On Carthage' plains when Marius meets the eye,
And the stern prætor's mandate bids him fly;
Fresh from the view the strong reflection springs,
How strange the vast vicissitude of things!
Rome's rival city to the dust depress'd;
Her haughty consul there denied to rest 49!
When Persia's conqueror, midst her female train,
Appears the chaste, the gen'rous, and humane;
His looks, his action, on the mind impress
The needful knowledge how to bear success so.
Thus may thy art, O friend, for ever prove
Of force, to virtue, and from vice to move!
To statesmen, thoughtless on the heights of pow'r,
Mark Wolsey's fall, or show his final hour;
To patriot eyes give Marvell's calm disdain,
When Danby urg'd the tempting bribe in vain s1;
Or bid the inconstant her own doom deplore
In the sad exit of the hapless Shore 11.
Without the entheus Nature's self bestows,
The world no painter nor no poet knows:
But think not mind in its own depth contains
A source of wealth that no disbursement drains:
Quick observation, ever on the wing,
Home, like the bee, its useful stores must bring; From hills, and vales, and rocks, and streams, and trees,
And towns, and all that people those and these ;
From meanest objects that may hints inspire,
Discolour'd walls, or heaps of glowing fire $3.
Care too beside thee still must take her place,
Retouch each stroke, and polish every grace;
For when we join not dignity with ease,
Nor thou canst paint, nor I can write, to please.
Perfection's point the artist nearest gains,
Who with his work unsatisfy'd remains:
Da Vinci's thought an excellence conceiv'd,
That his eye miss'd in all his hand achiev'd $4.
The clear-obscure how happiest to produce,
And what of various tints the various use,
My lay to that presumes not to aspire,
Nor with trite precept this thy ear shall tire:
Coreggio's practice that describes the best:
In Fresnoy's theory this we find express'd.
No rude incongruence should thy piece disgrace,
No motley modes of diff'rent time and place;
By Grecian chiefs no Gallic airs be wornss,
Nor in their hands be modern weapons borne;
Nor mix the crested helm and coat of mail
With the vast curl'd peruke, or pointed tail.
collection of prints: also the abbé Du Bos's Reflections on Poetry, Painting, and Music; and Dr. Warton's ingenious Essay on Didactic Poetry, in his translation of Virgil.
49 There is a fine picture of Mortimer's on this subject. The reply of Marius to the messenger who came with orders for him to depart, was nobly concise and affecting: "Go, tell the prætor thou hast seen Marius sitting on the ruins of Carthage." so Vide Le Brun's Alexander in the tent of Darius, engraved by Edelinck.
And sacred ever be the solemn scene
From base intrusion of burlesque and mean;
Nor in a patriarch's or apostle's sight
Set snarling dogs and growling cats to fight.
One caution further must the Muse impart;
Shun naked form, that scandal of thy art:
Even Dryden blames them who refuse to spare
The painful blushes of the modest fair.
Let Decency her veil of drapery throw,
And Grace diffuse its folds in easy flow 56.
And now, my friend, for thee may Fortune find
Employ congenial to thy liberal mind;
Not tasks impos'd by power, or chosen for gain,
Begun reluctant, and pursu'd with pain.
What warms the heart, the hand with force reveals,
And all that force the charm'd spectator feels:
For genius, piercing as the electric flame,
When wak'd in one, in others wakes the same.
THE following Sonnets, and the Stanzas addressed to Mrs. Macaulay, appeared in Pearch's Collection of Poems published in 1770. The remaining pieces are now first printed.
APOLOGY FOR RETIREMENT. 1766.
WHY asks my friend what cheers my passing day,
Where these lone fields my rural home enclose,
That all the pomp the crowded city shows
Ne'er from that home allures my steps away?
Now through the upland shade I musing stray,
And catch the gale that o'er the woodbine blows;
Now in the meads on river banks repose,
And breathe rich odour from the new-mown hay:
Now pleas'd I read the poet's lofty lay,
Where music fraught with useful knowledge flows; Now Delia's converse makes the moments gay, The maid for love and innocence I chose: O friend! the man who joys like these can taste, On vice and folly needs no hour to waste.
THRICE has the year its vary'd circuit run, And swiftly, Delia, have the moments flown, Since with my love for thee my care begun, To improve thy tender mind to science prone.
51 See the Life of Andrew Marvell, in Cibber's The flatteries of my sex I bade thee shun, Lives of the Poets.
52 The interview between Shore and her husband, in the last scene of Rowe's tragedy, would afford
I bade thee shun the manners of thy own;
Fictitious manners, by example won,
That ill for loss of innocence atone!
56 Vide Dryden's preface to his translation of
54 Vide Graham's Account of Painters, in Dry-Fresnoy's Art of Painting, p. 22, &c. where the den's Fresnoy, p. 278.
55 Vide Reynolds's Discourses, p. 87.
licence of painters, in the above respect, is severely censured.
SONNETS...STANZAS...ELEGY.
Say, gen'rous maiden, in whose gentle breast
Dwells simple Nature, undisguis'd by art,
Now amply tried by time's unerring test,
How just the dictates of this faithful heart;
Which, with the joys thy fav'ring smiles impart,
Deems all its care repaid, itself supremely bless'd.
AFTER READING SHENSTONE'S ELEGIES. 1766.
THE gentle Shenstone much of Fortune 'plain'd,
Where Nature's hand the liberal spirit gave;
Partial, her bounty she too oft restrain'd,
But pour'd it full on Folly's tasteless slave.
By her alike my humble prayer disdain'd,
She stern denies the only boon I crave;
O'er my fields, fair as those Elysian feign'd,
To bid the green walk wind, the green wood wave.
On the high hill to raise the higher tower,
To ope wide prospects over distant plains,
Where by broad rivers towns and villas rise;
Though leagued in war tremendous round thy shore-
But from thyself, thy ruin must proceed!
Nor boast thy power; for know it is decreed,
Thy freedom lost, thy power shall be no more!
MRS. MACAULEY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 1766.
To Albion's bards the Muse of history spoke:
"Record the glories of your native land,
How Power's rude chain her sons' brave efforts broke,
And the keen scourge tore from Oppression's
hand.
"Give to renown the patriot's noble deeds;
Brand with disgrace the tyrant's hated name;
Though Falsehood oft awhile the mind misleads,
Impartial Time bestows impartial fame."
She said; and soon the lofty lyre they strung,
But artful chang'd the subject and the lore;
Taste prompts the wish, but Fortune bounds the Of kings, and courts, and courtly slaves they sung,
Yet while Health cheers, and Competence sustains, These more than all, Contentment bids me prize.
And gloss'd with vain applause their actions o'er.
The servile strain the Muse indignant heard;
Anxious for truth, for public virtue warm,
She Freedom's faithful advocate appear'd,
And bore on Earth the fair Macaulay's form.
FRIEND of my heart, by fav'ring Heav'n bestow'd,
My lov'd companion on life's various road!
Now six swift years have wing'd their flight away
Since yon bright Sun adorn'd our nuptial day-
For thy sweet smiles, that all my cares remove,
Sooth all my griefs, and all my joys improve;
For thy sweet converse, ever fram'd to please,
With prudence lively, sensible with ease;
To thee the Muse awakes her tuneful lay,
The thanks of gratitude sincere to pay!
Thus long may Hymen hold for us his reign,
And twine with wreaths of flowers his easy chain;
Still may fond love and firmest faith be mine,
Still health, and peace, and happiness be thine!
WRITTEN AT MEDHURST, IN SUSSEX,
ON THE AUTHOR'S RETURN FROM CHICHESTER, where he
HAD ATTEMPTED IN VAIN TO FIND THE BURIAL-PLACE
OF COLLINS.
To view the beauties of my native land,
O'er many a pleasing distant scene I rove; Now climb the rock, or wander on the strand, Or trace the rill, or penetrate the grove.
From Baia's hills, from Portsea's spreading wave,
To fair Cicestria's lonely walls I stray;
To her fam'd poet's venerated grave,
Anxious my tribute of respect to pay 1.
O'er the dim pavement of the solemn fane,
Midst the rude stones that crowd th' adjoining
The sacred spot I seek, but seek in vain; [space,
In vain I ask-for none can point the place.
What boots the eye whose quick observant glance
Marks ev'ry nobler, ev'ry fairer form?
What the skill'd ear that sound's sweet charms en-
trance,
Of Genius oft, and Learning, worse the lot;
For them no care, to them no honour shown 2: Alive neglected, and when dead forgot,
Even Collins slumbers in a grave unknown.
Flow, Lavant, flow! along thy sedgy shore
Bear the fraught vessel from the neighb'ring main!
Enrich thy sons!-but on thy banks no more
May lofty poet breathe his tuneful strain!
PROCEED, my friend, pursue thy healthful toil,
Dispose thy ground, and meliorate thy soil; [ers,
Range thy young plants in walks, or clumps, or bow-
Diffuse o'er sunny banks thy fragrant flowers;
And, while the new creation round thee springs,
Enjoy uncheck'd the guiltless bliss it brings:
But hope no more. Though Fancy forward stray,
There scenes of distant pleasure to survey,
To expatiate fondly o'er the future grove,
The happy haunt of Friendship and of Love;
Know, each fair image form'd within thy mind,
Far wide of truth thy sick'ning sight shall find!
WHILE thou far hence on Albion's southern shore
View'st her white rocks, and hear'st her ocean roar;
Through scenes, where we together stray'd, I stray,
And think o'er talk of many a long-past day.
That fav'rite park now tempts my steps again,
On whose green turf so oft at ease we 've lain;
While Hertford's turrets rose in prospect fair,
And my fond thought beheld my Sylvia there;
And much the Muse rehears'd in careless lays
The lover's sufferings and the beauty's praise.
Those elm-crown'd fields, now oft my walk invite,
Whence Lee's wide vale lies pleasant to the sight;
Where, as our view o'er towns and villas roll'd,
Our fancy imag'd how they look'd of old;
When Gothic mansions there uprear'd their towers,
Their halls for banquet, and for rest their bowers.
But, O my friend! whene'er I seek these scenes
Of lovely prospects and delightful greens;
Regardless idly of the joys possess'd,
I dream of days to come, of days more bless'd, When thou with me shalt wander here once more, And the fond breast with gen'rous passion warm? And we shall talk again our fav'rite topics o'er.
What boots the power each image to portray,
The power with force each feeling to express?
How vain the hope that through life's little day,
The soul with thought of future fame can bless?
While Folly frequent boasts th' insculptur'd tomb,
By Flattery's pen inscrib'd with purchas'd praise;
While rustic Labour's undistinguish'd doom
On Time's smooth current as we glide along,
Thus Expectation ever tunes her song:
"Fair these green banks with gaudy flow'rets bloom,
Sweet breathe these gales, diffusing rich perfume;
Heed, heed them not, but carelessly pass by,
To morrow fairer, sweeter will supply."
2 This censure may seem too general-perhaps it is so. But must it not be allowed that the
Fond Friendship's hand records in humble phrase; public is capricious in bestowing its honours? Does
not Westminster Abbey show monuments erected to men, as poets, who had little or no title 'Collins was born at Chichester, died, and pro- to the name, while it contains no memorials of
bably was interred there.
writers of far superior merit?
THE SHEPHERD'S ELEGY...ON THE INGENIOUS MR. JONES, &c. 499
To morrow comes-the same the Syren's lay-
"To morrow sweeter gales, and flow'rets still more
gay."
THE DEATH OF AN INGENIOUS FRIEND.
UPON a bank with spreading boughs o'erhung,
Of pollard oak, brown elm, and hornbeam grey,
The faded fern and russet grass among,
While rude winds swept the yellow leaves away,
And scatter'd o'er the ground the wild fruits lay;
As from the churchyard came the village throng,
Down sat a rural bard, and rais'd his mournful song.
"Nature's best gifts, alas, in vain we prize!
The powers that please, the powers that pleasure
For, O, with them, in full proportion, rise [gain!
The powers of giving and of feeling pain!
Why from my breast now bursts this plaintive strain?
Genius, my friend! with all its charms was thine,
And sensibility too exquisite is mine!
"There low he lies !-that head in dust repos'd
Whose active thought scann'd every various theme!
Clos'd is that eye, for ever, ever clos'd,
Whence wont the blaze of sentiment to beam!
Mute is that tongue, whence flow'd the copious
Of eloquence, whose moral lore so rare [stream
Delighted and improv'd the list'ning young and fair.
"Witness for me, ye rain-polluted rills;
Ye desert meads, that one brown hue display;
Ye rude east-winds, whose breath the dank air chills;
Ye hov'ring clouds, that veil the Sun's faint ray!
Witness, as annual here my steps shall stray,
How his dear image thought shall still recall,
And oft the sigh shall heave, and oft the tear shall
fall!"
As cease the murmurs of the mantling pool,
As cease the whispers of the poplar spray,
While o'er the vale the white mist rises cool
At the calm sunset of a summer's day-
So softly, sweetly ceas'd the shepherd's lay:
While down the pathway to the hamlet plain
Return'd, with ling'ring steps, the pensive rural train.
ELEGANT TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS OF
EASTERN POETRY,
AND HIS RESOLUTION TO DECLINE TRANSLATING THE PER- SIAN POETS.
THE Asian Muse, a stranger fair!
Becomes at length Britannia's care;
And Hafiz' lays, and Sadi's strains,,
Resound along our Thames's plains.
They sing not all of streams and bowers,
Or banquet scenes, or social hours;
Nor all of Beauty's blooming charms,
Or War's rude fields, or feats of arms;
But Freedom's lofty notes sincere,
And Virtue's moral lore severe,
But ah! they sing for us no more!
The scarcely-tasted pleasure 's o'er!
For he, the bard whose tuneful art
Can best their vary'd themes impart-
For he, alas! the task declines;
And Taste, at loss irreparable, repines.
ALMIGHTY Power! amazing are thy ways,
Above our knowledge, and above our praise!
How all thy works thy excellence display!
How fair, how great, how wonderful are they!
Thy hand yon wide-extended Heav'n uprais'd,
Yon wide-extended Heav'n with stars emblaz'd,
Where each bright orb, since Time his course begun,
Has roll'd a mighty world, or shin'd a sun:
Stupendous thought! how sinks all human race!
A point an atom in the field of space!
Yet ev❜n to us, O Lord, thy care extends,
Thy bounty feeds us, and thy pow'r defends;
Yet e'en to us, as delegates of thee,
Thou giv'st dominion over land and sea;
Whate'er, or walks on earth, or flits in air;
Whate'er of life the wat'ry regions bear;
All these are ours, and for th' extensive claim,
We owe due homage to thy sacred name!
Almighty Pow'r! how wondrous are thy ways!
How far above our knowledge and our praise!
WHEN erst the enthusiast Fancy's reign,
Indulg'd the wild, romantic thought,
That wander'd midst Arcadian vales,
Sicilian streams, Arabian gales;
Bless'd climes, with wondrous pleasures fraught,
Sweet pleasures, unalloy'd with pain!
When Observation's calmer view
Remark'd the real state of things;
Whate'er amusive one obtain'd,
Whate'er of use the other gain'd,
To thee my verse a tribute brings,
A tribute to thy friendship due.
Accept then this, nor more require:
The Muse no further task essays;
But midst the sylvan scenes she loves,
The falling rills, and whisp'ring groves,
With smiles her labours past surveys,
And quits the syrinx and the lyre.
THE author, in the course of his literary inquiries, has had reason to believe that the productions of Some writers have not unfrequently received very considerable alterations and improvements from the hands of their friends. What he has been told of others, may possibly be suspected of himself; He therefore takes the liberty to observe, that, although he has often derived advantage from the judicious remarks of a few kind acquaintance, to hom his MSS. have been shown, he is not inlebted to them, nor indeed to any person, for the usertion of a single line.
From the works of preceding poets, memory has sometimes supplied him with turns of expression, which, at the instant of composing, he imagined ivere his own; and at other times he has happened on lines used by writers, whose performances he had not then seen. Some instances of such unconscious plagiarism, and accidental coincidence, are here pointed out, as matter of curiosity; others inay possibly exist, though he is not apprised of them.
Blows not a flow'ret in the enamell'd vale, Shines not a pebble, &c.
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Elegies, Descriptive and Moral, p. 459. Lurks not a stone enrich'd with lively stain, Blooms not a flower amid the vernal store, Falls not a plume on India's distant plain, Glows not a shell on Adria's rocky shore
Shenstone's Works, vol. i. 8vo. p. 140.
Perhaps Shenstone was indebted to Akenside:
Not a breeze
Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes
The setting Sun's effulgence, not a strain
From all the tenants of the warbling shade
Ascends.........
Pleasures of Imagination, b. iii. 1. 593.
But claims their wonder and excites their praise.
Elegies, Descriptive and Moral, p. 459.
Provoke our wonder and transcend our praise.
Addison to Dryden, Works, vol. i. p. 3.
Or rear the new-bound sheaves along the lands.
Elegies, Descriptive and Moral, p. 460.
Or range my sheaves along the sunny land.
Hammond, Elegy xiii. 1. 12.
No more those nostrils breathe the vital air.
Elegies, Descriptive and Moral, p. 461.
That while my nostrils draw the vital air.
Pope, Rape of the Lock, canto iv.
In one sad spot where kindred ashes lie.
Elegy written at Amwell, 1768, p. 462.
In one lone spot their mouldering ashes lie.
Mr. Keate's Ruins of Netley Abbey, 1764.
Of classic lore accompanied my walk.
Amwell, p. 465.
In sumptuous cars accompanied his march. Leonidas, book viii.
And his wild eye-balls roll with horrid glare.
Arabian Eclogue, p. 473.
And his red eye-balls roll with living fire.
Dryden's Meleager and Atalanta.
And one forlorn inhabitant contain'd.
Indian Eclogue, p. 475.
The cities no inhabitant contain'd.
Fawke's Song of Deborah; Poems, p. 100
Again he look'd, again he sigh'd.
Ode ii. p. 478.
And sigh'd and look'd.
Dryden's Alexander's Feast.
Then Poverty, grim spectre! rose.
Ode xxi. p. 484.
Scar'd at the spectre of pale Poverty.
Pope, Imitation of Horace, b. ii. epist. L
Each pastoral sight, and every pastoral sound. Epistle i. p. 489.
Designedly imitated from Milton:
Each rural sight, each rural sound.
And pure as vernal blossoms newly blown.
Elegy written at Amwell, 1768, p. 462.
All pure as blossoms which are newly blown. W. Browne's Britannia's Pastorals, v. i. p. 101. Davies's edition of Browne's Works was published in 1772. The author had never seen any of the old editions, nor any extract from them.
Haste, brings my steed supreme in strength and grace,
First in the fight, and fleetest in the chase. Arabian Eclogue, p. 473. This eclogue was written in 1777. In a volume of poems by the ingenious Mr. Maurice, privted in 1779, the author met with the following near resemblance:
Full fifty steeds I boast of swiftest pace,
Fierce in the fight, and foremost in the race.
In the Amoebaean Eclogue, entitled, The Describers, p. 467, a part of the imagery bears a considerable resemblance to some descriptions in a little collection of pleasing sonnets, by Mr. Bamfylde, 1778; which collection the author never saw till after his own volume was printed. This is a proof that two writers, both painting from Nature, will often unknowingly coincide very nearly in selection, arrangement, and expression.
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