Sik. ■i^-ji f-*vJi. Is I lifornia onal ity /* THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES f^ ( S} POETRY AND POETS. BEIKG A COLLECTIOK 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 OF THE ANCIENT IRISH," &c. &c. &c. IN THREE VOLUMES. ILLUSTRATED BY ENGRAVINGS. VOL. L LONDON: PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, GILBERT, & PIPER, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1826. LONDON : Primed by D. S. Maurice, KeuchurLh-street. PREFACE. In compliance with established custom, the Editor, having completed these Volumes, is now called upon to apply himself to the "weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable" task, of writing a Preface for them ; and it becomes a question of w^hat that Preface is to consist. Of the two topics usually put in requisition for the per- formance of this duty, — apology and panegy- ric,— he does not conceive he is at liberty to avail himself. With regard to the first, in these days of light reading, when works of a desul- tory and amusing description have usurped so large a portion of the shelves of every booksel- ler, it cannot, surely, be necessary to offer any excuse for obtruding on the world a few addi- tional volumes, on the interesting and exhaust- voL. I. a U PREFACE. less theme to which the present are devoted. The enormous and increasing demand for works of Anecdote, renders such excuse perfectly nu- gatory ; and the Editor is, therefore, precluded from indulging in the favourite apologetic strain. Still less does it become him to adopt the panegyrical, and, sitting as censor on his own work, in imitation of certain modest writers of the day, to point out to the world the great ad- vantages which it possesses over all that have gone before it, and, indeed, over all that will come after it. He cannot persuade himself that he is the most impartial judge of the merits of his own compilation; he will, therefore, leave it to the public, whose peculiar province it is, and who are far more likely to come to a just decision on the svibject, to ascertain what degree of merit may belong to it. He Avill only say for himself, that he has endeavoured to select such Anecdotes relative to the Poetry and Poets of his OAvn country in particular, as may convey information as well as amusement, cautiously rejecting the trite sto- ries which are to be met with at every corner, and diligently searching among works little known to the majority of readers, for those PREFACE. Ill ^ems which lay buried in their obscurity. He has thus been induced frequently to refer to our older Poets, many of whom, although possessing great genius, are now scarcely known to the world at large, even by name; and, in these cases, he has departed from the more restricted plan usually pursued, in order to introduce slight sketches of their lives, and specimens of their productions, which, he trusts, will be found both novel and curious. Nor have the Poets of other nations been neglected ; on the contrary, many names of this class are introduced, toge- ther with translated extracts of their works, de- rived from sources which taste and criticism must allow to be the best. He has, also, given occasional notices of several living aspirants to the bays, principally of the Sister Island, the specimens of whose hitherto unpublished poe- try will serve to shew, that no inconsiderable degree of poetical talent is obscured and de- pressed by the want of that fostering care which, in this country, would speedily be exerted in favour of modest and retiring genius. As, however, he imagines that few, or none, will read this Preface, without glancing at the contents of the volumes to which it is prefixed. JV PREFACE. he deems it superfluous to enter into any detail of the matter which they embrace ; with regard to which the reader willj doubtless, form his own judgment, uninfluenced by any thing which might here be said in its favour. To that judg- ment he submits his work, and awaits that ver- dict to which he, and all his fellow culprits in the sin of authorship, or editorship, must submit without appeal. Richard Ryan. CONTENTS TO VOL. I. Page Preface . , . ,' . . iii. Otway .. .. .. ., I Irish Bards in the time of Eli^abetli . . 4 Pope's Hair-breadtb Escapes 8 Minstrel Challenge .. .. 11 Virgil .. 12 Citj'-Poetry .. .. 14 The originals of "Edwin and Emma." .. 17 Southern, and tlie Duke of Argjie 18 Puttenbam . . . . . . . . .. ib. Crcbillon, and the Rat .. .. , ; 19 Bailer's Character of an Epigrammatist .. .. 21 Voltaire, and the Earl of Peterborough . 22 Thomas Tusser .. 24 Dryden's Income .. 33 Dr. Warton .. ib. VOL. I, A CONTENTS TO VOL. I. Page. Edmund Rjan .. .. .. 35 The Death-blow .. 37 Gaj, and the South-sea Babble .. . 39 Sir Walter Raleigh .. 40 Execution of Sir Walter Raleigh 44 French-English .. 51 Shakspeare's Birth-day 52 Poetry and Gormandizing ,. .. .. 57 Bagdanovtch .. .. .. • 60 The Inexperienced Shepherdess .. .. 61 Rev. R. C. Maturin .. .. 63 La Harpe .. 67 Parnell .. ,. •• .. . ib. Minute Writing .. 68 Coronation of Barabalio .. .. . 69 Pope's " Rape of the Lock." .. 73 Rapin ,, > . • > • • • 74 Ronsard .. •• •• •• .. ib. Garth's last Illness .. .. . 76 Schiller's Childhood .. 78 Hoole's "Tasso." * 81 Fairfax's " Tasso." .. 85 Lord ByroD, and Goethe . . . . . 88 Authors' Club .. ., .. 90 Pope's Villa 94 Christopher Marloe, or Marlow .. .. 95 Drydea .. .. .. 99 Captain Thomas James, of Bristol .. .. 102 Bobert Burns .. 106 Thaddeus Ruddy's Description of his 3IiBlress .. 108 CONTENTS TO VOL. I. i% Pa«t. Tbe Lake of tbe Dismal Swamp • • . 108 Bocoacio's "Teseide" • • 112 Milton .. .. •• • • . 113 Oell-rock Light-house .. • t 115 Belique of Burns .. .. • • . 116 Ambrose Phillips, and Swift • • 117 Petrarch .. .. .. • • . 118 Benseradc • • 119 Maiherbc's Opinion of Poets • • . 120 Richard Flecknoe « • ib. Radeki, the Persian Poet . . • • . 124 Homer • • 125 Translations of the Poets • • . 131 Milton's Cottage « • 133 Doctor Barnard's Retort upon Doctoi •Job nson . 136 Poetical Present to King James L • • 140 Tagging Rhymes . . . • • I . ib. Nicholas Rowe .. •• « 1 141 Sir Philip Sidney .. • « . 143 William De Cabestan, and tbo Lady Sermond 1 147 Pierre Vidal .. •• . 149 Ancient Signification of Words • • 151 Lord Byron • • . 152 Chaucer .. .. ■ • 156 Tarn O'Sbanler . . • • 159 TheTarard. — Chaucer's Inn . 166 Isabella Andreini «. • • 167 Lady Cbudleigb .. .. . 170 Ario^to . . • • t t ib. Robert Bloomfield ,, . 173 x CONTENTS TO VOL. I. Page. Self-devotion in a Bard .. .. .. 176 ^wper .. .. ^,.. .. ..178 ^^chie .. ,. .. ,. 179 Garcilftso De La Vega ,. .. ..150 John of Menu's Legacy .. .. .. 181 Thomas Lodge . . . . . . 184 Royal and Noble Poets .. .... ,.185 Petrarch's Books .. .. .. 186 Poetrj and Painting .. .. ..187 Addison and Gay .. .. .. 188 Song of the O'DriscoUs .. .. .. 189 Samuel Lover .. .. .. 191 Tasso .. .. .. .. .. 195 James the First's Contempt of personal Satire .. 197 Goldsmith .. .. .. .. ..198 Lady Juliana Berners .. .. .. 199 Milton's Wife . . . . . . . . 203 Thomson's " Winter." ,. .. .. ib. Swift's last Lines ... .. .. 204 Generous Patronage of Pope .. .. .. 205 Spenser, and the Earl of Southamptoa .. .. 206 Dryden, and Elkanab Settle .. .. ib. Tasso . . . • . . . . . . 208 Doctor JoIiB Dennis , .... ... .. 210 Dante's " DivlnaComedia." .. .. ., 211 Abbe Marolles .. .. 212 Da Ryer ... ^. ,., . . .. 213 Rhyming .. ... ^. ,. ib. Poetry and Preaching . . . , . , 215 Sanazarius .. .. «. ., 217 CONTENTS TO VOL. I. x Milton's " Comus;" and Campion's " Memorable Mask." 218 Tboraas Jordan, tbe City-Poet .. .. 220 Bilderd^ck .. .. •• •• 224 Edward Benlowes .. •• •• ^25 Walter Scolt .. •• •• •• ^^'J Baxter's lodgment of Iiis Contemporaries .. 233 Tasso's "Jernsalem Delivered." •• •• 237 Peter Piudar .. .. •• •• 238 Tbe Ettrii;k Sbcphcrd .. •• •• 240 Sbakspeare's Jubilee .. •• •• 243 William Cleland .. .. •• ■• 248 Poetical ARSociations connected with Garrets .. 253 Pecoliar Habits of Poets .. .. •• 203 Poelry and Poets .. •• •• 2CG Henault #• •• •• •• •• 270 Mallet's Infidelity .. .. •• >b- Waller .. .. •• •• •• 272 Menage's Memory .. •• •• •''• Vanity of Frencb Poets . • • . •♦ 274 Binet and Ronsard .. •• •• 'b- Mallet and Garrick .. .. •• •• 276 Edward Howard, Earl of SatTolk .. -. 278 Sir David Lindsay .. .• •• •• ^'^ Tasso, and the Robber's Captain .. .. 282 Death of Tasso •• •• •• •• 283 Jaraes, Duke of York, (Second Sou of Charles I.) and Milton .. .. •• •• 287 Doctor Wolcot, alias Peter Pindar . . . . 289 Death of Dr. Wolcot .. .. •• 290 POETRY AND POETS. ■&fXl J^^> OTWAY. The death of this celebrated Poet has been dif- ferently recorded by almost every one of his Biographers : " Having been compelled by his necessities to contract debts," says Dr. Johnson, "and hunted, as is supposed, by the terriers of the VOL. I. B ^ POETRY AND POETS. law, he retired to a public-house (the Bull, accor- ding to Anthony Wood,) on Tower-hill, where he is said to have died of want; or, as it is related by one of his Biographers, by swallowing, after a long fast, apiece of bread which charity had sup- plied. He went out, as is reported, almost naked, in the rage of hunger, and, finding a gentleman in a neighbouring coffee-house, asked him for a shilling. The gentleman gave him a guinea; and Otway, going away, bought a roll, and was choaked with the first mouthful. All this, I hope, is not true ; and there is this ground of better hope, that Pope, who lived near enough to be well informed, relates, in " Spence's Memo- rials," that he died of a fever caught by violent pursuit of a thief that had robbed one of his friends. But that indigence, and its concomi- tants, sorrow and despondency, pressed hard upon him, has never been denied, whatever im- mediate cause might bring him to the gi-ave." Pope's account of Otway's death was first re- lated by Dr. Warton, in tiie notes to his " Essay on Pope," and in the following words : " Ot- way had an intimate friend who was murdered (not robbed^ in the street. One may guess at his sorrow, who has so feelingly described true af- POETRY AND POETS. O fection in his ' Venice Preserved.' He pursued the murderer on foot, who fled to France, as far as Dover, where he was seized with a fever, oc- casioned by fatigue, which afterwards carried him to his grave in London." The robber, we find, is by this account a murderer, and as Dr. Warton was always more correct as to minor facts than Dr. Johnson, it is probable that he relates the story as he heard it ; but it is to be traced to Spence, who was informed by Dennis, tlie critic, that " Otway had a friend, one Blakiston, who was shot ; the murderer fled towards Dover, and Otway pursued him. In his return he drank water, when violently heat- ed, and so got the fever which was the death of him." And Dennis, in the Preface to his " Ob- servations on Pope's translation of Homer," 1717^ 8vo, says, " OtAvay died in an alehouse," which is not inconsistent with the preceding account, as he generally lived in one ; but whe- ther the story of the guinea and the loaf can be introduced with any probability to heighten the poet's distress, we do not pretend to determine. It would not, perhaps, be very wrong to conjec- ture that both accounts might be true, but his contemporaries have left us no precise docu- 4 POETEY AND POETS. ments. Dr. Johnson has remarked, that Otway appears by some of his verses to have been a zealous loyalist, and had what was, in those times, the common reward of loyalty, — he lived and died neglected. IRISH BARDS IN THE TIME OF ELIZABETH. The character of the Bard, once so deservedly reverenced in Ireland, began to sink into con- tempt in the reign of Elizabeth. The following is Spenser's animated description of this order in their fallen state, in which he sets forth his reasons for recommending their extirpation. In this, we shall find the poet lashing them without mercy ; yet, at the same time, doing justice to their productions. " There is among the Irish a certain kind of people called Bardes, which are to them instead of Poets, whose profession is to set forth the praises or dispraises of men, in their poems or rithmes ; the which are had in so high regard and estimation amongst them, that none dare displease them for fear to run into reproach through their offence, and to be made infamous in the mouths of men. For their verses are taken up with a general applause, and usually POETRY AND POETS. 5 sung at all feasts and meetings by certain other persons, whose proper function that is ; who, also, receive for the same great rewards and re- putation amongst them." — " These Irish bardes are, for the most part, so far from instructing young men, in moral discipline, that they them- selves do more deserve to be sharply disciplined, for they seldom use to choose unto themselves the doings of good men for the arguments of their poems ; but, whomsoever they find to be most licentious of life, most bold and lawless in his doings, most dangerous and desperate in all parts of disobedience and rebellious disposition, him they set up and glorify in their rithmes, him they praise to the people, and to young men make an example to follow." — " For, being (as they all be) brought up idly, without awe of parents, without precepts of masters, and with- out fear of offence ; not being directed nor em- ployed in any course of life which may carry them to virtue; they will easily be drawn to follow such as any shall set up before them : for a young mind cannot rest ; if he be not still bu- sied in some goodness, he will find himself such business as shall soon busy all about him. In which, if he shall find any to praise him, and to 6 POETRY AND POETS. give hiiTi encouragement, as those bardes and rithmers do, for little reward, or a share of a stolne cow, then waxeth he most insolent and half mad with the love of himself, and his own lewd deeds. And, as for words to set forth such lewdness, it is not hard for them to give a goodly and painted shew thereunto, borrowed even from the praises which are proper to vir- tue itself; as of a most notorious thief and wick- ed outlaw, which had lived all his life time on spoils and robberies, one of their bardes, in his praise, will say, that he was none of the idle milk-sops that was brought up by the fire-side, but that most of his days he spent in arms and valiant enterprises ; that he did never eat his meat before he had won it with his sword ; that he lay not all night slugging in a cabin under his mantle, but used commonly to keep others wak- ing to defend their lives, and did light his can- dle at the flames of their houses to lead liim in the darkness ; that the day was his night, and the night his day ; that he loved not to be long wooing of wenches to yield to him, but where he came, he took by force the spoil of other men's love, and left but lamentation to their lovers ; that his music was not the harp, nor lays of love. \ POETRY AND POETS. 7 but the cries of people, and clashing of armour; and finally, that he died, not bewailed of many, but made many wail when he died, that dearly bouglit his death." " I have caused divers of these poems," he concludes, " to be translated to me, that I might understand them ; and surely they savoured of sweet wit and goodly invention, but skilled not of the goodly ornaments of poetry ; yet were they sprinkled with some pretty flowers of their natural device, which gave good grace and com- liness unto them ; the which, it is great pity to see so abused, to the gracing of wickedness and vice, which, with good usage, would serve to adorn and beautify virtue." Such is the language in which our great poet speaks of his contemporary brethren in Ireland ; such, too, is the language employed respecting them in one of those oppressive acts of parlia- ment, which were about the same period assent- ed to by the Earl of Desmond, in which it is de- clared " that these rymors do by their ditties and rhymes made to divers lords and gentlemen in Ireland, in the commendation and high praise of extorsion, rebellion, rape, raven, and other in- justice, encourage those lords and gentlemen 8 POETRY AND POETS. rather to follow those vices, than to leave them," &c., and by which penalties are inflicted, not only on the bards themselves, but on all those who shall entertain them. But the Irish bards, in this period, were not wholly employed in offering incense to the un- worthy ; they frequently exercised their talents with zeal, to preserve their country from the chains which were forging for it ; and hence, the true reason of the jealousy with which they were regarded by the government of Elizabeth. They flung themselves into the midst of the armies of their much-injured countrymen, strik- ing their harps with " A louder yet, and yet a louder strain," till they raised the martial fury of the soldiery^ to such an elevated pitch, that they often rushed on their enemies with tRe impetuosity of a moun- tain-torrent, sweeping all before them, till they heard the shout of victory. pope's hair-breadth escapes. Mr. Pope's life was in danger several times ; and the first, so early as when he was a child in coats. A wild cow, that was driven by the place POETRY AND POETS. 9 where he was at play, struck at him witli her horns, tore oft" his hat, wounded him in the throat, beat him down, and trampled on him. His second escape was, when he was about two-and-twenty. He was travelling in a coach by night, and with a coachman that did not know the road so well as he should have done. They went to cross the Thames, and the coach- man drove into the water ; but after they were a little way in, the horses stopped short, and all his swearing and whipping could not make them stir a foot on. Some passengers, that happened to come by, just at the height of his endeavour- ing to force them to go on, called to the man, and told him that his horses had more sense than himself; that the Thames was not forda- ble there, that they were just on the brink of a hole twice as deep as the coach ; and that, had they proceeded a step farther, they must all have been lost ; so he drew back, and got out of the river again, and they were very glad to go to a little alehouse on the bank that they had just quitted. His third danger was in a coach, too, with six spirited horses. They took fright, ran away. 10 POETRY AND POETS. and overturned the coach, with him only in it, into a ditch full of water. He was ahnost suf- focated there, and broke the glass with his hand to let in the air : but,' as the coach sunk deeper in, the water gained very fast upon him, and he was taken out but just time enough to save him from being drowned. Besides these, his perpetual application (after he set to study of himself) reduced him, in four years' time, to so bad a state of health, that, after trying physicians a good while in vain, he re- solved to give way to his distemper, and calmly sat down in a full expectation of death in a short time. Under this thought, he wrote letters to take a last farewell of some of his particular friends ; and, among the rest, one to Abbe Southcote. The Abbe was extremely concerned, both for his very ill state of health and the reso- lution he said he had taken. He thought there might yet be hopes, and went immediately to Dr. Radcliffe, with whom he was well acquaint- ed; told him Mr. Pope's case; got full directions from him and carried them down to Mr. Pope, in Windsor Forest. The chief thing the Doctor ordered him, was to apply less to study, and to POETRY AND POETS. 11 ride every day : the following his advice soon re- stored to him his health.* — Spence. MINSTREL CHALLENGE. Arnaud Daniel, a troubadour, highly cele- brated by Dante and Petrarch, about the year 1240, made a voyage into England, where, in the court of King Henry the Third, he met a minstrel, who challenged him at difficult rhymca. The challenge was accepted, a considerable wager was laid, and the rival bards were shut up in separate chambers of the palace. The King, who a])peai-s to have much interested him- self in the dispute, allowed them ten days for composuig, and five more for Icunihig to sing, their respective pieces ; after which, each was to exhibit his performance in the presence of his majesty. The third day, the English minstrel announc- ed that he was ready. The troubadour de- clared that he had not wrote a line, but that he had tried, and could not as yet put two words together. The following evening, he over-heard the minstrel practising his chanson to himself. * This was when iMr. Pope was about seventeen, and, consequently, about the year 1705. 12 POETRY AND POETS. The next day he had the good fortune to hear the same again, and learned the air and words. At the day appointed, they both appeared be- fore the King. Arnaud desired to sing first, and the minstrel, in a fit of the greatest surprise and astonishment, suddenly cried out, " C'est ma chanson," (This \s,my song). The King said it was impossible ; but the minstrel still insisted upon it, and Arnaud, being closely pressed, ingenuously told the whole affair. The King was much entertained with this adventure, and, ordering the wager to be withdrawn, loaded them both with presents. But he afterwards obliged Arnaud to give a chansofi of his own composition. VIRGIL. The fame of Virgil's poetry has continued, from the time of his death, to delight each suc- ceeding age; but, that he actually passed, in the 13th century, for a conjurer of the most terrific nature, and that the most astonishing superna- tural powers were ascribed to his bones, are cir- cumstances with which comparatively few may be acquainted. A celebrated German prelate, Conrade, Bishop POETRY AND POETS. 13 of Hildesheim, has transmitted this wonderful discovery to posterity, in one of his letters which he wrote about that period, in Italy, to the Pro- vost of Hildesheim. — The neighbourinf]^ country was then, probably, much infested with serpents, for Virgil found it necessary to confine all the serpents, collected in the vicinity, in a hole, and to shut them up with an iron door. The honest Germans, who were just as credulous in those days as at present, were so firmly convinced of the truth of this tale, that, when Henry VI. ordered the gates and walls of Naples to be de- molished, not one of his men would venture to meddle with this door, from the fear of the ser- pents being let loose, which were there confined. It was further related of Virgil, the sorcerer, that he constructed a slaughter-house, in which meat would keep sweet, during the hottest wea- ther, for six weeks. He is, also, reported to have erected, near Vesuvius, the brass statue of a man with a bow : a peasant twanged the string, the arrow lodged in the mountain, and Vesuvius has vomited fire ever since. As all the attempts latterly made by St. Januarius to stop the crater of Vesuvius, have failed, Virgil must, conse- 14 POETRY AND POETS. quently, be still much more powerful than that saint. The bard must also have been so irritable as to be offended by the very flies on the wall ; for he is said to have placed a brass fly over one of the gates of the city; and, so long as this re- mained uninjured, not one of these insects durst enter Naples. Lastly, the bishop relates, that Virgil's grave is in a neighbouring castle, wholly surrounded by the sea. No sooner was an attempt made to bring his remains into the open air, than the heavens were overcast, a tempestuous wind arose, and the billows roared. But the most in- credible part of this relation is, that his emi- nence, the Lord Bishop of Hildesheim, who was then Chancellor to the Emperor, should assure his friend, the provost, that he had been an eye- witness to all this, and had even made various experiments on the subject himself. CITY-POETRY. Among the many striking contrasts between the manners and characters of ancient and mo- dern life, which the annals of Poetry present. POETRY AND POETS. 15 we must not be surprised to find a mercer, a sheriff, and an alderman of London, descending from his important occupations to write verses. Robert Fabyan, who is better known as an liistorian than as a poet, was esteemed, not only the most facetious, but the most learned of all the mercers, sheriffs, and aldermen of his time ; and no layman of that age is said to have been better skilled in the Latin language. He flourish- ed about the year 1494. In his Chronicle, or Concordance of Histories, from Brutus to the year I4S5, it is his usual practice, at the division of the books, to insert metrical prologues, and other pieces in verse. His transitions from prose to verse, in the course of a prolix narrative, seem to be made with much sense; and, when he begins to versify, the historian disappears only by the addition of rhyme and stanza. In the first edi- tion of his Chronicle, printed in 1516, by way of prologues to his seven books, he has given us The seven Joys of the Blessed Virgin, in English Rime ; and, under the year 1325, there is a poem to the Virgin ; and another on one Bad- by, a Lollard, under the year 1409. These are suppressed in the later editions. He has, like- 16 POETRY AND POETS. wise, left a panegyric on the City of London ; but " despairs of doing justice to so noble a subject for verse, even if he had the eloquence of Tully, the morality of Seneca, and the har- mony of that/fl?>e lady Calliope." As an historian, our author is the dullest of compilers; he is equally attentive to the succes- sion of the mayors of London, and of the mo- narchs of England ; and seems to have thought the dinners at Guildhall, and the pageantries of the City companies, more interesting transac- tions than our victories in France, and our struggles for public liberty at home. One of Fabyan's historical anecdotes, under the impor- tant reign of Henry the Fifth, is, that a new weather-cock was placed on the cross of St. Paul's steeple. It is said, that Cardinal Wolsey commanded many copies of this Chronicle to be committed to the flames, because it made too ample a discovery of the excessive revenues of the clergy. The earlier chapters of these childish 3i\\nsls faithfully record all those fabulous tradi- tions, which generally supply the place of his- toric monuments, in describing the origin of a nation. — Wakton. POETRY AND POETS. 17 THE ORIGINALS OF " EDWIN AND EMMA." At Bowes, in Yorkshire, a dreary village on the edge of Stanmore, lived these two young cottagers, secluded from the gay scenes of life. Emma's sister was alive some few ten years back, and used frequently to relate to her young inquiring neighbours, with a kind of gloomy pleasure, every circumstance relating to the death of Edwin and Emma. These two early victims of love were both interred in one grave in Bowes churchyard, over which no stone is laid to commemorate their remarkable affection for each other. Their names are recorded in the parish re- gister with particulars. Although they moved in a humble sphere, a bard arose and handed down to posterity their history, when their real names and resting place shall probably have been forgotten. It was once in agitation to have erected a monument to their memory, by private subscription ; but why not carried into effect we know not ; possibly prevented by some character, who, similar to " The father, too, a sordid man. Who love nor pity l as it is said, in a fortnight, and sent to the of- fended lady, who liked it well enough to shew it ; and, with the usual process of literary trans- actions, the author, dreading a surreptitious edi- tion, was forced to publish it. The event is said to have been such as was desired — the pacifica- tion and diversion of all to whom it related. 74 POETRY AND POETS. RAPIN was a poet and a provost-marshal, two charac- ters not often united in the same person. He told the Monks who attended him in his last moments, that the only good action which he had to congratulate himself upon in his younger days was, his persecuting the contagion of Atheism in Paris. He said, " that about the year 1580, there came to Paris a foreigner of a subtle and factious spirit, who, having made himself acquainted with the celebrated wits of that city, (of whom Ronsard, the poet, was the chief,) began to publish his pernicious and abo- minable maxims against the Deity, which had already staggered the minds of some of them. I soon afterwards caused him to be hung and burnt by a decree of the Parliament of Paris. Ronsard, at last, came over to my opinion, and wrote his poem against the Atheists, which be- gins, ' O ciel, O terre, O Dieu, Pere commun.' " Had it not been for us, France, perhaps, would have been a sink of Atheists to this day." RONSARD. The poems of this learned man were much POETRY AND POETS. 7^ esteemed by the late Sir William Jones, who was an excellent critic. Ronsard was called, by the princes and wits of his time, " The Frencli Poet," by way of eminence ; so that with less vanity he might say that he was born in the year in which Francis the First was taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia — " that Heaven ap- peared, by that circumstance, inclined to make France some amends for its loss on that day." Like all persons who are distinguished by the attention of the public, he had his friends and his enemies. Among the latter, of Rabelais he was the most afraid, who, when they met together, never failed to ridicule him. This, Ronsard took care should happen but seldom, by obtaining information, whenever he was in- vited to a party, whether Rabelais would be among the number. It is said, that Voltaire took the same precaution with regard to Piron, the Epigrammatist. With what proper con- tempt Ronsard treated a scandalous imputation upon his moral and religious character, the fol- lowing letter to his friend Passerat will evince. " 1556. — Since I wrote to you, my dear friend, Lambin has supped with me, and has shewn me 76- POETRY AND POETS. your Latin letter, in which I observed how the good Huguenots of Bourges (for they can be no other persons) have spread a report about the town that Lambin said publicly in the pulpit, ' That now the world was delivered from three Atheists, Moret, Ronsard, and Gouveau.' I have, indeed, acquired nothing by this news but the honour of having my name joined to that of those gentlemen, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to loosen. I can only wish, that whenever people choose to calumniate me, they would do it in the same manner ; and I should ever esteem myself happy to be able to equal the virtue, the learning, the integrity, of those two great men, and even of Moret, whom I have ever known to be a man of honour. I do not indeed know, whether M. Lambin said this or not. It is a matter of no consequence ; and on the strength of it, I intend to go to-morrow to the ' Three Fish,' to drink myself into your good graces; recommending myself, with all my heart, to your indulgent Muses." garth's last illness. When Dr. Garth had been for a good while in a bad state of health, he sent, one day, for a POETRY AND POETS. 77 physician, with whom he was particularly inti- mate, and conjured him to tell him sincerely, whether he thought he should be ever able to get rid of his illness or not. His friend, thus conjured, told him, "that he thought he might struggle on with it, perhaps for some years, but that he much feared he could never get the bet- ter of it entirely." Dr. Garth thanked him for dealing so fairly with him, turned the discourse to other things, and talked all the rest of the time he staid with him. As soon as he was gone, he called for his servant, said he was a good deal out of order, and would go to bed : he then sent for a surgeon to bleed him. Soon after, he sent for a second surgeon, by a different servant, and was bled in the other arm. He then said he wanted rest; and when every body had quitted the room, he took off the bandages, and lay down with the design of bleeding to death. His loss of blood made him faint away, and that stopped the bleeding : he afterwards sunk into a sound sleep, slept all the night, waked in the morning without his usual pains, and said, " if it would continue so, he could l>e content to live on." In his last illness, he did 78 POETRY AND POETS. not use any remedies, but let the distemper take its course. He was the most agreeable compa- nion I ever knew.* SPENCE. Schuyler's childhood. When only three years old, we are told, that the celebrated author of " The Robbers" mani- fested an extraordinary eagerness after know- ledge, great quickness of apprehension, and an incessantly active imagination. He disliked the usual sports of children ; and one of his favour- ite amusements consisted in the contemplation of his father's little collection of pictures and profiles, consisting chiefly of oil paintings of heroes, princes, and relatives of the family. Here he would pass whole hours, steadfastly * Garth has been censured for voluptuousness, and ac- cused of infidelity. Being one day questioned by Addison upon his religious creed, he is said to have replied, " that he was of the religion of wise men;" and being urged to explain himself farther, he added, " that wise men kept their own secrets." Pope says of him, in his " Farewell to London," 1715, " Garth, the best, good Christian he. Although he knows it not." POKTRY AND POETS. 79 gazing on one picture after another, and at- tempting to copy them. Among these paintings was one representing the storming of Magdeburg by Tilly, and the scenes of horror which ensued. It was the best and largest piece in the collection. Tilly, with his right hand against his side, and the look of a bloodthirsty tyrant, was seen riding through the streets. Groups of weeping females, persons of all ages running away from the in- furiated soldiers, burning and falling houses, and all the scenes of woe that attended the steps of Tilly, were the subjects of this picture. Young Schiller, then about six years old, was highly interested by the many expressive faces in this delineation of the rude manners of a former age ; and one day, laying sacrilegious hands on this heir-loom, which had already de- scended from father to son for several genera- tions, he cut it up into as many pieces as there were figures. These he pasted upon paper, where horse and foot in mingled ranks followed their sanguinary leader, whose whole face the boy had blackened, to make him look more frightful. Then came, upon another piece of paper, a long row of men, women, and children; each man being accompanied by a woman and 80 POETRY AND POETS. a child. The aged of both sexes concluded the procession. In shorty he had recomposed the whole in his own way ; and, upon a third paper, he had placed the heads of children on the bodies of old men, and affixed those of young persons to the bodies of old women, while a Croat, with uplifted sword, appeared, perhaps, with the face of a modest damsel, and a plundering officer with the head of a spirited horse. In this man- ner, he transformed a single piece into a whole gallery, the third division of which, in particular, was not unlike some of Hogarth's caricatures. It may easily be supposed that his father, who prized this piece very highly, bestowed on him no very agreeable reward for his pains. Not long after this, black clouds one day an- nounced an approaching thunder-storm. Flashes of lightning began to dart through the at- mosphere. Inquiry was made for the boy, but he was nowhere to be found. The tempest, meanwhile, came nearer and nearer ; the thun- der rolled awfully, and lightnings burst from the bosom of the murky clouds. The anxiety of the parents, on account of the child, increased with every clap. The whole family was em- ployed in seeking him. Ke was at length found, POETRY AND POETS. Bl just at the moment of descending from tlie top of a very tall lime-tree near the house. " For God's sake," cried liis father, in the greatest alarm, " where have you been.^" " I only wanted to see," replied the fearless and inqui- sitive boy, " where all that fire came from." IIOOLE's " TASSO." Bv far the best-known translation of the " Jerusalem Delivered," of Tasso, is Mr. Hoole's. It has appeared, and still appears, in editions of all sizes; and is gathered, as a matter of course, into collections of the British Poets. The sole reason of this is, not that INIr. Hoole translated the work, but that his original was Tasso. It is the name of Tasso, solely, that has carried him on from generation to generation, like a corpse attached to the immortal spirit of the Italian, and making it dull with the burden. The re-publication, in various quarters, of the finer translation by Fairfax, will doubtless help to detach one idea from the other ; but as IMr. Hoole's version has also been often reprinted of late, and as Fairfax himself presents some diffi- culties in the way of popularity, a few observa- 82 POETRY AND POETS. tions on the two works may not be useless in furthering the public interests of poetry. Hoole is a singular example of the popularity which a man may obtain^ by taking up a great author to translate^ with whom he has nothing in common, and merely subserving to the worst taste of the times. It was lucky for this gen- tleman, that he had the period he wrote in, almost all to himself. There was not a single real poet surviving, except Cowper. — Gray, Armstrong, Akenside, Collins, Churchill, — every body was gone who was likely to detect him publicly; and the age, in every respect, was then in the fulness of its poetical emptiness. The French school was in its last weedy exu- berance. The apprentices and their mistresses, in their pretty transparent Acrostic masks, walked forth by hundreds to meet each other in Poet's Corner in the magazines ; and as no- body knew any thing about poetry, except that it had to repeat " ingenious" common-places, to rhyme upon heart, improve, love, prove, &c., and to pause, as Pope did, upon the fourth and fifth syllables, every body could write poetry, and admit it in others : Pope, whose real merits they POETRY AND POETS. 83 did not understand after all, was the greatest poet that ever lived ; next to him were Goldsmith, and Collins, and Gray; the two latter, how- ever, were very little understood : then, or, per- haps, before them, was Dr. Johnson, whom our master at school gave us as a poetical model : then came, in their respective circles, though at due distance, Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Tomkins, or Mr. Hopkins, who wrote lines on the beautiful Miss Y. of Bristol, or the charming Miss Z. of Fish Street Hill ; and nothing was wanting to make such a person as Mr. Hoole a great and popular writer with those gentlemen and ladies, but that he should write a great quantity of verses ; which he accordingly did. That Dr. Johnson should speak a good word for ]Mr. Hoole, much less write a Dedication for him, is not surprising; though what a poet must he be, who goes to another to write a Dedication for him ! Johnson was in the habit of writing Dedications for those who were conscious of not being good turners of a prose paragraph, and who wished to approach the great with a proper one ; and Mr. Hoole, it seems, was among these modest persons, though he did not scruple to approach Tasso and Ariosto with his poetry. VOL. I. G 8€ POETRY AND POETS. The Dedication, which is to the late Queen, and which expresses a wish that Tasso had lived in a happier time, and experienced from the de- scendants of the House of Este, " a more liberal and potent patronage," is elegant and to the purpose. The good word is a mere word, and very equivocal besides. Johnson, who is now pretty generally understood not to have been so good a critic in poetry, as he was strong in ge- neral understanding, and justly eminent in some respects, might have been very capable of ap- plauding a translation upon Mr. Hoole's prin- ciples ; but it is more than to be suspected, that he would have desired a higher order of work- manship out of the manufactory. Hoole was a pitch too low for his admiration, though it ap- peared he had private qualities sufficient to se- cure his good wishes ; and even those, there is good reason to conclude, could not have pre- vented a feeling of contempt for a translator of great poets, who could come to him for a Dedi- cation. When Boswell, in one of his maudlin fits of adulation, aifected to consider something with Goldsmith's name to it as supplied by the Doctor, the latter could not restrain his scorn ; and said, that Goldsmith would no more come POKTRY AND POETS. 85 to him for a paragraph, than he would to be fed with a pap-spoon. And it is curious to observe, after all, how, and in what place, Johnson has said his good word for our translator. It is at tlie end of the Life of Waller, and amounts to this coy prophecy; — that Fairfax's work, " after Mr. Hoole's translation, will not soon be re- printed." leigh hunt. Fairfax's "tasso." Edward Fairfa.x led a life which a brother poet might envy. He was of a distinguished family, the same as that of Fairfax, the Par- liament General; and having an estate of his own, and the greater estates of leisure and ge- nius, he passed the whole of his days at a seat in the Forest of Knaresborough, in the bosom of his family, and in the cultivation oi' poetry. He appears to have had all, and more than a poet wants, — tranquillity, a fortune beyond com- petence, books, rural scenes, and an age that could understand him. He flourished just at the close of that golden period, that height and strong summer-time of our poetry, when lan- guage, wisdom, and imagination were alike at 86 POETRY AND POETS. their noblest, and thoughts were px)ured forth as profusely as words have been since. He was inclined to the music of verse; and the age was full of music, of every species; — he was of a romantic, and, most probably, superstitious turn of mind; and popular superstitions were still more in favour, than during the preceding era ; — he had, perhaps, something of the indolence of a man of fortune; and, in the course of his Italian luxuries, he met with a poet, whose ten- dencies were like his own, and who was great enough to render the task of translation ho- norable as well as delightful. He accordingly produced a version of Tasso, which we do not say is equal to the original, or at all exempt from errors which a future trans- lator (always provided he is a poet too) may avoid; but which we, nevertheless, do not he- sitate to pronounce the completest translation, and most like its original, of any we have ever seen. We do not wonder that Collins was fond of this author, and Fairfax, his translator, since Johnson has told us, in that piece of prose music of his, that " he loved fairies, genii, and mon- sters," — that " he delighted to rove through the POETRY AND POKTS. 87 meanders of enchantment, to gaze on the mag< nificence of golden palaces, and to rej)ose by the water-falls of Elysium." Collins has given Fairfax a high and proud eulogy, in his Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands. — Speaking of Tasso, lie says, " ilow have I sat, when piped the pensive wind, To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung, Prevailing poet! whose undoiibtin»5 mind Relieved the magic wonders which he sung: " — And then he goes on in a strain of softness and luxury, that seems inspired by the object of his praise. Yet Collins, be it observed, was an accomplished scholar, and quite conversant with the merits of the original. Indeed, that was one great cause of his eulogy. Waller, who appears to have known Italian, and Dryden, who, undoubtedly, did so, were both great ad- mirers of Fairfax. Waller professed to have " derived the harmony of his numbers" from him; and so did Dryden, if a reported speech of his to the Duke of Buckingham is to be taken for granted. He gives him high praise at any rate, and joins him with Spenser as " great mas- ters in our language." But his greatest title to 88 POETRY AND POETS. regard, on the score of authority, comes from Milton, who, when he borrowed from Tasso, took care to look at Fairfax also, and to add now and then something from him by the way. LORD BYRON AND GOETHE. The following extract from Goethe offers a novel, at least, if not authentic anecdote, of Lord Byron, and which, among the vast variety of detail, true or false, with which the press has lately teemed, concerning the Noble Bard, may serve to amuse the reader, as exhibiting the ideas entertained by the first of German writers, with respect to his Lordship's character, and the manner in which that character had been formed. " The tragedy of Manfred, by Lord Byron is a most singular performance, and one which concerns me nearly. This wonderful and in- genious poet has taken possession of my Faust, and hypochondriacally drawn from it the most singular nutriment. He has employed the means in it which suit his object, in a particular manner, so that no one thing remains the same; and, on this account, I cannot sufficiently admire his ability. The re-cast is so peculiar, that a POKTRY AND POETS. 89 highly interesting lecture might be given on its resemblance, and want of resemblance, to its model — though I cannot deny, that the gloomy fervour of a rich and endless despair becomes at last wearisome to us. However, the dis- pleasure which we feel is always connected with admiration and esteem. " The very quintessence of the sentiments and passions, which assist in constituting the most singular talent for self-commentary ever known, is contained in this tragedy. The life and poetical character of Lord Byron can hardly be fairly estimated. Yet he has often enough avowed the source of his torments ; he has re- peatedly pourtrayed it ; but hardly any one sympathises with the insup])ortable pain with which he is incessantly struggling. " Properly speaking, he is continually pur- sued by the ghosts of two females, who play great parts in the above-named tragedy, the one under the name of Astarte, the other without figure or visibility, merely a voice. " The following account is given of the hor- rible adventure which he had with the former : " ' When a young, bold, and highly attractive personage, he gained the favour of a Florentine 90 POETRY AND POETS. lady: the husband discovered this, and murdered his wife; but the murderer was found dead in the street the same night, under circumstances which did not admit of attaching suspicion to any one.' " Lord B. fled from Florence, and seems to drag spectres after him ever afterwards. " This strange incident receives a high degree of probability, from innumerable allusions in his poems; as, for instance, in his application of the story of Pausanias to himself. " What a wounded heart must the poet have, who selects from antiquity such an event, applies it to himself, and loads his tragic resemblance with it !" authors' club. " The poet, in shabby finery, holding a ma- nuscript in his hand, was earnestly endeavouring to persuade the company to hear him read the first book of an heroic poem, which he had com- posed the day before. But against this, all the members objected. They knew no reason why any member of the club should be indulged with a particular hearing, when many of them had published whole volumes, which had never been looked in. They insisted that the law POETRY AND POETS. 1)1 should be observed, where reading in conij)any was expressly noticed. It wa.s in vain that the plaintiff" pleaded the peculiar merit of his piece; he spoke to an assembly insensible to all his re- monstrances : the book of laws was opened, and read by the secretary ; where it was expressly enacted, ' That whatsoever poet, speech-maker, critic, or historian, should presume to engage the company, by reading his own works, he was to lay down sijcpence previous to opening the manuscript, and should be charged one shilling an hour while he continued reading ; the said shilling to be equally distributed among the company, as a recompence for their trouble.' " Our poet seemed, at first, to shrink at the penalty, hesitating, for some time, whether he should deposit the fine or shut up the poem ; but looking roimd, and perceiving two strangers in the room, his love of fame outweighed his prudence, and, laying down the sum by law established, he insisted on his prerogative. " A profound silence ensuing, he began by explaining his design :—' Gentlemen,' says he, ' the present piece is not one of your common epic poems, which come from the press like paper kites in summer : there are none of your 92 POETRY AXD POETS. Turnuses or Didos in it ; it is an heroical de- scription of nature. I only beg you'll endeavour to make your souls in unison with mine, and hear* with the same enthusiasm with which I have written. The poem begins with the de- scription of an author's bed-chamber: the picture was sketched in my own apartment ; for you must know, gentlemen, that I am myself the hero.' Then, putting himself into the attitude of an orator, with all the emphasis of voice and action, he proceeded : — " Where the Red Lion staring o'er the way, Invites each passing stranger that can pay; Where Calvert's butt, and Parson's black champagne, Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane ; There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug. The Muse found Scroggen stretch'd beneath a rug ; A window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray, That dimly shew'd the state in which he lay ; The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread, The humid wall with paltry pictures spread ; The royal game of goose was there in view ; And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew ; The seasons, fram'd with listing, found a place, And brave Prince William shew'd his lamp-black face : The morn was cold, he views with keen desire The rusty grate unconscious of a fire ; POETRY AND POETS. 93 Witli beer and milk an cars the fiieze was scor'd, And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chiinuey-board ; A night-cap deck'd liis brows instead of bay, A cap by night a stocking all the day '." " With this last line he seemed so much elated, that he was unable to proceed : ' There, gen- tlemen,' cries he, ' there is a description for you ; Rabelais's bed-chamber is but a fool to it: — ' A cap by night a stocking all the dap." There is sound, and sense, and truth, and na- ture, in the trifling compass of ten little syl- lables.' "He was too much employed in self-admiration to observe the company ; who, by nods, winks, shrugs, and stifled laughter, testified every mark of contempt. He turned severally to each for their opinion, and found all, however, ready to applaud. At last, addressing himself to the President, ' And pray, Mr. Squint,' says he, ' let us have your opinion.' ' Mine.^' answered the President, (taking the manuscript out of the author's hands,) — ' may this glass suffocate me, but I think it equal to any thing I have seen ; pnd I fancy,' (continued he,) doubling up the 94 POETRY AND POETS. poem, and forcing it into the author's pocket, '' that you will get great honour when it comes out; so I shall beg leave to put it in. We shall not intrude upon your good nature in desiring to hear more of it at present; ' ex imgue Her- culem;' we are satisfied, perfectly satisfied.' The author made two or three attempts to pull it out a second time, and the President made as many to prevent him. Thus, though with re- luctance, he was obliged at last to sit down, contented with the commendations for which he had paid." goldsmith's essays. pope's villa. Pope purchased an estate at Twickenham, in the year 1715, and resided there the remainder of his life. Within the walls of the same villa that had witnessed his rise in literary fame, he died, on the 30th of May, 1744. The house was not large, but sufficiently com- modious for the wants of an English gentleman, whose friends visited himself rather than his dwelling, and who were superior to the necessity of stately ceremonials. Here, Pope wrote most of his Letters and Poems which have commu- POETRY AND POETS. 95 nicated to English versification so great a por- tion of its harmony. In the sequestered shade of this retirement, " near Thames' translucent wave," he entertained Swift, Gay, Lord Bo- lingbroke, and other bright spirits of the age, who " mingled, with the friendly bowl, The feast of reason and the flow of soul." After the death of Pope, this interesting spot was sold to Sir William Stanhope, and, subse- quently, was in the possession of Lord Mendip, who carefully preserved every vestige connected with a residence so celebrated. In the year 1807, the premises were purchased by the Ba- roness Howe ; and we regret to state, that this lady has caused the house in which the Poet lived, to be entirely taken down. A new dwel- ling, preferable, in the esteem of her Ladyship, (chiefly, we suppose, because it is new,) has been erected, about one hundred yards from the site of Pope's House. CHRISTOPHER MARLOE, OR MARLOW. This best of English Tragic Poets before Shakspeare, and whom Phillips calls " a kind of second Shakspeare," was born about 1562. 96 POETRY AND POETS. There is no account extant of his family ; but " it is well known/' says Baker, " that he was of Bene't College, in the University of Cam- bridge, v/here he took the degree of B. A. 1583, and M, A. 1587." He, however, quitted the academic bower, and went on the stage. Thomas Heywood styles him the " best of poets ;" and Drayton also has bestowed a high panegyric on him, in the " Censure of the Poets," in these lines ; " Next Mailoe bath'd in Thespian springs, Had in him those brave translunary things, That your first poets had ; his raptures were All air and fire, which made his verses clear : For that fine madness still he did retain. Which rightly should possess a poet's brain." Ben Jonson also speaks of " Marlow's mighty line." " His tragedies," says Warton, " manifest traces of a just dramatic conception, but they abound with tedious and uninteresting scenes, or with such extravagancies as proceeded from a want of judgment, and those barbarous ideas of the times, over which it was the peculiar gift of Shakspeare's genius alone, to triumph and predominate." POETRY AND POETS. 97 Marloe's tragical death is thus related by Wood : " This Marloe, we are told, presuming ujjon his own little wit, thought proper to ])rac- tise the most Epicurean indulgence, and openly professed Atheism. He denied God our Saviour; he blasphemed the adorable Trinity; and, as it was reported, wrote several discourses against it, affirming our Saviour to be a deceiver, the sacred Scriptures to contain nothing but idle stories, and all religion to be a device of policy and priestcraft. But JNIarloe came to a very untimely end, as some have remarked, in con- sequence of his execrable blasphemies. It hap- pened, that lie fell deeply in love with a low- girl, and had for his rival a fellow in livery, who looked more like a pimp than a lover. jMarloe, fired with jealousy, and having some reason to believe that his mistress granted the fellow fa- vours, rushed upon him to stab him with his dagger : but the footman being quick, avoided the stroke, and, catching hold of INIarloe's wrist, stabbed him with his own weapon; and, not- withstanding all the assistance of the surgery, lie soon after died of the wound, before the year 1593." 98 POETRY AND POETS. His plays, by which he is better known than by any of his other productions, are — 1. " Tamerlane, the Great Scythian Emperor." Two Parts. 2. " The Rich Jew of Malta." .3. " The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Dr. John Faustu.s." 4. " Lust's Dominion." Lond. 1661. 8vo. From which was stolen, the greater part of Aphra Behn's " Abdelazer, or the More's Revenge," Lond. 1677. 5. " The Tragedy of King Edward II. 6. " The Tragedy of Dido, Queen of Carthage;" in the composition of which, he was assisted by Thomas Nash, who published it in 1594. POKTRY AND POETS. 99 DRYDEN. This great versifier was fond of judicial astrology, and used to calculate the nativities of his children. When his lady was in labour with his son Charles, being told it was decent to withdraw, he laid his watch on the table, begging one of the ladies present, in a most solemn manner, to take exact notice of the very minute the child was born; which she did, and acquainted him with it. About a week after, when his lady was pretty well recovered, I\Ir. Dryden took occa- sion to tell her he had been calculating the child's nativity, and observed, with grief, that lie was born in an ill hour; for, Jupiter, Venus, and the Sun, were all under the earth, and the lord of his ascendant was afflicted with a square of INIars and Saturn. " If he lives to arrive at the eighth year," said he, " he will go near to die a violent death on his very birth-day; but if he should escape, as I see but small hopes, he will, in the twenty-third year, be under the same evil direction ; and if he should escape that also, the thirty-third or thirty-fourth year, is, I fear" — Here he was interrupted by the im- VOL. I. H 100 POETRY AND POETS. moderate grief of his lady, who could no longer hear calamity prophesied to befal her son. The time at last came, and August was the inauspicious month in which young Dryden was to enter into the eighth year of his age. The Court being in progress, and Mr. Dryden at leisure, he was invited to the country-seat of the Earl of Berkshire, his brother-in-law, to keep the long vacation with him, at Charlton, in Wilts : his lady was invited to her uncle Mor- daunt's, to pass the remainder of the summer. When they came to divide the children. Lady Elizabeth would have him take John, and suf- fer her to take Charles ; but Mr. Dryden was absolute, and they parted in anger; — he took Charles with him, and she was obliged to be content with John. When the fatal day came, the anxiety of the lady's spirits occasioned such an effervescence of blood, as threw her into so violent a fever, that her life was despaired of, till a letter came from Mr. Dryden, reproving her for her womanish credulity, and assuring her that her child was well, which recovered her spirits ; and in six weeks after, she received an eclaircissement of thd whole affair. JMr. Dryden, either through POETRY AND POETS. 101 fear of being reckoned superstitious, or thinking it a science beneath his study, was extremely cautious of letting any one know that he was a student in astrology; therefore did not excuse his absence, on his son's anniversary, to a ge- neral hunting-match Lord Berkshire had made, to which all the adjacent gentlemen were in- vited. When he went out, he took care to set the boy a double lesson in the Latin tongue, which he taught his children himself, with a strict charge not to stir out of the room till his return; well knowing the task he had set him would take up longer time. Charles was performing his task, in obedience to his father; but, as ill fate would have it, the stag made towards the house, and the noise alarming the servants, they hastened out to see the sport. One of them took young Dryden by the hand, and led him out to see it also ; when, just as they came to the gate, the stag, being at bay with the dogs, made a bold push, and leaped over the court- wall, which was very low, and very old ; and the dogs, fol- lowing, threw down a part of the wall, ten yards in length, under which, Charles Dryden lay bu- ried. He was immediately dug out, and, after 102 POETRY AND POETS. six weeks' languishing in a dangerous way, he recovered : so far, Dryden's prediction was ful- fiUed. In the twenty-third year of his age, Charles fell from the top of an old tower, belonging to the Vatican at Rome, occasioned by a swimming in his head, with which he was seized, the heat of the day being excessive. He again reco- vered, but was ever after in a languishing and sickly state. In the thirty-third year of his age, being re- turned to England, he was unhappily drowned at Windsor. He had, with another gentleman, swam twice over the Thames ; but, returning a third time, it was supposed he was taken with the cramp, because he called out for help, though too late. Thus, the father's calculation proved but too prophetical. CAPTAIN TH03IAS JA3IES, OF BRISTOL. The following poems are transcribed from the " Strange and dangerous Voyage" of this excellent old seaman, " in his intended dis- covery of the North- West passage into the South Sea, in the years 1631 and 1632." The circumstances under which they were written POETRY AND POETS. 103 would alone render them curious, even to those persons who cannot pardon the mannerism of that age. But it is hoped, there are many rea- ders who are capable of understanding the strain of fine and manly feeling which is breathed in them. " The 30th of this month of September, (says he,) we thought would have put an end to our miseries ; for now we were driven amongst rocks, shoals, over-falls, and breaches round about us, that which way to turn we knew not, but there rid amongst them in extremity of distress. All these perils made a most hideous and terrible noise in the night season ; and I hope it will not be accounted ridiculous, if I relate with what meditations I was affected, now and then, amongst my ordinary prayers ; which I here afford the reader, as I there con- ceived them, in these few ragged and torn rhymes. Oh my poor soul, why dost thou grieve to see So many deaths muster to murder me ? Look, to thyself, regard not me ; for I Must do (for what I came) perform or die. So thou mayest free thyself from being in A dunghill dungeon, a mere sink of sin; 104 POEfTRY AND fOETS. And happily be freed, if thou believe Truly in God through Christ, and even live. Be therefore glad ; yet e'er thou go from hence. For our joint sins, lef s do some penitence, Unfeignedly together : — When we part, I'll wish the Angles joy, with all my heart. We have with confidence relied upon A rusty wire, touched with a little stone Incompassed round with paper, and alass, To house it harmless, nothing but a glass ; And though to shun a thousand dangers, by The blind direction of the senseless flie ; When the fierce winds shattered black night assunder. Whose pitchy clouds, spitting forth fire and thunder, Hath shook the earth, and made the ocean roar. And run to hide it in the broken shore. Now thou must steer by faith, a better guide, 'Twill bring thee safe to heaven against the tide Of Satan's malice. Now let quiet gales Of saving Grace inspire thy zealous sails. The other and far finer poem was written upon his leaving the dismal island where he had wintered, and which he called " Winter's Forest," but which now deservedly bears his own name. " And now the sun was set, and the boat came ashore for us; whereupon we assembled ourselves together, and went up to take the last view of our dead, and to look POETRY AND POETS. 105 unto their tombs and other things. Here, lean- inpf upon mine arm, on one of their tombs, I uttered these lines, which though perchance they may procure laughter in the wiser sort, (which I shall be glad of) — they yet moved my young and tender-hearted companions at that time with some compassion. And these they were. I were unkind, unless that I did shed, Before I part, some tears upon our dead ; And wlicu ray eyes be dry, I will not cease. In heart to pray their boues may rest in peace ; Their better parts (good souls) I know were given With an intent they should return to heaven. Their lives they spent, to the last drop of blood, Seeking God's g^ory, and their country's good ; And, as a valiant soldier rather dies, Thau yields his courage to his enemies, And stops their way with his hewed flesh, when death Hath quite deprived him of his strength and breath. So have they spent themselves, and here they lie A famous mark of our discovery. We that survive, perchance may end our days In some employment meriting no praise. And in a dunghill rot ; when no man names The memory of us but to our shames. They have out-lived this fear, and their brave ends 106 POETRY AND POETS. Will ever be an honour to their friends. Why drop you so, mine eyes ? nay, rather pour My sad departure in a solemn shower ! The winter's cold, that lately froze our blood. Now were it so extreme, might do this good, As make these tears, bright pearls, which I would lay Tomb'd safely with you, till doom's fatal day ; That in this solitary place, where none Will ever come to breathe a sigh or groan. Some remnant might be extant, of the true And faithful love I ever tendered you. Oh, rest in peace, dear friends ! and let it be No pride to say, the sometime part of me. What pain and anguish doth afflict the head. The heart and stomach when the limbs are dead. So grieved, I kiss your graves, and vow to die A foster-father to your memory. Farewell." ROBERT BURNS. "■ In the bosom of the unfortunate Burns, that splendid but eccentric meteor ! the love of coun- try burned, with a force equal to that of a Cicero or a Chatham. ' The appellation of a Scotch bard,' says he, in a letter to Mrs. Dunlop, ' is by far my highest pride; to continue to deserve it, my most exalted ambition. Scottish scenes and Scottish story are the themes I should wish POETRY AND POETS. 107 to sing. 1 have no dearer wish, than to have it in my power, unplagued by routine of business (for which Heaven knows I am unfit enough), to make leisurely pilgrimages through Cale- donia, to sit on the fields of her battles, to wander on the romantic banks of her rivers, and to muse by the stately towers or venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes.' This was denied; Oh ! my Laelius, if you have pleasure in shedding tears over the tombs of the good, the brave, or the exalted intellect, spare a few to the memory of this ill-treated and unfor- tunate victim to strong, indignant, and energetic feelings; to the memory of the genius, resem- bling the wild and magnificent landscape of his native land ; a man, as much superior to the common herd of reptiles, that robbed him of his flashes of merriment in a petty country town, as he was to those more dignified asso- ciates, who drew him from his native wilds by their applauses, chained him to their tables in an expensive city, and, having satisfied their love of notoriety, ' cast him, like a loathsome weed, away.' Oh ! Scotland, Scotland ! the fate of Burns sits heavy on thy conscience !" Philosophy of Nature. 108 POETRY AND POETS. THADDEUS RUDDY'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS MISTRESS. The following description of Bridget Brady, by her lover Thaddeus Ruddy, a bard who lived about the middle of the seventeenth cen- tury, is perhaps unique as a specimen of local simile. " She's as straight as a pine on the mountain of Kil- mannon. She's as fair as the lilies on the hanks of the Shannon ; Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms of Drumcallan, And her breasts gently swell like the waves of Lough Allan ; Her eyes are as mild as the dews of Dunsany, Her veins are as pure as the blue-bells of Slaney ; Her words are as smooth as the pebbles of Terwinny, And her hair flows adown like the streamlets of Finny." THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. The extensive continent of North America combines most of the various features of the gradations of climate, with numberless objects of admiration to the naturalist, peculiar to itself; among these may be classed the Dismal Swamp, a morass of an extent unequalled in any part of the world. It reaches from Albe- POETRY AND POETS. 109 niarle Sound, in North Carolina, to the neigh- bourhood of Portsmouth, on the opposite side of the harbour to Norfolk. It is supposed to contain about 250 square miles, or about 150,000 acres. Lake Drummond is situated near the centre of the Swamp, and is formed by the drainings of this immense bog. It is crowded with fish of various kinds ; which, living unmolested, attain to a prodigious size. Its surface is gene- rally calm, being sheltered by lofty trees which grow on its borders. The solitude and dangers of the place have given rsie to romantic stories, which may have been strengthened by the vapours which fre- quently exhale from marshy ground, and known by the name of fVill-o' -the- Wisp, or Ignis Fatuus. An anecdote of this kind is currently related by the inhabitants of this dreary tract, which gave rise to " The Lake of the Dismal Swamp," written by IMr. IMoore. The story on which it is founded is simply as follows. A very strong attachment was formed by two young people in the neighbour- hood of the swamp, when the death of the lady interrupted their prospect of mutual happiness : 110 POETRY AND POETS. an event which made such an impression upon her lover, that he lost his senses. His mind being absorbed in her image, and familiar with the scenery of the place, he imagined that she was still alive and dwelt upon this Lake. De- termined to find her on whom his soul was fixed, he went in pursuit of her, and as he was never seen after, it is supposed he perished in some of the dangerous morasses which environ it. " They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true. And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where all night long, by a fire-fly * lamp, She paddies her white canoe. And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see. And her paddle I soon shall hear ; Long and loving our life shall be. And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree. When the footstep of death is near." Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds. His path was rugged and sore ; • The fire-fly is an insect common in this part of the country ; in its flight it emits a beam of light brighter than the glow-worm. POKTRV AND POETS. ] 1 ] Through tangled juniper beds of reeds, Through many a fen where the serpent feeds, And man ne'er trod before. And when on the earth he sunk to sleep. If sleep his eyelids knew, He lay where the deadly vives * do weep Their venomous tears, and nightly steep The flesh with blistering dew ! And near him the she-wolf stirr'd the brake. And the rattle-snake breath'd in his ear. Till he starting cried — from his dream awake, " Oh ! when shall F see the frozen lake. And the white canoe of my dear 1" He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright Qiiick o'er the surface play'd. " Welcome," he said, " my dear one's light." And the dim shore echoed for many a night The name of the death-cold maid ! Till he form'd a boat of the bucher bark Which carried him oft' from the shore. Far he followed the meteor spark, The winds were high and the clouds were dark. And the boat returned no more. • A plant that grows wild in America, resembling the vine, but of a most pernicious quality. 112 POETRY AND POETS. But oft from the Indian hunter's camp. This lover and maid so true Are seen, at the hour of midnight damp. To cross the lake by their fire-fly lamp, And paddle their white canoe." BOCCACIO'S TESEIDE. BoccAcro was the disciple of Petrarch ; and, although principally known and deservedly celebrated as a writer or inventor of tales, he was, by his contemporaries, usually placed as a poet in the third rank, after Dante and Petrarch. But Boccacio having seen the Platonic sonnets of his master, Petrarch, in a fit of despair, committed almost all his poetry to the flames, except a single poem, of which his own good taste had long taught him to entertain a more favourable opinion. This piece, thus happily rescued from destruction, was, until lately, so scarce and so little known, even in Italy, as to have left its author but a slender proportion of that eminent degree of poetical reputation which he might have justly claimed from so extraor- dinary a performance. It is an heroic poem, in twelve books, entitled, " La Teseide," and written in the octave stanza. POETRY AND POETS. 113 called by the Italians u/lava rhna, which Boc- cacio adopted from the old French Chansons, and here first introduced among his countrymen. The story of this admirable production of the great Tuscan novelist is well known to the English readei*, in consequence of its having been selected by Chaucer as the ground-work of his Knight's Tale, the finest of his poems, and the first conspicuous example of the Eng- lish heroic couplet extant. " Dryden's para- phrase of this poem," says Warton, " is the most animated and harmonious piece of versifi- cation in the English Language." MILTON. It is well known, that in the bloom of youth, and when he pursued his studies at Cambridge, this poet was extremely handsome. Wandering one day during the summer far beyond the precincts of the University into the country, he became so heated and fatigued, that, re- clining himself at the foot of a tree to rest, he soon fell asleep. Before he awoke, two ladies, who were foreigners, passed by in a car- riage. Agreeably astonished at the loveliness of his appearance, they alighted, and having 114 POKTRY AND POKTS. admired him (as they thought) unperceived for sdme time, the youngest, who was very beau- tiful, drew a pencil from her pocket, and having written some lines upon a piece of paper, put it with her trembling hands into his own. Im- mediately afterwards, they proceeded on their journey. Some of his acquaintances, who were in search of him, had observed this silent ad- venture, but at too great a distance to discover that the highly-favoured party in it was our illustrious bard. Approaching nearer, they saw their friend, to whom, being awakened, they mentioned what had happened. Milton opened the paper, and, with surprise, read these verses from Guarini : " Occhi, stelle raortali, Minlstie de raei mali, — Se chiusi m' uccidete, Aperti ehe farate ?" " Ye eyes ! ye human stars ! ye authors of my liveliest pangs ! if thus, when shut, ye wound me, what must have proved the conse- quence had ye been open ?" Eager, from this moment, to find out the fair incognita, Milton travelled, but in vain, through every part of Italy. His poetic fervour became incessantly POETRY AND POETS. 115 more and more heated by the idea which he had formed of his unknown admirer ; and it is, in some degree, to her, that the world is indebted for several of the most powerful and highly- wrought passages in " Paradise Lost." BELL-ROCK LIGHT-HOUSE. Lately, a small party visited the Bell-Rock Light-house, and were highly gratified with its majestic appearance. In the library, the strangers found the appro- priate volume of ' Robinson Crusoe ;' and in the Album, which is presented to all visitors for the insertion of their names, remarks, &c., they distinguished the following lines, inscribed by the hand of the popular author of the ' Lady of the Lake:'— " Pharos loquitur. <( Far in the bosom of the deep. O'er these wild shelves uiy watcli I keep ; A ruddy gem of changeful light, Bound on the dusky brow of night : The seaman bids my lustre hail, Aud scorns to strike his timorous sail. Walter Scott, July 30, 1814." VOL. I. i 116 POETRY AND POETS. RELIQUE OF BURNS. The following verses, in the hand- writing of BurnS;, are copied from a bank-note in the pos- session of Mr. James P. Gracie, of Dumfries. The note is of the Bank of Scotland, and is dated so far back as the 1st of March, 1780. The lines exhibit marks of the poet's vigorous pen, and are, evidently, an extempore effusion o his characteristic feelings. They bear internal proof of their having been written at that interesting period of his life, when he was on the point of leaving the country on ac- count of the unfavourable manner in which his proposals for marrying ' Bonny Jean,' (his fu- ture wife) were at first received by her parents. " Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf! Fell source of a' my woe and grief; — For lack of thee, I've lost my lass ; — For lack of thee, I scrimp my glass. I see the children of affliction Unaided, thro' thy cursed restriction ; — I've seen th' oppressor's cruel smile Amid his hapless victim's spoil, And for thy potence vainly wish'd To crush the villain in the dust ; — rOETRY ANU POETS. 117 For lack o'thee, I leave this iiiuch-lov'd shore, Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more. R B ,Kijlt'." AMBROSE PHILLIPS AND SWIFT. Ambrose Phillips was a neat dresser, and very vain. In a conversation between him, Congreve, Swift, and others, the discourse ran a good wliile upon Julius Csesar. After many things had been said to the purpose, Ambrose asked, what sort of person they supposed Caesar was.'' He was answered, that, from medals, &C., it appeared that he was a small man and thin-faced. " Now, for my part," said Ambrose, " I should take him to have been of a lean make, pale complexion, extremely neat in his dress, and five feet seven inches high ;" — an exact description of Phillips himself. Swift, who understood good breeding perfectly well, and would not interrupt any body while speak- ing, let him go on, and, when he had quite done, said: — "And I, Mr. Phillips, should take him to have been a plump man, just five feet five inches high, and very neatly dressed in a black gown with pudding-sleeves." SPENCE. 118 POETRY AND POETS. PETRARCH. Salmasius says, in his Notes upon Pliny, that the ^^^gyptians made their clothes from the inner bark of the Papyrus. For the same reason, Pliny admires the custom of the Par- thians, who used to write upon their clothes, preferring that method of writing to the making use of paper. This act of respect to antiquity was imitated by Petrarch, who wrote occasionally his thoughts in gilt letters upon a cloak of leather which he wore. This anecdote is mentioned by two au- thors, who observe, at the same time, that the cloak was not lined, but, according to them, was so contrived, that he might be able to write on both sides of it his verses, which appeared full of corrections and notes. It is said, that La Casa, Sadolet, and Bucca- tello, (who was in possession of this precious relique,) when they retired to the country house of the latter, to take refuge from the plague, which, in 1527, was desolating Italy, took this cloak with them, to consider it at their leisure, and to attempt to decipher what it contained. POETRY AND POETS. 119 BENSERADE. " Diseur dcs bon mols, mauvais caractcre," says the amiable Pascal. Vanity, and a desire of saying somethin I'OKTS. 141 such men as the Lords Sandwich, Weymouth, Thurlow, Richard Rigby, See, various plea- santries passed, for which the present times are somewhat too refined. Amongst others, it was the whim of the day to call upon each member, to tag a rhyme to the name of his left-hand neighbour. It was first proposed by Lord Sandwich, to get a laugh against his facetious friend Lord North, who happened to be seated next to ]\Ir. IMellagen, a name deemed incapable of a rhyme. Luckily, however, for Lord North, jMr. JMellagen had just informed him of an ac- cident that had befallen him, near the pump, in Pall ]\L'ill. When it came to Lord North's turn, he wrote the following distich : " Oh^ pity poor Mr. Mullagcn, Who, walking along Pall Mall, Hurt his foot, when down he fell, And fears he won't get well again." NICHOLAS ROAVE. RowE was bred first at Westminster, and then at the Temple. He had about three hundred pounds a-year, and his chambers there. His father was a sergeant at law. Besides his pa- trimony, Rowe enjoyed, in the latter part of his 142 POETRY AND POETS. life, several lucrative offices. When the Duke of Queensberry was Secretary of State, he made Rowe his Under Secretary; but at the death of the Duke, he retired. Upon the accession of George I., he had a place given him in the Customs, and was made Poet-Laureate. Besides these, the Prince of Wales conferred on him the place of Clerk of his Council ; and the Lord Chancellor Parker made him his Secretary for the Presentations. His voice was uncommonly sweet, his obser- vations so lively, and his manners so engaging, that his friends delighted in his conversation. He died, much regi-etted, at the age of forty- five, in I7I8. He was twice married, and had a son by his first wife, and a daughter by his second. Dr. Welwood prefixed some brief ac- count of him in the posthumous publication of his Translation of Lucan's Pharsalia. The following account, probably, rests on the au- thenticity of Warburton, as it is well known he supplied the materials, and corrected the sheets of Ruffhead's Life of Pope, from whence it is transcribed : — " Rowe, in the opinion of Mr. Pope, maintained a decent character, but had no heart." POKTRY AND POETS. 143 Mr. Addison was justly offended with him for some behaviour which arose from that want, and estranged himself from him, which Rowe felt very severely. Mr. Pope, their common friend, knowing this, took an opportunity, at some juncture of Mr. Addison's advancement, to tell him poor Rowe was grieved at his dis- pleasure, and what satisfaction he expressed ^t his good fortune ; Avhich he expressed so natu- i*ally, that he could not but think him sincere. Addison replied, " I do not suspect that he feigned ; but the levity of his heart is such, that he is struck with any new adventure, and it would affect him just in the same manner, if he heai-d I was going to be hanged." I\Ir. Pope said, " he could not deny but that iMr. Addison understood Rowe well." SPENCE. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. As a poet. Sir Philip Sidney is now scarcely at all known, nor, indeed, do his productions in this department entitle him to any very lofty station on the English Parnassus, although, were we to take our notions of him from the high-flown and unbounded panegyrics of his contemporaries, we might be induced to believe 144 POETRY AND POETS. that in this^, as in every other quality, he was unequalled and inimitable. Take, for instance, as a specimen, the following extract from Ga- briel Harvey's " Pierce's Supererogation," a very rare old tract, published in 1593, seven years after Sir Philip's death. — " Lord, what would himself have proved in fine, that was the gentleman of courtesy, the esquire of industry, and the knight of valoin% at those years ? (he died at the age of thirty- two). Live ever, sweet book ! the silver image of his gentle wit, and the golden pillar of his noble courage ; and ever notify unto the world, that thy writer was the secretary of eloquence, — the breath of the Muses; — the honey-bee of the daintiest flowers of wit and art ; — the pith of moral and intellectual virtues ; — the arm of Bellona in the field ; — the tongue of Suada ia the chamber; — the spirit of practice in esse ; — and the paragon of excellency in print." And even the great Sir William Temple, the grandson of his secretary, influenced, probably, by hereditary gratitude to the patron of his ancestor, declares him to be, " the greatest poet, and the noblest genius, of any that have left writings in our own, or any modern, language." Although, however, it must be owned, that POETIIY AND POETS 14;'* his writings fall short of his traditional glory, and that liis martial exploits were not of the very highest importance, there is no necessity tor supposing that the impression which he made upon his contemporaries was either il- lusive or exaggerated. Traits of character, which must have been obvious to them, al- though hidden from our view, no doubt, distinguished this great man, independently of his pen and of his sword. Some of these, indeed, have descended to us ; but among these, that which marked his closing scene shines most conspicuous, and presents as noble and affecting an instance of chivalrous generosity, or, rather, iof true Christian charity, as is to be met with in history. Sir Philip Sidney, in July, 1586, accompanied by the young prince Maurice, took Axell, a town in Flanders, without the loss of a single man; but, on September 22, 1580, having en- gaged with a convoy sent by the enemy to Zutphen, a strong town in Guelderland, then besieged by the Spaniards, the English troops, far inferior in number to those of the enemy, though they gained a decisive victory, sustained an irreparable loss by the death of their gallant 146 POETllY AND POETS. leader. Having one horse shot under him, he mounted a second, and seeing Lord Willoughby suiTounded by the enemy, and in imminent danger, he rushed forward to rescue him. Having accomplished his purpose, he continued the fight with great spirit, until he received a bullet in the left thigh, which proved fatal. As Sir Philip was returning from the field of battle, pale, languid, and thirsty with excess of bleeding, he asked for water to quench his thirst. The water was brought, and had no sooner approached his lips than he instantly resigned it to a dying soldier, whose ghastly countenance attracted his notice, speaking these memorable words : — " This man's necessity is still greater than mine." POETHY AND POETS. 147 WILLIAM DE CABESTAN AND THE LADY SERMONDA. The following anecdote of tlie gay and gallant days of the Troubadours, is highly illustrative of the spirit of the times. William de Cabestan attached himself, in the quality of a Troubadour, to the Lady Sermonda, the wife of Raymond de Chateau-Roussillon, a rich and powerful lord, but better known for his pride and ferocity of disposition. Charmed by the person and ta- lents of the gallant Troubadour, the Lady made him her cavalier ; but her attentions speedily gave umbrage to Raymond, who confined her in a tower, and treated her with the greatest barbarity. Cabestan's prudence yielded to his grief, and he gave vent to his feelings in a chanson, which proved to him the dying note of the swan ; for Raymond, who could not doubt that it was in- tended for his wife, resolved to take a horrible revenge on them both. Having enticed the Troubadour to a distance from the Castle, he put him to death, and then cut off his head and tore out his heart. On his return to the Castle, he ordered the latter to be dressed and served VOL. I. L 148 POETRY AND POETS. up to his wife as a piece of venison, and, when she had eaten of it, asked her, " Do you know this meat?" — "No," replied she, "but it is excellent." — " No doubt," retorted the tyrant, presenting the head of Cabestan ; at sight of which, the Lady exclaimed, " Yes, barbarian, it is delicious, and it is the last dish of which I will partake." At these words, Raymond rushed upon her with his sword, but, escaping from his attacks, she threw herself from a balcony, and thus put a period to her existence. The news of this event soon spread throughout Languedoc; the relations of the lady united with those of the Troubadour to obtain justice on his murderer; and Alphonsus II., King of Arragon, came himself to the spot to take cognizance of the fact. The Castle of Roussillon was demolished, Raymond put to death, and the bodies of the lovers were conveyed to Perpignan, where they were buried in the same tomb, before the gate of the Church of St. John, to which, for a considerable time afterwards, the Knights of Roussillon and the neighbouring districts annually resorted, with their ladies, to perform a solemn service to their memory. POETRY AND POETS. 141) PIERRE VIDAL. The anecdote which we are about to relate offers a complete contrast to the preceding, in the characters of all the personages who figure in it. Pierre Vidal was the son of a furrier at Tou- louse, and was born about the middle of the twelfth century. His brilliant imagination, fine voice, and passion for the ladies, soon decided his vocation. He united to considerable poetical talent, a mixture of wisdom and folly, in which the latter quality appears to have predominated. Amorous of every lady who enjoyed the reputa- tion of beauty, he imagined that none could help falling in love with him at first sight. These extravagances gave him celebrity, and he was much sought after by the neighbouring Barons ; but he attached himself more particu- larly to Barral, Viscount of Marseilles, whose wife, the Lady Alaza'is, was the object of his adoration. His passion was not unknown to the Viscount ; who, far from being offended at it, treated it, on the contrary, as a subject of diversion and ridicule. Poor Vidal happened one day to enter the 150 POETRY AND POETS. apartment of his mistress, and found her asleep. He had the audacity to kiss her, and, unfortu- nately, awoke her with the ardour of his passion. The lady, at firsts supposed it had been her husband; but, as soon as she perceived her error, she called her women, and gave an account to Barral of the insult which she had received, demanding vengeance on the hapless offender. Her husband took the whole affair in jest ; but the Troubadour, dreading the resentment of the lady, fled to Genoa, where he composed several chansons on his disgrace. In a fit of despair, Vidal embarked for Pa- lestine, in the train of King Richard ; but, on landing in Cyprus, he fell in love with and married a lady of that island, who persuaded him^ that she was the niece of the Emperor of the East, and the legitimate successor to his crown. From this time forward, the Troubadour was incessantly occupied with the most chime- rical projects for the recovery of the empire, which he regarded as his inheritance. He was not, however, unmindful of his former flame; for, hearing that his protector had succeeded in calming her indignation, he composed some chansons, in which he styles himself the happiest POETRY AND POETS. 1 ol of men, and soon afterwards embarked for Mar- seilles, where, on his return, he found himself restored to her favour. He afterwards com- mitted many extravagances, and died in 1229. ANCIENT SrONIFICATION OP WORDS. The different sense of the same words, in different ages, is one amongst the greatest dif- ficulties to the student of the ancient authors in a living language. The same word which was formerly elegant, and bore a good meaning, will, not unfrequently, be found to have a meaning diametrically opposite. With regard to our own language, if we look into the authors of the two preceding centuries, many examples may be produced. Turbeville, a gentleman educated at' Oxford, who flourished in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, has the following stanzas: " Among the rest of all the route, A j)assing proper lass, A white-haired trull of twenty years. Or near abonts, there was. Her forehead-cloth with gold was fiul'd, A little here and there, With golden clasp about her ueck, A kerchief did she wear. 352 POETRY AND POETS. That reach'd unto her breast and paps ,- The wench, about her waist, A gallant gaudy ribbon laid. That girt her body fast." The poet is here describing an innocent country beauty, a young lady, and yet does not scruple to call her a trull and a wench. It is not expedient to denote the signification of these two words; but, in the age of Elizabeth, the first only meant a romp, and the latter, a young woman. Thus, a pedant formerly signified a school- master; a dame, an English lady of the first quality; a leech, a physician. " Wise leeches will not vain receipts obtrude. While growing pains pronounce the humours crude." LORD BYRON. Among the early amusements of Lord Byron were swimming and managing a boat, in both of which he is said to have acquired great dex- terity, even in his childhood. In his aquatic exercises near Newstead Abbey, he seldom had any other companion than a large Newfoundland dog, to try whose fidelity and sagacity he would POETRY AND POETS. 153 sometimes fall out of the boat, as if by accident, when the dojr would seize him, and drag him to the shore. On losing his dog, in the autun\n of 1808, his lordship caused a monument to be erected, in commemoration of his attachment, with an inscription, from which we extract the following lines : — " Ye who, perchance, behohl this simple urn, Pass on — it lionouis none you wish to mourn ; — To mark a friend's remains these stones arise : — 1 never knew but one,— and here he lies." On arriving at the age of manhood. Lord Byron embarked at Falmouth for Lisbon, and from thence proceeded across the Peninsula to the Mediterranean, in company with I\Ir. Hob- house. The travels of his lordship are described in " Childe Harold" and the Notes. It is some- what singular, that his lordship should then have had a narrow escape from a fever in the vicinity of the place where his life terminated. « When, in 1810," he says, " after the depar- ture of my friend, Mr. Hobhouse, for England, I was seized with a severe fever in the IMorea, these men (Albanians) saved my life, by fright- ening away my physicians, whose throats they 154 POETRY AND POETS. threatened to cut, if I was not cured within a certain time. To this consolatory assurance of posthumous retribution, and a resolute refusal of Dr. Romanelli's prescriptions, I attribute my recovery. I had left my last remaining English servant at Athens. My dragoman, or interpre- ter, was as ill as myself, and my poor arnaouts nursed me with an attention which would have done honour to civilization." While the Salsette frigate, in which Lord Byron was a passenger to Constantinople, lay in the Dardanelles, a discourse arose among some of the officers respecting the practicability of swimming across the Hellespont. Lord Byron and Lieutenant Ekenhead agreed to make the trial. They accordingly attempted the enter- prise on the 3rd of May, 1810. The following is the account given by Lord BjTon : — " The whole distance from Abydos, the place where we started, to our landing at Sestos, on the other side, including the length we were carried by the current, was computed, by those on board the frigate, at upwards of four English miles, though the actual breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such, that no boat can row directly across it ; and it may, in some POETRY AND I'OKTS. measure, be estimated, from the circumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one of the party in an hour and five, and by another in an hour and ten, minutes. The water was extremely cold, from the melting of the moun- tain snows. iVbout three weeks before, we had made an attempt; but having ridden all the way from the Troad the same morning, and the water being of an icy chillness, we found it necessary to postpone the completion till the frigate anchored between the castles, when we swam the Straits, as just stated, entering a con- siderable way above the P^uropean, and landing below the Asiatic, fort. Chevalier says, that a young Jew swam the same distance for his mistress ; and Olivier mentions its having also ])een done by a Neapolitan ; but our Consul at Tarragona remembered neither of those circum- stances, and tried to dissuade us from the attempt. A number of the Salsette's crew were known to have accomplished a greater distance ; and the only thing that surprised me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had ever endeavoured to ascertain its practicability." 156 POETRY AND POETS. This notable adventure was, however, followed by a fit of the ague. CHAUCER. Of the history of Geoffrey Chaucer, who has been called " the INIorning Star of English Poetry," and whom his contemporaries and immediate successors denominate " the flower of eloquence," — " superlative in eloquence," &c. it is astonishing that we should know almost nothing. His very descent is involved in im- penetrable obscurity ; for while one of his bio- graphers asserts that he was of a noble stock, another declares that he was the son of a knight ; a third, that his father was a vintner, and a fourth, that he was a merchant : there is a fifth opinion, which seems best entitled to credit, viz. that nothing can be said with any certainty re- specting his origin. The place of his birth, likewise, is equally a matter of dispute; for while some maintain, and, apparently, on his own authority, that he was born in London, others have brought what, to them, have appeared very conclusive argu- ments, that he was a Berkshire man ; while a POKTRY AND POETS. 157 third party have strenuously maintained, that the honour of his nativity belongs to the county of Oxford. Amidst these discrepancies, which encumber almost every circumstance connected with the Poet's life, it is difficult to know what to believe : we must, therefore, content ourselves with the information furnished by his tomb- stone, and various other records ; from the first of which, it appears, that he was born in 1328, and that he died in 1400; and from the latter, that he was closely connected with John of Gaunt, to whose second wife he was related by marriage ; that he was, at one time, in high fa- vour at Court, where he enjoyed several lucra- tive offices; but that he afterwards, it is con- jectured on account of his attachment to the doctrines of WicklifFe, forfeited his places, and was compelled to fly the kingdom ; and that, after his return to his native land, he terminated his life in literary retirement. On the accession to the throne of Henry IV., the son of his great patron, he quitted his peace- able retirement, and travelled to London ; and this journey is supposed to have hastened his end, the near approach of which, if we may judge from the following Ode, which he is said 158 POETRY AND POETS. to have composed in his last agonies, he bore with Roman fortitude. The reader will observe, that the phraseology of this little piece has been modernised, in order to obviate the ob- scurity of the old language. THE poet's last ADVICE. Fly from the crowd and be to virtue true, Content with what thou hast, tho' it be small ; To hoard brings hate : nor loity thoughts pursue ; He who climbs high endangers many a fall. Envy's a shade that ever waits on fame, And oft the sun that raises it will hide ; Trace not in life a vast expensive scheme. But be thy wishes to thy state allied ; Be mild to others, to thyself severe. So truth shall shield thee or from hurt or fear. Think not of bending all things to thy will, Nor vainly hope that fortune shall befriend ; Inconstant she, but be thou constant still, Whate'er betide, unto au honest end. Yet needless dangers never madly brave, Kick not thy naked foot against a nail ; Or from experience the solution crave. If wall and pitcher strive, which shall prevail. Be in thy cause, as in thy neighbour's, clear, 80 truth shall shield thee or from hurt or fear. Whatever happens, happy in thy mind. Be thou serene, nor at thy lot repine; POETRY AND POETS. 151) He 'scapes all ill whose bosom is resigu'd, Nor way nor weather will be always fine. Beside, thy home's not here, a journey this, A pilgrim thou, then hie thee on thy way ; Look up to Gou, intent on heav'nly bliss, Take what the road affords, and praises pay. Shun brutal lusts, and seek thy soul's high sphere, So truth shall shield thee or from hurt or fear. TAM O'SIIANTER. Thomas Reid, so celebi-ated as Tarn O'Shanter, by Burns, was born in Kyle, in Ayrshire. His first entrance into active life, was in the capacity of plough-boy to William Burns, the father of the poet, whom Thomas described as a man of great capacity, as being very fond of an argu- ment, of rigid morals, and a strict disciplinarian — so much so, that when the labours of the day were over, the whole family sat down by the blazing " ha'ingle," upon no pretence what- ever could any of the inmates leave the house after night. This was a circumstance that was not altogether to Thomas's liking. He had heard other plough-boys with rapture recount scenes of rustic jollity, which had fallen in their way, while out on nocturnal visits to the fair daughters or servant girls of the neighbouring 160 POETRY AND POETS. farmers — scenes of which he was practically ig- norant. And more — he had become acquainted with a young woman he had met at IMaybole Fair, and having promised to call upon her at her father's house, owing to his master's regu- larity of housekeeping, he had found it totally impracticable. To have one night's sport, was his nightly and daily study for a long time. It so happened, that his mistress about this time was brought to bed. Thomas hailed the bustle of that happy period, as a fit time to compass his long-medi- tated visit. JMrs. Burns lay in the spence. The gossips were met around the kitchen fire, listen- ing to the howling of the storm which raged without, and thundered down the chimney. It was a January blast. Thomas kept his eye upon his master, who, with clasped " hands and uplifted eyes sat in the muckle chair in the ingle neuk," as if engaged in supplication at the throne of grace for the safety of his wife and child. Thomas drew his chair nearer the door, and upon some little bustle in the kitchen, he reached the hallen, and was just immerging into darkness, when the hoarse voice of the angry Burns rung in the ears of the almost petrified plough-boy : POETRY AND POETS. 161 —"Where awa', Tarn?" — " The auld doure whalp," muttered Tarn, as he shut the door and resumed his stocking, " I was gaun to the door to see if this win' was tirring the thack aff the riggin." — " Thou needs na gang to look the night," cried the rigid overseer of Doonholni, " whan it is sae mirk, thou coudna' see thy finger afore thee." It was, indeed, " a waefu nicht." Such a night as this might give rise to these admirable lines of that bard, about to be ushered into the world : — " Tliat night a child might understand The deil had business on his hand." It was a little before the now pensive and thoughtful Burns was given to understand that a son was born unto him, as — " The wind blew as 'twad blawu its last,*' that a horrid crash was heard — a shriek rose from the affrighted women as they drew their chairs nearer the fire. " The ghaists and howlets that nightly cry about the ruins o'Alloway's auld haunted kirk," rose on every imagination. The guideman rose from his chair, lighted a lantern, commanded Thomas to follow him, and 162 POETRY AND POETS. left the house. The case was this, — the gable of the byre had been blown down, which, as it was of his own building, was not of the most durable nature. In due time, the joyful father had his first- born son laid in his arms, — his joy knew no bounds. The bicker was now sent round with increasing rapidity, and Thomas, then in his fovirteenth year, was carried to his bed, to use his own words, " between the late and the early, in a guide way, for the first time." Such was the birth-night of the Poet. How long Thomas Reid remained in the service of William Burns, is uncertain. It ap- pears, however, that he was with him when Robert went first to plough ; as Thomas has repeatedly told, as an instance of Burns' s early addiction to reading, that he has seen him go to, and return from ploughing, with a book in his hand ; and, at meal times, " supijig his parriich" with one hand, and holding the book in the other. It would appear that he had, in process of time, got better acquainted with his sweetheart at Maybole Fair, for he married her. It was on this occasion that he took the Shanter farm POETRY AND POETS. 1(J3 which, witli the assistance of liis father-in-law, he stocked and furnished. But fortune went against him ; " His cattle died, and blighted was his corn ;" and an unfortunate friend, for whom he had become security for £150, failed. Under such a load of ill, he, like many others, sought for consolation in the " yill caup ;" and any errand which served as a pretext to visit the town of Ayr, renewed his worship to the " inspiring bold John Barleycorn ;" and he usually re- turned, like the Laird of Snottorston — " O'er a' the ills o' life victorious." But Thomas had many a domestic squabble. His wife, naturally not of the sweetest temper, was doubly soured by the misfortunes of the world, and the dissipation of her help-mate; and often, when Tam " Was gettln' fu' and unco happy," she sat at home, " Gathering lier brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm." VOL. I. at 164 POETRY AND POETS. She, like too many in that district at that time, was very superstitious. Thomas took her by the weak side, and usually arrested her " light- horse gallop of clish-maclaver" by some specious story of ghost or hobgoblin adventures, with which he had been detained. He had now got into such a continued state of dissipation and irregularity, that he was obliged to leave the farm to the mercy of his creditors, and opened a small public-house at the end of the old bridge on the waters of Doon. It Avas while he was here, that Tam O'Shanter made its appearance; a manuscript copy was sent to Thomas by post, with this motto — Change the name, anil the Story may be told of yourself. The celebrity of the poem brought numbers to his house, and he sold a great deal. But his spirit could not brook the brutal taunts and jeers, which every day he was obliged to bear from his customers. He left off business and commenced labourer, at which he continued till he got an offer of a situation as overseer of hedges, on the large estate of Castle Semple, at that time belonging to William IM'Dowall, Esq. M. P. for POETHY AND POETS. 105 Renfrewshire, which he accepted. With short intervals, he remained there till the day of his death. He was of such a cliaracter, that he considered no man or class of men his sujjerior, and no man his inferior. Feeling the infirmities of old age approach, a Mr. Harvey placed liim at his west gate as gate- keeper, where he fell into a lingering disease, which soon put a period to his mortal career. As he had no friends nor relations (his wife having died about two years before), he was destitute of the means to support himself during his illness. The night before he died, he called for a half- mutchkin of whiskey, and as a particular friend of his sat by the side of the bed, and who per- sonally informed the writer of this, he took a glass of it in his hand, held it between him and the light, and eyed it for some time with a peculiar exhilarating expression of counte- nance. Then, while pleasure sparkled in his eyes, he took his friend by the hand, and press- ing it warmly, exclaimed, " This is the last whiskey I, in all probability, will ever drink ; and many and often is the times I have felt its poAver. Here's to thee, Jamie, and may 1G6 POETRY AND POETS. thou never want a drap when thou art dry." He died next morning, about eight o'clock. THE TABARD. CHAUCER's INN. As the Borough High Street was formerly the great passage into a great part of the king- dom, to and from the capital, it was well fur- nished with Inns ; one of which has been immortalized by Chaucer. The sign is now perverted into ' The Talbot.' — It originally was ' The Tabard ;' so called from the sign, — a sleeveless coat, open on both sides, with a square collar, and winged at the shoulders ; worn by persons of rank in the wars, with their arras painted on them, that they might be known. The use of this coat is now transferred to the heralds. This was the rendezvous of the jolly pilgrims, Avho formed the group which our fa- ther of poetry describes, sallying out to pay their devotions to the great saint, Thomas a Becket, whose shrine, for a long time, super- seded, in England, almost every other, being resorted to down to the Reformation by pilgrims from all parts of Christendom. " Befelle that in that season, ou a day. In Southwerck, at the Tabard, as I laj', POETHY AND TOEIS. IGJ Redy to wander on my pilgrimage To Canterbury, with devoute corage, At night was come into that hostellerie, Wei, nine and twenty in a compagnie Of sondry folk, by adventure yfalle In fclowship, and pilgrims were they alle, That toward Canterbury wolden ride ; The chambrt'S and the stables wereu wide. And wel we weren essed atte beste." ISABELLA ANDREINI, a native of Padua, was a very celebrated actress, towards the beginning of the seventeenth cen- tury. But her excellence was not confined to the stage : she was also an admii*able poetess. Many learned and ingenious men have bestowed eulogiums upon her, and her own works suffi- ciently justify their panegyrics. The intenli of Pavia (so the academicians of this city style themselves) were of opinion that they did their society an honour, by the admission of Isabella as a member of it. In acknowledgment of this honorary distinction, she never forgot amongst her titles that of Acade?nica Iiifcuita. — Her titles were these : " Isabella Andreini, coinica gelosa, academica infanta delta I'accessa. She had a singular advantage which is not frequent among 168 POETRY AND POETS. the most excellent actresses : she was very hand- some. Her beauty and her fine voice united, enabled her to charm both the eyes and the ears of all who saw and heard her. Under her pic- ture the following inscription is written : " Hoc histricae eloquentise caput lector admiraris, quod si auditor scies .''" — " If you admire, reader, this glory of the theatre, when you only see her, what would you do if you heard her }" Cardinal Cinthio Aldobrandini, nephew to Clement VIII., had a great esteem for her, as appears by several of her poems. When she went to France, she was kindly received by their Majesties, and by all the highest quality at Court. She wrote several sonnets in their praise, which are to be seen in the second part of her poems. She died at Lyons, the 10th of June, 1604, in the forty-second year of her age. Her hus- band had her interred in the same city, and honoured her with the following epitaph : — " Isabella Andreini, Patavina, mulier magna virtute predita, honestatis ornamentum, mari- talisque pudicitiae decus, ore facunda, mente faecunda, religiosa, pia, musis arnica, et artis scenicse caput, hic resurrectionem expectat. POETRY AND POETS. 169 " Ob abortum obiit 4 Id. Junii, mdciv. annum agens 42. " Franciscus Andreimis moestissimus posuit." Translation. " Isabella Andreini, of Padua, a woman of great virtue and honour, the ornament of con- jugal chastity, of an eloquent tongue, and an elegant mind, religious, pious, beloved by the Muses, and tlie glory of the stage, here lies in expectation of the resurrection. She died of a miscarriage, the 11th of June, 1604, in the forty-second year of her age. Francis Andreini, her sorrowful husband, erected this monument to her memory." The death of this actress and poetess being matter of general concern and lamentation, there "were many Latin and Italian elegies printed to her memory. Several of these pieces were printed before her poems in the edition of INIilan, in 1609. Besides her sonnets, madrigals, songs, and eclogues, there is a pastoral of hers, entitled, " Mirtilla," printed at Venice, in 1610- She sung with great taste, and played on several instruments in a masterly manner. She was, also, acquainted with philosophy, and under- stood the French and Spanish languages. 170 POETRY AND POETS. LADY CHUDLEIGH, a very philosophical and poetic lady, was born in the year 1656. She was the daughter of Richard Lee, of Winsloder, in the county of Devon, Esq.; and married to Sir George Chud- leigh, Bart, by whom she had several children ; among the rest, Eliza IMaria, who dying in the bloom of life, caused her mother to pour out her grief in a poem, entitled, " A Dialogue between Lucinda and Marissa." She wrote another poem, called, " The Ladies' Defence," occa- sioned by an angry sermon preached against the fair sex. These, with many others, were col- lected into a volume, and printed a third time in the year 1722. She published, also, a volume of essays, upon various subjects, in verse and prose, in 1710, which have been much admired for delicacy of style. This lady, it is said, wrote several Tragedies, Operas, Masques, &c. which, though not printed, are preserved in her family. She died in 1710, in the 55th year of her age. ARIOSTO. The Duke of Ferrara delighted so much in Ariosto's comedies, of which he wrote five, that he POETRY AND POETS. 171 built a Stage on purpose to have them played in his Court, and enabled our poet to build himself a house in Ferrara, with a pleasant garden, where he used to compose his poems, which were highly esteemed by all the princes in Italy, who sent him many presents; but he said, "he would not sell his liberty for the best cardinal's cap in Rome." It was but a small, though con- venient, house. Being asked, why he had not built a more magnificent mansion, since he had given such noble descriptions of sumptuous palaces, beautiful porticos, and cooling foun- tains, in his " Orlando Furioso ?" he replied, " That words were cheaper laid together than stones." Upon the door he caused to be placed the following inscription :— " Parva, sed apta mihi, sed iiuUi obiioxia, scd non Sordida, parta meo, sed tauieu, aere, domus." IN ENGLISH. " This house is small, but fit for me, And hurtful 'tis to noue ; It is not sluttish, as you see, Yet paid for with mine own." It is also related of him, that, one day passing J 72 POETRY AND POETS. by a potter's shop, he heard him singing a stanza out of his Orlando, with so bad a grace, that, out of p.itience, he broke with his stick several of his pots. The potter, in a pitiful tone, asked what he meant by wronging a poor man that had never injured him ? " You rascal," he re- plied, " I have not done thee half the wrong you have done me ; for I have broken but two or three pots of thine, not worth so many half- pence ; whereas, thou hast broken and mangled a stanza of mine worth a mark of srold." Ariosto was tall, of a melancholy complexion, and appeared always absorbed in study and me- ditation. His picture was drawn by Titian in a masterly manner. He was honoured with the laurel from the hands of the Emperor Charles V. He was so fearful of water, thatj whenever he went out in a ship, he would see others go out before him ; and on land, he would alight from his horse on the slightest danger. He bore his last sickness with great resolution and serenity, and died at Ferrara, 8th of July, 1553, aged 59. He was interred in the church of the Be- nedictine iMonks, who, contrary to their usual custom, attended his funeral. He had a statue POETRY AND POETS. 173 erected to him, and an inscription, written by himself, was engraved on liis tomb. ROBERT BLOOJIKIELD. This exquisite rural poet was born in the year 1766, at a village named Honington, which is situated eight miles from Bury St. Edmund's, and near Euston, the seat of his Grace the Duke of Grafton, in the county of Suffolk. He lost his father, ]Mr. George Bloomfield, a tailor by trade, when he was scarce a year old. His mother was a schoolmistress, and instructed her own with other children ; and from her, our poet had his first rudiments of learning. Though a widow with six children, she contrived to send Robert to a Mr. Rodwell, to be improved in writing ; but, she marrying soon after, he did not continue long with him. His mother had now a second family ; and though our poet was not above eleven, he was sent to a Mr. William Austin, a farmer in the neighbourhood, Avho took him into his house; but his mother was to furnish him with a few things : this was more than she was able to do, which induced her to solicit aid from his two brothers, George and Nathaniel, at London, as J7J POETRY AND POETS. Mr. Austin said, he did not think he would ob- tain a living by hard labour. George offered to take his brother and teach him to make shoes, and Nathaniel promised to clothe him. On this, the mother was so careful of him, that she took coach herself, and put him into the hands of his brothers. " She charged me," said Mr. George Bloomfield, in a letter, " as I valued a mother's blessing, to watch over him, to set good exam- ples to him, and never to forget that he had lost his father." His brother, Mr. G. Bloomfield, then lived at No. T, Pitcher's-court, Bell-alley, Coleman-street. " In a garret, where we had two turn-up beds, and five of us worked," says his brother, " I received little Robert." Robert became their errand-boy, for which each agreed to teach him. The boy from the public-house used to come every day for pots, and to learn what was wanted, and he always brought the yesterday's news- paper, which they used to read by turns ; but Robert's time being of least value, he became reader, and, by the help of an old Dictionary, which his brother bought for him for fourpence, in a little time he was able to read the speeches of Fox, Burke, &c. From attending the lecture' POETRY AND POETS. 17^ of a Mr. Fawcet, our poet learned to accent hard words, as he called them ; add to this two or three old folios, they were the principal sources of his learning. " I, at this time," says his brother, " read the ' London Magazine,' about two sheets of which was set apart for a review : this, and the ' Poet's Corner,' always attracted Robert's attention. One day, he repeated a song which he had composed to an old tune. I was much surprised that a boy of sixteen should make such verses, and persuaded him to try whether the editor of our paper would give it a place in the ' Poet's Corner.' He tried, and succeeded." He continued to reside with his brother till 1784, Avhen the question came to be decided, whether those who had not served an appren- ticeship should work at the trade of a shoemaker. The master who employed Robert was threat- ened with a prosecution if he continued so to do. He returned home, and was received by his old patron, INIr. Austin. It was during this short stay of two months, he probably formed his plan for that charming poem, the " Farmer's Boy." He again returned to London, and was bound apprentice to a I\Ir. John Dudbridge. -176 POETRY AND POETS. " It was in a garret/' says his brother, " amid six or seven workmen, his active mind composed the ' Farmer's Boy.' " He amused himself by studying the violin, upon which he became a good player; but afterwards, he wrote to his brother George, who had then left London, " I have sold my fiddle, and got a wife." The " Farmer's Boy" fortunately fell into the hands of Capel LofFt, every way able to appreciate its beauties ; and, to his honour be it said, he did not permit genius to languish in obscurity. Bloomfield died in 1823. SELF-DEVOTION IN A BARD. The Ancient History of Ireland has preserved a remarkable instance of extraordinary self- devotion, in the person of a bard, named Feir- cheirtne, Avho evinced, in the manner of his death, a strength of affection for his patron, and sublimity of soul, scarcely to be paralleled. Feircheirtne was bard to Conrigh, a celebrated chieftain, who lived in splendor on the banks of the Fiounglaise, in the county Kerry. This warrior was married to Blanaid, a lady of tran- scendent beauty, who had been the meed of his prowess in single combat Avith Congculionne, POKTllY AND POETS. 177 a knight of the Red Brancli. Uiit llif huly was secretly attached to the knight, and, in an acci- dental interview which she had with him, from the battlements of her castle, offered to follow his fortunes, if he would at a certain time, and on receiving a certain signal, storm the castle, and put her husband and his attendants to the sword. Congculionne promised to observe her directions, and executed them to the letter, in- undating the castle with the blood of its inha- bitants. Feircheirtne, however, probably in consequence of the veneration paid to his cha- racter as bard, escaped the slaughter, and fol- lowed, at a distance, Blanaid and her ravisher to the Court of Concovar INIac Nessa, determined to sacrifice his perfidious Mistress to the manes of his murdered patron. When the bard arrived at Emania, he found Concovar and his Court, together with the lovers, walking on the top of a rock called Rinchin Beara, and enjoying the extensive prospect which it commanded. Blanaid hap- l)ening to detach herself from the rest of the company, stood wrapt in meditation on that part of the cliff which overhung a deep preci- pice. The bard, stepping up to her, began an 178 POETRY AND POETS. adulatory conversation ; then, suddenly spring- ing forward, he seized her in his arms, and throwing himself with her headlong down the precipice, both were dashed to pieces. KEATING. COWPER. This poet, understanding some one wished to take his portrait, wrote to a friend as fol- lows : — " Whoever means to take my phiz, will find himself sorely perplexed in seeking for a fit occasion. That I shall not give him one, is certain ; and if he steals one, he must be as cunning and as quick-sighted a thief as Au- tolycus himself. His best course will be to draw a face, and call it mine, at a venture. They who have not seen me these twenty years will say, perhaps, " Though it is not perfectly the thing, yet there is somewhat of the cast of his countenance. If the nose were a little lon- ger, and chin a little shorter, the eyes a little smaller, and the forehead a little more protu- berant, it would be just the man." And thus, without seeing me at all, the artist may repre- sent me to the public eye with as much exact- POETRY AND POKTS. 179 ness as yours has bestowed on you, though I suppose the original was full in his view, when he made the attempt." RACINE. The " IMemoirs of the Life of Racine" are written by his son, wlio added some account of his father's friends, Boileau, iMoliere, and La. Fontaine. " My father," says young Racine, " to disgust my brother from writing verses, and from fear that he should attribute to my father's tragedies the attention that was paid to him by the men of rank about the Court, said to him, " Do not suppose that my verses procure me all this notice. Corneille writes much finer verses than I can do, yet no one pays him the least atten- tion. He is only admired for the mouths of the actors. So, instead of tiring a company with reciting my own verses, (about which I never talk,) I content myself with conversing with them in the way they like, and talking of things that amuse them. 3Iy business with them, is to tell them how clever themselves are •, so that, sometimes, when the Prince de Conde has passed many hours with me, you would be VOL. I. N 180 POETRY AND POETS. astonished, were you present, to observe that I had not spoken five words, but, by degi'ees, I lead him on to talk, and he goes home, much better pleased with himself than with me." GARCILASO DE LA VEGA. Garcilaso is one of the sweetest, and, per- haps, one of the most admired poets Spain has produced, not so much for the brilliancy of his thoughts, as the delicacy of his expressions. While he adorned the age in which he Uved, by the elegance and chastity of his produc- tions, he added to the martial glories of his country, and, at once, was a poet and a hero. — *' He grasp'd the lyre and the brand by turns." He fought valiantly under the victorious ban- ners of the Emperor Charles Vlth., and became his favourite. Before, however, he was advanced far in life, he had the misfortune to fall under the displeasure of the Emperor, and was ban- shed to an island on the Danube. Here, he poured forth his thoughts, and composed some of his most popular canzonets and son- nets. The following is, perhaps, one of the POETRY AND POETS. 181 most beautiful of the latter, and has been noticed not only by Luzan, in his " Poetico/' but by many other Spanish writers. The poet is here supposed to represent the anguish of his mind, while enduring this cruel banishment : SONNET XIV. " As the kind mother, vvlioin her sickly son Beseeches earnestly, with liovviug tears. For some forbidden fruit she more than fears Will break the mortal web so weakly spun ; And whose maternal fondness still denies Reflection on the inconsiderate deed. Grants the request, and gives with hasty speed. The weeping ceases, but the infant dies : So my infirm, confus'd, and madden'd thought To its own hurt is still petitioning ; Fain I'd refuse the food with death so fraught ; Daily it weeps, beseeching for the sting ; At length, I yield, so pitcously besought. Forgetting — with its death my own I bring." JOHN OF MEUN's legacy. This poet, the continuator of William of Lorris's ' Romaunt of the Rose,' the most finished specimen of French poetry previous to the age 182 POETRY AND POETS. of Francis the First, and of which Chaucer's excellent Paraphrase is much less known than it deserves to be, was one of the wits of the Court of Charles le Bel. The following anec- dote of his death, which happened between 1320 and 1322, is related by his Biographers. He left by will to the Dominican Monks of the Rue St. Jacques, a chest which, to judge by its weight, was full of the most precious effects, but which was not to be opened till after his decease. The funeral ceremony over, the monks proceeded with all speed to inspect the contents of the coffer ; but, alas ! the hopes which they had cherished of a rich prize ter- minated in the unexpected discovery that they had been cheated and deceived. The chest was found to contain nothing but square pieces of slate, covered with mathematical figures. The indignant Dominicans, who had expected that the deceased had repented, on his death-bed, the insults that he had heaped on them in his lifetime, both in his sayings and writings, and that this legacy was the token of hie conversion, were so enraged at their disappointment, that they determined to disinter his body ; but the Parliament took cognizance of the affair, and POETRY AND POETS. 183 compelled them to grant him an lionourable sepulture in the very cloister of their convent. The readers of Chaucer will remember the Legacy which the Friar receives in the Somp- nour'fl Tale, and the humorous manner in which he performs his oath to distribute it equally among the members of his fraternity. In proof of the hatred with which he was regarded by the clergy of his time, in conse- quence of the sharpness of his satire upon the corruptions which had crept into their order, and the licentiousness with which it was sullied, we need only cite an extract from Gerson, Chan- cellor of Paris. " There was," said he, " one called John of Meun, who wrote a book called the " Romaunt of the Rose," which book, if I only had, and that there were no more in the world, if I might have five hundred poimds for the same, I would rather burn it than take the money." And he further goes on to declare, " that if he thought the author thereof did not repent him for that book before he died, he would vouchsafe to pray for him no more than he would for Judas, that betrayed Christ." 184 POETRY AND POETS. THOMAS LODGE. In the Library of the British Museum, there is a tract of great rarity, from which Shakspeare is said to have borrowed the play of " As You Like It." It is entitled, " Euphue's Golden Legacy," by Thomas Lodge, a poet of the Elizabethan age, who was also the author of a great variety of works, in prose and verse- Ellis, in his " Specimens of the Early Eng- lish Poets," has given three of Lodge's poems, from " The Pleasant Historie of Glaucus and Scilla;" but has omitted to mention the fol- lowing Madrigal, perhaps the most beautiful of all his compositions. The edition from which it is transcribed, is believed to be unique. " Love in my bosom, like a bee. Doth suck his sweete ; Now with his wings lie plays with me. Now with his feete. Within mine eyes he makes his nest. His bed amid my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Strike I my lute — he tunes the string ; He music plays if I do sing ; POETRY AND POETS. 185 He lends lue every living thing, Vet, cruel, he my heart doth sting. What, if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod. He will repay me with anoy. Because a God. Then, sit thou safely on my knee, And let thy bower my bosom be ; O Cnpid ! do thou pity me, I will not wish to |)art from thee," ROYAL AND NOBLE POETS. "Many of the Troubadours, whose works now exist, and whose names are recorded, accompa- nied their Lords to the Holy Land. Some of the French nobility of the first rank were Troubadours, about the eleventh century ; and the French critics, with much triumph, observe, that it is the glory of the French poetry to number Counts and Dukes, that is. Sovereigns, among its professors, from its commencement. What a glory ! The Worshipful Company of Merchant-Tailors, in London, if I recollect right, boast the names of many Dukes, Earls, and Princes, enrolled in their community. This is, indeed, an honour to that otherwise respectable 186 POETRY AND POETS. society. But poets can derive no lustre from Counts^ and Dukes, or even Princes, who have been enrolled in their lists ; only in proportion as they have adorned the art by the excellence of their compositions." WARTON. Petrarch's books. Few persons knew the value of books better than this poet. His friends having written to him several apologies for not visiting him, in which they declaimed against his love of soli- tude, as unnatural to a human being, and re- proached him for his unsocial mode of life ; Petrarch smiled at their messages, and scorned their reproaches, and made the following ex- cellent remarks : " These people consider the pleasures of the world as their supreme good, and not to be renounced. But I have friends of a very different description, whose society is far more agreeable to me : they are of all countries, and of all ages ; they are distinguished in war, in politics, and in the sciences. It is very easy to see them; they are always at my service. I call for their company or send them away, whenever I please : they are never troublesome. POETRY AND POETS. 187 and immediately answer all my questions. Some relate the events of ages past, others reveal the secrets of nature ; these teach me how to live in comfort, those how to die in quiet. In return for all these services, they only require a chamber of me in one corner of my mansion, where they may repose in peace." POETRY AND PAINTING. Pope occasionally amused himself with painting, and received instruction from his friend Jervas, the fashionable painter of the day. Of all the departments in this delightful art, portrait-painting, perhaps, is the most diffi- cult ; for here, the painting is directly compared with the prototype. Pope laboured and made but sorry work of it. He, however, was not blind to his own defects ; and, in a letter to his friend Gay, he thus speaks of his progress : " I have thrown away three Doctor Swifts, each of which was once my vanity ; two Lady Bridg- waters, a Duchess of INIontagu, beside half-a- dozen Earls, and one Knight of the Garter. I have crucified Christ over again in effigy, and made a IVladonna as old as her mother St. Anne. 188 POETRY AND POETS. Nay, what is more miraculous, I have rivalled St. Luke himself in painting ; and, as 'tis said, an angel came and finished his piece, so you would swear the devil put a last hand to mine ! 'tis so begrimed and smutted. However, I com- fort myself with a Christian reflection, that I have not broken the commandment; for my pictures are not the likenesses of any thing in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth. Neither will any body adore or worship them, except the Indians should get a sight of them, who, they tell us, worship certain idols purely for their ugliness." ADDISON AND GAY. A FORTNIGHT before Addison's death. Lord Warwick came to Gay, and pressed him in a very particular manner " to go and see Mr. Addison," which he had not done for a great while. Gay went, and found Addison in a very weak state. He received him in the kindest manner, and told him, " that he had desired this visit, to beg his pardon ; that he had injured him greatly ; but that if he lived, he should find that he would make it up to him." — Gay, on his POETRY AND POETS. 185) going to Hanover, had great reason to liope for some good j)referment ; but all his views came to nothing. It is not impossible but that Mr. Addison might prevent them, from his thinking Gay too well with some of the great men of the former ministry. He did not at all explain himself; and Gay could not guess at any thing else in which he had injured him so consider- ably. SPENCE. SONG OP THE o'dRISCOLI.9. The following translation of a spirited Irish song, may be worth preserving, as a specimen of their skill in this species of composition. It was composed for, or on, some of the piratical sept of O'Driscoll, a clan that, with the O'Sul- livans, possessed a considerable part of the coast of the county Cork, and urged their trade of ma- ritime plunder to such a formidable and fearless extent, as to rival the Algerines, who became jealous of them, and made a descent, in 1631, on their country ; burning Baltimore, the prin- cipal town belonging to the O'DriscoUs, and carrying off' the inhabitants into slavery. This 190 POETRY AND POETS. event created the greatest consternation in Ireland, and more effectually checked the pi- racies of the O'Driscolls, than the repeated expeditions fitted out against them by the City of Waterford ; as they appeared only to become more daring after each attack, notwithstanding the destruction of their vessels and the ruin of their castles. " Our oars we ply, when seas run high, And loud the winds are roaring, Now down the depths, now up the sky, On eagle billow soaring ! And when we hail the gentler gale. With glee our stout hearts glowing. Abroad we spread the spritted sail, And catch it while 'tis blowing. For us enough, or fair or bluff, Waves calm or wildly foaming, So we may launch, thro' smooth or rough. Adventurously roaming. Unknown to fear, the Buccanier, Self-crown'd the Ocean Ranger, Blow high — blow low — his course will steer, His element is danger '." POETRY AND POETS, IJJl SAMUEL LOVER, a contemporary cultivator of the Pluses, wliose name has hitherto never appeared before the public as a poet, is, by profession, a miniature painter. He was born in Dublin, in the memorable year 1798. The earliest desire of his youthful mind led him towards the profession which he has since embraced. Circumstances, however, continually intervened between his desires and the accomplishment of them; and, to gratify the wishes of his father, he embarked in com- mercial pursuits. Being afterwards thrown upon the world by the failure of these, his distaste for such avocations became more deeply rooted, and urged him to the daring decision of plunging into a profession for which he had no other preparation than that of a self-taught amateur. In thus consulting the bent of his inclination, he has succeeded most completely. The amusement of his youth has become the employment of his manhood ; and, though now his profession, it has not ceased to be his pleasure. Painting, with her sweet sisters. Poetry and 192 POETRY AND POETS- Music, are still, as they ever were, his delight ; the first affording him an honorable indepen- dence, and the others a sweet solace after the occupations of the day. The following specimens, selected from se- veral elegant little productions of Mr. Lover, with which the kindly feelings of friendship have induced him to favour the Editor, will prove that he is far from being an unsuccessful wooer of the Muse. The tone of feeling which pervades the first, and the sprightly and playful ease which characterizes the latter, well entitle them to preservation. THOUGHTS OF SADNESS. " How sad and forsaken Is that heavy heart Where Hope cannot waken, Nor Sorrow depart ! Sr> sad and so lonely, No inmate is there, Save one — and that only Is chilling Despair. How sad is the slumber Long sufferings bring, Whose visions out- number ITie woes whence they spring I POETRY AND POETS. Unblestsuch repose is. Its \vakin>< is near, And the eyelid uncloses, Still wet with a tear. But tho' sad 'tis to weep O'er incurable woes ; Sad, the dreani-disturb'd sleep ; Yet far deeper than those Is the pang of concealing The woes of the mind From hearts without feeling. The gay, the unkind. For saddest of any Is he, of the sad. Who must smile amongst many Where many are glad ; Who must join in the laughter, When laughter goes round. To plunge deeper after In grief more profound. Oh, such smile's like light shining On ocean's cold wave. Or the playful entwining Of sweets o'er a grave ; And such laugh, sorrow spurning At revelry's calls. Like echoes, returnuig From lone empty halls." 19.3 194 POETRY AND POETS. SONG. " When Sorrow first was known on earth. No power could oppose him. Until, one day, plump buxom Mirth Deterraln'd to depose him : With brow of gloom the demon frown'd. But Mirth, of birth divine. Pale Sorrow in a goblet bound. And drown'd him there with wine. But soon as from the goblet's brim The ruby tide subsided. Young Mirth perceiv'd the demon grim His heav'nly power derided : And thus the jolly god contriv'd To give repose to men, — For, quickly as the fiend reviv'd. He fill'd the bowl again." POETRY AND POETS. 195 TASSO. Historians relate, that Tasso gave very early proofs of his great genius, and that, at the age of six months, he not only spoke and pronounced his words clearly and distinctly, but that he thought, reasoned, expressed his wants, and answered questions ; and that there was nothing childish in his words but the tone of his voice ; that he seldom laughed or cried, and that even then, he gave certain proofs of that equality of temper which supported him in those trying misfortunes to which he was so unfortunate a victim. Towards the end of his third year, our poet's father was obliged to follow the Prince of Salerno into Germany, which journey was the source of all the sufferings of Tasso and his family. The cause of their journey was this : Don Pedro, of Toledo, Viceroy of Naples for the Emperor Charles V., had formed a design to establish the Inquisition in that city. The Neapolitans were alarmed at it, and resolved to send a deputation to the Emperor ; and for that purpose, they made choice of the Prince of Salerno, who seemed most able, by his authority and riches, to make head against the Viceroy. VOL. I. o 196 POETRY AND POKTS. Before Bernardo (his father) departed with the Prince on his embassy for Germany, he committed the care of his son to Angeluzzo, a man of learning; for he thought a boy could not be too soon put under the tuition of men. It is related, that, at three years of age, little Tasso began the study of grammar, and at four, was sent to the College of the Jesuits; where he made so rapid a progress, that, at seven, he was pretty well acquainted with the Latin and Greek languages, and, at the same age, made public orations, and wrote some pieces of poetry, of which the style is said to have retained nothing of puerility. At the age of nine, he addressed the following lines to his mother, when he left Naples to follow the fortunes, or rather misfortunes, of his sire. POETRY. " Ma del sen de la raadre empia fortuna Pargoletto divelse, at di' que' baci Ch'ella bagno di lagrime dolenti Con sospir mi remembra, e de gli ardenti Preghi che sen portar I'aure fugaci, Che i'non dovea giunger piu volte a volte Fra quelle braccia accolto Con nodi cosi stretti, e si tenaci. POETRY AND POETS. 197 Lasso, e seguij con mal secure plaiite Qual' Ascanio, o Camilla il padre errante." IN ENGLISH. " Relentless fortune in my early years Removes me from a tender mother's breast ; With sighs I call to mind the farewell tears That hath'd her kisses when my lips she press'd ! I bear her pray'rs with ardour breath'd to heav'n, Aside now wafted by the devious wind ; No more to her unhappy son 'tis giv'n Th' endearments of maternal love to find ! No more her fondling arms shall round ine spread ; Far from her sight reluctant I retire ; Like young Camilla or Ascanius, led To trace the footsteps of my wand'ring sire." JAMES THE first's CONTEMPT OF PERSONAL SATIRE. It was never the practice of James to visit with severity, failures in the respect due to his person ; for his temper, though subject to gusts of passion, was, with some exceptions, placable, and his genuine love of wit pleaded strongly in behalf of literary offenders. To this effect, Howell, the letter-writer, has given the following anecdote : *' As I remember some years since, there was 198 POETRY AND POETS. a very abusive satire, in verse, brought to our king ; and as the passages were a reading before him, he often said, that if there were no more men in England, the rogue should hang for it. At last, being come to the conclusion, which was, after all his railing, * Now God preserve the king, the queen , the peers. And grant the author long may wear his ears 1' " This pleased him so well, that he broke into a laughter, and said, ' By my soul, so thou shalt for me ; thou art a bitter, but thou art a witty knave.' " GOLDSMITH. Every thing which relates to men of genius is interesting to the admirers of science : even their abodes, though humble in the extreme, when contemplated, call forth the most lively emotions. Who will not walk up the Break-neck Stairs, between Seacoal Lane and the Old Bailey, with the greater pleasure, when he knows that it will conduct him to Green Arbour Court, where Goldsmith wrote his " Vicar of Wakefield," and his " Traveller }" A friend of Goldsmith's once POETHY AND POETS. 199 paying him a visit in' this place, (March, 1759,) found him in a lodging so poor and miserable, that he said he should not have thought it proper to mention the circumstance, had he not considered it the highest proof of Goldsmith's genius and talents, by the bare exertion of which, under every disadvantage, he gradually emerged from obscurity, not only to enjoy the comforts, but even the luxuries of life, and an introduction into the best societies in the metropolis. At the time the Doctor was writing his " In- quiry into the present State of Polite Learning," he resided in a wretched dirty room, in which there was but one chair; and when he, from civility, offered it to a visitant, he was obliged to seat himself in the window. Such were the privations to which one of the first literary geniuses Ireland ever produced was heir to; but Goldsmith, more fortunate than many of his brethren, outlived them. LADY JULIANA BERNERS, on account of hei* being one of the earliest English poetesses, is entitled to honorable no- tice in this work. She is frequently called 200 POETRY AND POETS. Juliana Barnes, but Berners was her more proper name. She was an Essex lady, and, according to Ballard, was, probably, born at Roding, in that county, about the beginning of the fifteenth century; being the daughter of Sir James Berners, of Berners Roding, and sister of Richard, Lord Berners. If, however, as is generally agreed. Sir James Berners was her father, her birth could have been very little after 1388 ; for, in that year. Sir James Berners was beheaded, together with other favourites and corrupt ministers of King Richard the Second. The education of Juliana seems to have been the very best which that age could afford, and her attainments were such, that she is celebrated by various authors for her uncommon learning and her other accomplishments, which rendered her every way capable and deserving of the office she afterwards bore; which was that of Prioress of Sopewell Nunnery. This was a cell attached to, and very near, St. Alban's ; and the remains of it are still standing. Here she lived in high esteem, and flourished about the year 1460, or, perhaps, somewhat earlier. She was very beautiful, of great spirit, and POETRY AND POETS. 201 loved masculine exercises, such as hawking, hunting, &c. With these sports she used to recreate herself; and so skilled was she in them, that she wrote treatises on hawking, hunting, and heraldry. " From an abbess disposed to turn author," says Warton, " we might more reasonably have expected a manual of medita- tions for the closet, or select rules for making salves, or distilling strong waters. But the diversions of the field were not thought incon- sistent with the character of a religious lady of this eminent rank, who resembled an abbot in respect of exercising an extensive manorial jurisdiction, and who hawked and hunted in common with other ladies of distinction." So well esteemed were Juliana Berners's treatises, and, indeed, so popular were the subjects on which they were written, that they were pub- lished in the very infancy of the art of printing. The first edition is said to have been printed at St. Alban's, in 1481. It was certainly printed at the same place in 1486, in a small folio; and again, at Westminster, by W. de Worde, in 1496, in 4to. At the sale of the late Duke of Roxburghe, an imperfect copy of this edition was sold for the enormous price of £147. 202 POETRY AND POETS. The " Boke of Hunting" is the only one of these treatises which is written in rhyme, and begins as follows : " Mi dere sones, whefe ye fare, by frith,* or by fell,t Take good hade in his tyme howTristrera wol tell ; How many maner bestes of venery J there were, Listen now to our Dame, and ye shallen here. Ffoure maner bestes of venery there are. The first of hem is a hart, the second is an hare j The boor is one of tho,§ The wolff, and no mo.|| And whereso ye comen in play^ or in place. Now shall I tel you which ben bestes of chace : One of the a buck, another a doo. The ffox, and the marteryn, and the wilde roo : And ye shall, my dere sones, other bestes all, Whereso ye hem ** finde, rascall hem call. In frith or in fell Or in flforest, y you tell. And to speke of the hert, if ye wil hit lere,tt Ye shall call him a calfe at the first yere ; The second yere a broket, so shall he be, The third yere a spayaid, lerneth this at me ; The iiii yere calles him a stagge, be any way, The fift yere a grete stagge, my Dame bade you say." * Wood. t Field. J Hunting. § Them. II More. If Plain. •* Them. ft Learn. poetry and poets. 203 milton's wife. Milton repudiated his first wife for her disobedience, and, immediately after, he resolved to marry again, and, to that end, courted a lady of great accomplishments, daughter of a Doctor Davis. His wife and her friends, hearing this, resolved to effect a re-union. Milton being at the house of a relation in St. Martin's-le-Grand, he was surprised to see his wife come from an opposite room, fall down on her knees, and im- plore his forgiveness. He was at first inexorable; but her tears and his own generous nature brought about a reconciliation. From this scene, Milton is said to have drawn the character of his Eve, in " Paradise Lost." That their re- conciliation was sincere, appears from his after- wards receiving her father and brothers, who were attached to the Royal cause, into his house, at the triumph of the Parliament. Thomson's " winter." Soon after the poet Thomson had published his " Winter," he presented a copy of it to Joseph Mitchell, and, in return, he sent Thorn- 204 POETRY AND POETS. son his opinion of the poem, in the following couplet : — " Beauties and faults so thick lie scatter'd here, Those I could read, if these were not so near." To this hypothetical piece of criticism, Thomson replied : " Why all not faults, injurious Mitchell, why Appears one heautj' to thy blasted eye ? Damnation worse than thine, if worse can be, Is all I ask, and all I want from thee." A friend, to whom Thomson submitted his answer, remarked, that the expression, " blasted eye," would look like a personal reflection on Mitchell, who really suifered under that misfor- tune ; and Thomson made the awkward change of the epithet into blasting. swift's last lines. Swift, in his lunacy, had some intervals of reason. On one occasion, his physicians took him with them to enjoy the advantages of fresh air. When they came to the Phcenix Park, (Dublin,) Swift remarked a new building, which POETRY AND POETS. 205 he had never before seen, and asked " what it was designed for?" To which Dr. Kingsbury answered, " That, Mr. Dean, is the magazine for arms and powder, for the security of the city." — " Oh, oh !" says the Dean, pulling out his pocket-book, " Let me take an item of that. This is worth remarking ; ' my tablets !' as Hamlet says, ' my tablets ! Memory, put down that.'" Which produced the following lines, being the last the Dean ever wrote : — " Behold a proof of Irish sense ! Here Irish wit is seen; When nothing's left that's worth defence, We build a magazine." and then put up his pocket-book, laughing heartily at the conceit, and clenching it with, " When the steed's stolen, shut the stable-door." GENEROUS PATRONAGE OP POPE. A NEEDY disciple of the iVIuses once sent a poem to Pope, which ended with the following lines: — " The most I seriously would hope, Is just to read the words A. Pope, Writ, without sneer, or show of banter. Beneath your friendly imprimantur." 206 POETRY AND POETS. As soon as Pope had perused the poem, he returned it to the poor bard, with the sub- scription-money for two copies, accompanied with the following couplet : — " May these put money in your purse, For I assure you I've read worse. A. P." SPENSER, AND THE EARI, OF SOUTHAMPTON. It is recorded, that when Spenser had finished the " Faery Queen," he carried it to the Earl of Southampton, the great patron of the poets of those days. The manuscripts being sent up to the Earl, he read a few pages, and then ordered his servant to give the writer twenty pounds. Reading further, he cried in a rapture, " Carry that man another twenty pounds !" Proceeding still, he said, " Give him twenty pounds more." But at length he lost all patience, and said, " Go, turn that fellow out of the house, for if I read on, I shall be ruined." DRYDEN, AND ELKANAH SETTLE. About 1670, appeared a tragedy, called " The Empress of INIorocco," written in rhyme, by Elkanah Settle ; the success of which, together POETRY AND POET3 207 with its having been the first play embellished with engravings, seems greatly to have discom- posed the mind of Dryden ; who, actuated by what he called indignation, and others jealousy, wrote an intemperate critique upon the play and dedication, in which he exhibits the highest de- gree of spleen and scurrility. Of Settle, he gives this character : " He's an animal of a most deplored understanding, with- out conversation : his being is in a twilight of sense and some glimmering of thought, which he can never fashion into wit or English. His style is boisterous and rough-hewn, his rhyme incorrigibly lewd, and his numbers perpetually harsh and ill-sounding. The little talent which he has, is in fancy. He sometimes labours with a thought; but, with the pudder he makes to bring it into the world, 'tis commonly still-born; so that, for want of learning and elocution, he will never be able to express any thing either naturally or justly. He has a heavy hand at fools, and a great facility in writing nonsense for them. Fools they will be, in spite of him. His king, his two empresses, his villain, and his sub-villain, nay, his hero, have all a certain natural cast of the fatlicr : their folly was born 208 POETRY AND POETS. and bred in them, and something of the Elkanah will be visible." On this declamatory effusion of our author. Dr. Johnson makes the following judicious re- marks : " To see the highest minds thus levelled with the meanest, may produce some solace to the consciousness of weakness, and some mortifica- tion to the pride of wisdom. But let it be remembered, that minds are not levelled in their powers, but when they are first levelled in their desires. Dryden and Settle had both placed their happiness in the claps of multi- tudes." TASSO. His first poem extended his fame so much through Italy, that his father, displeased thereat, and dreading the effect on his son's mind, went to Padua on purpose to reprimand him, and though he spoke with vehemence and harsh expressions, Tasso heard him with composure, and without interrupting him. This enraged his father, " Tell me," he exclaimed, " of what use is this vain philosophy upon which you pride yourself so much ?" — " It has enabled POETRY AND POETS. 209 me," replied Tasso, modestly, " to endure the harshness of your reproofs !" Tasso's resolve to follow the Muses, was soon known all over Italy, and he was, by means of Pietro Donato Cesi, invited to the city and col- lege of Bologna ; but he did not remain long, for Bologna becoming the theatre of civil com- motions, and pressed by an invitation of Gon- zaga, his old friend, who was elected prince of an academy, established at Padua, under the title of Etherei, he immediately went thither to seek that repose he loved. The happy man- ner in which he blended philosophy with his other studies, made him an enemy to all kind of licentiousness. In an oration on the subject of Love, the orator treated the subject in a very masterly manner, but with too little regard to decency, in the opinion of Tasso, who, being asked what he thought of the discourse, replied, " It is a pleasing poison." At Padua, he formed the plan of his celebrated poem of " Jerusalem Delivered." He determined to dedicate the poem to the house of Este ; but, being equally esteemed by the two brothers, Alphonso II. Duke of Ferrara, and Cardinal Luigi, he was at a loss how to act, and a sort of 210 POETRY AND POETS. contest was kept up between the brothers. The Cardinal contended, that, as " Rinaldo" had been dedicated to him, he had an hereditary right: on the contrary, Alphonso contended, that his brother having had his share of honour, it was now his turn. Tasso, having remained undecided for three or four years, at length took up his residence in the palace of Ferrara, and placed the name of Alphonso at the head of his poem ; but he neglected not to retain the Cardinal's good opinion, by every attention. Tasso was now about twenty-two years of age, and his name had become famous through all Europe. DOCTOR JOHN DENNIS. Mr. Theophilus Cibber relates an anecdote of this poet and critic, which is worth relating, as it is not only highly characteristic of the man, but also a striking and melancholy instance, among thousands, of the distressful predicaments into which men of genius and literary abilities are, perhaps, more apt than any others to plunge themselves, by paying too slight an attention to the common concerns of life. " After that he was worn out" (says that au- thor) " with age and poverty, he resided within POETRY AND POETS. 211 the verge of the Court, to prevent danger from his creditors. On Saturday night, he happened to saunter to a public-house, which, in a short time, he discovered to be without the verge. He was sitting in a drinking-room, when a man of suspicious appearance happened to come in. There was something about the man which de- noted to INIr. Dennis that he was a bailiff. This struck him with a panic ; he was afraid his li- berty was at an end ; he sat in the utmost soli- citude, but did not offer to stir, lest he should be seized upon. After an hour or two had passed in this painful anxiety, at last the clock struck twelve; when i\Ir. Dennis, in an ecstacy, cried out, addressing himself to the suspected person, * Now, Sir, bailiff or no bailiff, I don't care a farthing for you ; you have no power now.' The man was astonished at his behaviour, and, when it was explained to him, was so much exaspe- rated at the suspicion, that, had not Mr. Dennis found protection in age, he would, probably, have smarted for his mistaken opinion." DANTE'S " DIVINA COMEDIA." " Dante wrote before we began to be at all refined ; and, of course, his celebrated poem is VOL. I. P 212 POETRY AND POETS. a sort of Gothic work. He is very singular and very beautiful in his similies, and more like Homer than any of the Italian poets. He was prodigiously learned for the times he lived in, and knew all that a man could then know. Homer, in his time, was unknown in Italy; and Petrarch boasts of being the first poet that had heard him explained. Indeed, in Dante's time, there were not above three or four people in all Italy that could read Greek (one, in particular, at Viterbo, and two or three elsewhere). But, although he had never seen Homer, he had conversed much with the works of Virgil. His P'jem got the name of Comedia, after his death. 1 e somewhere calls Virgil's Work Tragedia (or s blime poetry); and, in deference to him, called h; ( own Comedia (or low) : and hence was that word used afterwards, by mistake, for the title of his poem." SPENCE. ABBE MAROLLES. This Abbe was an indefatigable translator: Virgil, Lucan, IMartial, and Athenasus, fell into his hands, and by him they were all translated in a dull and inaccurate manner. He also took it POETRY AND POETS. 213 into his head to write verses. His translation of IMartial's Epigrams he sent to Menage, who wrote on the title-page, " Satires against INIar- tial." He was one day observing to Liniere how little his verses cost him. " I believe, Sir, that they cost you to the full as much as they are worth," was the reply.* DU RVER was as relentless a translator of the Ancients as the Abbe ^larolles. It was said of him, " Magis fami quamfamce inseriiebat," such was the hurry in which his translations appeared to have been made. He was paid for them at a certain re- gular proportion. He had three shillings a leaf for his prose translations, three shillings and sixpence for every hundred of long verses, and two shillings for every hundred of the shorter ones. RHYMING. From Miss Hawkins's Memoirs. " The disposition to write in rhyme does not * " What is written without effort, is, in general, read witliout pleasure." Dr. Johnson. 214 POETRY AND POETS. in the least prove the power to do it. When my father had written the cantatas which were, set to music by Mr. Stanley, he employed a man to make a fair copy of them, and his transcriber was so pleased with them, that he not only re- commended them, but tried his powers in the same way. He told his employer that he, too, could write cantatas, and asked him to hear a part of one. Four lines, my father^ even at the distance of many years^ remembered; but I must preface them, by saying, that the poet was clerk to an attorney, and, in a litigation between two brothers, was suspected of having given such information to the defendant, as enabled him to elude the law : to him, therefore, whom he had injured, he addressed the cantata in which these lines were found : ' Some say I did not use thee well, In fav'ring of thy brother Barrow ; But since all that is past and gone, I'll drink thy health now at the Harrow.' Telling this to Captain Gostling, he requited it by this anecdote : " ' Bermuda's poetry' is an expression almost proverbial in some parts of America. Its origin POETRY AND POKTS. 215 IB this : — It was agreed by a party dining at a tavern in Bermuda, of which place, it is said, that no native knows what is metre or rhyme, that every one should try to redeem the credit of the country, and that the worst poet of them should pay the reckoning. The palm of demerit was obtained by this couplet : ' Here she comes, and w.ilks along,— A faithful friend is haid to find-' I know not whence my father got the lines descriptive of the landing of JEneas, — * And so, without any more ands and ifs, He jumped from off the rocks on to the cliffs.' or who proposed the amended reading, * And so without any more ifs and ands. He jumped from the cliffs on to the sands.' " POETRY AND PREACHING. In the earlier ages of English poetry, the minstrels were often more amply paid than the clergy; for in these, as in more enlightened times, the people loved better to be pleased than instructed. During many of the years of the reign of Henry the Sixth, particularly in 216 POETRY AND POETS. the year 1430, at the annual feast of the frater- nity of the Holie Crosse, at Abingdon, a town in Berkshire, twelve priests each received four- pence, for singing a dirge ; and the same number of minstrels were rewarded each with two shil- lings and four-pence, beside diet and horse- meat. Some of these minstrels came only from Maydenhithe, or IMaidenhead, a town at no great distance, in the same county. In the year 1441, eight priests were hired from Coventry, to assist in celebrating a yearly obit in the church of the neighbouring Priory of Maxtoke ; as were six minstrels, called Mimi, belonging to the family of Lord Clinton, who lived in the adjoining Castle of Maxtoke, to sing, harp, and play in the hall of the Monastery, during the extraordinary refection allowed to the Monks, on that anniversary : — two shillings were given to the priests, and four to the min- strels ; and the latter are said to have supped in camera pictd, or the painted chamber of the Convent, with the Sub-prior; on which occasion, the Chamberlain furnished eight massy tapers of wax. That the gratuities allowed to priests, even if learned, for their labours, in the same age of POETRY AND POETS. 217 devotion, were extremely slender, may be col- lected from other expenses of this Priory. In the same year, the Prior gives only sixpence for a sermon, to a doctor prcedicaiis, or an itinerant doctor in theology of one of the mendicant orders, who went about preaching to the Reli- gious Houses. WARTON. SANAZARIU8 wrote the following beautiful lines on the City of Venice, for which he was rewarded with six thousand gold crowns : — " Viderat Adiiacis Venetam Ncptunus in undis Stare iirbcm, et toti ponere jura iiiaii, Nunc mihi Tarpeias quantum vis Jupiter arces Objice et alta tui moenia Mattis ait. Si Pelago Tibrini prsefers, url)em aspice utramque, 1 11am homines dices, hanc posuisse Deos." TRANSLATION. " When Ocean's powerful god saw Venice stand In its vast gulph, and all the sea command, ' Now, Jove, oppose to nie,' he, proud, exclaim'd, * Thy towers, and Mars's walls, in story fam'd ; If thou prefer thy Tiber to the Main, A faithful survey for each city gain : Rome, you must own, that feeble mortals made, Whilst Venice shows the God's almighty aid." 218 Poetry and poets. Milton's " comvs," and campion's " memora- ble MASK." The mask of " Comus" was composed to cele- brate the creation of Charles I. as Prince of Wales. A scene in this mask presented both the castle and town of Ludlow ; which proves, that although our small public theatres had not exhibited any of the scenical illusions which, long afterwards. Sir William D'Avenant intro- duced, these scenical effects existed, in great perfection, in the masks. The minute descrip- tion introduced by Thomas Campion in his " Memorable Mask," as it is called, will con- vince us, that the scenery must have been exquisite and fanciful ; and that the poet was always a watchful and anxious partner with the mechanist, with whom he sometimes, however, quarelled. The subject of this very rare mask was "The Night and the Hours." It would be tedious to describe the first scene with the fondness with which the poet has dwelt on it. It was a double valley ; one side was shadowed with dark clouds ; the other, a green vale, with trees, and nine golden ones of fifteen feet high ; from which grove, towards the state or seat of the King, was a broad descent to the dancing POKTItY AND POETS. 219 place. The bower of Flora was on their right, the house of Night on the left ; between them a hill, hanging, like a cliff, over the grove. The bower of Flora was spacious, garnished with flowers and flowery branches, with lights among them ; the house of Night, ample and stately, with black columns studded with golden stars ; while about it were placed, on wires, artificial bats and owls, continually moving. As soon as the King entered the great hall, the hautboys Avere heard from the top of the hill and from the wood, till Flora and Zephyrus were seen busily gathering flowers from the bower, throwing them into baskets which two Silvans held, attired in " changeable taffety." The burthen of their song is charming. — " Now hath Flora robb'd her bowers To befriend this phice with flowers: — Strew about ! strew about I Divers, divers flowers aff"ect For some private dear respect: — Strew about ! strew about !" We cannot quit this mask, of which collec- tors know the rarity, without preserving one of those Doric delicacies, of which, perhaps, we 220 POETRY AND POETS. have outlived the taste. It is a playful dialogue between a Silvan and an Hour, while Night appears in her house, with her long black hair spangled with gold, amidst her Hours. Silvan. Tell me, gentle Hour of Night, Whereiu dost thou most delight ? Hour. Not in sleep ! Silvan. Wherein, then ? Hour. In the frolic view of men. Silvan. Lov'st thou music ? Hour. Oh ! 'tis sweet ! Silvan. What's dancing ? Hour. E'en the mirth of feet. Silvan. Joy you in fairies, or in elves ? Hour. We are of that sort ourselves. — But, Silvan, say, why do you love Only to frequent the grove ? Silvan. Life is fullest of content When delight is innocent. Hour. Pleasure must vary, not be long : Come, then, let's close, and end the song. THOMAS JORDAN, THE CITY-POET. This obscure writer, whose name is, proba- bly, new to the greater number of readers, was, according to Ritson and others, the pro- POETRY AND I'OETS. 221 fessed pageant-writer and poet-laureat for the City ; and seems to have possessed a greater share of poetical merit than usually fell to the lot of his profession. The business of the City-poet, as we are informed by INIalone, was to compose an annual panegyric on the Lord INIayoi', and to write verses for the pageants. Happily, this office has been discontinued since the death of poor Elkanah Settle, in 1722 ; since which time, the duty of decorating each suc- ceeding Lord IMayor with all the virtues under heaven, has devolved upon the Recorder, whose annual oration, delivered in the Court of Ex- chequer, in no very measured prose, appears to have taken the place of the ancient poetical panegyric. According to Langbaine, Jordan was not only a writer, but also an actor of plays, having performed the part of Lepida, in " IMessalina," a play acted in 1640. Before that time, however, he had commenced poet ; as one of his many miscellaneous volumes, of which Sir Egerton Brydges has enumerated no less than thirty-four, appeared in 1637- He succeeded Tatham in the office of City-laureat, between 1665 and 1671 ; and is supposed to 222 POETRY AND POETS. have died in 1671, being himself succeeded by Taubman. The contemporaries of this busy writer ap- pear to have entertained but a mean opinion of his talents. Winstanley, himself the most vul- gar of critics, speaks of him as " indulging his Muse more to vulgar fancies, than to the highfly- ing wits of those times." Wesley, the progenitor of the founder of the sect of Methodists which bears his name, in his " Maggots," a very singular poetical work, published in 1685, in- vokes the ]\Iuse of Jordan as an inspirer of dullness, in the same way, and with almost as little justice, as Butler invokes that of honest George Wither. He has, also, a fling at him at the close of the following stanza of a " Pin- darique on the grunting of a hog," which is whimsically characteristic of its author's style. " Like the confounding lute's innumerable strings. One of them sings ; Thy easier musick's ten times more divine. More like the one-string'd, deep, majestic trump- marine : — Pr'ythee, strike-up, and cheer this drooping heart of mine I — POETRY AND POETS. 223 Not the sweet harp that's claim'd by Jews ; Nor that which to the far luorc ancient Wekh belongs ; Nor that whicli the wihl Irish use, Frighting even their own wolves with their hub- bubaboos ; Nor Indian dance, with Indian songs ; Nor yet, (Wiiich how should i so long forget?) The crown of all the rest, The very cream o' th' jest, Amphioii's noble lyre, — the tongs ; Nor tho' poetic Jordan bite his thumb At the bold world, my Lord Mayor's flutes, and kettle- drum : Not cill this instrumental did dare With thy soft, ravishing, vocal music ever to com- pare ! " Oldham, too, that biting satirist, in his verse to a printer Avho mangled his poetry, has a severe cut at poor Jordan, in the following couplet : — " May'st thou print Hopkins, or some duller ass, Jordan, or him that wrote ' Dutch Hudibras.'" Yet, notwithstanding these confederated stig- mas. Sir E. Brydges is of opinion, that there will be found, perhaps, more merit in the mass 224 POETRY AND POETS. of his poetry than in many of his much ap- plauded contemporaries ; and that his deficiency was rather in taste than in talent. The follow- ing, among other passages, which he cites in confirmation of this opinion, will shew, that Jordan was, at any rate, no mean rhymester ; and that he possessed a fund of antithetical contrast, and smoothness of versification^ almost equal to Young or Pope. It is a complimen- tary tribute, addressed to the Parliament. " It is a sacred and transcendant session, Where the unblemish'd purple daunts oppression ; 'Hie poor man's refuge, and the just man's care. The true man's trial, and the false man's fear. The good man's sanctuary, bad man's grief. The weak man's prop, the wretched man's relief, The patient man's reward, the scourge of pride, The simple's safety, and the nation's guide." BILDERDYCK. William Bilderdyck, admired as the first poet that modern Holland has produced, and not less distinguished by the other brilliant qualities of his mind, did not, in his youth, seem to show any happy disposition for study. His father, who formed an unfavourable opinion POETHY AND POETS. 22') of his talents, was much distressed, and fre- quently reproached him, in severe terms, for his inattention and idleness, to which young Bilderdyck did not appear to pay much atten- tion. In ] 77G, the father, with a newspaper in his hand, came to stimulate him, by showing him the advertisement of a prize offered by the Society of Leyden, and decreed to the author of a piece of poetry signed with the words, " An Author eighteen years' old," who was in- vited to make himself known. " You ought to blush, idler," said old Bilderdyck to his son : — "here is a boy, who is only of your age, and, though so young, is the pride and happiness of his parents ; and you " " It is myself," answered young William, throwing himself into his father's arms. EDWARD BENLOWES. Edward Benloaves, the author of " Theo- phila^ or Love's Sacrifice, a Divine Poem," published in 1652, and the patron of two of the best and most popular poets of the reign of Charles the First, — Quarles, and Phineas Flet- cher, is thus unmercifully handled by Butler (the author of Hudibras,) in his Character of a small 226 POETRY AND POETS. Poet, in his " Genuine Remains," first published by Thyer, in 1759. " There was one," says he, " that lined a hat- case with a paper of Benlowes' jDoetry ; Prynne bought it by chance, and put a new demi-castor into it. The first time he wore it, he felt only a singing in his head, which, within two days, turned to a vertigo. He was let blood in the ear by one of the state physicians, and recovered; but, before he went abroad, he wrote a poem of Rocks and Seas, in a style so proper and na- tural, that it was hard to determine which was ruggeder. There is no feat of activity nor gambol of wit, that ever was performed by man, from him that vaults on Pegasus/ to him that tumbles through the hoop of an anagram, but Benlowes has got the mastery of it, whether it be high-rope wit or low-rope wit. He has all sorts of echoes, rebuses, chronograms, &c., be- sides carwitches, cleriches, and quibbles. As for altars and pyramids in poetry, he has out- done all men that way; for he has made a gridiron and a frying-pan in verse, that, besides the likeness in shape, the very tone and sound of the words did perfectly represent the noise that is made by these utensils, such as the old POETRY AND POETS. 227 poet called Sarlago loquendi. When he was a captain, he made all the furnituie of his horse, from the bit to the crupper, in the beaten poetry, every verse being fitted to the proportion of the thing, with a moral allusion of the sense to the thing : as, the bridle of moderafion, the saddle of conlenl, the crupper of constaticy ; so that the same thing was both epigram and emblem, even as a mule is both horse and ass. " There was a tobacco-man, that w rajjped Spanish tobacco in a paper of verses, which Benlowes had written against the Pope, which, by a natural antipathy that his wit has to any thing Catholic, spoiled the tobacco, for it pre- sently turned mundungiis. The author will take an English word, and, like the Frenchman that swallowed water and spit it out wine, with a little heaving and straining, would turn it immediately into Latin : as, pliinderat ille domos — mille huco- pokianay, — and a thousand such." " The cream of the jest," says Cole, in his MS. Collections, " is, that INIr. Thyer, the an- notator and publisher of these ' Remains,' having never heard of such a person as i\Ir. Benlowes, gives us the following note upon this passage : " ' As I never heard of any poet of this name, VOL. I. Q 228 POKTRY AND POETS. I take it for granted, that this is a cant word for some one that he did not choose to name ; and I think it not improbable, that the person meant was Sir John Denham. What suggested to rae this conjecture is, Butler's avowed sentiments of that gentleman, and a circumstance which follows in the next paragraph, in which Ben- lowes is said to have been a captain once, which coincides with the history of Sir John, who, in the beginning of the civil war, was employed in a military capacity in the King's service.' " Pope is very severe upon him in his " Dun- ciad," where he says, " Benlowes, propitious still to blockheads, bows;" and Warburton, in his note upon this passage, represents him as a " country gentleman, famous for his own bad poeti-y, and for patronizing bad poets." In this estimate of his character, we cannot altogether agree, for there are in several of his pieces, of which Wood has enumerated fourteen, and particularly in his " Theophila," many uncommon and excellent thoughts; but his metaphors, it is true, are often strained and far-fetched, and he sometimes loses himself in mystic divinity. In the management of his POKTRY AND POETS. 229 worldly affairs he appears to have acted with little discretion, having made a shift, although he was never married, to squander away his estate, which amounted to seven hundred or a thousand pounds a-year, on poets, musicians, &c., who, in return for his generosity, used to style him " Benevolus," by way of anagram on his name. He was imprisoned for debt, and died, at the age of seventy-three, in poverty and distress. HALTER SCOTT, not the celebrated Baronet of that name, but an elder and earlier Walter, who describes him- self as " An old soldier and no scholar, Aud one that can write none But just the letters of his name," published, in 1688, " The True History of several Honourable Families of the Right Ho- nourable Name of Scott, &c., gathered out of Antient Chronicles, Histories, and Traditions of our Fathers." On the death of his errand- father. Sir Robert Scott, of Thirlstone, his father, having no means to bring up his children, put poor Walter to attend beasts in the field ; 230 POETRY AND POETS. " but," says he, " I gave them the short cut at last, and left the kine in the earn, and ever since that time, I have continued a souldier abroad and at home." The singular production noticed above, which was written at the age of seventy-three, has so much of the whimsical solemnity of nothing, and is written in so uncouth a style, that a specimen may, probably, afford the reader some amuse- ment. For this purpose, we shall select his account of a celebrated impostor of his race. " Walter Scott was Robert's son ; And Robert he \vas Walter's son, The first of Whitehaugh that from Borthwick sprung. That Wat of Whitehaugli was cousin-germau To John of Borthwick that fasted so long. Three sundry times he did perform To fast forty days, I do aver ; Bishop Spotswood, my author is he, A profound learn'd prelate, that would not lie : When James the Fifth he was Scotland's King, In the Castle of Edinburgh he incarcer'd him, And would not believe the country says, That any mortal could fast forty days ; Bare bread and water the King allow'd for his meat, But John Scott refused and would not eat : ' When the forty days were come and gone, He was a great deal lustier than when he began.' POETRY AND POETS. 231 Then of the King he did presume To beg recomnieiulatioa to the Pope of Rome, ' VVlicie there he fasted forty days more, And was neither hungry, sick, nor sore.' From Rome he did liastily return. And arrived in Brittain at London, Wliere Henry the Eightli he got notice, That John Scott had fasted twice forty days ; The King would not believe he could do such thing. For which he commanded to incarcerate hinj ; Forty days expired, he said he had no pain, 'J'hat his fast had been but ten hours* time. Here, Walter Scott, I'll draw near an end. From John of Borth wick, thy fathers did descend," &c. The following account of this John Scott is given in Dalzell's " Scottish Poems of the Six- teenth Century," on the authority of Lesly and Bishop Spotiswoode. " A person, having a lawsuit, and unable to pay, took refuge in Holyrood-House, which is still a sanctuary for debtors. He abstained a long time from food; on which the King, it is said, tried this faculty, for thirty-two days, in a private chamber. He was dismiss- ed, and, coming half naked into the street, professed to the people, that what he had done was from the assistance of the Vngm IMary. 232 POETRY AND POETS. Many supposed him a sacred person, but others, with more probability, that he was mad; so that, being soon neglected, he went to Rome, where he gave Pope Clement a similar proof, and, be- sides getting a certificate of so valuable a quality, he obtained some money to defray the expense of a journey to Jerusalem. " As he returned by London, he preached against King Henry's divorce and defection from the Holy See, for which he was impri- soned ; and having fasted fifty days, he was dis- missed for a madman. Falling in with another rogue by profession, who earned a livelihood by exhibiting miracles, and selling relics, they agreed to join their fortunes. But one of them appropriating too much of the spoil, the other deserted him ; and, erecting an altar, set up his own daughter, a beautiful young woman, as an image of the Virgin Mary, and thousands flocked to worship her. The cell became a kind of fashionable resort ; young men and women made pilgrimages to the hermit, but, as we learn from Sir David Lindsay's ' Exclamatioun aganis Idolatrie,' for purposes very different from de- vout. The imposture was, however, exposed, as soon as men durst begin to write," POETRV AND POETS. 2.'}3 We must not omit the " Envoy" of Walter Scott's poem : " Ikgone, my book, stretch forth thy wings and fly Amongst the nobles and gentility ; Thou'rt not to sell to scavengers and clowns. But given to worthy persons of renown. The number 's few I've printed, in regard My charges have been great, and I hope reward ; 1 caused not print many above twelve score. And the printers are engaged tliat they shall print no more." The book was reprinted in 177G. BAXTER'S .rUDGMENT OF HIS CONTEMPORARIKS. The following extract from the Prefatory Address to this celebrated Ncmconformist's " Poetical Fragments, 1681," comprises an in- teresting notice of several contemporary wri- ters, of high reputation in their day. " These times have produced many excellent poets ; among wliom, for strength of wit. Dr. [^I\Ir.] Abraham Cooley [[Cowley] justly bears the bell. I much value INlr. Woodford's Para- phrase on the Psalms ; though his genius, or somewhat else, expounds some of the Psalms so, as the next age will confute. A Woman's 234 POETRY AND POETS. PoemSj the Lady Catherine Phillips, are far above contempt ; but that is best to me which is most holy. " Honest George Withers, though a rustic poet, hath been very acceptable; as to some, for his prophecies, so to others, for his plain country honesty. The vulgar were the more pleased with him for being so little courtly as to say — * If I might have been hung, I know uot how To teach my body how to cringe aud bow. And to embrace a fellow's hinder quarters, As if I meant to steal away his garters : When any bowed to me, with congees trim. All I could do, was stand and laugh at-him. Bless me ! thought I, what will this coxcomb do ? When I perceiv'd one reaching at my shoe.' " Quarles yet outwent him : mixing com- petent wit with piety; especially in his poem against ' Rest on Earth.' " Silvester, or Dubartas, seems to me to outdo them both. " Sir Fulk Grevill, Lord Brook, a man of great note in his age, hath a poem lately printed (I67O), for subjects' liberty, which I greatly wonder this age would bear. There are no POETRV AND POETS. 23.") books that have been printed these twenty years, that I more wonder at that ever they were endured, than Richard Hooker's eight books of Ecclesiastical Polity, dedicated by Bishop Gauden to our present King, and vindicated by him, and these poems of Sir Fulk (Jrevilj, Lord Brook. " Davies's ' Noxce teipsum' is an excellent poem, in opening the nature, faculties, and cer- tain immortality of man's soul. " But I must confess, after all, that, next the Scripture Poems, there are none so savoury to me, as Mr. George Herbert's and IMr. George Sandys's. I know that Cowley and others far exceed Herbei-t in wit and accurate composure ; but as Seneca takes with me above all his con- temporaries, because he S2)eaketh things by worfls, feelingly and seriously, like a man that is past jest ; so Herbert speaks to God like one that really believeth a God, and whose business in the world is most with God. Heart-work and Heaven-work make up his books: and Du- bartas is seriously divine ; and George Sandys ' Omne tulit punctum, dum niiscuit utile dulci.' " His Scripture Poems are an elegant and 236 POETRY AND POETS. excellent paraphrase; but especially his Job, whom he hath restored to the original glory. O that he had turned the Psalms into metre fitted to the usual tunes ! It did me good, when Mrs. Wyat invited me to see Bexley-Abbey, in Kent, to see upon the old stone-wall in the garden, a summer-house, with this inscription, in great golden letters, that ' In that place, I\Ir. G. Sandys, after his travels over the world, re- tired himself for his poetry and contemplations.' And none are fitter to retire to God, than such as are tired with seeing all the vanities on earth." An extract from the principal " fragment" in Baxter's Collection, which consists of a Me- trical Memoir of the pious author, may not be unacceptable. " My parents here thy .skilful hand, did plant, Free from the snares of riches and of want ; Their tender care was used for me alone, Because thy Providence gave them but one : Their early precepts so possess'd my heart. That, taking root, they did not thence depait ; Thy wisdom so contriv'd my education, As might expose me to the least temptation ; Much of that guilt thy mercy did prevent, hi which my spring time I should else have spent. POETRY AND POETS. 237 Vet sin sprung up, and early did appear In love of play, and lies produced by fear ; An appetite pleased with forbidden fruit; A proud deligiit in literate repute ; Excess of pleasure in vain tales, romances ; Time spent in feitrned histories and fancies, In idle talk, conform to company; Childhood and youth had too much vanity; Conscience was oft resisted, when itcheck'd, And holy duty 1 did much neglect." TASSO'S " JERUSALEM DELIVERED." Tasso completed this poem in the 30th year of his age ; but it was not published by his own authority. The public had already seen several parts of it, which were furnished them by its pa- trons; but as soon as he had finished the last book, it was sent into the world before he had time to revise, or make those corrections such a work required. The success of the poem was prodi- gious : it was translated into the Latin, French, Spanish, and even the Oriental languages, al- most as soon as it appeared. The satisfaction, which, in spite of Tasso's philosophy, he must naturally have felt by the great applause which he received at this time 238 POETRY AND POETS. from the public, was soon disturbed by a me- lancholy event. Bernardo Tasso, his father, who had passed his old age in tranquillity at Ostia upon the Po, the government of which had been given him by the Duke of Mantua, fell sick. Tasso hastened to attend him, and scarce ever quitted the bed-side during the whole illness of his father; but, spite of all his atten- tion, overcome with age, and the violence of his distemper, Bernardo, to the great affliction of his son, paid the debt of nature. The Duke of Mantua, who had a sincere regard for Bernardo, caused him to be interred, with great pomp, in the Church of St. Egidius, at Mantua, and had this simple inscription placed over his tomb : — " Ossa Bernardi Tassi." — ■" The bones of Ber- nardo Tasso." PETER PINDAR. Dr. Wolcot, better known by the name of Peter Pindar, from the prodigious sale of his early pieces, became a desirable object of bookselling speculation; and about the year 1795, Robinson and Walker entered into a POETRY AND POKTS. 239 treaty to grant him an annuity for his ])ublished works, and, on certain conditions, for his un- published ones. While this was pending, Peter had an attack of asthma, which he did not con- ceal or palliate, but, at meetings of the parties, his asthma always interrupted the business. A fatal result was of course anticipated, and, in- stead of a sum of money, an annuity of £250 per annum was preferred. Soon after the bond was signed, Peter called on Walker, the ma- nager for the parties, who, surveying him with a scrutinizing eye, asked him how he did. " Much better, thank you," said Peter; " I have taken measure of my asthma; the fellow is troublesome, but I know his strength, and am his master." — " Oh !" said Walker, gravely, and turned into an adjoining room, where ^Irs. Walker, a prudent woman, had been listening to the conversation. Peter, aware of the feeling, paid a keen attention to the husband and wife, and heard the latter exclaim, — " There now, didn't I tell you he wouldn't die? fool that you've been ! I knew he wouldn't die." Peter enjoyed the joke, and outlived both the parties, receiving the annuities for twenty-four years, during which, various efforts were used to frustrate his claims. 240 POETRY AND POETS. THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. Among the great number of persons of an inferior station of life and confined education, who have, during the last half-century, distin- guished themselves as poets, none, if we except his countryman Burns, has, in our opinion, inherited from Nature a more ample portion of genius than James Hogg. With a mind so susceptible to the impressions of external objects, and surrounded by scenery calculated to aAvaken his feelings by the com- bination of the picturesque, the romantic, and the sublime, it is hardly to be Avondered at that he should have expressed those feelings in poetry of no common energy and originality. Unlike those pvmy productions of pastoral bards, which the injudicious flattery of admirers, incompetent to form a judgment, has so often obtruded on the public, his compositions may bear comparison with many of the happiest flights of the more cultivated geniuses of this truly poetic age. In almost every style of verse which he has attempted, and there are few which he has left untried, he has succeeded. His Poetical Works, which are comprised in four 12mo. volumes POETRV AND POETS. 241 are I'eplete with beauties, I'roiu which we select the following. " THE MOON WAS A-WANING. " The moon was a-waning, The tempest was over, Fair was the maiden. And fond was the lover : But the si\ow was so deep, That his heart it grew weary. And lie sunk down to sleep In the moorland so dreary. Soft was the bed She had made for her lover, White were the sheets. And embroider'd the cover; But his sheets were more white. And his canopy grander, And sounder he sleeps Where the hill-foxes wander. Alas! pretty maiden. What sorrows attei'.d you, 1 see you sit shiv'ring. With lights at your window ; But long may you wait Ere your arms shall enclose him. For still, still he lies With a wreath ou his bosom. 242 POETRY AND POETS. How painful the task Tlie sad tidings to tell you ; An orphan you were Ere this misery befell you ; And far in yon wild, Where the dead-tapers hover, So cold, cold and wan, Lies the corse of your lover." Hogg is a name of which Scotland may justly be proud : his fame will survive when the me- mory of many who are now more highly ex- tolled, shall be swept away by the ruthless hand of time, and succeeding generations of Scotia's children will peruse with delight the effusions of '' The Ettrick Shepherd." poetry and poets. 243 shakspeare's jubilee. When Garrick first proposed to institute a Jubilee, in honour of our immortal Shakspeare, the public immediately formed very high ex- pectations of the entertainment they were to receive. The design was certainly noble in itself, whatever might be the motives ; and, in spite of all the ridicule and opposition which envy or malice exerted, it was carried into execution. It was allowed, by men of the first rank in the literary world, that no occasion of festivity ever was, or ever could be, more jus- tifiable, than that of paying honours to the memory of so great an ornament to his country, as the inimitable Shakspeare. In the spring and summer of 1769, great preparations were made in all parts of the town, against the approaching festival. A very large and magnificent octagonal amphitheatre was erected upon the Bankcroft, close to the river Avon ; and which, to please the prevailing taste, somewhat resembled Ranelagh Rotunda : it was capable of conveniently holding above one thou- sand spectators. Upon the margin of the Avon were ranged VOL. I. B 244 POETRY AND POETS. thirty cannon, (sixteen of them thirty-two pounders,) twelve cohoms, and some mortars, to be fired upon the opening of, and during, the Jubilee; and an immense quantity of fire- works, and variegated lamps for the illuminations, were sent in two waggons from London, for the amusement of the company. A beautiful ribbon (afterwards formed into favours) was purposely made at Coventry, and called the Jubilee ribbon, which united and blended all the colours of the rainbow. A medal, engraved by Mr. Westwood, of Birmingham, similar to that worn by Garrick, was struck on this occasion, in copper, silver, and gold : these, as well as the ribbon, were eagerly bought up. On one side was a good likeness of Shakspeare, ^vith the following words from his own play of Hamlet, — " We shall not look upon his like again." On the reverse, — " Jubilee at Stratford, in honour and to the memory of Shakspeare. Sept. 1/69. D. G. Steward." The first opening of the Jubilee was announced by firing the cannon, ranged upon the banks of the Avon, about five o'clock on Wednesday morning, the 6th of September, 1769; and im- POETRY AND P0ET8. 245 mediately afterwards, the principal ladies were serenaded by a number of young men, fantasti- cally dressed, belonging to the theatre, with the following song, accompanied by hautboys, flutes, clarionets, guitars, and other instruments : — " Let beauty with the sun arise. To Shakspeare tribute pay; With heav'nly smiles, and speaking eyes, Give lustre to the day. Each smile she gives protects his name, What face shall dare to frown ? Not envy's self can blast the fame. Which beauty deigns to crown." The company were also entertained with the Warwickshire ballad, written by Garrick. The whole town being roused by these performances, the Corporation assembled, about eight o'clock, in one of the principal streets. A public break- fast was held at the Town, or Shakspeare's Hall, at nine, to which every purchaser of a guinea ticket for the various entertainments, (the mas- querade only excepted, which was rated sepa- rately at half- a- guinea,) was admitted, upon payment of a shilling, and regaled with tea, coffee, and chocolate. Garrick^ who officiated as 246 POETRY AND POETS. Steward, came to the breakfast-room soon after eight, to see that every thing was properly pre- pared for the reception of the company, as well as to be himself in readiness to receive them. Previous to the arrival of the company, the IVIayor and Corporation waited upon Garrick, at Shakspeare's Hall; where William Hunt, Esq. the Town Clerk, delivered to him the ensigns of his office, viz. a medal (on which was carved a bust of the bard, and richly set in gold) and wand, both made of the famous mulberry-tree. From the Town Hall, the company proceeded in regular order, to the Church ; where the Ora- torio of " Judith," composed by Dr. Arne, was well performed in a large temporary orchestra, erected under the organ. This piece opened at eleven ; and, at its close, Garrick, at the head of the performers, walked in procession from the Church, attended by a large cavalcade of the nobility and gentry, in their coaches, chaises, &c. to the amphitheatre — Vernon, and the rest, singing the following Chorus : '* This is a day, a holiday ! a holiday ! Drive spleen and rancour far away ; This is a day, a holiday I a holiday ! Drive care and sorrow far away. rOETRY AND POETS. 247 Here Nature nurs'd her darling boy,* From whom all care and sorrow fly, Whose hiirp the Muses strung: From heart to heart let joy rebound. Now, now, we tread enchanted ground, Here Shakspeare walk'd and sung '." At three, a grand and sumptuous banquet was given at the amphitheatre, Garrick presiding as Steward. The company were occasionally gratified with a variety of new songs, catches, and glees^ adapted to the purpose of the Ju- bilee; after which, they separated, to pre- pare for the assembly. The whole town was illuminated, drums were beating, and a tumult of perfect satisfaction every where predominated. The assembly at the amphitheatre was nume- rously attended ; during wliich, a succession of beautiful fire- works were let off. Dancing con- tinued till about three o'clock ; and thus ended the first day's entertainment. On the second day, the performers walked * This verse was sung opposite the house where Shak- speare was born. 248 POETRY AND POETS. in procession, each assuming one of Shak- speare's characters ; it was, in most other respects, similar to the preceding. The third and last day unfortunately turned out rainy, which very naturally damped the ex- pectations of the company. ■WILHA3I CLELAND. It is somewhat remarkable, that Cleland, though one of the most gallant leaders of the oppressed Covenanters, and highly distinguished in his own time for attachment to the patriotic cause, which he zealously and daringly defended both by his sword and his pen, — should only be now known to the public by a few brief and casual notices. Most of the other Whig cham- pions of that period, whether clerical or military — from the devout and enthusiastic Cameron himself, to the dark and desperate Balfour of Burley, — have found some friendly historian to record their achievements and their suiferings. But of Cleland's biography, the few scattered vestiges still existing may be comprised in a few sentences. He first distinguished himself at the conflict POETRY AND POETS. 249 of Drumclog or Loudon Hill, where he acted as an officer of foot. It seems probable, that he had previously acquired some degree of influence among the non-conformists, either from rank, ability, or enthusiasm, since he was chosen, at so early an age, to act as one of their com- manders in that desperate emergency; for he had then scarcely reached his eighteenth year. In his volume of " Poems, composed upon Various Occasions," the lines, entitled ' Hollo my Fancie,' are said to have been " written by him the last year he was at the College, not then fully eighteen years of age." His " Mock Poem upon the Expedition of the Highland Host," was, probably, written about the same period, namely, in the interval between the winter of 1678, when the Highlanders were brought down upon the country, and the insurrection of the Whigs in May, 1679. Perhaps the spirit and zeal displayed in these effusions might recom- mend the author to the respect and confidence of the Cameronian leaders, many of whom were certainly neither deficient in learning nor polite accomplishments, though it has been but too much the fashion since to speak of them as mere illiterate, vulgar, and ferocious enthusiasts. On 250 POETRY AND POETS. the unfortunate day of Bothrv ell-Bridge, Cleland held the rank of Captain. Whether he made his escape beyond seas after being denounced for his appearance at Drumclog and Bothwell, or continued to lurk, with others of the proscribed and " intercommuned" Co- venanters, among the fastnesses of his native country, is not clear; but it appears, from a passage in Wodrow, that he was in Scotland in 1685, " being then under hiding" among the wilds of Lanark and Ayr shires. Captain John Campbell, of Over Welwood, who had some time before escaped from the " iron-house in the Canongate," after skulking for a while among the hills and moors of that wild district, accidentally met with Cleland, about the time " when Argyle was coming in," and " spent most of the summer with him and his compa- nions, John Fullerton, Robert Langlands, George Barclay, and Alexander Peden, and met with many wonderful deliverances." As we hear no- thing more of Cleland till after the Revolution, it seems likely that he effected his escape to the Continent, after the failure of Argyle's iU-con- ducted enterprise, when the only hopes of the oppressed reverted to Holland. s 5 3 ■se 3 POETRY AND POETS. 251 After the Revolution, he was appointed Lieu- tenant-Colonel of the Earl of Angus' regiment, called the Cameronian Regiment, from being chiefly composed of levies raised among that stauncli and zealous clan ; and shortly after, in August, 1689, he was killed at the head of this corps, while they manfully and successfully de- fended the Churchyard of Dunkeld against a superior force of Highlanders. At this period, he is stated to have been " within twenty-eight years of age." Of his personal character it is not possible to form any very accurate estimate, from the little that is known of his history, or even from his Works, which were collected and published, in 1697, in a small 12mo. volume, which is now very scarce. They consist almost entirely of scoffing and indignant satires against the syco- phantish prelates and savage persecutors who had proscribed his friends and ruined his country. An extract from " A iNIock Poem upon the Expedition of the Highland Host, who came to destroy the Western Shires, in Winter, 1678," will serve to give an idea of his acuteness and powers of description, at that early age. 252 POETRY AND POETS. But those who were their chief commanders, As such who bore the pirnie standarts ; Who led the van and drove the rear, Were right well mounted of their gear ; With brogues, trues, and pirnie plaides, And good blew bonnets on their heads, WTiich on the one side had a flipe, Adorn'd with a tobacco-pipe. With durk, and snap-work, and snuflf-mill, A bagg which they with onions fill, And as their strick observers say, A tupe-horn fiU'd with usquebay. A slasht-out coat beneath their plaides, A targe of timber, nails, and hides ; With a long two-handed sword. As good's the countrey can affoord — Had they not need of bulk and bones. Who fights with all these arms at once ? It's marvellous how in such weather O'er hill and hop they came together ; How in such stormes they came so farr ; The reason is, they're smear'd with tar, Which doth defend them heel and neck, Just as it doth their sheep protect — * * * Nought like religion they retain, Of moral honestie they're clean. In nothing they're accounted sharp, Except in bag-pipe and in harpe. For a misobliging word, She'll durk her neighbour o'er the boord. POETRY AND POETS. 253 Aud then she'll flee like fire from flitit, She'll scarcely ward the second dint -. If any ask lier of her thrift, Foresooth her Naimdl lives by thift." POETICAL ASSOCIATIONS CONNECTED WITH GARRETS. We never think of a garret, but an infinitude of melancholy and lanky associations of skin and bone, poets and authors, come thronging on our imaginations. All ideas of the sins of the flesh evaporate on our entrance ; for if all the flesh that has ever inhabited a garret were to be duly weighed in the balances, we are of opinion, that it would not amount to a ton. In walking up the steps that lead to this domiciliary appen- dage of genius, we are wholly overcome by the sanctity of the spot. We think of it as the resort of greatness, the cradle and grave of de- parted intellect, and pay homage to it in a sullen smile, or a flood of tears. A palace, a church, or a theatre, we can contrive to pass with some degree of indifference ; but a garret, a place where Goldsmith flourished, and Chatterton died, we can never presume to enter without first paying a tribute of reverence to the pre- 254 POETRY AND POETS. siding deity of the place. How venerable does it appear, at least if it is a genuine garret, with its angular projections, like the fractures in poor Goldsmith's face, its tattered and thread- bare walls, like old Johnson's wig, and its numberless " loop-holes of retreat" for the north wind to peep through, and cool the poet's imagination. The very forlornness of its situa- tion inspires elevated ideas in proportion to its altitude ; it seems isolated from the world, and adapted solely to the intimate connexion that genius holds with heaven. It was in a lonely garret, far removed from all connexion with mortality, that Otway con- ceived and planned his affecting tragedy of " Venice Preserved ;" and it was in a garret that he ate the stolen roll, which ultimately terminated in his death. It was in a garret that poor Butler indited his inimitable " Hudibras," and convulsed the King and the Court with laughter, while he himself writhed in the pangs of starvation. Some one has thus aptly alluded to the circumstance : — " When Butler, needy wretch ! was yet alive, No generous patron would a dinner give ; POETUY AND POETS. 255 See him, resolv'd to clay and turn'd to dust, Presented with a monumental bust. The poet's fate is here in emblem shown : — He ask'd for bread, and he receiv'd a stone I" A gentleman found Dryden in his old age exposed to the attacks of poverty, and pining in a garret, in an obscure corner of London. " You weep for my situation," exclaimed the venerable poet, on seeing him ; " but, never mind, my young friend, the pang will be over soon." He died a few days afterwards. Poor Chatterton ! " the sleepless boy, who perished in his pride," overcome by the pressure of po- verty, and stung to the quick by the heartless neglect of a bigoted aristocrat, commenced his immortality in a garret in Shoreditch. For two days previous to his death, he had eaten no- thing. His landlady, pitying his desolate con- dition, invited him to sup with her : he spurned the invitation with contempt, and put an end to his existence by poison. Crowds inflicted ele- gies to his memory, the length and breadth of which filled volumes, while the subject of these doleful tributes lies buried in a workhouse bury- ing ground in Shoe-lane, unnoticed by epitaph or eulogy. When a nobleman happened, by 256 POETRY AND POETg. chance, to call upon Johnson, he found this great author in a state of the most desponding hopelessness. A thing which an antiquarian might, perhaps, discover to have once been a table, was stationed in the middle of the garret; a few unfinished papers and manu- scripts were scattered about the uncarpeted floor in every direction, and the unfortu- nate owner of these curiosities had neither pens, ink, paper, nor credit, to continue his lucubrations. It was about this time, when threatened to be turned out of his literary pig- stye, that he applied to Richardson, the celebrated novelist, for assistance, who in- stantly sent him five pounds, a sum which relieved him from misery and a dungeon. Poor Goldsmith was once seated in his garret, where the " Deserted Village" was written, in familiar conversation with a friend, when his pride was considerably annoyed by the abrupt entrance of the little girl of the house, with " Pray, JMr. Goldsmith, can you lend Mrs. — — a chamber-pot full of coals .^" The mortified poet was obliged to return an answer in the negative, and endure the friendly, but sarcastic, condolence of his companion. In a garret, POKTRY AND POETS. 257 either in the Old Bailey, or in Green-arbour Court, the exquisite " Citizen of the World,' and equally celebrated " Vicar of Wakefield," were written. Of the last-mentioned work, the following ludicrous anecdote is not, we believe, generally known : — While Goldsmith was completing the closing pages of his novel, he was roused from his oc- cupation by the unexpected appearance of his landlady, to whom he was considerably in arrears, with a huge bill for the last few weeks' lodgings. The poet was thunderstruck with surprise and consternation : he was unable to answer her demands, either then, or in future. At length, the lady relieved the nature of his embarrassment, by offering to remit the liquida- tion of the debt, provided he would accept her as his true and lawful spouse. His friend. Dr. Johnson, chanced, by great good luck, to come in at the time ; and, by advancing him a sufficient sum to defray the expenses of his establishment, consisting only of himself and a dirty shirt, relieved him from his matrimonial shackles. A literary friend once called to pay Fielding a visit, and found him in a miserable garret. 258 POETRY AND POETS. without either furniture or convenience, seated on a gin-tub turned up for a table, with a com- mon trull by his side, and a half-emptied glass of brandy and water in his hand. This was the idea of consummate happiness entertained by the immortal author of " Tom Jones," by him whose genius handed down to posterity the inimitable character of Square, with his " eter- nal fitness of things." Boissy, the French poet, and his family, being unable to procure subsistence by their literary exertions, came to the somewhat novel expedient of anticipating the period of their starvation. They blocked up the door of their garret with the miserable remnants of their furniture ; and, locked in each other's arms, with their little children by their side, coolly awaited the period of their final release from the thral- dom of existence. In the last hours of sinking nature, the door of their garret was forcibly burst open, and their friend entered, and beheld the parents dying and the children dead. With some difficulty, the former were restored to health, and lived to behold a youth of misery obliterated in an old age of honour and hap- piness. POKTRV AND POETS. 259 Our modern Bloomfield, of rural and pastoral celebrity, wrote his " Farmer's Boy" in a gar- ret occupied by shoemakers, and pursued his poetical occupation amid the din of arms and clattering of heels. Collins composed his odes in some such miserable dwelling ; and, to com- plete the grand climax of intellect, and for ever immortalize the name and reminiscences of a garret, this prodigious exertion of wit, — this beautiful article, was written in one. It is, we believe, generally known, that Johnson and Garrick resolved to try their for- tunes in the metropolis, at one and the same time. They reached London in a most pitiable condition ; the one with a shirt and half a pair of breeches, the other with two brace of stock- ings without tops or bottoms, and took up their abode in an obscure corner of the metro- polis, where they lived in a miserable garret, for some time subsequent to their arrival. The histrionic reputation of Garrick burst out ?.t last in all its meridian refulgence, Avhile the poor lexicographer was condemned to make the most of his solitary shirt, and lie in bed while the linen underwent the unusual but necessary ceremony of ablution. Many years afterward*, VOL. I. s 260 POETRY AND POETS. when both had attained unexampled celebrity, Johnson rallied Garrick at a dinner party on their early poverty, and the meanness of the garret they had occupied. Garrick's pride was nettled at so unwelcome a recollection, and he equivocally denied the assertion. " Come, come," said the surly philosopher to the morti- fied tragedian, " don't forget old friends, Davy ; thou knowest that we lived in a garret for many months, and that I reached London with three- pence in my pocket, whilst thou, Davy, hadst only three halfpence in thine." What a ludicrous sight it must have been, to have suddenly popped upon Johnson as he stood, in a listless attitude, at the corner of some blind alley, with Savage, or divers other wits for his companions, to whom he was dictating the precepts of wisdom, and laying hold of their ragged coats in order to ensure attention. A contemporary satirist, — we forget who it is, — has somewhere mentioned, that he was standing with Savage and Johnson in the manner we have described, when a wag came up, and informed the alarmed company, that he had seen an unpleasant-looking gentleman skulking about, like a hound in pursuit of a bag fox. POETRY AND POETS. 261 The poets instantly decamped, Joluison wad- iWm^ in the rear, afraid, most probably, of an unseasonable visit to the Bench ; and fled to their garrets with a celerity that set all compe- tition at defiance. What a delicious sight to behold, though but for an instant, the undig- nified scampering of the grave big-wigged author of the " Rambler," followed by the galloping lankiness of Savage ! The famous satirist, Churchill, who, as Lord Byron observes, " once blazed the meteor of a season," was originally bred a clergyman ; but, whether from disgust to the sacred functions of a priest, or from despair of ever being able to obtain " the loaves and fishes," or, what is still more probable, from the natural caprice of genius, resigned his profession, and commenced author and politician. He met with the usual concomitants of literature, and composed his " Rosciad" partly at an obscure tavern, and partly in a garret in a remote quarter of the metropolis. As he was once wandering home druiik to his mean abode, he encountered a woman of the town, who joined him, and, seeing his gross inebriety, led him into a field in the 262 POETKY AND POETS. neighbourhood of Battersea. On waking in the morning, the poet stretched out his arms, with the intention of undrawing the curtains of the bed in which he supposed himself to be, and grasped a bundle of cabbages ; to increase, if possible, his surprise, he discovered that he had been deposited on the capacious summit of a dunghill, with a prostitute snoring by his side. His first thought was to tax her with robbing him ; but, on finding his pocket-book safe, he was so pleased with her unusual fit of honesty, that he gave her two-thirds of his possessions, consisting, at that time, of about fifteen guineas (an enormous sum for a poet in those days) and took her to his garret, where she was ever afterwards a welcome visitor. The late celebrated Peter Pindar was noto- rious for his frequent and facetious allusions to garrets, from which, however, his habitual parsimony generally enabled him to escape. When he could find no fault with the produc- tions of an author, it was his common practice to tax him with poverty, and a residence in Grub-street. Indigence was, in his estimation, on a par with guilt. Pope, in his " Dunciad," has shown himself of the same way of thinking. POETHY AND PORTS. 26.'i Dr. Paul Iliffernan, a celebrated wit in the time of Johnson, once went to call on hi.s friend Foote, or, as he was justly called, "the English Aristophanes/' and, without inquiring for his room, ran precipitately up into the garret. Foote, who at that time resided in a less aerial situation, called after him. " 'Tis no use," replied Hiffernan, " to shew me your room ; who ever thought of asking, when every one knows that there never yet was a poet without his garret." Unfortunately, these celebrated abodes of genius, these upper stories, like all other old and dull stones, are now waxing stale and out o\! fashion. Authors are no longer measured by their leanness, poets are no longer skinny, and Parnassus is no longer a bleak, desolate, and unprofitable clime. PECULIAR HABITS OP POETS. Young wrote his " Night Thoughts" with a scull, and a candle in it, before him. His own scull was luckily in the room, or very little aid would have been yielded by the other. It is said, that Dbyden was always cupped 264 POETRY AND POETS. and physicked, previous to a grand effort at tragedy. Be3ibo had a desk of forty divisions, through which his sonnets passed in succession, before they were published; and at each transition, they received correction. Milton used to sit leaning backward obliquely in an easy chair, with his leg flung over the elbow of it. He frequently composed lying in bed in the morning; but when he could not sleep, and lay awake whole nights, not one verse could he make; at other times, flowed easy his unpremeditated lines, with a certain impetus and oestrum, as himself used to be- lieve. Then, whatever the hour, he rang for his daughter to commit them to paper. He would sometimes dictate forty lines in a breath, and then reduce them to half the number. These may appear trifles; but such trifles assume a sort of greatness, when related of what is great- Thuanus tells us, that Tasso was frequently seized with violent fits of distraction ; which yet ilid not prevent his writing excellent verses. POETKY AND POETS. 2(X) Lucretius, also, "running distracted by drink- ing a love potion, wrote some books during his lucid intervals." — Chron. Eusebii. It has been said, that it was not but by strong application and violent labour, that Malherbe produced his divine poetical per- formances. His IMuse might have been compared with some women, who suffer the pangs of child- bearing for seven or eight days successively ; and since his pangs were longer and more violent than those to which Balzac was subject in the like cases, they must have been horrible. Con- sider the following passage in Balzac's Letters to Conrart ; Letter the eleventh : " At last it is finished; I mean the discourse which I men- tioned to you in my last letter, and which is one of the five that I promised you. It has fatigued, it has exhausted me, it has made me curse the trade a dozen times. Though you may tell me, this is still to be more easily satisfied than was that honest man, whom I so often quote to you. He blotted half a ream of paper in making and retrenching one single stanza. If you ai-e cu- rious to know which stanza it was, it begins with — ■ 26G POETRY AND POETS. * Comme en cueillant une guirlande, L'houinie est d'aiitant plus travaill^.' " Good God ! what pains do we take in such trifles ! trifles moral and political, in French and in Latin, in prose and in verse?" This good man was Malherbe, for we find the lines in his Poesies, liv. 4. Balzac also tells us, that Malherbe, the best French poet of his time, " said the most genteel things in the world ; but he did not say them with a good grace, and he was the worst reciter of his age. He spoilt his fine verses in reading them ; besides, that one could scarce hear him for the impediment in his speech and the low- ness of his voice. He spit at least six times in reciting a stanza of four lines ; and it was this which caused the Cavalier IMarin to say of him, that he had never seen so moist a man, or so dry a poet." POETRY AND POETS. The second thoughts of poets are not un- worthy of notice. Pope has this verse in his " Essay on Man ." " Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man, A mighty maze ! but not without a plan.'*. POETRY AND POETS. 267 But in the first edition it was, " A mighty maze without a plan !" Gray's second thoughts seem to be better than the first, for he displays the same contradiction. In the first edition of his " Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat," it was printed, "What cat's a foe to fish?" when the strongest proof of it is in this very ode. It was altered to " What cat's averse to fish ?" Such inadvertencies, however, though they may be good-humouredly pointed out, will take place even amongst the greatest geniuses. " You ought not to write verses," said King George II., who had little taste, to Lord Hervey, " 'tis beneath your rank : leave such work to little i\Ir. Pope ; it is his trade !" On the other hand, Woolaston's " Religion of Nature Deli- neated" even became a fashionable book at Court, /or the Queen read it. A HAPPY thought, which may please the Court, is better for a poet, than all his geniiis, learning, or even integrity. Dr. Donne, in the IGHih page of his " Pseudo INIartyr," holds, that when men congregate to form the hodi/ of civil society, then it is that the suul of society. So- 268 POETRY AND FOETS. VEREIGN Power, is sent from God, just as he sends the soul into the human embargo, when the two sexes propagate their kind. In the 19th page, and elsewhere, he mentioned, that the office of the civil sovereign extends to the care of soul! For this absurd and blasphemous trash, James I. made him Dean of St. Paul's ; all the wit and publicity of Donne's genius having never enabled him to get bread through the better part of his life. — Warhurton. Beaumont, usually the poetical partner with Fletcher, wrote a poem, entitled, " The Her- maphrodite." It was printed singly, in 4to. 1602. Beaumont has prefixed to his Herma- phroditus a few lines, by way of introduction, which conclude with a very odd wish, viz, " I hope my yoem is so lively writ, That thou wilt get half mad with reading it." Thomas Bastard, a celebrated poet and preacher, of the 17th century, published, in 1605, five sermons. The three first, upon Luke i. ver. 76, are entitled, " The IMarigold and the Sun." The same author entitled another pub- POETHY AND POETS. 2G9 lished sermon, " A Christian Exhortarion to innocent Anger." The Kirk of Scotland may do good without intending it. Poetry is really a bad trade. Sir Walter Scott tells us, in his " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," that a poor scholar in Scotland was publicly obliged to renounce " the unprofitable and ungodly art of poetry !" What a lordly age of poetry is this ! They quite elbow poor poets out of the vestibule of Parnassus. Lord Byron, Lord Carlisle, Lord Holland, Lord Strangford, Lord Thurlow, Lord Glenbervie, Lord Porchester, and several others, besides some in training ; and yet, says Selden, " 'Tis ridiculous for a Lord to print verses ; 'tis well enough to make them to please yourself, but to make them to please the public, is foolish. If a man is a private character, twirl his band- strings, or play with a rush to please himself, 'tis well enough ; but if he should go into Fleet-street, and sit upon a stall, and twirl a band-string, or play with a rush, then all the boys in the street would laugh at him." 270 POETRY AND POETS. HENAULT. This French poet " was a man of genius and erudition," says his biographer, " but strangely wrong-headed in one respect; he professing Atheism, and priding himself in his opinion with a most detestable affectation and fury. He had drawn up three different systems with re- gard to the mortality of the soul, and went to Holland purposely to visit Spinosa, who, never- theless, did not much esteem his erudition. But things wore a quite different face at his death, he being a convert to the other extreme; for his confessor was forced to prevent his receiving the viaticum or sacrament with a halter about his neck, in the irdddle of his chamber." mallet's infidelity. Mallet was not only a great free-thinker, but a very free speaker of his free thoughts. He made no scruple to disseminate his sceptical opinions wherever he could with any propriet)' introduce them. At his own table, indeed, the lady of the house, who was a staunch advocate for her husband's opinions, would often, in the POKTHY AND POKTS. 271 warmtli of argument, say, " Sir, we Deists." — She once made use of this expression, in a mixed company, to David Hume, who refused the in- tended comjjlinient, by asserting; that he was a very good Christian ; for the truth of which, he appealed to a worthy clergyman present ; and this occasioned a laugh, which a little discon- certed the lady and Mr. Mallet. The lecture upon the nvn-credenda of the Free-thinkers was repeated so often, and urged with so much earnestness, that the inferior do- mestics soon became as able disputants as the heads of the family. The fellow who waited at table being thoroughly convinced that for any of his misdeeds he should have no after- account to make, was resolved to profit by the doctrine, and made off with many things of value, particularly plate. Luckily he was so closely pursued, that he was brought back with his spoil to his master's house, who examined him before some of his select friends. At first the man was sullen, and would answer no ques- tions put to him ; but being urged to give a reason for his infamous behaviour, he resolutely said, " Sir, I had heard you so often talk of the impossibility of a future state, and that after 272 POETRY AND POETS. death there was no reward for virtue, or punish- ment for vice, that I was tempted to commit the robbery." " Well, but, you rascal !" replied Mallet, " had you no fear of the gallows ?"— " Sir," said the fellow, looking sternly at his master, " what is that to you, if I had a mind to venture that ? You had removed my greatest terror, why should I fear the lesser?" WALLER. This poet, on his death-bed, professed his Christian faitli with great earnestness, telling his children that he remembered, when the Duke of Buckingham once talked profanely before King Charles, he told him, " ]My Lord, I am a great deal older than your Grace, and believe I have heard more arguments for Atheism than ever your Grace did ; but I have lived long enough to see there is nothing in them^ and so I hope your Grace will." menage's memory. Menage wrote verses in complaint of his loss of memory. We will quote the (translated) sense of his fine Latin Hymn to the Goddess of Memory : — " O iMnemosyne ! venerable mo- POETRY AND POKTS. 27^ ther of the Pluses, thou great favourite of Jove himself, the father of the gods, dost thou with- draw thy patronage from me, thy faithful client r Alas ! I remember when in my youthful days I could have recited the names of a thousand ])hilosophers and a thousand sects, and relate a tliousand passages of history, and give an ac- count of all the nations upon earth. Now, I have forgotten all these names; I hardly re- member my own. I remember when I could repeat great part of Homer and Ovid, and the whole Works of Virgil ; but now, I have lost all that treasure of poetry. I cannot so much as repeat the verses which I composed but the other day myself. The great Bignon, the won- der of France, wondered to hear me repeat the •whole heads of the law. When I was young, I used to relate the pleasant tales and acute sayings of the philosophers to crowds of ad- miring youth. That faculty by which I made myself agreeable to the young ladies, is no more ; I am now become their scorn. I remember when they used to be swallowed up in attention while I spoke; but now, when I repeat the same tales, the same verses as before, (not dreaming that they were the same they had formerly heard 274 POETRY AND POETS. from my mouth, till a trusty old friend gave me the hint,) they disdainfully leave me in the middle of my recital." It appears, tliat after this, his memory was restored to him, and he published a poem of thanks to the goddess when he was seventy- seven years, three months, and seven days old. VANITY OF FRENCH POETS. Santeul, a French canon, was very vain of his poetical talents. When he had finished any poetry, he used to say, " Now I will go and put chains along all the bridges of the town, to prevent my brother bards from drowning themselves." Du Perrier, a French poet, finding Boileau one day at church, insisted upon repeating to him an ode, even during the elevation of the host ! binet and ronsard. That one author will flatter another,, in hopes to be repaid in kind, is famously instanced in the Life of Ronsard, the French Poet, by Binet. POETRY AND POETS. 27-'> " Ronsard," says he, " was born on Saturday, the 11th of September, 1524, on wliicli day. King Francis I. was taken before Pavia. It may be made a question whether France re- ceived more injury by this unhappy capture, than advantage by this auspicious birth of Ron- sard, which was signalized, like that of other great men, by so memorable an incident. Thus, the birth of Alexander the Great was signalized and illuminated, as it were, by the l)urning of the Temple of Diana, in the city of Ephesus." This must needs be a noble compensation ! and the French must have been sufficiently in- demnified for the imprisonment of tlieir King, (an incident which brought that kingdom to the brink of ruin,) since a man of wit was born that day amongst them, who has enriched them with the Lord knows how many thousand verses, in sonnets, madrigals, stanzas, hymns, odes, &c. Ronsard had a good opinion of his " Franciad," as appears by the following lines : " Un lit ce livre pour appreudrc, L' autre le lit comme cnvieux : II est bien ais6 de reprendre, Mais mal ais6 de fairc mieux." VOL. I. T 276 POETRY AND POKTS. The sense of wliich is^ " One reads this volume for instruction's sake ; Another reads it with an envious spirit: Nothing is easier than to cast a censure, But to excel it, that, my friend, 's the point." MALLET AND GARRICK. The vanity of David Garrick was insatiate ; and being so visible to all, they had but to ad- minister to this weakness, and they achieved their point. Mallet, who wrote the Life of the Duke of iMarlborough, wishing to have his tra- gedy of " Elvira" brought forward, adopted this mode. Having waited upon him one day, after the common salute, INIr. Garrick asked him what it was that employed his studies. " Why, upon my word," said iMallet, " I am eternally fatigued with preparing and arranging materials for the Life of the great Duke of Marlborough ; my nights and days are occupied with that history; and you know, IMr. Garrick, that it is a very bright and interesting period in the British annals. But hark'ye, my friend, do you know that I have found out a very pretty snug niche POETRY AND POETS. 277 in it for you?" — " Hey! how's that? a niche for me!" said the Manager, turning quickly upon him, his eyes sparkling with unusual fire; " how the devil could you bring me into the history of John Churchill, Duke of Marlbo- rough?" — " That's my business, my dear friend," rejoined Mallet, "but I tell you I have done it. " — " Well, faith. Mallet, you have the art of surprising your friends in the most unexpected and the politest manner: but why won't you, now, who are so well qualified, write something for the stage ? You should relax, you know ! for I am sure the theatre is a mere matter of diversion, a pleasure to you." — " Why, faith," said the other, " to tell you the truth, I have, whenever I could rob the Duke of an hour or so, employed myself in adapting La IMotte's ' Ines de Castro,' to the English stage, and — here it is." The Manager embraced " Elvira" with rapture, and brought it forward with all expedition. A gentleman of the law, who could not miss such an opportunity of laughing at Mr. Gar- rick's preposterous vanity, met liim one day, and told him he had been applied to by the booksellers to publish an edition of the Statutes 278 POETRY AND POETS. at Large^ and he hoped he should find a snug niche in them, to introduce him. EDWARD HOWARD, EARL OF SUFFOLK. Walpole says, " I was told the following story of this nobleman, by a gentleman well known in the literary world, who, when he first appeared as an author, was sent for by this noble Lord to his house. His Lordship told him, that he employed many of his idle hours in poetry ; but that, having the misfortune to be of the same name with the Hon. Edward Howard, so much ridiculed in the last age, no printer would meddle with his works ; which, therefore, he desired the gentleman to recom- mend to some of the profession of his acquaint- ance. The gentleman excused himself as well as he could. The Earl then began to read some of his verses ; but coming to the descrip- tion of a beautiful woman, he suddenly stopped, and said, ' Sir, I am not like most poets : I do not draw from ideal mistresses ; I always have my subject before me ;' and, ringing the bell, he said to the footman, 'Call up Fine Eyes.' A woman of the town appeared ; ' Fine Eyes,' said the Earl, 'look full on this gentleman:' POETRY AND POETS. 279 she did, and retired. Two or three others of the seraglio were summoned in their turns, and displayed the respective charms, tor which they had been distinguished by his lordship's pencil." SIR DAVID LINDSAY. Ok this early poet, and zealous reprobator of the abuses of the Romish Church, Pinkerton has remarked, that " he was, in fact, more the Reformer of Scotland than John Knox ; for he had prepared the ground, and Knox only sowed the seed." — " Sir David Lindsay, of the INIount," says Archbishop Spotswood, " shall be first named ; a man honourably descended, and greatly favoured by King James the Fifth. Besides his knowledge and judgment of heraldry, whereof he was the chief, Qbeing Lord Lyon, King of Arms^ and in other pub- lic matters, he was most religiously inclined ; but much hated by the clergy, for the liberty he used in condemning the superstition of the time, and rebuking their loose and dissolute lives." The following instance of the boldness with which he satirized their ignorance and 280 POETRY AND POETS. rapacity is related by Charters, in his Preface to Lindsay's " Warkis." The King, James the Fifth, being one day surrounded by a numerous train of nobility and prelates, Lindsay approached him with due reverence, and began to prefer a humble peti- tion that he would instal him in an office which was then vacant. " I have," said he, " servit your Grace lang, and luik to be rewardit as others are : and now your maister taylor, at the pleasure of God, is departit, wherefore I wold desire of your Grace to bestow this little bene- fite upon me." The King answered, that he was amazed at such a request from a man who could neither shape nor sew. "Sir," replied the poet, "that makes nae matter; for you have given bishoprics and benefices to mony standing here about you, and yet they can nouther teach nor preach ; and why may not I as Weill be your taylor, thoch I can nouther shape nor sew ; seeing teaching and preaching are nae less requisite to their vocation, than shaping and sewing to ane taylor." The King, who now perceived the object of his petition, did not scruple to divert himself at the expense POETRY AM) POETS. 281 of the ecclesiastics, wlio were flailed beyond measure, as well by the justice as by the severity of the rebuke. His poem, called the " Monarchie," which In one of the most poetical of his numerous com- positions, is an account of the most famous monarchies that have flourished in the world ; and, like all the Gothic prose-histories, or chronicles, on the same favourite subject, it begins with the creation of the world, and ends with tlie day of judgment. An extract from his account of the first of these events, in which we have modernised the s]ielling, but without changing a word of the original, will give the reader no unpleasing idea of his skill in de- scriptive versification. " WTieii God had made the heavens bright, The sun and niooii for to give light, 'I'he starry heav'n and chrj>talline, And, by his sapience divine. The planets, in their circles round, VVhirliiic: about with merry sound ; — He clad the earth with herbs and trees. All kind of fishes in the seas, All kind of beasts he did prepare. With (owUh flying in the air. 282 POETRY AND POETS. When heaven, earth, and their contents. Were ended, with their ornaments. Then, last of all, the Lord began Of most vile earth to make the man ; Not of the lily, or the rose. Nor cyper-tree, as I suppose, Neither of gold, nor precious stones, — Of earth he made flesh, blood, and bones. To that intent God made him thus, — That man should not be glorious. Nor ill himself nothing should see. But matter of humility." Considering that these " nervous, terse, and polished lines," as Warton justly styles them, were written in the year 1553, one is surprised to meet with such an harmonious flow of verse, clothed in language so little obscure, at so early a period of Scottish literature. TASSO, AND THE ROBBER's CAPTAIN. The confines of the ecclesiastical states were formerly so infested by banditti, that travellers went in parties for each other's protection. Tasso, having occasion to proceed from Naples to Rome, joined himself to one of these companies ; and when they came within sight of Mola^ a little town near Gaieta, they received intelli- gence that Sciarra, a famous captain of robbers. POETRY AND POKTS. 2^53 was near at hand, with a great body of men. Tasso was of opinion, that they should continue their journey, and endeavour to defend tlieni- selves ; but his opinion was overruled, and they threw themselves into IMola for safety. Here they remained some time, in a manner blocked up by Sciarra. At last, the outlaw, hearing that Tasso was one of the party, sent a message, assuring him he might pass in safety, and offered to conduct him wherever he pleased. Tasso returned his thanks, but declined the offer ; not, perhaps, daring to rely on the word of such a man as Sciarra. The robber then sent another message, informing Tasso, that, on his account, he would withdraw his men, and leave the way open. A proof of the great reputation his works had gained him, even amongst the vilest of mankind. Sciarra did as he said, and Tasso, continuing his journey, arrived at Rome without accident. DEATH OK TASSO. Tasso, towards the close of his life, was enjoying that tranquillity which he so much loved, when Cardinal Cynthio found means to 284 POKTRY AND POETS. recall him from Naples to Rome, by persuading the Pope to give him the honour of being solemnly crowned with laurel in the capitol. Tasso was not desirous of this honour, but he, at last, yielded to the persuasion of Manso, and departed for Rome, although he had a secret presage it would never take place. Tasso was greatly affected at parting with Manso, and took his leave of him as with one he should never see again. Tasso arrived at Rome 1595, where he was met by many prelates and other persons of dis- tinction, and was afterwards introduced, by the two Cardinals, Cynthio and Pietro, to the pre- sence of the Pope, who was pleased to tell him, " that his merit would add as much honour to the laurel he was going to receive, as that cro\^'n had added to the honour of those on whom it had formerly been conferred." No- thing was now thought of but the approaching solemnity ; orders were given not onlj- to deco- rate the Pope's palace, but the capitol and all principal streets through which the procession had to pass. Tasso appeared unmoved by all these preparations ; and, being shown a sonnet POETRY AND POETS. 285 composed for the occasion by a relation, he made the followin<( answer, from Seneca, de- scriptive of his forebodings : — " Magnifica verba mors propfe adiiiota excutit." (approaching death cuts short all praises). And it proved too true ; for whilst they waited for fair weather to celebrate the ceremony. Car- dinal Cynlhio fell ill, and, as soon as he recovered, Tasso was seized with his last sickness ; and, although he had not completed his fifty-first year, his studies and misfortunes had brought on him a premature old age. Being persuaded that his end was approach- ing, he desired to spend a few days in the monastery of St. Onuphrius ; to which place he was carried in Cynthio's coach, and was received and treated with the utmost tenderness by the prior and brethren. The physicians in Rome tried all their art, but Tasso, notwith- standing, grew worse ; and when Rinaldini, his intimate, and the Pope's physician, told him his last hour was at hand, he thanked him for the tidings, and " acknowledged the goodness of God, who was pleased, at last, to bring him into port after so long a storm." From that time 286 POETRY AND POETS. he disengaged his thoughts from earthly things, received the sacrament in the chapel of the con- vent, whither he was carried by the brethren, and then brought back to his chamber. Being asked where he would be interred, he replied, in the church of St. Onuphrius. To the re- quest, that he would leave a memorial of his will in writing, and dictate the epitaph to be engraven on his tomb, he smiled, and said, " In regard to the first, he had little worldly goods to leave; and as to the second, a plain stone would suffice over him." He left Cardinal Cynthio his heir ; and desired his picture to be given to his friend, Manso ; and received the Pope's bene- diction from the hand of Cynthio, an honour never so conferred but on Cardinals, and men of distinction. He received it with great humility, and said, " This is the crown I came to Rome to receive." On the Cardinal's desiring to know if he had any request to make, Tasso said, — " he had but one favour to desire of him, which was, that he would collect and commit his works to the flames" (particularly his " Je- rusalem Delivered," the most perfect). In the middle of the next day, finding himself growing faint, he embraced the crucifix held to POKTKY AND POKTS. 287 him by his confessor, and expired ere he could utter the whole of the sentence, " In manus luas, Doinine .'" — (Into thy hands, O Lord ! — ) He was buried, the same evening, where he had desired, and a plain stone placed over his remains. Cardinal Cynthio intended to have placed a magnificent monument over his re- mains, but had been prevented by ten years' sickness, when iNIanso came to Rome to visit the grave of his friend, and entreated to take charge of the erection ; but this the Cardinal would not permit. He prevailed so far as to have engraved on the stone : — " Hie jacet Tor- quatus Tasso." — " Here lies Torquato Tasso." JAMES, DUKE OF YORK, (sECOND SON OP CHARLES I.) AND WILTON. The Duke of York, it is said, one day told the King, his brother, that he had heard so much of " old Milton," he had a great desire to see him. Charles told the Duke, that he had no objection to his satisfying his curiosity ; and accordingly, shortly after, James, having in- formed liimself where IMilton lived, went privately to his house. Being introduced to 2o8 POETRY AND POKTS. him, and Milton being informed of the rank of his guest, they conversed together for some time ; but, in the course of their conversation, the Duke asked IMilton, " Whether he did not think the loss of his sight was a judgment upon him for what he had Avritten against the late King, his father?" Milton's reply was to this effect: — "If your Highness thinks that the calamities which befall us here are indications of the wrath of heaven, in what manner are we to account for the fate of the King, your father ? The displeasure of heaven must, upon this supposition, have been much greater against him than against me ; for I have only lost my eyes, but he lost his head." The Duke was exceedingly nettled at this answer, and went away, soon after, very angry. \Vhen he came back to the Court, the first thing he said to the King, was, " Brother, you are greatly to blame that you don't have that old rogue, Milton, hanged." — " Why, what's the matter, James ?" said the King ; " you seem in a heat : what ! have you seen Milton?" — "Yes," answered the Duke, "I have seen him." — "Well," said the King, " in what condition did you find him ?" POETRY AND POKTS. 289 — " Condition !" replied the Duke ; " why, he's old, and very poor." — " Old and poor !" said the King ; " well, and he is blind, is he not ?" — " Yes," said the Duke, "blind as a beetle." — " Why, then, you are a fool, James," replied the King, " to want to have him hanged as a punishment: — to hang him will be doing him a service; it will be taking him out of his miseries. No, if he is old, poor, and blind, he is miserable enough, in all conscience : — let him live." DOCTOR WOLCOT, ALIAS PETER PINDAR. Dr. Wolcot, at an early period, discovered a strong attachment to theatrical entertainments. This, of course, was connected with a liking for actors and actresses, and he once had an opportunity both of evincing and illustrating this partiality ; for when an itinerant company was driven, by legal violence, from Kingsbridge, in Devonshire, he kindly interposed, and af- forded it an asylum within his own premises, in the neighbouring parish of Dodbrooke. This gave birth to an " Ode to my Barn," which appears to have been the receptacle in which 290 POETRY AND POETS. the hapless children of Thespis took refuge from the joint persecution of the justices, churchwardens, and overseers. " Sweet haunt of solitude and rats, Mice, tuneful owls, and purring cats. Who, while we mortals sleep, the gloom pervade ; And wish not for the Sun's all-seeing eye. Their mousing mysteries to espy ; Blest, like philosophers, amidst the shade! When Persecution, with an iron hand, Dared drive the moral-menders from the land, Call'd Players — friendly to the wandering crew, Thine eye with tears survey'd the mighty wrong. Thine open arms receiv'd the mournful throng. Kings without shirts, and queens with half a shoe. Alas ! what dangers gloom'd of late around ! Monarchs and queens, with halters nearly bound ; Duke, dukeling, princess, prince, consign'd to jail : And, what the very soul of pity shocks. The poor old Lear was threaten'd with the stocks — Cordelia, with the cart's unfeeling tail." DEATH OP DR. WOLCOT. During the excessive heat which occurred in August, 1818, the Doctor took to his bed, which POETRY AND POETS. 291 he never expected to leave : he felt his strength decaying, and became resigned to the dispensa- tions of Providence. Having determined on the disposal of his property, he dictated a short will, in which he directed his musical instruments, (excepting a piano forte,) pictures, prints, crayon drawings, and two folio copies of Shakspeare, to be sold. He bequeathed a few pecuniary legacies to friends, and his furniture, piano forte, and £110 to one servant, and £50 to the other. Such was the nicety of his honour with regard to the just settlement of his debts, that he desired a sum of five pounds, formerly borrowed, might be repaid, if, on inquiry, it should appear to be still owing. He also directed an old picture by Ruysdael, then in his possession, but not his property, to be returned to the owner ; and left instructions for £50 to be paid to each of his executors. The residue he intended for his sister, whom, as the only surviving relative of near affinity, he considered the most equitable inheritor. During the months of October and November he considerably recovered, and at intervals his manuscripts were brought to his bed-side, and VOL. r. u 292 FOETRY AND POETS. cursorily examined, when he directed several to be destroyed. In December he grew much weaker, and became quite helpless. The day preceding his death he took, as he considered, a final farewell of some friends, and the next morning, Thursday, the 14th January, 1819, expired about ten o'clock, with such per- fect ease, that his attendants knew not the exact moment. LONDON : Printed by D. S. Maurice, Fenchurch-street. 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