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dignity and patriotic elevation in 'Leonidas,' which might even yet find admirers. Thomson is said to have exclaimed, when he heard of the work of Glover, He write an epic poem, who never saw a mountain! Yet Thomson himself, familiar as he was in his youth with mountain scenery, was tame and commonplace when he ventured on classic or epic subjects. The following passage is lofty and energetic:
[Address of Leonidas.]
Remains unshaken. Rising, he displays
The nature of the poem affords scope for interesting situations and descriptions of natural objects in a romantic country, which Glover occasionally avails himself of with good effect. There is great beauty and classic elegance in this sketch of the fountain at the dwelling of Oileus :
Beside the public way an oval fount
In the Athenais' we have a continuation of the
Swells on the surface. Marble structures there
The scene presented by the shores of Salamis on the morning of the battle is thus strikingly depicted. The poet gives no burst of enthusiasm to kindle up his page, and his versification retains most of its usual hardness and want of flow and cadence; yet the assemblage described is so vast and magnificent, and his enumeration is so varied, that the picture carries with it a host of spirit-stirring associations:
[The Armies at Salamis.]
O sun! thou o'er Athenian towers,
Is thronged with millions, male and female race,
With newly-gathered flowerets; chaplets gay
A popular vitality has been awarded to a ballad of Glover's, while his epics have sunk into oblivion:
Admiral Hosier's Ghost.
[Written on the taking of Carthagena from the Spaniards, 1739.]
[The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this:-In April 1726, that commander was sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country; or, should they presume to come out, to seize and carry them into England. He accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos near Portobello; but being restricted by his orders from obeying the dictates of his courage, lay inactive on that station until he became the jest of the Spaniards. He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and continued cruising in those seas until the far greater part of his men perished deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart.]
As near Portobello lying
On the gentle-swelling flood, At midnight, with streamers flying, Our triumphant navy rode;
There while Vernon sat all glorious
From the Spaniards' late defeat, And his crews, with shouts victorious, Drank success to England's fleet:
On a sudden, shrilly sounding,
Hideous yells and shrieks were heard ; Then, each heart with fear confounding,
A sad troop of ghosts appeared;
All in dreary hammocks shrouded,
Which for winding-sheets they wore, And, with looks by sorrow clouded, Frowning on that hostile shore.
On them gleamed the moon's wan lustre,
O'er the glimmering wave he hied him, Where the Burford reared her sail, With three thousand ghosts beside him, And in groans did Vernon hail.
Heed, oh, heed our fatal story!
I am Hosier's injured ghost; You who now have purchased glory At this place where I was lost: Though in Portobello's ruin,
You now triumph free from fears, When you think on my undoing,
You will mix your joys with tears.
See these mournful spectres sweeping
Mark those numbers, pale and horrid,
I, by twenty sail attended,
Did this Spanish town affright; Nothing then its wealth defended But my orders-not to fight!
Oh! that in this rolling ocean
I had cast them with disdain, And obeyed my heart's warm motion, To have quelled the pride of Spain !
For resistance I could fear none;
But with twenty ships had done What thou, brave and happy Vernon, Hast achieved with six alone.
Then the Bastimentos never
Had our foul dishonour seen, Nor the seas the sad receiver
Of this gallant train had been.
Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying,
To have fallen, my country crying, 'He has played an English part, Had been better far than dying
Of a grieved and broken heart.
Unrepining at thy glory,
Thy successful arms we hail; But remember our sad story,
And let Hosier's wrongs prevail.
Sent in this foul clime to languish,
Think what thousands fell in vain, Wasted with disease and anguish,
Not in glorious battle slain.
Hence with all my train attending,
From their oozy tombs below, Through the hoary foam ascending, Here I feed my constant wo.
Here the Bastimentos viewing,
We recall our shameful doom, And, our plaintive cries renewing, Wander through the midnight gloom.
O'er these waves forever mourning
When your patriot friends you see, Think on vengeance for my ruin,
And for England-shamed in me.
The poets who follow are a secondary class, few of whom are now noted for more than one or two favourite pieces.
ROBERT DODSLEY (1703-1764) was an able and spirited publisher of his day, the friend of literature and of literary men. He projected the Annual Register, in which Burke was engaged, and he was the first to collect and republish the Old English Plays,' which form the foundation of our national drama. Dodsley wrote an excellent little moral treatise, The
[Song The Parting Kiss.]
One kind wish before we part,
Till we meet, shall pant for you.
Let me kiss that falling tear; Though my body must remove,
All my soul will still be here. All my soul, and all my heart,
And every wish shall pant for you; One kind kiss, then, ere we part, Drop a tear, and bid adieu.
SAMUEL BISHOP (1731-1795) was an English clergyman, Master of Merchant Tailors' School, London, and author of some miscellaneous essays and poems. The best of his poetry was devoted to the praise of his wife; and few can read such lines as the following without believing that Bishop was an amiable and happy man:
To Mrs Bishop, on the Anniversary of her WeddingDay, which was also her Birth-Day, with a Ring. 'Thee, Mary, with this ring I wed'So, fourteen years ago, I said. Behold another ring! For what?" 'To wed thee o'er again? Why not?
With that first ring I married youth,
If she, by merit since disclosed,
Here, then, to-day (with faith as sure,
And why?-They show me every hour Honour's high thought, Affection's power, Discretion's deed, sound Judgment's sentence, And teach me all things-but repentance.
at Harrow school, where he continued nearly ten years, and became an accomplished and critical classical scholar. He did not confine himself merely to the ancient authors usually studied, but added a knowledge of the Arabic characters, and acquired sufficient Hebrew to read the Psalms. In 1764 he was entered of University college, Oxford. Here his taste for oriental literature continued, and he engaged a native of Aleppo, whom he had discovered in London, to act as his preceptor. He also assiduously perused the Greek poets and historians. In his nineteenth year, Jones accepted an offer to be private tutor to Lord Althorp, afterwards Earl Spencer. A fellowship at Oxford was also conferred upon him, and thus the scholar was relieved from the fear of want, and enabled to pursue his favourite and unremitting studies. An opportunity of displaying one branch of his acquirements was afforded in 1768. The king of Denmark in that year visited England, and brought with him an eastern manuscript, containing the life of Nadir Shah, which he wished translated into French. Jones executed this arduous task, being, as Lord Teignmouth, his biographer, remarks, the only oriental scholar in England adequate to the performance. He still continued in the noble family of Spencer, and in 1769 accompanied his pupil to the continent. Next year, feeling anxious to attain an independent station in life, he entered himself a student of the Temple, and, applying himself with his characteristic ardour to his new profession, he contemplated with pleasure the stately edifice of the laws of England,' and mastered their most important principles and details. In 1774 he published Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry, but finding that jurisprudence was a jealous mistress, and would not admit the eastern muses to participate in his attentions, he devoted himself for some years exclusively to his legal studies. A patriotic feeling was mingled with this resolution. Had I lived at Rome or Athens,' he said, 'I should have preferred the labours, studies, and dangers of their orators and illustrious citizens -connected as they were with banishment and even death to the groves of the poets or the gardens of the philosophers. Here I adopt the same resolution. The constitution of England is in no respect inferior to that of Rome or Athens.' Jones now practised at the bar, and was appointed one of the Commissioners of Bankrupts. In 1778, he published a translation of the speeches of Isæus, in causes concerning the law of succession to property at Athens, to which he added notes and a commentary. The stirring events of the time in which he lived were not beheld without strong interest by this accomplished scholar. He was decidedly opposed to the American war and to the slave trade, then so prevalent, and in 1781 he produced his noble Alcaic Ode, animated by the purest spirit of patriotism, and a high strain of poetical enthusiasm. He also joined in representing the necessity that existed for a reform of the electoral system in England. But though he made speeches and wrote pamphlets in favour of liberty and pure government, Jones was no party man, and was desirous, he said, of being transported to the distance of five thousand leagues from all the fatal discord of contending politicians. His wishes were soon accomplished. He was appointed one of the judges of the supreme court at Fort William, in Bengal, and the honour of knighthood was conferred upon him. He married the daughter of Dr Shipley, bishop of St Asaph; and in April 1783, in his thirty-seventh year, he embarked for India, never to return. Sir William Jones entered upon his judicial functions with all the advantages of a high reputation, unsullied in
tegrity, disinterested benevolence, and unwearied perseverance. In the intervals of leisure from his duties, he directed his attention to scientific objects, and established a society in Calcutta to promote inquiries by the ingenious, and to concentrate the knowledge to be collected in Asia. In 1784, his health being affected by the climate and the closeness of his application, he made a tour through various parts of India, in the course of which he wrote The Enchanted Fruit, or Hindoo Wife, a poetical tale, and a Treatise on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India. He also studied the Sanscrit language, being unwilling to continue at the mercy of the Pundits, who dealt out Hindoo law as they pleased. Some translations from oriental authors, and original poems and essays, he contributed to a periodical established at Calcutta, entitled The Asiatic Miscellany. He meditated an epic poem on the Discovery of England by Brutus, to which his knowledge of Hindoo mythology suggested a new machinery, the agency of Hindoo deities. To soften the violence of the fiction into harmony with probability, the poet conceived the future comprehension of Hindostan within the circle of British dominion, as prospectively visible in the age of Brutus, to the guardian angels of the Indian peninsula. This gorgeous design he had matured so far as to write the arguments of the intended books of his epic, but the poem itself he did not live to attempt. In 1789 Sir William translated an ancient Indian drama, Sacontala, or the Fatal Ring, which exhibits a picture of Hindoo manners in the century preceding the Christian era. He engaged to compile a digest of Hindoo and Mahometan laws; and in 1794 he translated the Ordinances of Menu or the Hindoo system of duties, religious and civil. His motive to this task, like his inducement to the digest, was to aid the benevolent intentions of our legislature in securing to the natives, in a qualified degree, the administration of justice by their own laws. Eager to accomplish his digest, Sir William Jones remained in India after the delicate health of Lady Jones compelled her departure in December 1793. He proposed to follow her in the ensuing season, but in April he was seized with inflammation of the liver, which terminated fatally, after an illness of one week, on the 27th of April 1794. Every honour was paid to his remains, and the East India Company erected a monument to his memory in St Paul's Cathedral. The attainments of Sir William Jones were so profound and various, that it is difficult to conceive how he had comprised them in his short life of fortyeight years. As a linguist he has probably never been surpassed; for his knowledge extended to a critical study of the literature and antiquities of various nations. As a lawyer he had attained to a high rank in England, and he was the Justinian of India. In general science there were few departments of which he was ignorant: in chemistry, mathematics, botany, and music, he was equally proficient. He seems,' says his biographer, to have acted on this maxim, that whatever had been attained was attainable by him; and he was never observed to overlook or to neglect any opportunity of adding to his accomplishments or to his knowledge. When in India, his studies began with the dawn; and in seasons of intermission from professional duty, continued throughout the day; meditation retraced and confirmed what reading had collected or investigation discovered. By a regular application of time to particular occupations, he pursued various objects without confusion; and in undertakings which depended on his individual perseverance, he was never deterred by difficulties from proceeding to a successful termination.' With respect to the
division of his time, Sir William Jones had written in India, on a small piece of paper, the following lines:
Sir Edward Coke:
Six hours in sleep, in law's grave study six, Four spend in prayer-the rest on nature fix.
Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven, Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven.*
The poems of Sir William Jones have been collected and printed in two small volumes. An early collection was published by himself, dedicated to the Countess Spencer, in 1772. They consist of a few original pieces in English and Latin, and translations from Petrarch and Pindar; paraphrases of Turkish and Chinese odes, hymns on subjects of Hindoo mythology, Indian Tales, and a few songs from the Persian. Of these the beautiful lyric from Hafiz is the most valuable. The taste of Sir William Jones was early turned towards eastern poetry, in which he was captivated with new images, expressions, and allegories, but there is a want of chasteness and simplicity in most of these productions. The name of their illustrious author reflects credit,' as Campbell remarks, on poetical biography, but his secondary fame as a composer shows that the palm of poetry is not likely to be won, even by great genius, without exclusive devotion to the pursuit.'
An Ode, in Imitation of Alcaus.
What constitutes a state?
Not high-raised battlement or laboured mound,
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;
With powers as far above dull brutes endued
In forest, brake, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude;
Men who their duties know,
But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,
Prevent the long-aimed blow,
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:
These constitute a state,
And sovereign Law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate
Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill;
Smit by her sacred frown,
The fiend Discretion like a vapour sinks,
And e'en the all-dazzling Crown
Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.
Such was this heaven-loved isle,
Than Lesbos fairer, and the Cretan shore!
* As respects sleep, the example of Sir Walter Scott may be added to that of Sir William Jones, for the great novelist has stated that he required seven hours of total unconsciousness to fit him for the duties of the day.
A Persian Song of Hafiz.
Sweet maid, if thou would'st charm my sight,
Boy, let yon liquid ruby flow,
O! when these fair perfidious maids,
In vain with love our bosoms glow: Can all our tears, can all our sighs, New lustre to those charms impart ? Can cheeks, where living roses blow, Where nature spreads her richest dyes, Require the borrowed gloss of art?
Speak not of fate: ah! change the theme,
Beauty has such resistless power,
But ah! sweet maid, my counsel hear
Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
The Concluding Sentence of Berkeley's Siris Imitated.
*The following is the last sentence of the Siris:-'He that would make a real progress in knowledge must dedicate his age as well as youth, the latter growth as well as the first fruits, at the altar of Truth.'