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“ Wild is the whirlwind rolling
Song.–By a Man.
senses, While pity harmoniz'd the whole. “The garland of beauty” ('tis this she would say),
* From Collins's “Ode to a Lady, on the Death of Colonel Ross :"
“ Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield,
And gaze with fix'd delight;
And wish th' avenging fight.”
“No more shall my crook or my temples adorn,
Song.—By a Woman.—Pastorale.
On the grave of Augusta these garlands be plac'd,
INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG BY MISS HARDCASTLE IN THE COMEDY OP
"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.”
Air—“ The Humors of Ballamogairy.”
Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me.
Offers to love, but means to deceive me.
Not a look nor a smile shall iny passion discover.
Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover.'
1 “ To the Editor of the London Magazine.
“Sir, -I send you a small production of the late Dr. Goldsmith which has never been published, and which might, perhaps, have been totally lost had I not secured it. He intended it as a song in the character of Miss Hardcastle in his admirable comedy of 'She Stoops to Conquer;' but it was left out, as Mrs. Bulkley, who played the part, did not sing. He sang it himself in private companies, very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air called 'The Humors of Ballamagairy,' to which, be told me, he found it very difficult to adapt words; but he has succeeded very happily in these few lines. As I could sing the tune, and was fond of them, he was so good as to give me them, about a year ago, just as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, little apprehending that it was a last farewell. I preserve this little relic, in his own handwriting, with an affectionate care.
I am, sir, your humble servant, JAMES BOSWELL." This air was, long after, more appropria ely employed by Colman for Looney Mactoulter in his farce of “The Wags of Windsor.” Mr. Moore has since tried to bring it into good company in the ninth number of his “ Irish Melodies.”—CROKER (Boswell by Croker, p. 251).
3 “We (13th April, 1773) drank tea with the ladies [after a dinner at General Oglethorpe's], and Goldsmith sang Tony Lumpkin's song in his comedy She Stoops to Conquer,' and a very pretty one to an Irish tune, which he had designed for Miss Hardcastle; but as Mrs. Bulkley, who played the part, could not sing, it wos left out. He afterwards wrote it down for me, by which means it has been preserved, and now appears among his poems.”—Boswell by Croker, p. 251.
IN PROSE AND VERSE, TO MRS. BUNBURY.' MADAM,- I read your letter with all that allowance which critical candor could require, but, after all, find so much to object to, and so much to raise my indignation, that I cannot help giving it a serious answer. I am not so ignorant, madam, as not to see there are many sarcasms contained in it, and solecisms also (solecism is a word that comes from the town of Soleis in Attica among the Greeks, built by Solon, and applied as we use the word Kidderminster for curtains from a town also of that name; but this is learning you have no tas for). I say, madam, there are sarcasms in it and solecisms also. But, not to seem an ill-natured critic, I'll take leave to quote your own words, and give you my remarks upon them as they occur. You begin as follows:
"I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here,
To open our ball the first day in the year." Pray, madam, where did you ever find the epithet “good” applied to the title of Doctor? Had you called me learned Doctor, or grave Doctor, or noble Doctor, it might be allowable, because they belong to the profession. But, not to cavil at trifles, you talk of my spring velvet coat, and advise me to wear it the first day in the year—that is, in the middle of winter. A spring velvet in the middle of winter!!! That would be a solecism indeed; and yet, to increase the inconsistence, in another part of your letter you call me a beau. Now, on one side or other, you must be wrong. If I am a beau, I can never think of wearing a spring velvet in winter; and if I am not a beau—why, then, that explains itself. But let me go on to your two next strange lines:
“And bring with you a wig that is modish and gay,
See note 2, p. 123. An invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Bunbury, in a rhyming and jocular strain, to spend some time with them at their seat at Barton, in Suffolk, brought from the poet the above reply, printed for the first time in 1837 by Messrs. Prior and Wright, though written in 1772.
The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you yourself seem sensible of; you say your sister will laugh, and so, indeed, she well may. The Latins have an expression for a contemptuous sort of laughter, Naso contemnere ad unco; that is, to laugh with a crooked nose: she may laugh at you in the manner of the ancients if she thinks fit. But now I am come to the most extraordinary of all extraordinary propositions, which is, to take your and your sister's advice in playing at loo. The presumption of the offer raises my indignation beyond the bounds of prose; it inspires me at once withi verse and resentment. I take advice!
I take advice! And from whom? You shall hear.
First let me suppose, what may shortly be true,