A morning-visit to the poor man's shed, Graver things Come in their turn. Morning, and Evening, brings The last yet fresh when marriage-chimes were ringing, Thus, while the world but claims its proper part, Forgets the cold indifference of men? Went Sidney, Russell, Raleigh, Cranmer, More, Stands for his life: there, on that awful day, -On the day destined for his funeral! Lo, there the Friend, who entering where he lay, -Soon through the gadding vine (19) the sun looks in, But a weak woman worn with grief and fear, And gentle hands the breakfast-rite begin. Then the bright kettle sings its matin-song, Then fragrant clouds of Mocha and Souchong Blend as they rise; and (while without are seen, But nothing lasts. In Autumn at his plough T was morn-the sky-lark o'er the furrow sung Iler darling Mother! 'T was but now she smiled, An hour like this is worth a thousand pass'd And now once more where most he loved to be, In his own fields-breathing tranquillityWe hail him-not less happy, Fox, than thee! Thee at St Anne's so soon of care beguiled, Playful, sincere, and artless as a child! Thee, who wouldst watch a bird's nest on the spray, Through the green leaves exploring, day by day. How oft from grove to grove, from seat to seat, With thee conversing in thy loved retreat, I saw the sun go down!-Ah, then 't was thine Ne'er to forget some volume half divine, And She inspires, whose beauty shines in all; So soon to weave a daughter's coronal, Shakspeare's or Dryden's-through the chequer'd shade And with assurance sweet her soul revive And where we sate (and many a halt we made) 'Tis the sixth hour. The village-clock strikes from the distant tower. Yet hovering, and the thistle's down at rest. And such, his labour done, the calm He knows, Whose footsteps we have follow'd. Round him glows An atmosphere that brightens to the last; The light, that shines, reflected from the Past, -And from the future too! Active in Thought Among old books, old friends; and not unsought By the wise stranger-in his morning-hours, When gentle airs stir the fresh-blowing flowers, He muses, turning up the idle weed; Or prunes or grafts, or in the yellow mead Watches his bees at hiving-time; and now, The ladder resting on the orchard-bough, Culls the delicious fruit that hangs in air, The purple plum, green fig, or golden pear, 'Mid sparkling eyes, and hands uplifted there. At night, when all, assembling round the fire, Closer and closer draw till they retire, A tale is told of India or Japan, Of merchants from Golcond or Astracan, What time wild Nature revell'd unrestrain'd, And Sinbad voyaged and the Caliphs reign'd: Of some Norwegian, while the icy gale Rings in her shrouds and beats her iron-sail, Among the snowy Alps of Polar seas Immoveable for ever there to freeze! Or some great caravan, from well to well Winding as darkness on the desert fell, In their long march, such as the Prophet bids, To Mecca from the Land of Pyramids, And in an instant lost-a hollow wave Of burning sand their everlasting grave!Now the scene shifts to Venice-to a square Glittering with light, all nations masking there, With light reflected on the tremulous tide, Where gondolas in gay confusion glide, Answering the jest, the song on every side; To Naples next and at the crowded gate, Where Grief and Fear and wild Amazement wait, Lo, on his back a Son brings in his Sire, (26) Vesuvius blazing like a World on fire!Then, at a sign that never was forgot, A strain breaks forth (who hears and loves it not?) From lute or organ! 'T is at parting given, That in their slumbers they may dream of Heaven; Young voices mingling, as it floats along, In Tuscan air or Handel's sacred song! In child-birth-when a mother's love is most alive! No, 't is not here that Solitude is known. O thou all-eloquent, whose mighty mind (27) << Look up, and faint not-faint not, but rejoice!» Trees he has climb'd so oft, he sits and sees Now in their turn assisting, they repay But there are moments which he calls his own. And now behold him up the hill ascending, When on his couch he sinks at length to rest, 'T is past! That hand we grasp'd, alas, in vain! Then was the drama ended. Not till then, So full of chance and change the lives of men, Could we pronounce him happy. Then secure From pain, from grief, and all that we endure, He slept in peace-say rather soared to Heaven, Upborne from Earth by Him to whom 't is given In his right hand to hold the golden key That opes the portals of Eternity. -When by a good man's grave I muse alone, Methinks an angel sits upon the stone; Like those of old, on that thrice-hallowed night, Who sate and watch'd in raiment heavenly-bright; And, with a voice inspiring joy, not fear, Says, pointing upward, that he is not here, That he is risen! But the day is spent; And stars are kindling in the firmament, To us how silent-though like ours perchance Busy and full of life and circumstance; Where some the paths of Wealth and Power pursue, Of Pleasure some, of Happiness a few; And, as the sun goes round-a sun not oursWhile from her lap another Nature showers Gifts of her own, some from the crowd retire, Think on themselves, within, without inquire; At distance dwell on all that passes there, All that their world reveals of good and fair; And, as they wander, picturing things, like me, Not as they are but as they ought to be, Trace out the Journey through their little Day, And fondly dream an idle hour away. NOTES. Note 1, page 11, col. 2. We fly; no resting for the foot we find. I have considered, says Solomon, all the works that are under the sun; and behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit. But who believes it, till Death tells it us? It is Death alone that can suddenly make man to know himself. He tells the proud and insolent, that they are but abjects, and humbles them at the instant. He takes the account of the rich man, and proves him a beggar, a naked beggar. He holds a glass before the eyes of the most beautiful, and makes them see therein their deformity; and they acknowledge it. O eloquent, just, and mighty Death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none have dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world have flattered, thou only hast cast out and despised: thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hic jacet. Note 3, page 11, col. 2. Through the dim curtains of Futurity. RALEIGH. Fancy can hardly forbear to conjecture with what temper Milton surveyed the silent progress of his work, and marked his reputation stealing its way in a kind of subterraneous current through fear and silence. I cannot but conceive him calm and confident, little disappointed, not at all dejected, relying on his own merit with steady consciousness, and waiting, without impatience, the vicissitudes of opinion, and the impartiality of a future generation.-JOHNSON. After line 57, col. 2, in the MS. Note 4, page 12, col. 1. -like the stone That sheds awhile a lustre all its own. See <<Observations on a diamond that shines in the dark.-BOYLE'S Works, i, 789. Note 5, page 12, col. 1. Schooled and trained up to Wisdom from his birth. Cicero, in his Essay De Senectute, has drawn his images from the better walks of life; and Shakspeare, in his Seven Ages, has done so too. But Shakspeare treats his subject satirically; Cicero as a Philosopher. In the venerable portrait of Cato we discover no traces of the lean and slippered pantaloon.>>> Every object has a bright and a dark side; and I have endeavoured to look at things as Cicero has done. By some however I may be thought to have followed too much my own dream of happiness; and in such a dream indeed I have often passed a solitary hour. It was castle-building once; now it is no longer so. But whoever would try to realize it, would not perhaps repent of his endeavour. Note 6, page 12, col. 1. The hour arrives, the moment wished and feared. A Persian Poet has left us a beautiful thought on this subject, which the reader, if he has not met with it, will be glad to know, and, if he has, to remember. Thee on thy mother's knees, a new-born child, For my version I am in a great measure indebted to Sir William Jones. Note 7, page 12, col. 2. These are my Jewels! The anecdote here alluded to, is related by Valerius Maximus, lib. iv, c. 4. Note 8, page 12, col. 2. Suffer these little ones to come to me! In our early Youth, while yet we live only among those we love, we love without restraint, and our hearts overflow in every look, word, and action. But when we enter the world and are repulsed by strangers, forgotten by friends, we grow more and more timid in our approaches even to those we love best. How delightful to us then are the little caresses of children! All sincerity, all affection, they fly into our arms; and then, and then only, we feel our first confidence, our first pleasure. Note 9, page 12, col. 2. -he reveres The brow engraven with the Thoughts of Years. This is a law of Nature. Age was anciently synonymous with power; and we may always observe that the old are held in more or less honour as men are more or less virtuous. « Shame," says Homer, bids the youth beware how he accosts the man of many years.» «Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of an old man.>>-Leviticus. Among us, says a philosophical historian, and wherever birth and possessions give rank and authority, the young and the profligate are seen continually above the old and the worthy: there Age can never find its due respect. But among many of the ancient nations it was otherwise; and they reaped the benefit of it. • Rien ne maintient plus les mœurs qu'une extrême subordination des jeunes gens envers les vieillards. Les uns et les autres seront contenus, ceux-là par le respect qu'ils auront pour les vieillards, et ceux-ci par le respect qu'ils auront pour eux-mêmes. - MONTESQUIEU. Note 10, page 12, col. 2. Like Her most gentle, most unfortunate. Before I went into Germany, I came to Brodegate in Leicestershire, to take my leave of that noble Lady Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholding. Her parents, the Duke and Duchess, with all the Household, Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber, reading Phædo Platonis in Greek, and that with as much delight as some Gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccace. After salutation and duty done, with some other talk, I asked her, why she would lose such pastime in the Park? Smiling, she answered me, « I wist, all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. - ROGER ASCHAM. Xenophon has left us a delightful instance of conjugal affection. The king of Armenia not fulfilling his engagement, Cyrus entered the country, and, having taken him and all his family prisoners, ordered them instantly before him. Armenian, said he, you are free; for you are now sensible of your error. And what will you give me, if I restore your wife to you?-All that I am able.What, if I restore your children?-All that I am able.And you, Tigranes, said he, turning to the son, What would you do, to save your wife from servitude? Now Tigranes was but lately married, and had a great love for his wife. Cyrus, he replied, to save her from servitude, I would willingly lay down my life. Let each have his own again, said Cyrus; and when he was departed, one spoke of his clemency; and another of his valour; and another of his beauty, and the graces of his person. Upon which Tigranes asked his wife, if she thought him handsome. Really, said she, I did not look at him. At whom then did you look?At him who said he would lay down his life for me.Cyropædia, l. iii. Note 17, page 14, col. 2. He goes, and Night comes as it never came! These circumstances, as well as some others that follow, are happily, as far as they regard England, of an ancient date. To us the miseries inflicted by a foreign invader are now known only by description. Many generations have passed away since our countrywomen saw the smoke of an enemy's camp. But the same passions are always at work every where, and their effects are always nearly the same; though the circumstances that attend them are infinitely various. Note 18, page 15, col. 1. That House with many a funeral-garland hung. A custom in some of our country-churches. Note 20, page 15, col. 2. Like Hampden struggling in his Country's cause. Zeuxis is said to have drawn his Helen from an assem blage of the most beautiful women; and many a writer of fiction, in forming a life to his mind, has recourse to the brightest moments in the lives of others. I may be suspected of having done so here, and of having designed, as it were, from living models; but by making an allusion now and then to those who have really lived, I thought I should give something of in Mr Attorney General. Yes, a Servant. Lord Chief Justice. Any of your Servants shall assist you in writing any thing you please for you. Lord Russell. My Wife is here, my Lord, to do it.State Trials, ii. Note 25, page 15, col. 2. Her glory now, as ever her delight! Epaminondas, after his victory at Leuctra, rejoiced most of all at the pleasure which it would give his father and mother; and who would not have envied them their feelings? Cornelia was called at Rome the Mother-in-law of Scipio. When, said she to her sons, shall I be called the mother of the Gracchi?» Note 26, page 16, col. 1. Lo, on his back a Son brings in his Sire. An act of filial piety represented on the coins of Catana, a Greek city, some remains of which are still to terest to the picture, as well as better illustrate my be seen at the foot of mount Etna. The story is told of meaning. Note 21, page 15, col. 2. On through that gate misnamed. two brothers, who in this manner saved both their parents. The place from which they escaped was long called the field of the pious; and public games were Traitor's gate, the water-gate in the Tower of annually held there to commemorate the Event. London. Note 22, page 15, col. 2. Then to the place of trial. This very slight sketch of Civil Dissension is taken from our own annals; but, for an obvious reason, not from those of our own Age. The persons here immediately alluded to lived more than a hundred years ago in a reign which Blackstone has justly represented as wicked, sanguinary, and turbulent; but such times have always afforded the most signal instances of heroic courage and ardent affection. Great reverses, like theirs, lay open the human heart. They occur indeed but seldom; yet all men are liable to them; all, when they occur to others, make them more or less their own; and, were we to describe our condition to an inhabitant of some other planet, could we omit what forms so striking a circumstance in human life? Note 23, page 15, col. 2. - and alone. In the reign of William the Third, the law was altered. A prisoner, prosecuted for high treason, may now make his full defence by counsel. Note 24, page 15, col. 2. Like that sweet Saint who sate by Russell's side Lord Russel. May I have somebody to write, to assist my memory? Note 27, page 16, col. 2. Oh thou, all-eloquent, whose mighty mind. Cicero. It is remarkable that, among the comforts of Old Age, he has not mentioned those arising from the society of women and children. Perhaps the husband of Terentia and the father of Marcus felt something on the subject, of which he was willing to spare himself the recollection.. BEFORE I conclude, I would say something in favour of the old-fashioned triplet, which I have here ventured to use so often. Dryden seems to have delighted in it, and in many of his most admired poems has used it much oftener than I have done, as for instance in the Hind and Panther, and in Theodore and Honoria, where he introduces it three, four, and even five times in succession. If I have erred any where in the structure of my verse from a desire to follow yet earlier and higher examples, I rely on the forgiveness of those in whose ear the music of our old versification is still sounding. 1 Pope used to mention this poem as the most correct specimen of Dryden's versification. It was indeed written when he had completely formed his manner, and may be supposed to exhibit, negli gence excepted, his deliberate and ultimate scheme of metre. JOHNSON. |