Page images
PDF
EPUB

Tir'd out and wearied with the riotous Endear'd to it by time. And who would

world,

Beneath this yew I would be sepulchred. It is a lovely spot! The sultry sun

From his meridian height, endeavours vainly

To pierce the shadowy foliage, while the zephyr

Comes wafting gently o'er the rippling Trent,

And plays about my wan cheek. 'Tis a nook

Most pleasant.-Such a one perchance did Gray

Frequent, as with the vagrant muse he wanton'd.

Come, I will sit me down and meditate,
For I am wearied with my summer's walk;
And here I may repose in silent ease;
And thus, perchance, when life's sad jour-
ney's o'er,

My harass'd soul, in this same spot, may find

The haven of its rest-beneath this sod Perchance may sleep it sweetly, sound as death.

[blocks in formation]

Yet may not undistinguish'd be my grave,
But there at eve may some congenial soul
Duly resort, and shed a pious tear,
The good man's benizon-no more I ask.
And oh! (if heavenly beings may look
down

From where, with cherubim inspir'd, they sit,

Upon this little dini-discover'd spot,

The earth) then will I cast a glance below On him who thus my ashes shall embalm; And I will weep too, and will bless the wanderer,

Wishing he may not long be doom'd to pine

In this low-thoughted world of darkling woe,

But that, ere long, he reach his kindred skies.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

The labourer, returning from his toil, Here stay his steps, and call his children round,

And slowly spell the rudely sculptur'd rhymes,

And, in his rustic manuer, moralize. I've mark'd with what a silent awe he'd spoken,

With head uncover'd, his respectful manner,

And all the honours which he paid the grave,

And thought on cities, where ev'n cemeteries,

Bestrew'd with all the emblems of mortality, Are not protected from the drunken insolence

Of wassailers profane, and wanton havoc. Grant Heav'n, that here my pilgrimage may close!

Yet, if this be deny'd, where'er my bones May lie or in the city's crouded bounds, Or scatter'd wide o'er the huge sweep of waters,

Or left a prey on some deserted shore To the rapacious cormorant, yet still, (For why should sober reason cast away A thought which soothes the soul)-yet still my spirit

Shall wing its way to these my native regions,

And hover o'er this spot. Oh, then I'll think

Of times when I was seated 'neath this yew In solemn rumination; and will smile With joy that I have got my long'd re

lease.

His friends were of opinion that he never completely recovered this shock, and many of his poems, both before and after this period, indicate that he thought himself in a consumption.

His hopes of College were once more revived, and promised now to be fulfilled. A Mr. Dashwood procured for him an introduction to Mr. Simeon, of King's College, and with

this he was induced to go to Cam- College examination, and also one of -. bridge. Mr. Simeon, from the re- the three best theme-writers, between commendation which he received, whom the examiners could not deand from the conversation he had with cide. Mr. Catton procured him an him, promised to procure for him, exhibition to the amount of 607. per a sizarship at St. John's, and to sup- annum, which enabled him to give up ply him with 361. annually, of which the pecuniary assistance which he had it afterwards appeared, 20l. were received from Mr. Wilberforce and from Mr. Wilberforce, and the re- Mr.Simeon. But this accumulation of mainder from himself. His brother honors was a poison to young Henry; Neville, promised 207. and his mo- they stimulated him to fresh exerther, it was hoped, would be able to tions, and his life was gradually wastallow fifteen or twenty more. Things ing away. He went to London, and being finally arranged, he quitted his when he returned to College, he was employers in October, 1804. so completely ill, that no power of medicine could save him. His mind was worn out, and it was the opinion of his medical attendants, that if he had recovered, his intellect would have been affected. His brother Neville was just at that time to have visited him. When he arrived Henry was delirious. He knew him only for a few moments: the next day sunk into a state of torpor; and on Sunday, October 19, 1806, closed his earthly career.

Mr. Simeon had advised him to degrade for a year, and place himself, during that time, under some scholar, He accordingly went to the Rev. Grainger, of Winteringham, in Lincoinshire, and there, notwithstanding all the entreaties of his friends, pursuing the same unrelenting course of study, a second illness was the consequence. When he was recovering, he was prevailed on to relax, to ride ou horseback, and drink wine; these latter remedies he could not long af ford, and he would not allow himself time for relaxation, when he did not feel its immediate necessity. He frequently at this time studied fourteen hours a day.

We regretted much that Mr.Southey did not add an account of his funeral, and particularly of his burial; whe ther he was interred in his favourite Wilford church-yard. Nothing respecting so interesting a character could be misplaced. We shall conclude this brief account with the following particulars, which Mr.Southey has added at the end of the biography:

During his first term, one of the University scholarships became vacant and Henry, young as he was in College, and almost self-taught, was advised to offer himself as a com"The will which I had manifested petitor. To quality himself for this to serve Henry, he had accepted as he underwent extraordinary labours, the deed, and had expressed himself and after the examinations he was upon the subject in terms which it pronounced the first man of his year. would have humbled me to read, at But he felt, and knew the price be any other time than when I was perpaid for these honours; to an intimate forming the last service to his mefriend, the last time he saw him, he .mory. On his decease, Mr. B. Madsaid that were he to paint a picture dock addressed a letter to me, informnof fame, crowning a distinguished ing me of the event, as one who had under-graduate, after the senate-house professed an interest in his friend's examination, he would represent her fortunes. I enquired, in my reply, as concealing a death's head under a if there was any intention of publishmask of beauty." ing what he might have left, and if I The exercise which Henry took was could be of any assistance in the pubno relaxation, for he still continued lication; this led to a correspondence the habit of studying while he walked; with his excellent brother, and the and in this manner he committed to whole of his papers were consigned his memory a whole tragedy of Eu- into my hands, with as many of his ripides. Twice he distinguished letters as could be collected. himself in the following year, being. "These papers exclusive of the gain pronounced first at the great correspondence) filled a box of consiUNIVERSAL MAG. VOL. IX.

P

the world would willingly have received; but in doing honour to the dead, I have been scrupulously careful never to forget the living."

*** We shall resume this subject in a subsequent number, by instituting a critical estimation of Henry Kirke White's powers, and giving specimens of his poetry.

Sir,

FELLTHAMIANA.

derable size. Mr. Coleridge was pre- communicated to me without reserve, sent when I opened them, and was, and most of those to his friends. A as well as myself, equally affected and selection from these are arranged in astonished at the proofs of industry chronological order, in these volumes, which they displayed. Some of them which will make him his own biohad been written before his hand was grapher, and lay open to the world as formed, probably before he was thir- pure, and as excellent a heart, as it teen. There were papers upon law, ever pleased the Almighty to warm upon electricity, upon chemistry, up- with life. Much has been suppresson the Latin and Greek languages, ed, which, if Henry had been, like from their rudiments, to the higher Chatterton, of another generation, I branches of critical study, upon his- should willingly have published, and tory, chronology, divinity, the fathers, &c. Nothing seemed to have escaped him. His poems were numerous; among the earliest, was a sonnet addressed to myself, long before the little intercourse which had subsisted between us, had taken place. Little did he think, when it was written, on what occasion it would fall into my hands. He had begun three tragedies when very young; one was upon Boadicea, another upon Inez de Castro: the third E who has been much accuswas a fictitious subject. He had tomed to look into old books, planned also a History of Notting- feels convinced that beneath the dust ham. There was a letter upon the of years, and the uncouth appearance famous Nottingham election, which of antiquated orthography, rest many seemed to have been intended, either valuable stores of wit, fancy, clefor the newspapers, or for a separate gance, and wisdom. Some authors pamphlet. It was written to confute indeed, of the fifteenth, sixteenth, the absurd stories of the Tree of Li- and seventeenth centuries, enveloped berty, and the Goddess of Reason; their genius in such studied peculiawith the most minute circumstances, rities of expression and manner, that and a not improper feeling of indigna- even in their own times they were tion against so infamous a caluminy; ancient; whilst others, with that and this came with more weight power of genius which seems to antifrom him, as his party inclinations cipate the progress of ages, have seemed to have leaned towards the caught so admirable a medium, that side which he was opposing. This centuries have only rendered them was his only finished composition in modern. Of this description (in my prose. Much of his time, latterly, mind) is he to whose works I am had been devoted to the study of now anxious to call your attention, Greek prosody; he had begun seve- and that of your readers. ral poems in Greek, and a translation Of "RESOLVES, A DUPLE CENof the Samson Agonistes. I have in- TURY, BY OWEN FELLTHAM," little, spected all the existing manuscripts of perhaps nothing, is known to the geChatterton, and they excited less won- neral reader. Yet there is no one der than these. book in the English language, which "Had my knowledge of Henry I consider as containing so vast a fund terminated here, I should have hardly of sound practical morality, wisdom, believed that my admiration and re- brilliant fancy, and (for the times in gret for him could have been increas- which it was written) elegant diction. ed; but I had yet to learn that his It is not a rare book, in regard to the moral qualities, his good sense, and number of copies extant, for I have his whole feelings, were as admira- seen it upon many.book stalls in the ble as his industry and genius. All metropolis; but it is a very rare book, his letters to his family have been both in its contents and its popularity.

[ocr errors]

I am therefore induced to believe, spotted a Margent, which I alwayes wish that a page occupied each month in to leave free, for the Comments of the your magazine, with extracts of entire man that reades. Besides, I doe not essays, will not be uninterestingly professe myselfe a Scholer: and for a employed. Gentleman, I hold it a little pedanti

[ocr errors]

One singularity respecting this au- call. He should use them rather, as thor, is that no biographical work what- brought in by Memorie, raptim, and soever, has given the least account of occasionall; than by Studie, search, him; yet his Resolves" have passed or strict collection: especially in Essay, through twelve editions. The copy which of all writing, is the neerest to a which I have is the sixth, bearing the running Discourse. I have so used imprint of " London, printed for them, as you may see I doe not steal, but Henry Seile, and are to be sold at the borrow. If I doe, let the Reader trace signe of the Tigres-head in St. Paule's me; and if he will, or can, to my shame Church-yard, 1636.” It has a cu- discover: there is no cheating, like the. riously engraved title-page, with a Felonie of Wit; He which theeves that, poetical explanation on the opposite robs the Owner, and coozens those that page. The book is a quarto size. heare him.

46

Some of your readers, perhaps, may The next is, for the Poetrie; wherenot easily comprehend the meaning in, indeed, I have beene strict, yet would of the title Resolves, a duple Cen- be full. I my opinion, they disgrace our try"-but the latter words imply Language, that will not give a Latine that the volume contains two hundred Verse his English, under two for one. Essays. The first and second centu- I confesse, the Latine (besides the curies were published at different times, ousnesse of the Tongue) hath in every but in subsequent editions they form- Verse, the advantage of three or foure ed only one volume. Syllables; yet if a man will labour for't, I believe there was, a few years he may turne it as short, and I beleece, ago, a sort of abstract of this work, as full. And for this, some late Transpublished by a person of the name of lations are my proofe. What you finde Feltham; and in the year 1806, a Mr. here, if you please, like: But rememCumming republished the whole of ber alwayes, Tocensure a Resolve in the them, with an attempt at a life of the middle, is to give your Iudgement a posauthor; but that subject is, in fact, sibilitie of erring. If you aske, why I writ them? 'Twas because I lov'd my If you concur with me in opinion, Studie: If, why I publish them? Mr. Editor, as to the interest and ad- Know, that having no other meanes to vantage of this selection, I shall be show myselfe to the World, so well, I glad to see the following extracts in- chose this, not to boast, but because I serted in your next Magazine. I shall would not deceive." retain the old orthography, for it

yet an undiscovered secret.

The next shall be the eighty-eighth gives a sort of character to the sen-Resolve," on Musick, in which, with some quaintness, there is much truth and fancy.

timents.

I remain, &c.

Oxford, Feb. 4, 1808.

W. P.

[ocr errors]

I shall commence with the preface when hee told one that bragg'd of his Diogenes spake right of Musicke, to the first" Century," and in which skill; That Wisedome govern'd Cities; the reader will find a reason for broad but with Songs, and Measures, a House margins, which no modern adept in would not be order'd well. Certainethat art has ever yet stumbled upon. ly, it is more for pleasure, than any 66 To the Readers. profit of Man. Being but a sound, it “I am to answer two Objections: onely workes on the minde for the One, that I have made use of Storie, sent; and leaves it not reclaimed, but. yet not quoted my Authorities; and this rap't for a while: and then it returnes, hace purposely done. It had beene forgetting the onely eare-deepe warbles. allone Labour, inserting the matter, to It is but the wanton'd Aure, and the Tige them both the Author, and place. tillation of that spirited Element. Wee But while I ant not Controversiall, I may see this, in that 'tis onely in holshould onely have troubled the Text, or lowed Instruments, which gather in

pre

:

As

the stirred Ayre, and so cause a sound fix his eye, and thoughts, when hee in the Motion. The advantage it heares the sigh, and Dying groanes, gaines upon the Minde, is in respect of gestur'd from the mourne fall Instru the neernesse it hath to the spirits com- ment? And I thinke hee hath not a posure, which being thereall, and minde well temper'd, whose zeale is harmonious, must needs delight in that not inflamed by a heavenly Antheme. which is like them. Besides, when So that indeed, Musicke is good, or the Ayre is thus moved, it comes by bad, as the end to which it tendeth. degrees to the eare, by whose winding Surely, they did meane it excellent, entrance, it is made more pleasant, and that made Apollo, who was God of by that in-essent Aure, carried to the Wisedome, to be God of Musicke also. Auditorie Nerce, which presents it to But it may be the Egyptians, attrithe common sense, and so to the intel- buting the invention of the Harpe to lectuall. Of all Musicke, that is him, the raritie and pleasingnesse best which comes from an articulate made them so to honour him. voice. Whether it be, that man can- the Spartans used it, it served still for not make an Instrument so melodious, an excitation to Valour, and honourable as that which God made, living Man Actions; but then they were so careor, because there is something in this, full of the manner of it, as they finde for the rationall part, as well as for the Terpander, and nailed his Harpe to the care alone. In this also, that is best, Post, for being too inventice, in addwhich comes with a carelesse freenesse, ing a String more than usuall: Yet and a kind of a neglective casinesse; had hee done the State good service; Nature being alwaves most lovely, in for hee appeased a Sedition, by his an unaffected, and spontaneous flowing. Play, and Poetrie. Sometimes light A dexterious Art, shewes cunning, and Notes are useful; as in times of geneindustrie, rather than judgement, and rall foy, and when the minde is press. ingenuitie. It is a kind of disparage- ed with sadnesse. But certaincly, ment, to bee a cunning Fidler. It are those are best, which inflame scale, gues his neglect of better imployment, incite to courage, or induce to graciand that he hath spent much time up- tie, One, is for Religion, so the on a thing unnecessarie. Hence it lewes: The other, for Warre; so the hath beene counted ill, for great Grecians, and Romans: And the last, Ones to sing, or play, like an Arted for Peace, and Moralitic: Thus OrMusician. Philip ask'd Alexander, if pheus civilized the Satyres, and the hee were not ashamed, that hee sang - bad rude men. It argues it of some so artfully. And indeed, it softens excellencie, that 'tis used onely of the the mind; The curiositie of it, is fitter most aeriall creatures; loved, and unfor Women thau Men, and for Curte- derstood by Man alone; the Birds zons than Women. Among other De- next, have varietie of Notes. scriptions of a Romane Dame; Salust Beasts, Fishes, and the Reptilia, which puts it downe for one, that shee did are of grosser composition, have onely Psallere, & saltare, elegantius, quàm silence, or untuned sounds. They that necesse est proba. But yet againe 'tis despise it wholly, may well be suspect-pitty, that these should be so excellent, ed, to be something of a Savage Nain that which hath such power to fas- ture. The Italians have somewhat a cinate. It were well, Vice were barr'd smart censure, of those that affect it of all her helpes of wooing. Many a not: They say, God loves not him,' minde hath beene angled unto ill, by whom hee hath not made to love Muthe Eare. It was Stratonice, that tooke sicke. Aristotles conceit, that love doth Mithridates with a Song. For as the never Hurpe, nor sing, I doe not hold Notes are framed, it can draw, and in- a dispraise. We find, in Heaven there cline the minde. Lively Tunes doe be Halleluiahs sung: I beleeve it, as lighten the minde: Grave ones give it a helper both to good, and it; and will Melancholy. Loftie ones raise it, and therefore honour it, when it moves to advance it to above. Whose dull Vertue; and beware it, when it would blood will not caper in his veines, when flatter into Vice.

the very ayre hee breathes in, frisketh

in a tickled motion? Who can but

The

« PreviousContinue »