Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Volume 3
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Vol. 3, by George Gilfillan#4 in our series by George GilfillanCopyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloadingor redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do notchange or edit the header without written permission.Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of thisfile. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can alsofind out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts****eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971*******These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****Title: Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Vol. 3Author: George GilfillanRelease Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9669] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was firstposted on October 14, 2003]Edition: 10Language: English*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LESS-KNOWN BRITISH POETS, VOL. 3 ***Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Marc D'Hooghe and the PG Online Distributed ProofreadersSPECIMENS WITH MEMOIRS OF THE ...
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Vol. 3, by George Gilfillan #4 in our series by George Gilfillan
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
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**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
Title: Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Vol. 3
Author: George Gilfillan
Release Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9669] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on October 14, 2003] Edition: 10 Language: English
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LESS-KNOWN BRITISH POETS, VOL. 3 ***
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Marc D'Hooghe and the PG Online Distributed Proofreaders
SPECIMENS WITH MEMOIRS OF THE LESS-KNOWN BRITISH POETS.
With an Introductory Essay, By
THEREV. GEORGEGILFILLAN.
IN THREEVOLS.
VOL. III.
CONTENTS.
THIRD PERIOD—FROM DRYDEN TO COWPER.
SIR CHARLES SEDLEY To a very young Lady Song
JOHN POMFRET The Choice
THE EARL OF DORSET Song
JOHN PHILIPS The Splendid Shilling
WALSH, GOULD, &c.
SIR SAMUEL GARTH The Dispensary
SIR RICHARD BLACKMORE Creation
ELIJAH FENTON An Ode to the Right Hon. John Lord Gower
ROBERT CRAWFORD The Bush aboon Traquair
THOMAS TICKELL To the Earl of Warwick, on the death of Mr Addison
JAMES HAMMOND Elegy XIII
SEWELL, VANBRUGH, &c.
RICHARD SAVAGE The Bastard
THOMAS WARTON THE ELDER An American Love Ode
JONATHAN SWIFT Baucis and Philemon On Poetry On the Death of Dr Swift A Character, Panegyric, and Description of the Legion-Club,1736
ISAAC WATTS Few Happy Matches The Sluggard The Rose A Cradle Hymn Breathing toward the Heavenly Country To the Rev. Mr John Howe
AMBROSE PHILIPS A Fragment of Sappho
WILLIAM HAMILTON The Braes of Yarrow
ALLAN RAMSAY Lochaber no more Tho Last Time I came o'er the Moor From 'The Gentle Shepherd'—Act I., Scene II.
DODSLEY, BROWN, &c
ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE Imitation of Thomson Imitation of Pope Imitation of Swift
WILLIAM OLDYS Song, occasioned by a Fly drinking out of a Cup of Ale
ROBERT LLOYD The Miseries of a Poet's Life
HENRY CAREY Sally in our Alley
DAVID MALLETT William and Margaret The Birks of Invermay
JAMES MERRICK The Chameleon
DR JAMES GRAINGER Ode to Solitude
MICHAEL BRUCE To the Cuckoo Elegy, written in Spring
CHRISTOPHER SMART Song to David
THOMAS CHATTERTON Bristowe Tragedy Minstrel's Song The Story of William Canynge Kenrick February, an Elegy
LORD LYTTELTON From the 'Monody'
JOHN CUNNINGHAM May-eve; or, Kate of Aberdeen
ROBERT FERGUSSON The Farmer's Ingle
DR WALTER HARTE
EDWARD LOVIBOND The Tears of Old May-Day
FRANCIS FAWKES The Brown Jug
JOHN LANGHORNE From 'The Country Justice' Gipsies A Case where Mercy should have mitigated Justice
SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE The Lawyer's Farewell to his Muse
JOHN SCOTT Ode on hearing the Drum The Tempestuous Evening
ALEXANDER ROSS Woo'd, and Married, and a'
The Rock an' the wee pickle Tow
RICHARD GLOVER From 'Leonidas,' Book XII Admiral Hosier's Ghost
WILLIAM WHITEHEAD Variety
WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE Cumnor Hall The Mariner's Wife
LORD NUGENT Ode to Mankind
JOHN LOGAN The Lovers Written in a Visit to the Country in Autumn Complaint of Nature
THOMAS BLACKLOCK The Author's Picture Ode to Aurora, on Melissa's Birthday
MISS ELLIOT AND MRS COCKBURN The Flowers of the Forest The Same
SIR WILLIAM JONES A Persian Song of Hafiz
SAMUEL BISHOP To Mrs Bishop To the Same
SUSANNA BLAMIRE The Nabob What Ails this Heart o' mine?
JAMES MACPHERSON Ossian's Address to the Sun Desolation of Balclutha Fingal and the Spirit of Loda Address to the Moon Fingal's Spirit-home The Cave
WILLIAM MASON Epitaph on Mrs Mason An Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers
JOHN LOWE Mary's Dream
JOSEPH WARTON Ode to Fancy
MISCELLANEOUS Song Verses, copied from the Window of an obscure Lodging-house, in the neighbourhood of London The Old Bachelor Careless Content A Pastoral Ode to a Tobacco-pipe Away! let nought to Love displeasing Richard Bentley's sole Poetical Composition Lines addressed to Pope
INDEX
SPECIMENS, WITH MEMOIRS, OF THE LESS-KNOWN BRITISH POETS. * * * * *
THIRD PERIOD.
FROM DRYDEN TO COWPER.
* * * * *
SIR CHARLES SEDLEY.
Sedley was one of those characters who exert a personal fascination over their own age without leaving any works behind them to perpetuate the charm to posterity. He was the son of Sir John Sedley of Aylesford, in Kent, and was born in 1639. When the Restoration took place he repaired to London, and plunged into all the licence of the time, shedding, however, over the putrid pool the sheen of his wit, manners, and genius. Charles was so delighted with him, that he is said to have asked him whether he had not obtained a patent from Nature to be Apollo's viceroy. He cracked jests, issued lampoons, wrote poems and plays, and, despite some great blunders, was universally admired and loved. When his comedy of 'Bellamira' was acted, the roof fell in, and a few, including the author, were slightly injured. When a parasite told him that the fire of the play had blown up the poet, house and all, Sedley replied, 'No; the play was so heavy that it broke down the house, and buried the poet in his own rubbish.' Latterly he sobered down, entered parliament, attended closely to public business, and became a determined opponent of the arbitrary measures of James II. To this he was stimulated by a personal reason. James had seduced Sedley's daughter, and made her Countess of Dorchester. 'For making my daughter a countess,' the father said, 'I have helped to make his daughter' (Mary, Princess of Orange,) 'a queen.' Sedley, thus talking, acting, and writing, lived on till he was sixty- two years of age. He died in 1701.
He has left nothing that the world can cherish, except such light and graceful songs, sparkling rather with point than with poetry, as we quote below.
TO A VERY YOUNG LADY.
1 Ah, Chloris! that I now could sit As unconcerned, as when Your infant beauty could beget No pleasure, nor no pain.
2 When I the dawn used to admire, And praised the coming day; I little thought the growing fire Must take my rest away.
3 Your charms in harmless childhood lay, Like metals in the mine, Age from no face took more away, Than youth concealed in thine.
4 But as your charms insensibly To their perfection pressed, Fond Love as unperceived did fly, And in my bosom rest.
5 My passion with your beauty grew, And Cupid at my heart, Still as his mother favoured you, Threw a new flaming dart.
6 Each gloried in their wanton part, To make a lover, he Employed the utmost of his art, To make a Beauty, she.
7 Though now I slowly bend to love, Uncertain of my fate, If your fair self my chains approve, I shall my freedom hate.
8 Lovers, like dying men, may well At first disordered be, Since none alive can truly tell What fortune they must see.
SONG.
1 Love still has something of the sea, From whence his mother rose; No time his slaves from doubt can free, Nor give their thoughts repose.
2 They are becalmed in clearest days, And in rough weather tossed; They wither under cold delays, Or are in tempests lost.
3 One while they seem to touch the port, Then straight into the main Some angry wind, in cruel sport, The vessel drives again.
4 At first Disdain and Pride they fear, Which if they chance to 'scape, Rivals and Falsehood soon appear, In a more cruel shape.
5 By such degrees to joy they come, And are so long withstood; So slowly they receive the sum, It hardly does them good.
6 'Tis cruel to prolong a pain; And to defer a joy, Believe me, gentle Celemene, Offends the winged boy.
7 An hundred thousand oaths your fears, Perhaps, would not remove; And if I gazed a thousand years, I could not deeper love.
JOHN POMFRET,
The author of the once popular 'Choice,' was born in 1667. He was the son of the rector of Luton, in Bedfordshire, and, after attending Queen's College, Cambridge, himself entered the Church. He became minister of Malden, which is also situated in Bedfordshire, and there he wrote and, in 1699, published a volume of poems, including some Pindaric essays, in the style of Cowley and 'The Choice.' He might have risen higher in his profession, but Dr Compton, Bishop of London, was prejudiced against him on account of the following lines in the 'Choice:'—
'And as I near approached the verge of life, Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife) Should take upon him all my worldly care, Whilst I did for a better state prepare.'
The words in the second line, coupled with a glowing description, in a previous part of the poem, of his ideal of an 'obliging modest fair' one, near whom he wished to live, led to the suspicion that he preferred a mistress to a wife. In vain did he plead that he was actually a married man. His suit for a better living made no progress, and while dancing attendance on his patron in London he caught small-pox, and died in 1703, in the thirty-sixth year of his age.
His Pindaric odes, &c., are feeble spasms, and need not detain us. His 'Reason' shews considerable capacity and common sense. His 'Choice' opens up a pleasing vista, down which our quiet ancestors delighted to look, but by which few now can be attracted. We quote a portion of what a biographer calls a 'modest' preface, which Pomfret prefixed to his poems:—'To please every one would be a new thing, and to write so as to please nobody would be as new; for even Quarles and Withers have their admirers. It is not the multitude of applauses, but the good sense of the applauders which establishes a valuable reputation; and if a Rymer or a Congreve say it is well, he will not be at all solicitous how great the majority be to the contrary.' How strangely are opinions now altered! Rymer was some time ago characterised by Macaulay as the worst critic that ever lived, and Quarles and Withers have now many admirers, while 'The Choice' and its ill-fated author are nearly forgotten.
THE CHOICE.
If Heaven the grateful liberty would give, That I might choose my method how to live, And all those hours propitious fate should lend, In blissful ease and satisfaction spend, Near some fair town I'd have a private seat, Built uniform, not little, nor too great: Better, if on a rising ground it stood, On this side fields, on that a neighbouring wood. It should within no other things contain, But what are useful, necessary, plain: Methinks 'tis nauseous, and I'd ne'er endure, The needless pomp of gaudy furniture. A little garden, grateful to the eye; And a cool rivulet run murmuring by, On whose delicious banks, a stately row Of shady limes or sycamores should grow. At the end of which a silent study placed, Should be with all the noblest authors graced: Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty lines Immortal wit and solid learning shines; Sharp Juvenal, and amorous Ovid too, Who all the turns of love's soft passion knew; He that with judgment reads his charming lines, In which strong art with stronger nature joins, Must grant his fancy does the best excel; His thoughts so tender, and expressed so well; With all those moderns, men of steady sense, Esteemed for learning and for eloquence. In some of these, as fancy should advise, I'd always take my morning exercise; For sure no minutes bring us more content, Than those in pleasing, useful studies spent. I'd have a clear and competent estate, That I might live genteelly, but not great; As much as I could moderately spend, A little more sometimes t' oblige a friend.
Nor should the sons of poverty repine Too much at fortune; they should taste of mine; And all that objects of true pity were, Should be relieved with what my wants could spare; For that our Maker has too largely given, Should be returned in gratitude to Heaven.
THE EARL OF DORSET.
This noble earl was rather a patron of poets than a poet, and possessed more wit than genius. Charles Sackville was born on the 24th January 1637. He was descended directly from the famous Thomas, Lord Buckhurst. He was educated under a private tutor, travelled in Italy, and returned in time to witness the Restoration. In the first parliament thereafter, he sat for East Grinstead, in Surrey, and might have distinguished himself, had he not determined, in common with almost all the wits of the time, to run a preliminary career of dissipation. What a proof of the licentiousness of these times is to be found in the fact, that young Lord Buckhurst, Sir Charles Sedley, and Sir Thomas Ogle were fined for exposing themselves, drunk and naked, in indecent postures on the public street! In 1665, the erratic energies of Buckhurst found a more legitimate vent in the Dutch war. He attended the Duke of York in the great sea-fight of the 3d June, in which Opdam, the Dutch admiral, was, with all his crew, blown up. He is said to have composed the song, quoted afterwards, 'To all you ladies now at land,' on the evening before the battle, although Dr Johnson (who observes that seldom any splendid story is wholly true) maintains that its composition cost him a whole week, and that he only retouched it on that remarkable evening. Buckhurst was soon after made a gentleman of the bed-chamber, and despatched on short embassies to France. In 1674, his uncle, James Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex, died, and left him his estate, and the next year the title, too, was conferred on him. In 1677, he became, by the death of his father, Earl of Dorset, and inherited the family estate. In 1684, his wife, whose name was Bagot, and by whom he had no children, died, and he soon after married a daughter of the Earl of Northampton, who is said to have been celebrated both for understanding and beauty. Dorset was courted by James, but found it impossible to coincide with his violent measures, and when the bishops were tried at Westminster Hall, he, along with some other lords, appeared to countenance them. He concurred with the Revolution settlement, and, after William's accession, was created lord chamberlain of the household, and received the Order of the Garter. His attendance on the king, however, eventually cost him his life, for having been tossed with him in an open boat on the coast of Holland for sixteen hours, in very rough weather, he caught an illness from which he never recovered. On 19th January 1705-6, he died at Bath.
During his life, Dorset was munificent in his kindness to such men of genius as Prior and Dryden, who repaid him in the current coin of the poor Parnassus of their day—gross adulation. He is now remembered mainly for his spirited war-song, and for such pointed lines in his satire on Edward Howard, the notorious author of 'British Princes,' as the following: —
'They lie, dear Ned, who say thy brain is barren, When deep conceits, like maggots, breed in carrion; Thy stumbling, foundered jade can trot as high As any other Pegasus can fly. So the dull eel moves nimbler in the mud Than all the swift-finned racers of the flood. As skilful divers to the bottom fall Sooner than those who cannot swim at all, So in this way of writing without thinking, Thou hast a strange alacrity in sinking.'
This last line has not only become proverbial, but forms the distinct germ of 'The Dunciad.'
SONG.
WRITTEN AT SEA, IN THEFIRST DUTCH WAR, 1665, THENIGHT BEFOREAN ENGAGEMENT.
1 To all you ladies now at land, We men at sea indite; But first would have you understand How hard it is to write; The Muses now, and Neptune too, We must implore to write to you, With a fa, la, la, la, la.
2 For though the Muses should prove kind, And fill our empty brain; Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind, To wave the azure main, Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, Roll up and down our ships at sea. With a fa, &c.
3 Then if we write not by each post, Think not we are unkind; Nor yet conclude our ships are lost, By Dutchmen, or by wind;
