking slumbers ;
Bright Apollo, lend thy choir.
Gloomy Pluto, King of Terrors,
Arm'd in adamantine chains.
Lead me to the crystal mirrors,
Watering soft Elysian plains.
Mournful cypress, verdant willow,
Gilding my Aurelia's brows ;
Morpheus, hovering o'er my pillow.
Hear me pay my dying vows.
Melancholy, smooth Mseander,
Swiftly {)urling in a round,
On thy margin lovers wander.
With thy flowery chaplets crown'd.
Thus when Philomela drooping.
Softly seeks her silent mate.
See the bird of Juno stooping.
Melody resigns to fate."
There is, also, anotlier sort of nonsense verses,
in which our older poets appear to have taken
232 POETRY AND POETS.
great delight, if we may judge from the nu-
merous examples which they have left behind
them. Of these, the following, taken from the
merry Bishop Corbet, and the " humorous "
Ben Jonson, may serve as specimens. The
first, by Corbet, is from " Wit Restored," 8vo.
1658.
" Mark how the lanterns cloud mine eyes,
See where a moon-drake 'gins to rise ;
Saturn crawls like an iron-cat.
To see the naked moon in a slipshod hat.
Tliunder-thumping toadstools crock the pots,
To see the mermaids tumble ;
Leather cat-a-mountains shake their heels.
To hear the goss-hawk grumble.
The rustic thread
Begins to bleed,
And cobwebs elbows itches j
The putrid skies
Eat mull-sack pies
Bak'd up in logic breeches.
Monday trenchers made good hay,
The lobster wears no dagger ;
Meal-mouth'd she-peacocks powl the stars,
And made the low-bell stagger ;
Blue crocodiles foam in the toe,
Blind meal-bags do follow the doe :
POETRY AND POETS. 233
A rib of apple brain spice
Will follow the Lancashire dice.
Hark ". how the chime of Pluto's pot cracks.
To see the rainbow's wheel-gan made of flax."
The folloAving is, also, from the pen of the
jolly divine : it is from the Ashmolean Museum,
A. 37.
" Like to the thundering tone of unspoke speeches,
Or like a lobster clad in logic-breeches.
Or like the grey fur of a crimson cat.
Or like the mooncalf in a slipshod hat ;
E'en such is he who never was begotten
Until his children were both dead and rotten.
Like to the fiery tombstone of a cabbage.
Or like a crab-iouse with its bag and baggage.
Or like the four-square circle of a ring.
Or like to hey-ding, diug-a, ding-a, ding ;
E'en such is hevvho spake, and yet, no doubt,
.Spake to small purpose, when his tongue was out.
Like to a fair, fresh, fading, wither'd rose.
Or like to rhyming vcr.se that runs in prose.
Or like the stumbles of a tinder-box,
Or like a man that's sound, yet hath the ;
E'en such is he who died, and yet did laugh,
To see these lines writ for his epitaph."
The specimen from Ben Jonson is taken from
234 POETRY AND POETS.
one of his " Masques," entitled the " Vision of
Delight/' where it is put into the mouth of
Phantasie, to intimate the inconsistencies of
dreams. It might have been shorter ; but if it
amvised the audience, we need not quarrel with
it. The whole would be too much for the
patience of a modern reader ; we must, there-
fore, be content with extracts.
" The politic pudding has still his two ends.
Though the bellows and bagpipe were ne'er so good
friends ;
And who can report what oifence it would be
For a squirrel to see a dog climb up a tree ?
If a dream should come in now to make you afeard,
With a windmill on his head, and bells at his beard.
Would you straight wear your spectacles heie at your
toes,
And your boots on your brows, and your spurs on your
nose .'
♦ « * *
I say, let the wine make ne'er so good jelly,
The conscience of the bottle is much in the belly.
For why ? do but take common council in your way,
And tell me who'll then set a bottle of hay
Before the old usurer, and to his horse
A slice of salt butter, perverting the course
Of civil society ? open that gap.
And out-skip your fleas, four-and-twenty at a clap.
POETRY AND POETS. 235
With a chain and a trundle bed following at th' heels,
And will they not cry, then, the world runs a-wlieels?"
» * « *
Vet would I take the stars to be cruel.
If the crab and the rope-maker ever fight duel,
On any dei)endence, be it right, be it wrong ;
But, mum I a thread may be drawn out too long."
So we say, and so, no doubt, say our rea-
ders ; but as " nonsense " has so much to do
with Poetry in almost every shape, we should
liave been guilty of an unpardonable omission,
had we neglected to give them a taste (although,
perhaps, it may have been a surfeit) of what
are, professedly, " Nonsense Verses."
pope's nurse.
There is in Twickenham Church-yard an
inscription to the memory of the woman who
nursed Pope, of which the following is a copy :
" To the Memory of Mary Beach, who died November
5, 1725, aged 78.
" Alexander Pope, whom she nursed in his infancy,
and whom she affectionately attended for twenty-eight
years, in gratitude for such a faithful old servant, erected
this stone."
It is to this epitaph that Lady IMary Wort-
236 POETRY AND POETS.
ley Montague alludes in the following sarcastic
lines, written on her quarrel with Pope.
" No wonder our poet's so stout and so strong,
Since lie lugg'd and he tugg'd at the bubby so long."
DRINKING CUPS.
Every reader of poetry has heard of Lord
Byron's celebrated goblet, at Newstead Abbey,
formed of a human skull, on which the fine
verses beginning, " Start not, nor deem my
spirit fled," are inscribed. It is mounted in
silver, somewhat after the fashion of the w ine-
cups formed of the shell of the ostrich-egg, and in
depth and capaciousness would, probably, rival
the great and blessed Bear of the Baron Brad-
wardine, should that memento of ancient Scot-
tish hospitality be yet upon the face of the
earth. A superabundance of gratuitous horror
has been expended on the circumstance of Lord
Byron's having converted the head-piece of one
of his ancestors into a stoup to hold his wine.
But this fancy of the noble Bard is, by no
means, an original one.
Mandeville tells us of the old Guebres, who
exposed the dead bodies of their parents to the
fowls of the air, reserving only the skulls, of
POETRY AND POETS. 237
which, says he, "the son maketh a cuppe, and
therefrom drynkethe he with gret devocion."
The Italian Poet, ]Marino, to whom our own
:\Iilton owes many of the splendid situations in
" Paradise Lost," makes the conclave of devils,
in his "Pandemonium," quaff wine from the
cranium of IVIinerva ; and we have, also, a si-
milar allusion in a Runic Ode, preserved by
Wormius, where Lodbrog, disdaining life, and
thinking of the joys of immortality, which he
was about to share in the hall of Odin, exclaims,
" Bibainus cerevisiaiu
Ex concavis craniorum crateribus."
In :\Iiddleton's "Witch," the Duke takes
out a bowl of a similar description, when the
Lord-Governor ejaculates, "A skull, my Lord !"
and his Grace replies, —
" Call it a soldier's cup.
• • »
Our Duchess, I know, will pleddje us, though the cup
IVas mice her father's head, which, as a trophy,
We'll keep till death."
The same singular appropriation of dead men's
sconces is referred to, on one or two occasions,
by ^lassinger ; and from the following quota-
tion from a speech of Torrenti, in Dekker's
" Wonder of a Kingdom," we may presume.
238
POETRY AND POETS.
that Lord Byron was not the first person who
mounted human skulls in silver.
ft
" Would I had here ten thousand soldiers' heads.
Their skulls set all in silver to drink healths
To his confusion who first invented war."
ADDISON, AND THE FAMOUS DUKE OF WHARTON.
" It was the Marquis of Wharton who first
got Addison a seat in the House of Commons;
and soon after carried him with him to Win-
chelsea. Addison was charmed with his son,
(afterwards Duke of Wharton,) not only as his
patron's son, but for the uncommon degree of
genius that appeared in him. He used to con-
verse, and walk often with him. One day, the
little Lord led him to see some of their fine run-
ning-horses. There were very high gates to
the fields ; and, at the first of them, his young
friend fumbled in his pockets, and seemed vastly
concerned that he could not find the key. Ad-
dison said it was no matter; he could easily
climb over it. As he said this, he began mount-
ing the bars, and when he was on the very top
of the gate, the little Lord whips out his key,
and sets the gate a-swinging, and so, for some
time, kept the great man in that ridiculous situ-
ation." SPRNCE.
POETRY AND POETS. 239
MODERN " FLASH POETRY."
A FEW years hence, prior to the heroes of the
Prize-ring attaining that great degree of popu-
larity which it has latterly been their good for-
tune to enjoy, no Bard arose to celebrate their
achievements, to exult in their triumphs, or to
console the beaten unfortunate on the withei*-
ing of his laurels. Pugilistic Pindars have, at
length, sprung up, and the Flash Poetry that
has emanated from their pens will, decidedly,
(in many instances, at least,) descend to pos-
terity, and be read by new aspirants to the
honours of a four-and-twenty foot ring, when
the great characters who have called it forth
shall be (as Shakspeare hath it) " sleeping with
their ancestors."
In a book of this description, whose avowed
object is to treasure up as many gems con-
nected with Poets and Poetry, of every class,
sex, and age, as can be conveniently contained
in three volumes, it would be an omission of
the most conspicuous and glaring description,
if we did not notice "the Flash Poetry" of the
moderns.
Thomas Moore, a name imperishable in lyric
verse and Jlash poetics, struck, we believe, the
240 POETRY AND POETS.
first note on what may not be improperly cal-
led, — The St. Giles's Lyre, — and gave to the
world that piquant morceau, entitled, " Tom
Crib's Memorial to Congress." This, though
avowedly a political squib, as the phrase is, ex-
hibited a happy admixture of wit, flash, learn-
ing, imagery, and political bitterness, spiced
up with all the varieties of jargon used by
bruisers and pickpockets. The force of exam-
ple was too strong to be resisted ; and we have
no doubt, that many jeux d'esprits of a like
tendency, that appeared soon afterwards, sprung
from the desire of treading in steps so tempting,
and following the track of a comet in the
poetical world so inconceivably captivating.
To " Tom Crib's Memorial," succeeded "Jack
Randall's Diary," and then "Jack Randall's
Scrap-Book," uniting fun and flash, and paro-
dying many of Mr. Moore's best songs. Then
came " The Fancy," alleged to be from the
pen of Peter Corcoran, but, in reality, ema-
nating from the pen of one of the witty authors
of " The Rejected Addresses." All these had
a success equal to their merits, and were much
noticed in the magazines, and other ephemeral
publications of their day, though now they
POETRY AND POETS. 241
are gone quietly to sleep in the lap of oblivion.
The reader, after this detail, will, doubtless,
imagine we are about to present to his notice
some specimen of verses of the school in ques-
tion. We are so; but we are puzzled where
to make a selection. The following, however,
seems more free from that peculiar slong in
which it appears absolutely necessary every
thing connected with pugilism should be de-
tailed, and we do not hesitate in presenting it to
our readers. We must, in justice to the author,
confess, that, throughout, there is both ingenuity
and harmony of versification ; and sincerely do
we regret that his talents were not applied to
better purposes. The effusion is extracted from
" Jack Randall's Scrap-Book."
" FANCY LYRICS.
By Crib, I'm sick of sickly songs,
L')ve I no more delight in ;
Come, Randall, leave the boxing throngs,
And sing the charm that still belongs
To sparring and to fighting.
Oh '. sing those days of triumph, when
Great Johnson stood his legs on,
With Ryan fam'd, and giant Hen,
And chaunt in glowing numbers then
Of Gulley and of Gregson.
242
POETRY AND POETS.
Laud high the god-like Belcher race,
Mendoza, also, stick in,
Dick Humphries, — he who fought with grace,
And every tnlll correctly trace
Of Harry Pearce, The Chicken.
Sing Crib, who fought the giaut black,
Who Champion is distinguish'd ;
Then Richmond and the negro pack.
And he who, scarce a fortnight back,
The hardy Gas extinguish'd.
Come, Nonpareil, now gaily sing,
But first tvet well your whistle : —
Here's health to those who grace the Ring,
Whether for them a Bose may spring,
Or Shamroch, Leek, or Thistle."
POETRY AND POETS. 243
LORD BYRON's " MAZEPPA."
The dreadful punishment inflicted upon the
hero of Lord BjTon's poem, has an example in.
a newspaper, called " Mercurius Politicus,"
printed in the year 1655. The narrative is
dated from Hamburgh.
" This last week, several waggoners coming
from Breslaw to Silesia, upon their way into the
J3uke of Saxonie's country, perceived a stag,
with a man upon his back, running with all his
might : coming near the waggons, he suddenly
fell down: the poor man, sitting on his back,
made a pitiful complaint, how that he was, the
(lay before, by the Duke of Saxonie, for killing
a deer, condemned to be bound with chains upon
that stag, his feet bound fast under the stag's
belly with an iron chain soldered, and his hands
chained to the horns. The miserable man
begged earnestly that they would shoot him, to
put him out of pain ; but they durst not, fearing
the Duke. Whilst they were talking with him,
the stag got up, and ran away with all his might.
The waggoners computed that he had run, in
16 hours, 25 Dutch miles in the least; whicli
VOL.. III. B
244 POETRY AND POETS.
makes near 100 of our English miles, in a direct
line. The miseries which that poor creature did
and must undergo, especially if the stag killed
him not in running, cannot be expressed, hardly
imaffined."
"&'
DRYDEN's " MEDAL."
" It was King Charles II. who gave Dryden
the hint for writing his poem, called ' The
Medal.'
" One day, as the King walked in the Mall,
and was talking with Dryden, he said, ' If I
was a poet, and I think I am poor enough to be
one, I would write a poem on such a subject, in
the following manner ;' and then gave him the
plan of it. Dryden took the hint, carried the
poem, as soon as it was finished, to the King, and
had a present of a hundred broad pieces for it.
This was said by a Priest that I often met at
Mr. Pope's; and he seemed to confirm it, adding,
that King Charles obliged Dryden to put his
Oxford Speech into verse, and to insert it to-
wards the close of his ' Absalom and Achito-
phel.' "
SPENCE.
POETRY AND POETS. 245
JAMES MONTGOMERY.
This amiable man, whose poetry is so justly
esteemed by the public, has lately given to the
world a volume both curious and talented, en-
titled " The Chimney-Sweeper's Friend and
Climbing Boy's Album," which contains much
beautiful poetry from various poets on this
heart-rending subject. The profits are laudably
given to " The Society for bettering the Condi-
tion of the Climbing Boys of Sheffield."
The poems of which the greater part of the
book is composed (for at least one third of it is
prose), are unequal. None, however, it must
be confessed, make a very near approach to
mediocrity. Those from the pens of Messrs.
Bowring and ^fontgomery " stick fiery off
indeed." Our space precludes the possibility of
our giving both : we therefore present the reader
with the one written by the Editor of this in-
teresting volume. The being who can read it
unmoved, must be heartless indeed.
" A WORD WITH MYSELF.
I know they scorn the Climbing Boy,
The gay, the selfish, and the proud ;
I know his villainous employ
Is mockery with the thoughtless crowd.
24(i POETRY AND POETS.
So be it — brand with ev'ry name
Of burning infamy his heart ;
But let his country bear the shame,
And feel the iron at her heart.
I cannot coldly pass him by,
Stript, wounded, left by thieves half dead ;
Nor see an infant Lazarus lie
At rich men's gates, imploring bread.
A frame as sensitive as mine;
Limbs moulded in a kindred form ;
A soul degraded, yet divine,
Endear to me my brother worm.
He was my equal at his birth,
A naked, helpless, weeping child ;
And such are born to thrones on earth.
On such hath ev'ry mother smil'd.
My equal he will be again,
Down in that cold oblivious gloom.
Where all the prostrate ranks of men
Crowd without fellowship the tomb.
My equal in the Judgment Day,
He shall stand up before the throne,
When ev'ry veil is rent away,
And good and evil only known.
And is he not mine equal now —
Am I less fall'ii from God and truth —
POETRY AND POETS. 247
Though " Wretch" be written on his brow,
And leprosy consume his youth ?
If holy Nature yet have laws,
Binding on man, of woman born,
In her own Court I'll plead his cause.
Arrest the doom and share the scorn.
Yes, let the scorn that haunts his course.
Turn on me like a trodden snake.
And hiss and sting me with remorse.
If I the fatherless forsake."
AKENSIDE.
" The Pleasures of Imagination/' a production
that would do honour to the poetical genius of
any age or nation, was published in 1744, when
Akenside was in his twenty-third year. The
poem was received with great applause, and
advanced its author to poetical fame. It is said,
that when it was shewn to Pope in manuscript,
by Dodsley, to whom it had been offered for a
greater sum than he was inclined to give, he
advised the bookseller not to make a niggardly
offer, for the author of it was no every-day
writer.
It also has been surmised, that this poem, and
some others, were written prior to his going to
248 POETRY AND POETS.
Edinburgh in 1739, in his eighteenth year.
Mr. (afterwards Bishop) Warburton severely
attacked this poem, not on account of its poetry,
but for some remarks which the author had
introduced on the nature and objects of ridicule;
and it was vindicated by an anonymous friend,
since known to be Mr. Jeremiah Dyson.
On his return from Leyden, (where he studied
physic, and had obtained the degree of Doctor
in that faculty, in 1744,) Akenside settled as
physician at Northampton ; thence he removed
to Hampstead, where he continued about two
years and a half; and finally settled in London,
where his friend, Mr. Dyson, allowed the Poet
£300 per annum, to maintain his rank as a
physician. His medical reputation and practice
gradually increased; he was chosen Fellow of
the Royal Society, appointed Physician to St.
Thomas's Hospital, admitted, by mandamus, to
the degree of Doctor in Physic in the University
of Cambridge, elected a Fellow of the Royal
College of Physicians in London ; and, upon
the establishment of the Queen's Household, he
was advanced to the rank of one of her Majesty's
Physicians.
Notwithstanding the acknowledged abilities
POETRY AND POETS. 249
of Akcnside, and the singular patronage by
which he was distinguished, he never arrived at
any very considerable popularity in his pro-
fession. It has been said, that he had a kind of
haughtiness or ostentation in his manners, little
calculated to ingratiate him with his brethren
of the faculty, or to render him generally ac-
ceptable.
In Dr. Akenside's poems, and in the notes
annexed thereto, we may discover his extensive
acquaintance with ancient literature, and his
attachment to the cause of civil and religious
liberty. His politics were thought to incline to
Republicanism, but no evidence to this effect is
to be deduced from his poems; and his theology
has been stated to have verged towards Deism :
and yet, in his Ode to Hoadly, Bishop of Bangor,
and to the Author of the " Memoirs of the
House of Brandenburgh," he has testified his
regard for pure Christianity, and his dislike to
the attempts of freeing men from the salutary
restraints of religion.
The following extract from the first of these
Odes, may gratify the reader.
" To Him, tlic Teaclier bless'd.
Who sent religion from the palmy field
250 POETRY AND POETS.
By Jordan, like the morn to cheer — the west,
And lifted up the veil which heav'n from earth conceal'd.
To Hoadly, thus his mandate he address'd :
* Go, then, and rescue my dishonour'd law
From hands rapacious and from tongues impure :
Let not my peaceful name he made a lure,
Fell Persecution's mortal snares to aid :
Let not my words be impious chains, to draw
The free-born soul, in more than brutal awe.
To faith without assent, allegiance unrepaid.'"
POETICAL RECOLLECTIONS CONNECTED WITH
VARIOUS PARTS OF THE METROPOLIS.
" One of the best secrets of enjoyment, is the
art of cultivating pleasant associations. It is an
art that of necessity increases with the stock of
our knowledge : and though, in acquiring our
knowledge, we must encounter disagreeable
associations also, yet, if we secure a reasonable
quantity of health by the way, these will be far
less in number than the agreeable ones ; for,
unless the circumstances which gave rise to the
associations press upon us, it is onlj' from want
of health that the power of thi'owing off these
burdensome images becomes suspended.
" And the beauty of this art is, that it does
not insist upon pleasant materials to work on :
POETRY AND POETS.
251
nor, indeed, does health. Health will give us
a vague sense of delight, in the midst of objects
that M'ould teaze and oppress us during sickness.
But healthy association peoples this vague sense
with agreeable images. It will relieve us, even
when a painful sympathy with the distresses of
others becomes a part of the very health of our
minds. For instance, we can never go through
St. Giles's, but the sense of the extravagant
inequalities in human condition presses more
forcibly upon us : but some pleasant images are
at hand, even there, to refresh it. They do not
displace the others, so as to injure the sense of
public duty which they excite ; they only serve
to keep our spirits fresh for their task, and
hinder them from running into desperation or
hopelessness. In St. Giles's Church lie Chap-
man, the earliest and best translator of '^ Homer;'
and Andrew IMarvell, the wit, poet, and patriot,
whose poverty Charles the Second could not
bribe. We are as sure to think of these two
men, and of all the good and j)leasure they have
done to the world, as of the less happy objects
about us. So much for St. Giles's, whose very
name is a nuisance with some.
" It is dangerous to speak disrespectfully of
252 POETRY AND POETS.
old districts. Who would suppose that the Bo-
rough was the most classical ground in the
metropolis? And yet it is undoubtedly so. The
Globe Theatre was there, of which Shakspeare
himself was a proprietor, and for which he wrote
his plays. Globe Lane, in which it stood, is still
extant, we believe, under that name. It is pro-
bable that he lived near it : it is certain that he
must have been much there. It is also certain
that, on the Borough side of the river, then and
still called the Bank side, in the same lodging,
having the same wardrobe, and some say, with
other participations more remarkable, lived
Beaumont and Fletcher. In the Borough also,
at St. Saviour's, lie Fletcher and Massinger in
one grave. In the same Church, under a mo-
nument and effigy, lies Chaucer's contemporary,
Gower ; and from an inn in the Borough, the
existence of which is still boasted, and the site
pointed out by a picture and inscription,
Chaucer sets out his pilgrims and himself on
their famous road to Canterbury.
" To return over the water, who would expect
any thing poetical from East Smithfield.^ Yet
there was born the most poetical even of poets,
Spenser. Pope was born within the sound of
POETRY AND POETS. 253
Bow bell, in a street no less anti-poetical than
Lombard Street. So was Gray, in Cornhill. So
was ]\Iilton, in Bread Street, Cheapside. The
presence of the same great poet and patriot has
given happy memories to many parts of the
metropolis. He lived in St. Bride's Church-
yard, Fleet Street; in Aldersgate Street, in
Jewin Street, in Barbican, in Bartholomew
Close; in Holborn, looking back to Lincoln's-
Inn- Fields; in Holborn, near Red Lion Square;
in Scotland Yard; in a house looking to St.
James's Park, now belonging to an eminent
writer on legislation, and lately occupied by a
celebrated critic and metaphysician ; and he
died in the Artillery Walk, Bunhill Fields;
and was buried in St. Giles's, Cripplegate.
" Ben Jonson, who was born ' in Hartshorn
Lane, near Charing Cross,' was at one time
' master' of a theatre in Barbican.* He appears
also to have visited a tavern called the Sun and
Moon, in Aldersgate Street ; and is known to
have frequented, with Beaumont and others, the
famous one called the Mermaid, which was in
♦ 'ITiis \i at least questionable. Ed.
254 POETRY AND POETS.
Cornhill. Beaumont, writing to him from the
country, in an epistle full of jovial wit, says,
' The sun, which doth the greatest comfoct hriiig,
To absent friends, because the self-same thing
They know they see, however absent, is
Here our best haymaker : forgive me this :
It is our country style : — In this warm shine
I lie, and dream of your full Mermaid wine.
* * *
Methinks the little wit 1 had, is lost,
Since I saw you ; for wit is like a rest
Held up at tennis, which men do the best
With the best gamesters. What things have we seen
Done at the Mermaid ? Hard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtle flame.
As if that every one from wliom they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolv'd to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life. Then, where there hath been thrown
Wit, able enough to justify the town
For three days past, — wit, that might warrant be
For the whole city to talk foolishly
Till that were cancell'd, and when that was gone,
We left an air behind us, which alone
Was able to make the two next companies
Right witty ; — though but downright fools, mere wise.'
" The other celebrated resort of the great wits
POETRY AND POETS. 255
of that time, was the Devil Tavern, in Fleet
Street, close to Temple Bar. Ben Jonson lived
also in Bartliolomew Close, where Milton after-
wards lived. It is in the passage from the
Cloisters of Christ's Hospital into St. Bartholo-
mew's. Aubrey gives it as a common opinion,
that, at the time when Jonson's father-in-law
made him help him in his business of bricklayer,
he worked with his own hands upon the Lin-
coln's-Inn garden wall, which looks upon Chan-
cery Lane, and which seems old enough to have
some of his illustrious brick and mortar still
remaining.
'•' At the corner of Brook Street, in Holborn,
was the residence of the celebrated Sir Fulke
Greville, Lord Brook, the ' friend of Sir Philip
Sydney.' In the same street, died, by a volun-
tary death, of poison, that extraordinary person,
Thomas Chatterton —
* The sleepless boy, who perish'd in his pride.'
WollDSWORTH.
" He was buried in the Workhouse in Shoe
Lane — a circumstance, at which one can hardly
help feeling a movement of indignation. Yet
what could beadles and parish-officers know
256
POETRY AND POETS.
about such a being? — No more than Horace
Walpole. In Southampton Row, Holborn,
Cowper was a fellow-clerk to an attorney with
the future Lord Chancellor Thurlow. At the
Fleet-street corner of Chancery Lane, Cowley,
we believe, was born. In Salisbury Court,
Fleet Street, was the house of Thomas Sack-
ville, first Earl of Dorset, the precursor of
Spenser, and one of the authors of the first
regular English tragedy. On the demolition of
this house, part of the ground was occupied by
the celebrated theatre built after the Restora-
tion ; at which Betterton performed, and of
which Sir William Davenant Avas manager.
Lastly, here was the house and printing-office
of Richardson. In Bolt Court, not far distant,
lived Dr. Johnson, Avho resided also some time
in the Temple. A list of his numerous other
residences is to be found in Boswell.* Congreve
* " The Temple must have had many emiuent inmates.
Among them, it is believed, was Chaucer; who is also
said, upon the strength of an old record, to have been
fined two shillings for beating a Franciscan friar in Fleet
Street."
[This, says Ritsou, in his polite way, is " a hum of
POETRY AND POETS. 257
died in Surrey Street, in the Strand, at his own
house. In IMaiden Lane, Covent Garden, Vol-
taire lodged while in London, at the sign of the
White Peruke. Tavistock Street was then, we
believe, the Bond Street of the fashionable
world, as Bow Street was before. The change
of Bow Street from fashion to the police, with
the theatre still in attendance, reminds one of
the spirit of the ' Beggars' Opera.' Button's
Coffee House, the resort of the wits of Queen
Anne's time, was in Russell Street, — we believe,
near where the Hummums now stand. We
think we recollect reading also, that in the same
street, at one of tlie corners of Bow Street, was
the tavern where Dryden held regal possession
of the arm-chair. The whole of Covent Garden
is classic ground, from its association with tlie
dramatic and other wits of the times of Dryden
and Pope. Butler lived, perhaps died, in Rose
Street, and was buried in Covent Garden Church-
yard; where Peter Pindar, the other day, fol-
Thomas Chattcrtou. See his Miscellanies, p. 1.J7." I'.ut
the story is to be found in ;i much earlier wiitcr, Fulhi ,
the " worthy" Historian of the Church. Ed.]
258 POETRY AND POETS.
lowed him. In Leidester Square, on the site
of Miss Linwood's Exhibition and other houses,
was the town mansion of the Sydneys, Earls of
Leicester, the family of Sir Philip and Algernon
Sydney. Dryden lived and died in Gerrard
Street, in a house which looked backwards into
the garden of Leicester House. ■
" We have mentioned the birth of Ben Jonson
near Charing Cross. Spenser died at an inn,
where he put up on his arrival from Ireland,
in King Street, Westminster, — the same which
runs at the back of Parliament Street to the
Abbey. Sir Thomas More lived at Chelsea.
Addison lived and died in Holland House,
Kensington, now the residence of the accom-
plished nobleman who takes his title from it.
" We have omitted to mention, that on the
site of the present Southampton Buildings,
Chancery Lane, stood the mansion of the
Wriothesleys, Earls of Southampton, one of
whom was the celebrated friend of Shakspeare.
But what have we not omitted also ? No less an
illustrious head than the Boar's, in Eastcheap, —
the Boar's Head Tavern, the scene of FalstafF's
revels. We believe the place is still marked
POETRY AND POETS. 259
out by a similar sign. But who knows not
Eastcheap and the Boar's Head ? Have we not
all been there time out of mind? And is it
not a more real as well as notorious thing to us
than the London Tavern, or the Crown and
Anchor, or the Hummums, or White's, or
What's-his-name's, or any other of your con-
temporary and fleeting taps ?
" But a line or two, a single sentence in an
author of former times, will often give a value
to the commonest object. It not only gives us
a sense of its duration, but we seem to be
looking at it in company with its old observer ;
and we are reminded, at the same time, of all
that was agreeable in him. We never saw, for
instance, even the gilt ball at the top of the
College of Physicians, without thinking of that
pleasant mention of it in ' Garth's Dispensary ;'
and of all the wit and generosity of that amiable
man: —
' Not far from that most celebrated place, •
Where angry Justice shews her awfiil face,
Where little villains must submit to fate,
'ITiat great ones may enjoy the world in state;
• " The Old IJailey."
VOL. III. S
260 POETRY AND POETS.
There stands a dome, majestic to the sight,
And sumptuous arches bear its oval height ;
A golden globe, plac'd high with artful skill.
Seems, to the distant sight, a gilded pill.'
" Gay, in describing the inconvenience of the
late narrow part of the Strand, by St. Clement's,
took away a portion of its unpleasantness to the
next generation, by associating his memory with
the objects in it. We did not miss without re-
gret even the ' combs' that hung ' dangling in
your face' at a shop which he describes, and
which was standing till the improvements took
place. The rest of the picture is still alive.
(Trivia, b. 3.)
' Where the fair columns of St. Clement stand,
Whose straiten'd bounds encroach upon the Strand )
Where the low pent-house bows the wallier's head,
And the rough pavement wounds the yielding tread ;
Where not a post protects the narrow space.
And, strung in twines, combs dangle in thy face ;
Summon at once thy courage, rouse thy care.
Stand firm, look back, be resolute, beware.
Forth issuing from steep lanes, the colliers' steeds
Drag the black load ; another cart succeeds ;
Team follows team, crowds heap'd on crowds appear,
And wait impatient till the road grow clear.'
POETRY AND POETS. 261
" There is a touch in the Winter Picture in
the same poem^ which every body will re-
cognize :
' At White's the haniess'd chairman idly stands,
And swings around his waist his tingling hands.'
" The bewildered passenger in the Seven
Dials is compared to Theseus in the Cretan
Labyrinth. And tlius we come round to the
point at which we began.
" Before we rest our wings, however, we
must take another dart over the City, as far as
Stratford at Bow, where, with all due tender-
ness for boarding-school French, a joke of
Chaucer's has existed as a piece of local humour
for nearly four hundred and fifty years. Speak-
ing of the Prioress, who makes such a delicate
figure among his Canterbury Pilgrims, he tells
us, among her other accomplishments, that —
' French she spake full faire and featously ;*
adding, with great gravity,
' After the school of Stratforde atte Bowe ;
For French of Paris was to her uuknowc' "
LEIGH HUNT.
262 POETRY AND POETS.
MS. OP pope's " ILIAD."
The MS. of the " Iliad" descended from
Lord Bolingbroke to Mallet, and is now to be
found in the British Museum, where it was de-
posited at the pressing instance of Dr. Maty.
Mr. Disraeli, in the first edition of his " Cu-
riosities of Literature," has exhibited a fac-simile
of one of the pages. It is written upon the
backs and covers of letters and other fragments
of papers, evincing that it was not without
reason he was called " Paper-sparing Pope."
pope's remuneration for the " ILIAD."
" Pope's contract with Lintot was, that he
should receive for each volume of the ' Iliad,'
besides all the copies for his subscribers, and
for presents, two hundred pounds. The sub-
scribers were five hundred and seventy-five :
many subscribed for more than one copy, so
that Pope must have received upwards of six
thousand pounds. He was at first apprehensive
that the contract might ruin Lintot, and en-
deavoured to dissuade him from thinking any
more of it. The event, however, proved quite
POETRY AND POETS. 263
the reverse ; the success of the work was un-
paralleled, as at once to enrich the bookseller,
and to prove a productive estate to the family."
SPENCE.
A TRULY POETICAL NIGHT.
PiRON, the celebrated Satirist, and Gallet and
CoUe, two congenial spirits, after spending an
evening of great hilarity at the house of a lady,
celebrated for her hel esprit, took their departure
together, and on foot. On reaching the corner ,
of La Rue du Harlay, Piron proposed to take
leave of his companions, as his way lay by
the Fauxbourg St. Germain, while theirs lay
in the opposite directions of the Quartier St.
Eustache. The two friends, however, would
not hear of parting ; they pressed to be allowed
to escort Piron to his own door ; expatiated on
the danger which a solitary individual, at such
an hour of the night, was in, of being way-laid
by robbers ; and enforced their representations,
by a thousand stories of unfortunate persons,
pillaged and murdered. Piron was not to be
frightened ; he persisted in going alone ; and,
&& an excuse for his obstinacy, pretended that
he had a piece of verse in his head, which he
264 POETRY AND POETS.
wished to compose by the way. " But you
forget/' observed his friends, " that poets don't
go in such noble suits of velvet as that you have
on ; the first rogue you meet, deceived by ap-
pearances, will take you for a financier at least,
and will attack and kill you for the sake of your
clothes and money. How melancholy to hear
to-morrow that——" "Ah! gentlemen," in-
terrupted Piron, briskly, " it is my clothes,
then, that you wish to escort, and not me. Why
did not you say so sooner ?" In the twinkling
of an eye, off went coat and doublet, and throw-
ing them to Gallet and Colle, he bolted from
them with the rapidity of lightning.
After a moment lost in surprise at this fan-
tastic proceeding, the two friends ran after him,
calling out to him, " for God's sake to stop,'
that " he would catch his death of cold." Piron,
however, paid no regard to their entreaties, and
being a good runner, was soon so much a-head,
that they began to think of giving up the pur-
suit ; when, to their astonishment, they beheld
Piron returning, accompanied by a party of
police. " Ah I" exclaimed the sergeant of the
party, to whom Piron had told a wonderful
story of his being stripped and robbed, " there
POETRY AND POETS. 265
are the villains : see, they have the clothes in
their hands." " Yes, yes," said Piron, " the
very men." The guard instantly laid hold of
them, restored to Piron his clothes, and told the
astonished friends, that they must go before the
Commissary, to answer for the robbery. Gallet
wished to explain, very seriously, how the matter
stood, but the sergeant would not listen to him.
CoUe, who entered more into the humour of the
scene, being ordered to deliver up a sword which
he wore, thus parodied the words of the Earl of
Essex, in the tragedy of that name, as he sur-
rendered his weapon into their hands :
" Prenez,
Vous avez dans vos mains ce que toute la terre
A vu plus d'une fois terrible i I'Angleterre.
Marclions ; quelque douleur que j'cn puisse seutir,
Vous voulez votre perte, ii faut y couscntir."
The whole party now proceeded towards the
house of the Commissary of the district. Piron
who was at full liberty, walked by the side of
the sergeant, whom he questioned very comi-
cally by the way, as to what would be done
with the two robbers ? The sergeant, with
unaffected gravity, replied, that, at the very
266 POETRY AND POETS.
least, they would be hung, though worse might
happen to them. After amusing himself in this
strain for some time, Piron, afraid of pushing
the adventure too far, changed his tone, repre-
sented the whole affair as a mere frolic, and
claimed the two prisoners as two of his best
friends. " Ah ! ah !" exclaimed the sergeant,
" you are a fine fellow, truly ; now that you
have got your clothes back, the robbers are
honest people, and your best friends. No, Sir,
you must not think to dupe us in this way."
The party had now reached the house of the
Commissary, who was in bed, but had left his
clerk to officiate for him. The sergeant began
to make his report of the affair to this Com-
missary-substitute, but was so often interrupted
by the pleasantries of Piron, that he could not
get through with it. Piron, then addressing
the clerk, described, in its true colours, the
midnight adventure of himself and friends ; but
the clerk proved as slow of belief as the sergeant,
treated the whole story as a fiction, and the
narrator as an impostor. Taking up his pen,
he prepared to go into an examination of the
matter, with all the formality required in the
gravest proceedings, and ordered Piron to an-
POETRY AND POETS. 267
swer distinctly the questions he would put to
him.
Piroti. " As you please, IMonsieur, only make
despatch ; I will assist, if you like, to put the
process- verbal into verse."
Clerk. " Come, Sir, none of your nonsense,
let us proceed. What is your name ?"
P. " Piron, at your service."
C. " What is your occupation }"
P. " I make verses."
C. "Verses! What are verses ? Ah! you are
making game of me."
P. " No, Sir ; I do make verses ; and to prove
it to you, I will instantly make some on yourself,
either for or against you, as you please."
C " I have already told you. Sir, that I will
have none of this verbiage : if you persist, you
shall have cause to repent it."
The clerk now turned to Gallet, and having
obtained his name, thus proceeded to interrogate
him :
C. " What in your profession ? Wliat do ifoii
do?"
G. " I make songs. Sir."
C. " Ah ! I see how it is, you are all in a
plot ; I must call up the Commissary. He will
268
POETRY AND POETS.
shew you what it is to make a mockery of
justice."
G. " O, pray, Sir, do not disturb the repose
of M. Commissary ; allow him to sleep on ; you
are so much awake, that, without flattery, you
are worth a dozen commissaries. I mock not
justice, believe me; I am, indeed, a maker of
songs ; and you, a man of taste, must yourself
have by heart the last which I wrote, and which
has been, for a month past, the admiration of all
Paris. Ah, Sir, need I repeat,
* Daphnis m'amait,
Le disait,
Si joliiuent,
Qu'il me plaisait
Infiniment!'
" You see. Sir, that I do not impose upon
you. I am really a sonneteer; and, what is
more. Sir, (making a profound reverence to the
clerk,) a dealer in spiceries, at your service, in
the Rue de la Truanderie."
Scarcely had Gallet finished, when CoUe
began:
" I wish," said he, " to save you the trouble
of asking questions. My name is Charles CoUe,
POETRY AND POETS. 269
I live in the Rue du Jour, parish of St. Eustache;
my business is to do nothing ; but when the
couplets of my friend here (pointing to Gallet)
are good, I sing them."
Colle then sung, by way of example, the fol-
lowing smart anacreontic :
" Avoir dans sa cave profonde
Vin excellent, en quautite ;
Faire I'amour, boire a la roude.
Est la seule fClicit^ :
II n'est point de vrais biens au monde,
Sans vin, sans amour, sans gaiet^."
" And," continued Colle, " when my other
friend here (pointing to Piron) makes good
verses, I declaim them;" to illustrate which, he
with equal felicity, repeated the following ap-
propriate couplet from Piron's Calisthenes :
" J'ai tout dit, tout, seigneur ; cela doit vous suflire ;
Qu'on me mene a la mort, je n'ai plus rien ;\ dire."
As he finished these words, Colle, with all the
air of a genuine tragedy hero, strutted towards
the guard, bidding them " lead on." So bur-
lesque a conclusion to the examination, called
forth a general burst of laughter. The clerk
alone, far from laughing, grew pale with rage,
270 POETRY AND POET?.
and denouncing vengeance, ran to awake the
Commissary. " Ah, Sir/' exclaimed Piron, in
a tone of raillery, " do not ruin us ; we are per-
sons of family."
The Commissary was in so profound a sleep,
that some time passed before he made his ap-
pearance. Piron and his friends, however, did
not suffer the action to cool; but kept the
guard in a constant roar of laughter with their
drolleries. At length M. Commissary was an-
nounced. " What is all this noise about?" de-
manded he, gruffly. " Who are you. Sir.-*"
addressing himself to Piron ; " your name ?"
" Piron." — " What are you }" " A poet." — " A
poet }" " Yes, Sir, a poet, the most noble and
sublime of all professions. Alas ! where can
you have lived all your days, that you have not
heard of the poet Piron ? I think nothing of
your clerk being ignorant of my name and
quality ; but what a scandal for a great public
officer, like you, M. Commissary, not to know
the great Piron, author of Fils Ingrats, so justly
applauded by all Paris ; and of Calisthenes,
so unjustly damne as I have shewn to the
public by some verses^ which prove it to a de-
monstration."
POETRY AND POETS.
271
Piron would have gone on farther in this
gasconading strain, but the Commissary inter-
rupted him, by observing, pleasantly,
"You speak of plays, M. Piron; don't you
know that Lafosse is my brother; that he writes
excellent ones, and that he is the author of
Manlius? Ah, Sir, there is a man of great
genius." " I believe it. Sir," replied Piron,
" for I too have a brother who is a great fool,
although he is a priest, and although I write
tragedies."
The Commissary either felt not the piquancy of
this repartee, or had the good sense to conceal
it. After a few more inquiries, he saw into the
real character of the affair, invited Piron to
relate it at length, and (to the satisfaction of all
present but his sagacious clerk) not only be-
lieved, but laughed most heartily at it. He
then dismissed the three friends, not with a
rebuke, but with a polite invitation to dine with
him at his house on the day following. " Ah !
my friends," exclaimed Piron, as he left the
office, " nothing more is wanting to my glory;
I have made even the Alguazils laugh."
272 POETRY AND POETS.
AN EPIGRAM,, AND A RECEIPT.
" King, author, philosopher, poet, musician.
Free-mason, economist, bard, politician, —
How had Europe rejoic'd if a Christian he'd been !
If a man, how he then had enraptur'd his^Queen !"
The above was many years ago handed
about Berlin, and shewn to the King, (Frederic
the Third,) who, deemed it a libel, because
it was true; but instead of filing an informa-
tion, and using the tedious methods practised
in this country, he took a summary way of
punishing the author, who he knew, from in-
ternal evidence, must be Voltaire, at that time
a resident in Berlin.
He sent his serjeant at arms (one of the tall
regiment), not with a mace and scrap of parch-
ment, but with such an instrument as the Eng-
lish drummers use for the reformation of such
foot-soldiers as commit any offence against the
law military.
The Prussian soldier went to the Poet, and
told him he came, by his JMajesty's special
command, to rewardhim for an Epigram on his
royal master, by administering thirty lashes on
his naked back. The poor versifier knew
POETRY AND POETS. 273
that remonstrance was vain ; and after submit-
ting with the best grace he could, opened the
door, and made the farewell bow to his unwel-
come visitor ; who did not offer to depart, but
told him, with the utmost gravity, that the
ceremony was not yet concluded : for that
the monarch he had the honour of serving must
be convinced that his commission was punctually
fulfilled, on which account he must have a re-
ceipt. This was also submitted to, and given
in manner and form following :
" Received from the right-hand of Conrad
Bachoffner, thirty lashes on my naked back,
being in full for an Epigram on Frederic the
Third, King of Prussia ; I say, received by me,
VoLTAiHE. Five le Roi."
ROUGHER.
This Poet, author of that beautiful production
" Les Mois," was one of the victims of Ro-
bespierre's black dictatorship. Of the many
prisoners in St. Lazare, none excited a higher
interest. During his imprisonment, he was
occupied in the instruction of his son Emilius,
and thus banished the worst trouble of confine-
ment — its irksoraeness.
274
POETRY AND POETS.
As soon as he saw the act of accusation, he
was convinced of the certain destiny which
awaited him, and sent his son home with a
portrait which Suvet had taken when in the
jail, and a paper, Avith these words addressed to
his wife and family :
" Ne vouz etonnez pas, objets charmans et doux !
Si quelqu'air de tristesse obscurcit mon visage ;
Lorsqu'un savant crayon on dessinait cet ouvrage,
On dressait I'echafaud et je pensais i vous."
" Wonder not, — O ye dear and delightful
objects ! — Wonder not, if you observe a tinge
of melancholy o'ershadowing my countenance :
while the pencil of art was thus tracing its
lineaments, my persecutors were preparing my
scaffold, and my thoughts were dwelling upon
you."
avycherley's memory.
"Wycherley used to read himself asleep
o'nights, either in Montaigne, Rochefoucault,
Seneca, or Gracian ; for these were his favourite
authors. He would read one or other of them
in the evening, and the next morning, perhaps,
write a copy of verses on some subject similar
POETRY AND POETS. 2'J5
to what he had been reading, and have all the
thoughts of his author, only expressed in a
different mode, and that without knowing that
he was obliged to any one for a single thought
in the whole poem. ' 1,' says Pope, ' have
experienced this in him several times (for I
visited him, for a whole winter, almost every
evening and morning) ; and look upon it as
one of the strangest phenomena that I ever
observed in the human mind.' "
SPENCE.
PHAER AND STANYHURST's " VIRGIL."
The earliest poetical translation of tlie entire
" -■Eneid" into English, was the joint production
of Thomas Phaer and Thomas Twyne, both
Doctors of Physic, and was published in 1584.
The former of these had originally published
the first seven books, in 1558. Phaer under-
took this translation for the defence, to use his
own phrase, of the English language, which
had been, by many, deemed incapable of ele-
gance and propriety, and for the " honest
recreation of you, the nobilitie, gentlemen, and
ladies, who studie in Latine." He has omitted,
misrepresented, and jjaraphrased, many pas-
VOL. III. T
276 POETRY AND POETS.
sages of his original ; but his performance is,
in every respect, superior to Twyne's continua-
tion, which commences in the middle of the
tenth book. The measure is the fourteen-
footed Alexandrine of Sternhold and Hopkins,
whose couplets are now more commonly printed
in stanzas of four lines. As an example of the
style of this early predecessor of Dryden and
Pitt, we extract the commencement of the first
book.
" I that my slender oaten pipe
In verse was wont to sound.
Of woods, and next to that I taught
For husbandmen the ground.
How fruit unto their greedy lust
They might constrain to bring
A work of thanks : lo, now of Mars,
And dreadful wars, I sing;
Of arms, and of the Man of Troy,
That first, by fatal flight,
Did thence arrive to Lavine Land,
That now Italia hight."
The reader has, probably, had enough of this
specimen, to the measure of which the popular
ear of the time was, however, tuned. It was
then used in most works of length and gravity.
POETRY AND POETS. 277
and seems to have been particularly consecrated
to translation, of which Golding's " Ovid," and
Chapman's " Homer/' (of which latter it forms,
indeed, the chief defect,) are striking examples.
But, as though this sort of metre were not
sufficiently ridiculous, in the year 1583, Rich-
ard Stanyhurst, animated by a desire to try his
strength against Phaer, put forth a wild version
of the first four books of the "^Eneid" into
what he was pleased to call " English heroical
verse," that is to say, hexameter. Of this silly
affair, the four first lines of the second book
will, probably, be deemed a sufficient specimen.
" With 'tentivc ILst'iiing, each wight was settl'd in
harking ;
Then Father ^Eneas chronicled from loftie bed hautic;
Vou bid me, O Princcs-s ! to scarifie a festered old sore,
How that the Trojans were prest by the Grecian
armie."
Some of his epithets are particularly amusing;
for instance, he calls Chorebus, one of the
Trojan chiefs, a bedlamite ; says that Okl Priam
girded on his sword morghnj, the name of a
sword in the Gotliic romances ; that Dido would
have been glad to have been brought to bed, even
278 POETRY AND POETS.
of a cockney, a daiidiprat hop-thuvih ; and that
Jupiter, in kissing his daughter, Venus, bust
his pretty-prating parrot ; and that ^neas was
fain to trudge out of Troy. We must, also,
introduce a specimen of his rhyme, taken from
"An Epitaph against Rhyme, entituled, 'Com-
mune Defunctorum,' such as our unlearned
Rithmours accustomably make upon the death
of every Tom Tyler ; as if it were a last for
every one his foot, in which the quantities of
syllables are not to be heeded."
" A Sara for goodness ; a great Bellona for buclgeness ;
For mildness, Anna ; for chastity, godly Susanna ;
Hester, in a good shift ; a Judith, stout at a dead lift ;
Also, Julietta, with Dido, rich Cleopatra;
With sundry nameless, and women, many more blame-
less."
And yet the man who wrote these uncouth
fooleries was, certainly, no mean scholar, and
his* translation was highly prized by some, at
least, among his contemporaries. That such,
however, was far from being the universal
opinion, the following satirical quotation from
Nash will be sufficient to prove. " But fortune,
respecting IMaster Stanihurst's praise, would
POETRY AND POETS, 2/0
that Phaer should fall, that he might rise, whose
heroical poetry, infired (I should say inspired,)
■with an hexameter fury, recalled to life what-
ever hissed barbarism hath been buried this
hundred year, and revived, by his ragged quill,
such cartei-ly variety, as no hedge-ploughman in
a country but would have held as the extremity
of clownery." And Bishop Hall thus alludes
to him in one of his excellent Satires :
" Another scorns the home-spun thread of rliymes,
Match'd with the lofty feet of elder times :
Give me the nun)ber'd verse that Virpil sung,
And Virgil's self shall speak the English tongue.
' Manhood and garboilos' chaunt with changed feet,
And headstrong dactyls making music meet;
The nimble dactyl striving to outgo
The drawling spondees paring it below,
The ling'ring spondees, labouring to delay
The breathless dactyls with a sudden stay.
Whoever saw a colt, wanton and wild,
Vok'd with a slow-foot ox on fallow field,
Can right arced how liand^omely besets
Dull spondees witli the English dactylets.
If Jove speak English in a thund'ring cluud,
Thirifh-thwack and riff'rujf roars lie out aloud.
Fie on the forged mint that did create
New coin of words never articulate."
i280 POETRY AND POKTS.
Milton, likewise, or his nephew, Phillips, in
the " Theatrum Poetarum," censures this affec-
tation of hexameter and pentameter, in the
instances of Fraunce and Sidney ; " since," he
says, " they neither become the English, nor
any other modern language." And Southey, in
his " Omniana," says, " As Chaucer has been
called the well of English undefiled, so might
Stanyhurst be denominated the common sewer
of the language. It seems impossible that a
man could have written in such a style without
intending to burlesque what he was about ; and
yet it is certain, that Stanyhurst intended to
write heroic poetry. His version is exceedingly
rare, and deserves to be reprinted for its in-
comparable oddity."
We have already noticed Vicars's burlesque
bombast, so that it is only necessary here to
refer to him as the climax of this positive, com-
parative, and superlative trio of translators.
POPE, AND LORD HALIFAX.
" The famous Lord Halifax was rather a
pretender to taste, than really possessed of it.
When I had finished the two or three first
POETRY AND POETS. 281
books of my translation of the ' Iliad,' that
Lord desired to have the pleasure of hearing
them read at his house. Addison, Congreve,
and Garth, were there at the reading. In four
or five places. Lord Halifax stopped me very
civilly, and, with a speech each time of much
the same kind, — ' I beg your pardon, 3Ir. Pope,
but there is something in that passage that does
not quite please me. Be so good as to mark
the place, and consider it a little more at your
leisure : I am sure you can give it a better
turn.' I returned from Lord Halifax's with Dr.
Garth, in his chariot ; and as we were going
along, was saying to the Doctor, that my Lord
had laid me under a good deal of difficulty, by
such loose and general observations ; that I had
been thinking over the passages ever since, and
could not guess at what it was that offended his
Lordship in either of them. Garth laughed
heartily at my embarrasment ; said I had not
been long enough acquainted with Lord Hali-
fax, to know liis way yet ; that I need not
puzzle myself in looking those places over and
over again when I got home. ' All you need
do,' said he, ' is to leave them just as they are ;
call on Lord Halifax two or three months hence;
282
POETRY AND POETS.
thank him for his kind observations on those
passages ; and then read them to him as if
altered. I have known him much longer than
you have, and vrill be answerable for the event.'
I followed his advice ; waited on Lord Halifax
some time after ; said I hoped he would find
his objections to those passages removed; read
them to him exactly as they Avere at first. His
Lordship was extremely pleased with them, and
cried out, ' Ay, now, Mr. Pope, they are per-
fectly right ; nothing can be better.' "
SPENCE.
VIDA.
Jerome Vida, after having long served two
Popes, at length attained to the Episcopacy.
Arrayed in the robes of his nev/ dignity, he pre-
pared to visit his aged parents, and felicitated
himself with the raptures which the old couple
would feel in embracing their son as their
Bishop. When he arrived at their village, he
learnt, that it was but a few days since they
were no more. His sensibilities were awakened,
and his Muse dictated some elegiac verse, and,
in the sweetest pathos, deplored the death and
the disappointment of his aged parents.
POETRY AND POETS.
2&3
DIRK COORNHERT,
an early Dutch Poet^ was born at Amsterdam,
in the year 1522. In 1562, he was Secretary
to the town of Haarlem, and two years af-
terwards, to the Burgomasters of that place.
In 1572, he was Private Secretary to the States
of Holland. His general style was pure, but
the subjoined extract proves that it was not
always so. The thought, however, though not
well expressed, is too pleasing to be lost.
" Maiden ! sweet maiden ! when thou art near,
Though the stars on the face of the sky appear,
It is light around as the day can be.
But, maiden! sweet maiden ! when thou 'rt away.
Though the Sun be emitting his loveliest ray,
All is darkness, and gloom, and night to me.
Then of what avail is the Sun, or the shade,
Since my day and my night by thee are made ?"
He greatly distinguished himself by his up-
right and intrepid conduct ; and from among the
verses written by him, whilst persecuted and
imprisoned, these are, perhaps, worth quoting:
" What 's the world's liberty to him whosL- soul is firmly
bound
With nmnberless and deadly sins that fetttr it around ?
284 POETRY AND POETS.
What 's the worhl's thraldom to the soul which in itself
is free ? —
Nought ! with his master's bonds he stands more privi-
leged, — more great,
Than many a goldeu-fetter'd fool, with outward pomp
elate ;
For chains grace virtue, while they bring deep shame on
tyranny."
THE PERSON OF POPE.
" The following particulars, concerning the
person of this celebrated Poet, were," says a
correspondent to the ' Gentlemen's Magazine,'
in 1775, " taken down, without arrangement,
from the mouth of an ancient and respectable
domestic, who lived many years in the family
of Lord Oxford. ' Mr. Pope was unable to
dress or to undress himself, or to get into bed
without help ; nor could he stand upright until
a kind of stays, made of stiff linen, were laced
on him — one of his sides being contracted almost
to the back-bone. He needed much waiting
on, but was very liberal to the maid-servants
about him, so that he had never reason to com-
plain of being neglected. Those females at-
tended him at night, and, in the morning,
brought him his writing desk to bed, lighted
POETRY AND POETS. 285
his fire, drew on his stockings, &c., Avhich
offices he often summoned them to perform at
very early hours, so that, when any part of their
other business was left undone, their common
excuse was, that they had been employed with
Mr. Pope, and then no further reprehension
was to be dreaded.
" ' He ordered coffee to be made several times
in a day, that he might hold his head over its
steam, as a temporary relief from the violent
head-ache from which he usually suffered. His
hair having almost entirely fallen-off, he some-
times dined at Lord Oxford's table in a velvet
cap ; but, when he went to Court, he put on a
tie-wig and black clothes, and had a little
sword peeping out by his pocket-hole. It was
difficult to persuade him to drink a single glass
of wine. He and Lady INIary Wortley IMon-
tague had frequent quarrels, which usually
ended in their alternate desertion of the house.
When Mr. Pope wanted to go any where, he
always sent for ^Nlr. Blount to accompany him
in a hackney-coach.
" ' He often resided at Lord Oxford's while
the family was absent in the country, and what-
ever he ordered was got ready for his dinner.
286 POETRY AND POETS.
He would sometimes, without any provocation,
leave his noble landlord for many months ; nor
would he return, till courted back by a greater
number of notes, messages, and letters, than
the servants were willing to carry. He would,
occasionally, joke with my Lord's domestic, as
well as in higher company ; but was never seen
to laugh himself, even when he had set the
table in a roar at Tom Hearne, Humphrey Wan-
ley, or any other persons whose manners were
strongly tinctured with singularity.' "
FEMALE FAVOURITES OF POETS.
Poets have sometimes displayed an obliquity
of taste in their female favourites. As if con-
scious of the power of ennobling others, some
have selected from the lowest classes, whom,
having elevated into divinities, they have ad-
dressed in the language of poetic devotion.
The " Chloe " of Prior, after all his raptures,
was a plump bar-maid. Ronsard addressed
many of his verses to " Miss Cassandra," who
followed the same elegant occupation. In one of
his Sonnets to her, he fills it with a crowd of
personages taken from the " Iliad," which, to
the girl, must have been extremely mysterious.
POETRY AND POETS. 287
Colletet, another French Bard, married three
of his servants. His last lady was called
"La Belle Chiudine." Ashamed of such me-
nial alliances, he attempted to persuade the
world that he had married " The Tenth
Muse ;" and, for this purpose, published verses
in her name. When he died, the vein of
" Claudine" became suddenly dry. She, in-
deed, published her " Adieux to the Muses ; "
but it was soon discovered, that all the verses
of this lady, including her " Adieux," were
the composition of her husband.
Sometimes, indeed, the ostensible mistresses
of poets have no existence, and a slight circum-
stance is sufficient to give birth to one. Racan
and Malherbe were one day conversing on
the propriety of selecting a lady who should be
the object of their verses. Racan named one,
and ^Malherbe another. It happening that both
had the same name, — " Catharine," — they passed
the whole afternoon in forming it into anagrams.
They found three; — " Arthenice," " Eracinthe,"
and " Charinte." The first was preferred, and
many a fine otle was written in praise of the
beautiful " Arthenice."
288
POETRY AND POETS.
CAROLINE 8YMMONS.
Caroline Symmons, — the beautiful^, accom-
plished, and truly pious daughter of the Rev.
Charles Symmons, D. D., and Elizabeth, his
wife, sister of Rear-Admiral Foley, who so
highly distinguished himself, under Lord Nel-
son, in the Battle of the Nile, and in that
before Copenhagen, — was born Api-il 12th, 1789;
and the date of her first Poem, ' Zelida,' is No-
vember 24th, 1800. To our astonishment of
the mind and talents of a child of eleven years
of age, may be superadded our surprise at the
selection of one of her subjects — so sweetly
characteristic of herself — so mournfully pro-
phetic of her premature decay — "A faded rose-
bush."
She wrote several other Poems, which abound
in beauty, all before she had completed her
twelfth year. That she should delight in
Poetry, may be easily imagined ; but that her
favourites, at so early an age, should be IMilton
and Spenser, is wonderful. As a proof of her
devotion to Milton, it must not be omitted,
that it was found necessary, in consequence of
a defect in the sight of one eye, that Ware, the
POETRY AND POETS.
289
celebrated oculist, should be consulted, ^^■ho
declared it necessary she should submit to
an operation. With patience and resignation
she acquiesced ; and afterwards, when her suf-
ferings became the subject of conversation,
and a tender apprehension expressed for the
possible danger to which the sight of the
afflicted organ was exposed, she said, with a
smile, that, ' to be a IMilton, she Avould cheer-
fully consent to lose both her eyes.
She died on the first of June, 1803.
Works of the Rev. Francis Wrangham.
ADDISON DESIGNED FOR THE CHURCH.
" i\Ir. Addison originally designed to have
taken orders, * and was diverted from that
design, by being sent abroad in so encouraging
a manner. It was from thence that he began
to think of public posts ; as being made Secre-
tary of State, at last, and sinking in his
* He liiinself speaks of this design in the clo>e of liis
ver.ses t^) .Saciieverel, written in IG'Jl.
" I leave the arts of poetry and verse
To them that practise them with rao.st success :
Of greater truths I'll now prepare to tell."
2i)() POETRY AND POETS.
character by it, turned him back again to his
first thought. He had latterly an eye toward
the Launi ; and it was then that he began his
' Evidences of Christianity/ and had a design
of translating all the Psalms, for the use of
churches. Five or six of them that he did
translate, were published in the ' Spectator.'
" Old Jacob Tonson did not like Mr. Addison.
He had a quarrel with him ; and, after his quit-
ting the Secretaryship, used frequently to say
of him, — ' One day or other, you will see that
man a Bishop : I am sure he looks that way ;
and, indeed, I ever thought him a Priest in his
heart.' "
SPENCE.
HENRY KIRKE WHITE.
Henry Kirke White is a name that will be
imperishable in the records of precocious talent.
Pious, amiable, and learned, yet struggling
against numerous evils which his limited means
could not fail to entail on him, his fate awakens
our regret, while the variety and the solidity of
his acquirements excites exhaustless admiration
for his genius, and the profoundest respect for
his unwearied application and moral virtues.
POETRY AND POETS. 291
His effusions breathe the pure spirit of
Poetry. Many of his Poems are sacred, and
eminently distinguished by fervent piety. He
contemplated, and, indeed, commenced, a long
" Divine Poem," entitled, " The Christiad," in
the Spenserian stanza ; and, from the specimen
before us, we regret he did not live to conclude
what he so well began.
If we may judge from the few productions
which he left behind him, his genius was of
the highest order, and he promised to be one of
the brightest ornaments of British literature.
The following short Poem possesses great
beauty and simplicity.
" It is not that my lot is low.
That bids the silent tear to flow ;
It is not this that makes me moan, —
It is that I am all alone.
In woods and glens I love to roam
When the tired hedger hies him home ;
Ur by the woodland pool to rest,
When pale the star looks on its breast.
Yet, when the silent ev'ning sighs,
With hallowed airs and symphonies,
My spirit takes another tone,
And sighs that it is all alone.
VOL. III. U
292 POETRY AND POETS.
The autumn leaf is sear and dead :
It floats upon the water's bed.
I would not be a leaf to die
Without recording sorrow's sigh.
The woods and winds, with sullen wail, ■
Tell all the same unvaried tale.
I've none to smile when I am free.
And, when I sigh, to sigh with me.
Yet, in my dreams, a form I view,
niat thinks on me, and loves me, too ;
I start, and when the vision's flown,
I weep that I am all alone."
LONDON :
Printed by D. S. Maurice, Fenchurch-street.
INDEX.
Addison, Joseph, bis interview witb Gay, i. 188
, Specimen of bis Criticism, ii. 239.
■ , wben at College, ii. 243.
, his opinion of Blank Verse, iii. 19.
-, description of " the Iliad" and the " ^neiJ,"
-, and tbe famous Doke of Wharton, iii, 238.
-, Lis destiiiatiiin for tbe Church, iii. 289.
iii. 160.
Akenside, Mark, sketch of, iii. 217.
Alfieri, death of, iii. 87.
Ambree, Mary, carious ballad ctincerning, ii. 39.
Anagrams and Acrostics, several curious, ii. .59.
Andreini, Isabella, poetess and actress, i. 107.
Ariosto, and tbe Duke of Ferrara, i. 170.
— Potter, i. 172.
Atkinson, Joseph, his bio;'rapby, iii. 135.
— — Poetry by, iii. 130.
Avery, alias Bridgman, the pirate, his adventures, ii. 07.
, bis poetry, ii.70,
Ballad singers, English, some account of, ii. 89.
Ballads, German, account of, ii. 119.
of the Spaniards and Moors, iii. 26.
, gang in Spain on " The Day of John tbe Baptist,"
iii. 01. . . ^„
Baraballo, Abate di Gaeta, his mock coronatiou, i. 69.
Bards, ancient Irish, some account of, ii. 92.
in the time of Queen Elizabeth, i. 4.
. . , self-devotion of, i. 170.
Barton, Bernard, bis autograph, as sent by liirasclf, ii. 5.
VOL. III. ^
294 INDE3i.
Baxter, Richard, bis jndgment of bis poetical contempo-
raries, i. 233.
— , poetry by, i. 236.
Benlowes, Edward, account of, i. 225.
Benserade, the French Satirist, i. 119.
Berners, Lady Juliana, her biography, i. 199.
, poetry by, i. 202.
Bilderdyck, his anonymous verses, i. 224.
Blackstone,Sir Wm., poetry by, ii. 45.
BlooniGeld, Robert, biography of, i. 173.
Boccacio's heroic poem, " La Teseide," i, 112,
Bogdauovicb, Hippolitus, the Russian Anacreon, i. 60.
, specimen of his poetry, i. 61.
Boileau, his judicious revision, ii. 190.
villa at Auteuil, description of, iii. 70.
Boleyn, George, ^'iscount Rocbford, slight account of, iii.
24.
Brandt, Gerard, remarkable reserablanoe of sorac of his pas-
sages to Shakspeare, iii. 148.
Bralhwajte's description of the poverty of poets, ii. 230.
Brederode, Gerbrand, slight account of, ii. 263.
• — — , poetry by, ii. 265.
Buckhnrst, Ijord, his tragedy of " Gondibert,"ii. 10.
Burns, Robert, his " Lines on a bank note," i. 116.
" Tam O'Shanter," the original of, i. 159.
" Epitaph on Barton," ii. 7.
Butler, Samuel, his " Character of an Epigrammatist," i. 21.
, and the Earl of Dorset, ii. 219.
, his " Character of a play writer,'' iii. 222.
Byron, Lord, his " Manfred," Goethe's opinion of, i. S8.
Dog, i. 153.
swimming across the Hellespont, i. 154.
' , sums received by, for bis poems, ii. 6,
' , his generosity, ii. 170.
death, as related by Captain Trelawny, in a
letter to the Hon. Col. Stanhope, iii. 39.
" Mazeppa," similar story to, iii. 243.
Cabestan, William De, a Troubadour, singular ad\ enture of,
i. 147.
Cftllanan, J. J. slight account of, ii. 136,
, poetry by, ii. 137.
Camoiins, Lis biography, ii. 186.
INDEX.
295
Campbell, Kenuelb, slight accoant of, ii. 169.
Campion, bis " Memorable Mask," i.218.
Carolan, the Irish Bard, his biography, ii. 190.
Cats, Jacob, some account of, iii. 102.
, poetry by, iii. 104.
Chaucer, Geoffrey, brief iiistory of, i. 156.
. • , his poetry, i. 158.
' , bis Inn, "the TabarH,"!. 166.
Christmas Carols, accounts of several, iii. 191.
, by Richard Ryan, iii. 193.
Chodleigh, Lady, sliglil account of, i. 170.
Churchill, the satirist, tributes to, ii. 66.
Clare, Robert, " the Northamptoushire Bard," his biography,
ii. 273.
, poetry by, ii. 275.
Cleland, William, accoiiut of, i. 248.
— , poetry by, i. 252.
Cleveland, John, his petition to Oliver Cromwell, ii. 54.
Collins, anecdotes of, ii. 249.
Congreve, opinions on, by Voltaire and Denuis, ii. 97-98.
Coombe, Mr. George, his poetical reply, ii. 153.
Coornbert, Dirk, specimens of his poetry, iii. 283.
Coryate, Thomas, his poetrv, iii. 209.
" Courts of Love," at the time of the Trouhadoars, accooot
of, ii. 20.
Cowper, William, his account of his own physiognomy,
i. 178.
Crabbe, Rev. George, patronage of, by Edmund Burke,
iii. 56.
Crcbilloii, and the Ral.i. 19,
Croker, Thomas Crofton, his accoant of the political poetry
of the Irish, ii. 2.
Croly, R'V. George, his " Catiline," a tragedy, ii. 282.
Carran, J. P., his poetry, ii. 50.
Daniel Arnaud, a Troubadour, acuounl of, i. 11.
Dante's " Divina Comedia," i. 211.
and the Prince of Verona, ii. 218.
Daviei, Sir John and his Wife, their writingn, ii. 14.
De Beranger, his biography, ii. 277.
Dennis, John, the critic and poet, anecdote of, related oy
Cibber, i. 210.
Derzhavin, the Russian poet, accoant of, ii. 131.
296 INDEX.
Derzhavin, the Russian poet, poetry by, ii. 133.
Desmarets, his poem ot "Clovis," ii. 190.
Dionjsius, King of Sicily, his contention for the poetical prize
at Athens, iii. 125.
Drummond, his retiretncnt at Hawthornden, iii. 164.
, sonnet by, iii. 1C5.
Dryden, John, sums received by, i. 33.
— , his fondness for judicial astrology, i. 99.
character of Elkanab Settle, i. 206.
opinion of the Duke of Dorset's poetry,
94.
-, and Tonsoo, the bookseller, ii. 159.
Charles II., ii. 171.
• — ■ , his funeral, ii. 172.
, and Dr. Lockier, iii. 20.
, his poem of " The Medal," iii. 244.
Dumas, a highwayman, singular verses addressed to, iii. 144.
Edwards, Richard, slight account of, iii. 172.
, poetry by, iii. 173, 175, 176, 177.
" Edwin and Emma," the originals of, i. 17.
Effendi, Nabi, a Turkish poet, his rules for becoming a
poet, ii. 52.
Elizabeth, Queen, Puttenham's poetical portrait of, i. 18.
■ — , poetical tributes to her memory, ii. 51.
compliment to, ii. 163.
character of, by Joseph Ritson,
iii. 197.
Epigram Club, the account of, ii. 109.
Ercilla, Alonzo D', his " Auracanna."
Erskine, Lord, his poetry, ii. 48.
Essex, Earl of, sonnet by, addressed to Queen Elizabeth, iii.
184.
— — , his poetry, and patronage of poets, iii. 218.
Euripides, veneration of the Sicilians for ibe verses of, ii.
147.
Fabyan, Robert, his poetry, &c. account of, by Warton ,
i. 15.
Page, Mary, her book of anagrams and acrostics, account
of, ii. 59.
Fleck noe, Richard, Southey's account of, i. 120.
Fontaine, La, anecdotes of, iii. 1.
Garcilaso do la Vega, slight sketch of, i. 180.
INDEX. 297
Garcilaso ilc la Vega, poetrj by, i, 181.
Gartli, Dr. liis last illness, i. 76.
— — , benevolence of, ii. 232.
Gascoigne, George, Lis biograplij, iii. 127.
■ "Steele Glas," extract from, iii. 131
Gay, John, and tbe Soutb Sea Babble, i. 39.
Gay's "Beggar's Opera, anecdotes of, iii. 142.
Goetbe, his opinion of Lird Byron's " Manfred," i. 88.
" Fisher." a ballad, ii. 120.
Goldsmith, Dr. his account of " the Author's Club," i. 90.
lodging iu Green Arbour Court described,
i. 198.
-, and Mr. Bunbary, ii. 11.
the amanuensis, ii. 1.54.
Fiddler, ii. 162.
Jack PilkingtOM, ii. 222.
, his partiality fur Isliegton, iii. 54.
Go war, his anachronisms in his "Confcssio A mantis," iii. 1.57,
Gray, Thomas, bis Satire on a new made Clergyman, ii. 228.
quarrels of his parents, iii. 224.
Greene, Robert, bis " Orpharion," extract from, ii. 22.5.
Grotius, Hugo, account of, iii. 9.
, poetry by, iii. 1 1.
Guilict, Pernette, Dr. slight account of, ii. 40.
Haller, Baron, bis poetic compositions, iii. 114.
Harrington, Dr. his lines to Dr. Wolcot, ii. 202.
, Sir John, bis pleasantry, ii. 234.
Hayley, his interview with Garrick regarding his tragedy,
ii. 210.
Henault, tbe French Poet, bii atheism, i. 270.
Herrick, Robert, gome account of, ii. 148.
, poetry by, ii. 151.
, his " Fairy sounding names," ii. 153.
Heywood, Thomas, his description of tbe poverty of poeti,
ii.231.
- , John, anecdotcg of, iii. 120.
. , poetry by, iii. 121.
Hcadly, Bishop, bis prologue, ii. 1H3.
Hogg, JanicH, his poetry, slight account of, and specimen,
i. 210.
Home, John, tributes paid to, on the appearance of
"Douglas," ii. 164.
298
INDEX.
Homer, the biography of, i. 125.
, Hobbes's translation of, ii. 215.
Hooft, P. C. account of, iii. 7.
— , poetry by, iii. 8,
Howard, Edward, Earl of Suffolk, the subject of his poems,
i. 278.
Hughes, the poet, account of, from Spence/ii, 226.
Hunt, Leigh, his opinion of translations of the poets,
i. 131.
Iraprovisatori, account of, extracted from Spence, ii. 166.
Irish, account of the political poetry of the IrisL, ii. 2.
James, Captain Thomas, of Bristol, his poetry, i. 102.
■ the first, his contempt of personal satire, i. 1&7.
Jegon, Dr. John, his extempore verse, ii. 8.
Jenyns, Soame, anecdotes of, ii. 61.
, poetry by, ii. 65.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, Dr. Barnard's retort upon, i. 137.
, his opinion of " Douglas," iii. 147.
• , and Cave, the projector of the Geiits.
Mag. iii. 179.
Jones, Sir William, his account of Milton's Cottage, i. 133.
" poetry, ii. 47.
JonsoD, Benjamin, his sacred poetry, iii. 63.
Jordan, Thomas, " the City Poet," account of, i. 220.
'■, poetry by, i. 222.
Keats, John, Sonnet by, iii. 89.
Kheranitzer, the Russian fabulist, anecdotes of, iii. 180.
, fable by, translated by
Bowring, iii. 182.
Korner, the German poet and soldier, his death, iii. 73.
, " the Grave of," a poem, by Mrs. Hemans,
iii. 75.
Labe, Louise, account of, ii. 38.
Laharpe, and the Academy at Rouen, i.67.
Lake, the, of the dismal swamp, described, i. 108.
' ' — , poetry on, by T. Moore,
i. 110.
L. E. L., slight account of, ii. 99.
, poetry by, ii. 100.
Leon, Louis De, his lines on " Transubstantiation," ii. 158,
Leyden, Dr. John, biography of, ii, 72,
' ■ , poetry, ii. 74.
INDEX. 299
Lindsay, Sir David, acconnt of, i. 279.
, poetry by, i. 281.
Lodge, Tbomas, bis poetry, i. 184.
Lnnglande, Robert, slight accouDt of, ii. lOS.
Lovelace, Captain Richard, Lis biography, ii. 192.
Lover, Samuel, slight sketch of, i. 191.
, poetry by, i. 192.
Love-song of a Finland peasant, iii. 86.
Lytllcton, Lord, recollections of, ii. 286.
" Macpherson's Lament," ii. 122.
Malcolm, Sir John, poetry by, ii. 77.
Malherbe, bis opinion of the usefulness of poels, i. 120.
Mallet, David, his infidelity, i. 270.
Tragedy of " Elvira," i. 276.
recollections of, ii. 286.
Maniac, verses written by a, iii. 160.
Mapes, Walter, " the Anacreon of the lltb Century,"
ii. 102.
Marloe, or Marlow, Christopher, his death, i. 97.
Matoriu, Rev. R. C, his eccentricities, i. 03.
Menage, his remarkable mcmurr, i. 272.
Metastasio, his peculiarities, as related by Mrs. Piozzi,
iii. 162.
return to the Bar and resumption of poetry,
iii. 216.
Meun, John of, the continualor of " the Romaunt of the
Rose," his legacy, i. 181.
Middleton, Thomas, his whimsical petition to King James L,
ii. 128.
Milton, John, his singular adventure when at Cambridge,
i. 113.
cottage, account of, by Sir William Jones,
i. 131.
» rconnciloment to his Wif<-, i. 203.
" Conius," and Campion's " Memorable
Ma«k," i. 218.
— interview with James, Diiko of York,
287.
, curious proclamation agiin?*!, ii. 3.j.
, MarnhaH'ii portrait of, ii. HH.
, Dr. Jrihnsoii's defence of, ii. 178.
-, hit " Paradise IjOAt," anecdotes concerning.
iii. 88, 178.
300 INDEX.
Milton, John, li!s lore of music, iii. 99.
, Winstanlej's abase of, iii. 217.
Montgomery, James, liis " Climbing Boy's Album," iii. 245.
■ ■ — ^ — , poetry
in, iii. 246.
Moore, TLoiiias, comparison of his Poetry with that of Burns,
ii. 258.
, account of his cottage at Devizes, iii. 100.
, epigram by, iii. 101.
on, iii. 102.
addressed to, on the birth of his
daughter, iii. 136.
, his lines on Joseph Atlcinson, iii. 136.
" Flash," Poetics, iii. 239.
More, Hannah, her lines to Dr. Langhornc, ii. 234.
, Sir Thomas, poetry by, ii. 42.
Nivernois, Duo De, his last verses, iii. 85.
Nonsense verses, curious specimens of, iii. 227.
Noith, Loid, his distich on Mr. Mellagen, i. 141.
O'Driscolln, the song of the, i. 189,
O'Leary, J., poetry b^', ii. 142.
" Ordinarv of Christian Men," the, poetic extract from,
ii. 162.'
O'Shea, I. A., poetry by, ii. 139.
Olway, Thomas, his death, the various accounts of, i. 1.
Palindromes, or recurrent verses, ii. 27.
Palmer, G. F., a sailor, poetry by, iii. 133.
Pananti, his epigrams, ii. 134.
Parini, biographical and critical sketch of, ii. 195.
Parnell, Thomas, his intemperance, the alleged cause of, i. 67.
Peele, George, his life and merry jests, iii. 211.
, poetry by, iii. 215.
Petrarch, his cloak, curious accouet of, i. 118.
books, i. 186.
reflections on the summit of Mount Venonx,
iii. 62.
iii. 154.
" Laura," Lord Woodhouslee's account of.
hermitage at Vauclnse, iii. 155.
precision, iii. 162.
Pilkington, Mrs., poetry by, iii. 126.
Piron, and other French poets, ludicrous adventures of,
iii. 263.
INDEX. 301
Poems, mioDtely written, accoant of various, i. 08.
singolar dedications of, ii. 79.
Hindoo, subjects of two, iii. 137.
Poet Laureate, account of tbis office in Tarions couutries,
ii. 172.
Poetic highwayman, the, ii. 83.
Poetical present to King James I., i. 140.
associations connected with garrets, i. 253.
— — — garland of Julia, ii. 115.
flallerj, various choice specimens of, ii. 157.
. court of John II., ii. 209.
genealogy (by Leigh Hunt,) iii. 105.
recollections connected with various parts of the
nietropoli.B, (by Leigh Hunt,) iii. 250.
Poetry and preaching united in former days, i. 215.
, Pastoral English, some account of, iii. 06.
, specimen of, iii. 69.
. — of the Hindoos and the Persians described by
Broughton, iii, 183.
last moments of celebrated persons, iii. 202.
-, moderu_/fas/i, account of, iii. 239.
-, specimen of, iii. 241.
Poets, peculiar habits of, i. 263.
, vanity of French, i. 274.
, dramatic, readers of their own works, ii. 84.
, patronage of, by Stratonice and Madame Geoffriu,
ii. 158.
, religious confos«ioDS of, ii. 189.
, their impositionx upon antiquaries, ii. 217.
poverty as described by Brathwayte and Uey-
wood, ii. 230.
, royal, some account of, ii. 252.
, why professional men are indiffercnl, iii. 12.
, fondness of, for rivers, iii. 139.
, calamities of, iii. 107.
-, female favourites of, iii. 280.
Pope, Alexander, his various hair-breadth escapes, 1. 8.
" Rape of the Lock," the origin of,
i. 73.
Villa, i. 94.
paintingM, i. 1S7.
■ |>a(ronag«', i. 20.'j.
mother, liimscif, and Voltaire, ii, 8.
302 INDEX.
Pope, Alexander, Sir Godfrey Kneller, and lie Guinea
Trader, ii. 14.
, his criticism on " Pliilips's Pastorals,"
ii. 147.
on, ii. 236.
of, ii. 271.
" Essay on Man," Morris's criticism
" Man of Ross," John Kyrle's account
-, recollections of, ii. 286.
- and Warburton, iii. 220.
-, monument to his nurse, iii. 235.
-, bis MSS. of " the Iliad," iii. 262.
remuneration for the same, iii. 262.
-, Lord Halifax's style of criticism on.
iii. 280.
, bis person and peculiarities, iii. 284.
Puttenbani, his poetical portrait of Queen Elizabeth, i. 18.
Quaintness of Expression, by John Beaumont and George
Gascoiijne, iii. 221.
Querno Camillo, a Buffoon Poet in the Court of Leo X.,
his gormandizlnj^ and verses, i. 57.
Racine, Madame De Mainteuon and Louis XIV., i. 37.
-, his poetry, Voltaire's opinion of, ii. 168.
Raleigh, Sir Walter, his poetry, i. 40.
.— — . execution, i. 44.
Rapin, the provost-marshal and poet, i. 74.
" Rhyming," being an extract from Miss Hawkins's Memoirs.
i. 213.
Ritson, Joseph, his peculiarities of stjle and thinking,
iii. 197.
Ronsard, called, par eminence, " The French Poet," i. 74.
Roucher, bis last stanzas, iii. 273.
Rowe, Nicholas, account of, from Spence, i. 141.
Ruddy, Thaddeus, his practical description of Bridget
Brady, i. 108.
Rndeki, the Persian Poet, i. 124.
Ryan, Edmund, or " Ned of the Hills," account of, i. 35.
■ — — , his elegy to his
mistress, i. 36.
, Richard, his song of " Whiskey Punch," ii. 144.
Christmas Carol, iii. 193.
Sadi, the Persian poet, and his wife, iii. 226,
INDEX. 303
Sanazarins, bis lines on Ibe City of Venice, i. 217.
Santieul, and tlie French porter, ii. 12G.
Scbiller, his childhood, i. 78.
contempt of nobility, iii. 210.
Scott, Sir "Walter, bis lines in the Album of Bell-rock Lighf-
Loase, i. 115.
, French accoauts of, ii. 204.
, his " Helvellyu," also the circumstances
on which it is founded, ii. 240.
— — — ■ incapability of writinf; verse, iii. 51.
residence at Abbotsfird described.
iii. 196.
Settle, Elkanah, Dryden's character of, i. 207.
Seward, Miss, her poetical enigma, ii. 57.
Sbakspeare, his birth-day, how this anniversary should be
spent, i. 52.
Jubilee, account of, i. 243.
resemblance of some passages in " Gerard
Brandt" to, iii. 148.
Shenstone, bis kindness and generosity, ii. 180.
Sidney, Sir Philip, character of bis poetry, i. 143.
, bis death, i. 14G.
, poetry by, ii. 203.
Simonides, his uvarice, ii.224.
Skulls, as drinkinf; cups, poetical notices of, iii. 23fi.
Smith, George Henrv, his "Tribute to the IMcniory of
Bloorafield."iii. 110.
" Sorles Virgilianae," singular adventure of Charles I. at
the, iii. 152.
Soalhern, Thomas, his ludicrous stanzas addressed to the
Duke of Argyle, i. 18.
Southwell, Rev. R., slight account of, ii. 267.
, poetry by, ii. 20'J.
Spenser, Edmund, his account of the Irish Bards in the
time of Queen Elizabeth, i. 4.
, and the EnrI of .Soutliamplon, i. 20<>.
Suckling, Sir John, account of I be death of, ii. 117.
Survillc, Madame I)c, account of her poeniH, iii. 77.
, her biography, iii. 7'.>.
^-^— — , poetry by, iii. 82.
Swift, Jonathan, and Ambrose Phillips, their opinion of
Julias Ctrsar, i. 117.
, his list lines, i, 204.
304
INDEX.
Swift, Jonathan, and the beadle of St. Patrick's Cathedral,
ii. 13.
, curious trick played upon, ii. 121.
Symmons, Caroline, slia;bt sketch of, iii. 288.
Tannahill, Robert, liis biography, ii. 244.
, poetry by, ii. 248.
Tarlton, Richard, the jester, anecdotes of, iii. 185.
, poetry concerning', iii. 190.
" Tasso," translation of, by Hoole, i. 81.
~ Fairfax, i. 85,
, anecdotes of, i. 195, 208, 237.
, poetry by, i. 196.
, and the robber's captain, i. 282,
-, Lis death, i. 283.
, and his friend Manso, ii. 237.
Teonge, Heurj', slight account of, iii. 51.
— — — , poetry by, iii. 53.
Thomas, the Rhymer, history of, ii. 30,
Thomson, his "Winter," Mitchell's couplet on, and Thom-
son's reply, i. 204.
. , and Sir Gilbert Elliot, ii. 235.
, recollections of, ii. 286.
Tighe, Mrs., her poetry, iii. 21.
Troubadours, account of the Satires of the, ii. 18.
Tnrberville, his singular stanzas, i. 151.
Tusser, Thomas, his biography, i. 24.
— ; , specimetis of his poetry, i. 27.
Vida, l)is elegy on the death of his parents, iii. 282.
Vidal Pierre, a Troubadour, singular adventures of, i. 149.
Virgil, account of the supernatural powers ascribed to,i. 12,
— ■ , Vicar's translation of, ii. 215.
, Phaer and Slanyhurst's translations of, iii. 275.
Voltaire, his transaction with the Earl of Peterborough, i. 22.
Pope's mother, ii. 8.
and the King of Prussia, ii. 129.
■ , his opinion of Racine's poetry, ii. 168,
.—^—~— residence at Ferney, ii. 184.
■opinions of the translations of Shakspeare, iii, 88.
-, punishment received by, for an epigram on the
King of Prussia, iii. 272.
Vondel, Joost Van Den, biography of, ii. 103.
, poetry by, ii, 106.
INDEX. 305
Wacbler, and Kinjj Frederick II., iii. 195.
Waller, Edmund, Lis deatb-bed, i. 272.
conversalion wi!b King James II., ii, 127.
reply to King: Charles II., ii. 179.
Warton, Dr., bis interview with Pope's cousin, i. 33.
White, Henry Kirke, poetry by, iii. 291.
Wolcol, Dr., his Irickerj played off on the booksellers,
i. 238.
" Ode to my Barn," i. 290.
death, i. 209.
poetical correspondence with Dr. Harring-
ton, ii. 202.
and the Stock Broker, ii. 228.
Wolfe, General, epitaph on, ii. 88.
" World," the, a club so called, account of, ii. 116.
Wycberley, William, account of his marriage, iii. 23.
, bis singular memory, iii. 274.
Wynne, I. H., his facility of poetic composition, ii. 229.
Young, Dr., Tonson, and Lintot, ii. 7.
his "Night Thoughts," some account of the
translator of, into French, ii. 129.
and the Duke of Wharton, ii. 160.
, elegant imprunipiu of, ii. 182.
, bis couplet addressed to Voltaire, iii. 191.
THE END.
LIST OF EMBELLISHMENTS.
VOL. 1.
l»ortrait of Otway Page 1
' Lord Byrou •• •■ .. '. .. .. 152
Chaucer ■ • . . . . . . . . . . 156
Lady Bemers •• •• .. .. .. 199
The House where Shakspeare was bom • • • • . • 243
Portrait of Dr. Wolcot .- •• .. .. .-292
VOL. n.
Portrait of Racine • . . . . . . . . = 1
L. E. L. . . . . . ." . . .99
Herrick .. .. .. .. .. 143
Sir Walter Scott • • • • • . . • 204
— Tannahill . . . . 244
• • Thomson . . . . . . . . . . 292
VOL. in.
Portrait of La Fontaine • . • . . . • . . . 1
T. Moore's Cottage, at Devizes •• •■ •• •• 100
Portrait of Shakspeare . . ■ • • • . • 148
Sir W. Scott's residence at Abbotsford •• ■• •■ 196
Portrait of Montgomery .. .. -. . ■. •.• 246
H. K. White . . . . . . . ■ 292
DIBDIN^S POCKET EDITION
OF THE
LONDON THEATRE ;
OTitf) t{)c Original \Drologu£S ant) CPpilogucs,
COMPBEHENDING
ONE HUNDRED AND SIX OF THE BEST ACTING TRA-
GEDIES, COMEDIES, OrERAS, AND FARCES.
Complete in Twelve Volumes, price £2 : 14». in boards.
This is the most elegant, and, with reference to its execution, tlie
cheapest Edition of the British Theatre extant ; comprising, exclu-
sively of Shakespeare's Plays, which are printed in an uniform size,
and sold separately, all the best pieces now in possession of the
stage. Originally published at a Shilling each Play, but now selling
collectively at the reduced price above stated, or any of the pieces
separately at Six-pence. Each Play enriched with Six beautiful
Illustrative Engravings on Wood.
For a list of the pieces contdined in this collection; see the next
page.
SHAKSPEARE'S PLAYS COMPLETE,
(Whittingham's Cabinet Edition,)
With two hundred and thitty Illustrations. Elegantly printe<l in 7
volumes, uniformly with the alwvc, price Two Guineas in boards.
Another Edition of SiiAKSPKAnE, with the above Illustrationi,
complete in one volume Ovo. price One Pound ia boards.
©iljtrm^s; ^eb Eoiilron Clbeatre*
TB,AGEDXES.
Alexander the Great by Lee
All for Love Dryden
(^ato Addison
Count of Narbonne Jephson
Distrest Mother Phillips
Douglas Home
Duke of Milan Massinger
Earl of Essex Jones
Earl of Warwick Franklin
Edward the Black Prince. .Shirley
Fair Penitent Rowe
(iamester Moore
George Barnwell Lillo
Grecian Daughter Murphy
Isabella Southern
Jane Shore > Rowe
Lady Jane Grey Ditto
Mahomet Miller
Mourning Bride Congreve
Oroonoko Southern
Orphan Otway
Orphan of China Murphy
Revenge Young
Roman Father Whitehead
Siege of Damascus Hughes
Tamerlane Rowe
Tancred and Sigismunda.. Thomson
Venice Preserved Otway
Zara Hill
COnZZSDIES.
All in the Wrong Murphy
Beaux' Stratagem Farquhar
Beggar's Opera Gay
Belle's Stratagem Mrs. Cowley
Bold Stroke for a Wife . .Mrs. Centlivre
Brothers Cumberland
Busy Body Mrs. Centlivre
Chapter of Accidents.. ..Miss Lee
Clandestine Marriage.. ..Colman&Gar.
Confederacy Vanbrugh
Conscious Lovers Steele
Constant Couple Farqnhar
Country Girl Wychcrley
Double Dealer Congreve
Double Gallant Cibber
Every Man in his Humour . . Ben Jonson
Farmer's Wife C. Dibdin
Fashionable Lover Cumberland
Good-natured Man Goldsmith
Hypocrite Bickerstafi'
Inconstant Farquhar
.Tealous Wife Colman
Lionel and Clarissa Bickerstaff
Lord of the Manor C. Dibdin
Love for Love Congreve
Love in a Village Bickerstatl
Maid of the Mill Ditto
Merchant of Bruges ....Beau. & Flet.
New Way to pay Old Debts.. Massinger
Provoked Husband Van. & Gibber
Recruiting Officer Farquhar
Refusal Cibber
Ri vals Sheridan
Rule a Wife and have a
Wife Beau. & Flet.
She Stoops to Conquer ,, Goldsmith
She would and she would not . . Cibber
Suspicious Husband ....Hoadley
Tender Husband Steele
Trip to Scarborough ....Sheridan
Way of the World Congreve
Way to keep Him Murphy
Which is the Man ? ....Mrs. Cowley
West Indian Cumberland
Wonder Mrs. Centlivre
OPERAS
Apprentice Murphy
Citizen Ditto
Comus Milton
Critic Sheridan
Cymon Garrick
Devil to Pay Coffey
Fortune's FroUc AUingham
ijuardian Garrick
High I^ite below Stairs ..Townley
Hit or Miss Pocock
Irish Widow Garrick
Lying Valet Ditto
Maid of the Oaks Burgoyne
Mayor of Garratt Foote
Midas O' Kara
Miser Fielding
AliTD TA'R.CES.
Miss in her Teens Garrick
Mock Doctor Fielding
i\Iv Spouse and I C. Dibdin
Padlock Bickerstaff
Polly Honeycombe Colman
Quaker Dibdin
Recruiting Sergeant ....Bickerstaff
Richard Cosur de Lion ..Burgoyne
Rosina Brooke
Sultan Bickerstafl'
Three Weeks after Marriage. .Murphy
Tobacconist Ben Jonson
Twenty per Cent C. Dibdin
Two Misers O'Hara
V it gin Unmasked Fielding
■What Next? C. Dibdin
Several of the above Pieces are to be found only in this Collection j the Copyright being
the exclusive Property of the Publishers,
LONDON.
PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, GILBERT, & PIPER,
PATERNOSTER ROW.
University of California
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