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Flew round my head ; yet, in my cause secure, Where taste and sense approve, I feel a joy “ Pour on," I cried, “ pour on, I will endure.” Dear to my heart, and mix'd with no alloy.
What! shall I shrink, because the noble train, I write not to the modish herd: my days, Whose judgment I impugn, whose taste arraign, Spent in the tranquil shades of letter'd ease, Alive, and trembling for their favourite's fate, Ask no admiring stare from those I meet, Pursue my verse with unrelenting hate?
No loud “ that's HE!” to make their passage sweet: No: save me from their PRAISE, and I can sit Pleased to steal softly by, unmark'd, unknown, Calm, unconcern'd, the butt of Andrews' wit I leave the world to Holcroft, Pratt,* and Vaughan. And Topham's sense ; perversely gay can smile, Of these enough. Yet may the few I love While Este, the zany, in his motley style,
(For who would sing in vain ?) my verse approve ; Calls barbarous names; while Bell and Boaden rave, Chief Thou, my friend! who from my earliest years, And Vaughan, a brother blockhead's verse to save, Hast shared my joys, and more than shared my cares. Toils day by day my character to draw,
Sure, if our fates hang on some hidden power, And heaps upon me every thing—but law.
And take their colour from the natal hour, But do I then (abjuring every aim)
Then, IRELAND !+ the same planet on us rose, All censure slight, and all applause disclaim ? Such the strong sympathies our lives disclose ! Not so: where judgment holds the rod, I bow My humbled neck, awed by her angry brow;
* Pratt. This gentleman lately put in practice a very
notable scheme. Having scribbled himself fairly out of Gent. Mag., ushering his great prototype's doggrel into notice, he found it expedient to retire to the continent for notice, with an importance truly worthy of it.
a few months-lo provoke the inquiries of Mr. Lane's
indefatigable readers. SONNET II.
Mark the ingratitude of the creatures! No inquiries “ To the execrable Bariad.
were made, and Mr. Pratt was forgotten before he had " Monster of turpitude! who seem'st inclined
crossed the channel. Ibi omnis cffusus labor.-But what! Through me to pierce with thy impregnate dart,
“ The mouse that is content with one poor hole The fine-spun nerve of each full-bosom'd mind,
Can never be a mouse of any soul." And rock in apathy-the sensire heart,
Based in this expedient, he had recourse to another, and, Tremble ! for lo! my Oracle-so famed
while we were dreaming of nothing less, came before us Shall ring each morn in thy accursed ear
in the following paragraph: A griding pang! So-when the Grecian Mare?
“A few days since died, at Basle in Switzerland, the Enter'd the town, old Pyramus exclaim'd,
ingenious Mr. Pratt. His loss will be severely felt by the I sce! I see and hurl'd his lightning spear, While Capaneus drew back his head-for fear,
literary world, as he joined to the accomplishments of
the gentleman the erudition of the scholar." And godlike3 Alexander-cazing round,
This was inserted in the London papers for several Unconscious of his victories to come,
days successively. The country papers, too, "yelled out Approach'd the monarch, and with sobs profound,
like syllables of colour." At length, while our eyes were Explain'd th' impending wrath o'er Nium's royal dome."
yet wet for the irreparable loss we had sustained, came a second paragraph:
“As no event of late has caused a more general sorrow being introduced under the auspices of Dr. Parr," I merely alluded to a conversation which Mr. Morley himself was said to have had with his bookseller;
than the supposed death of the ingenious Mr. Pratt, we - and I then suspected (what I now find, from the Doctor's letter, to be the
are happy to have it in our power to assure his numerous case) that this respectable name (Dr. Parr's) was abused, i. e. introduced admirers, that he is as well as they can wish, and (what upon the occasions without his consent, or even knowledge."
they will be delighted to bear) busied in preparing his If my words conveyed the idea which I now apprehend they may) that TRAVELS for the press " Dr. Parr himself had recommended the “Tale," it was far from my inten
“ Laud we the gods!" tion, and I am sorry for it. Indeed, I am sorry that his name was mentioned at all in the Mæviad. It is totally out of its place; and I can only regret, that
1† Here, on account of its connexion with the person a juster estimation both of Doctor Part and of Mr. Morley bad not changed mentioned in the text, I shall take the liberty-extremum my " suspicion" of the latter into certainty, and induced me to attribute his
hunc mihi concede-of inserting the following "imitarecommendatory story to vanity, and something else not altogether so venial.
tion," addressed to him several years since. It was never In conclusion: though Dr. Part gives up Mr. Morley's poetry, yet he seems to think I have undervalued his other attainments-" his Latin, Greek,
printed, nor, as far as I know, seen by any one but himand Hebrew, and his vigorous and elegant prose, "--of all these I knew self; and I transcribe it for the press with mingled sennothing. When there is no occasion for such vanity, I doubt pot but Mr. sations of gratitude and delight, at the favourable change Morley will take care to let them appear;" meanwhile, I must be content to of circumstances which we have both experienced since judge him from what I know-his sonnets and his tale. It is but fair to add, li wne. however, that the sound and salutary advice which Dr. Part gave this poor addle-headed man (to say nothing of the tenderness with which he speaks of
TO THE him) does no less honour to his friendship, than the reprobation of his poetry
REV. JOHN IRELAND.: does to his taste. 1 Quere, full-bottomed.-Printer's Devil.
IMITATION OF HORACE. LIB. II. ODE 16. 2 Grecian Mare - This has been hitherto, inaccurately enough, named the
Otium Dicos rogat, &c. Trojan horse ; and, indeed, I myself had nearly fallen into the unscholarlike
When howling winds, and lowering skies, error, when my learned friend Greathead convinced me (from Pope's emer.
The light, untimber'd bark surprise dations of Virgil, under the fantastic name of Scriblerius) that the animal in question was a mare-She being there said to be fota armis, armed with a
Near Orkney's boisterous seas; fatus. Let us hear no more, therefore, of the Trojan horse.
The trembling crew forget to swear, The patronymic Trojan is still more absurd. Homer expressly declares
And bend the knees unused to prayer, the mare to have been produced by Pallas--Palladis arte: now Pallas was
To ask a little ease. a Grecian goddess, as is sufficiently manifest from her name, which is de
For ease the Turk, ferocious, prays, rived from raw, vibro.-J. Bell.
For ease the barbarous Russe- for ease, 3 Godlike; that is rocions from @LO, God, and sons, like. Vide Hom, Translators in general (I except a late one) are too inattentive to the com.
Which Palk could ne'er obtain; pound epithets of this great poet. But why does Homer call Alexander goed.
Which Bedford lack'd amid his store, like, when be appears, from Curtius Quintius's telious gazette in verse, to
And liberal Clive, with mincs of ore, have had one shoulder higher than the other? My friend Vaughan thinks
Ost bade for-but in vain. it was purely to pay his court to him, in hopes of getting into his will, or rather into his mistresi's. It may be so; but 'tis strange the absurdity was never prtice i lefore. . Bell.
I Now prebendary of Westminster,
Thou know'st how soon we felt this influence
bland, And sought the brook and coppice, hand in hand, And shaped rude bows, and uncouth whistles blew, And paper kites (a last, great effort) flew ; And, when the day was done, retired to rest, Sleep on our eyes, and sunshine in our breast.
In riper years, again together thrown, Our studies, as our sports before, were one. Together we explored the stoic page Of the Ligurian, stern though beardless sage. Or traced th' Aquinian through the Latine road, And trembled at the lashes he bestow'd. Together, too, when Greece unlock'd her stores, We roved, in thought, o'er Troy's devoted shores, Or follow'd, while he sought his native soil, “ That old man eloquent," from toil to toil; Lingering, with good Alcinöus, o'er the tale, Till the east redden'd, and the stars grew pale.
So pass'd our life, till fate, severely kind, Tore us apart, and land and sea disjoin'd, For many a year: Now met, to part no more, Th’ascendant power, confess'd so strong of yore, Stronger by absence, every thought controls, And knits, in perfect unity, our souls.
O, IRELAND ! if the verse, which thus essays To trace our lives “e'en from our boyish days,” Delight thy ear, the world besides may railI care not-at th' uninteresting tale ; I only seek, in language void of art, To ope my breast, and pour out all my heart; And, boastful of thy various worth, to tell How long we loved, and, thou canst add, HOW WELL!
Thou too, My HOPPNER !* if my wish avail'd, Shouldst praise the strain that but for thee had fail'd;
For not the liseried tribes which wait
(an keep, my friend, aloof,
Around the lordly roof.
Rich is the blessing sent;
And fatlens on content.
Then why, dear Jack, should man,
01 his contracted span ?
Serener hours to find ?
And left himself behind.
An inmate of the breast :
The too tenacious guest.
Nor seeks the nert to know;
Anticipates the blow.
A phantom of the brain !
What that has begg'd in vain.
Here breath, there fame was given;
To keep the balance even.
A judgment sound and clear;
And forty pounds a year.
A ten years' hectic cough;
And sweep poor mortals off:
A fix'd contempt of wrong;
With nu inglorious song.
* Since this edition was prepared for the press, the country has been deprived of this distinguished and enlightened artist, whose hard destiny it was to struggle with many difficulties through the intermediate stages of an arduous profession, and to be snatched from the world at the moment when his “greatness was a ripening,” and the full reward of his labours and his genius securely within his grasp. His art, by his untimely fate, has sustained a loss which will not easily be repaired; for he was, in all respects, a very eminent man, and, while he lived, most vigorously supported by his precept, as well as by the example of his own productions, those genuine principles of taste and nature which the genius of Rey. nolds first implanted among us. But though Mr. Hoppner well knew how to appreciate that extraordinary per. son, and entertained the highest veneration for his professional powers, he was very far from his copyist; occasionally, indeed, he imitated his manner, and formed his pictures on similar principles; but what he thus borrowed he made his own with such playful ingenuity, and adorned and concealed his plagiarism with so many winning and original graces, that his pardon was sealed ere his sentence could be pronounced. The prevailing fashion of the times, together with his own narrow cir. cumstances in early life, necessarily airected his attention, almost exclusively, to the study of portrait-painting : in a different situation, the natural bent of his genius, no less than his inclinations, would probably have led him to landscape, and the rural and familiar walks of life; for when he exercised his talents upon subjects of this nature, he did it with so much ease and pleasure to himself, and was always so eminently successful, that it furnishes matter for regret, that the severe and harassing duties of his principal occupation did not allow him more frequent opportunities of indulging his fancy in the pursuit of objects so congenial with his feelings and disposition. Of his exquisite taste in landscape, the backgrounds which he occasionally introduced in his portraits will alone afford sufficient evidence, without considering the beautiful sketches in chalk, with which he was accustomed to amuse his leisure hours. These are executed with a vigour and felicity peculiar to himself, and discover
a knowledge and comprehension of landscape which I would do honour lo a Gainsborough. Indeed, in several
Thou know'st, when indolence possess'd me all, Me, all too weak to gain the distant land,
The waves had whelm'd, but that an outstretch'd Burst from the siren's fascinating power,
hand And gave the muse thou lovest one studious hour. Kindly upheld, when now with fear unnerved,
Proud of thy friendship, while the voice of fame And still protects the life it then preserved. Pursues thy merits with a loud acclaiin,
Thee, powers untried, perhaps unfelt before, I share the triumph ; not unpleased to see
Enabled, though with pain, to reach the shore, Our kindred destinies :-for thou, like me,
While West stood by, the doubtful strife to view, Wast thrown too soon on the world's dangerous | Nor lent a friendly arm to help thee through. tide,
Nor ceased the struggle there ; hate, ill-suppress'd, To sink or swim, as chance might best decide. Her vantage took of thy ingenuous breast,
respects, there appear to have been many points of simi- and distinct, yet so artfully and judiciously broken, that larity between ihese extraordinary men, not only in it requires an experienced eye to detect the delicate proparticular parts of their art, but also in their conversa cess by which the effect is accomplished. In the flesh of lion, disposition, and character.
his best female portraits, in particular, there is a union In portrait, however, Mr. Hoppner was decidedly su- of airiness with substance, of lustre with refined softness, perior, and so far outstripped Gainsborough in this de which has rarely been surpassed, except by that great partment of art, that it would be the highest injustice to original hand, which, in the formation of its “last, best attempt a comparison of their powers. The distinguish- work," rendered all chance of rivalship hopeless. ing characteristic of Mr. Hoppner's style is an easy and The absorbing quality of his principal pursuit seldom unatfected elegance, which reigns throughout all his allowed Mr. Hoppner to turn his attention practically to works: his naturally refined taste appeared to have given the more elevated departments of art, yet he had a sinhim almost intuitively an aversion from every thing cere respect for the noble productions of the Italian which hordered on affectation and vulgarity; and enabled schools, and the writer of these pages still remembers him to stamp an air of gentility and fashion on the most with pleasure the enthusiastic delight which he evinced inveterate awkwardness and deformity. Few men ever upon first entering the Louvre, and viewing the wonders sacrificed to the graces more liberally or with greater of that magnificent collection.-Taste in the arts and ele. Success: at his transforming touch, harshness and aspe- gances of life he possessed in a very uncommon degree rily dimpled into smiles, age lost its furrows and its It formed the distinguishing feature of his character, and pallid hues, and swelled on the sight in all the splendour shone alike conspicuously, whether his talents were of youthful exuberance. This power of improving what exercised upon music or painting, in writing or conver. was placed before him, without annihilating resemblance, sation. His colloquial powers, indeed, have not often obtained him a decided preference to all the artists of been excelled; for, in his happiest moments, there was his day among the fairer part of fashionable society, with a novelty of thvught, a playful brilliancy, and a boundless whom, it is probable, even Sir Joshua himself was never fertility of invention, which affixed to all he uttered the 8') great a favourite. Reynolds was too apt to be guilty stamp of originality and genius, and delighted every of the sin of painting all he saw, and now and then would hearer.--Sometimes, indeed, he indulged in a severity of maliciously exaggerate any little defect, if he could there- sarcasm, which, to such as are unaccustomed to make by increase the strength of the character which he was allowances for the quick perceptions and irritable feel. depicting. Mr. Hoppner pursued a different plan: heings of genius, appeared to partake somewhat too much
beauties not always exactly as they appeared, of bitterness and asperity; possibly, when engaged in but as they wished to appear; and to those whose charms mixed society, this notion might not be allogether void were “falling into the sear, the yellow leaf," his pictures of foundation, but they who were accustomed to enjoy were the most agreeable, and consequently the truest of his company under different circumstances, amid the all mirrors. The same qualities which rendered him so tranquil scenes of rural retirement, when his mind was highly successful in his portraits of women, did not, per. free from the little cares and fretting incidents of the haps, afford him equal advantages in those of the other world, and his character and feelings were allowed their sex, in which strength and character ought to take the full scope, will ever remember, with a sensation of min
almost every other consideration; his portraits gled sorrow and delight, the fancy, the enthusiasm, and uf men were generally, if the expression be allowable, the sentimental tenderness, which, on such occasions, too civilized and genteel to be very striking and forcible; breathed throughout his discourse. His education had and in his constant wish to represent the gentleman, he been neglected : such, however, was the energy and acti. sometimes failed to delineate the man. To this observa-vity of his mind, that this original defect was visible only tion, however, it must be acknowledged, that many of to the few who were in habits of the closest intimacy his best works form very splendid exceptions; and those with him. He read mucl who have viewed and attentively examined his admirable judgment: the best English authors were familiar to him; portraits of the Archbishop of York, Lord Spencer, Dr. and there was scarcely a topic of conversation into which Pitcairn, Mr. Pitt, &c., may rather feel inclined to regret he could not enter with advantage, or a subject, however that the prevailing fashion of the day should, in this remote from his ordinary pursuits, which his laste could instance, have produced a misapplication of his powers, not embellish, and his knowledge illustrate. than to lament their natural deficiency.
He died on the 23 of January, 1810, of a lingering and s portraits of children he was peculiarly fortunate: doubtful disease, at the age of fifty-one years. In the he entered completely into the infantine character, and carly progress of his complaint, he did not appear to arranged his compositions of this species with that unaf. entertain the slightest idea of its fatal termination ; but fected ease and playful grace which so pleasingly mark a few months previously to his death, it is evident, from the early periods of human life. One great charm of his the following affecting incident, that he was fully sensipictures arises from the air of negligence and facility ble of his approaching dissolution. Toward the close which pervades them; their production appears to have of autumn, as he was walking on the sunny side of St. cost no effort, and the careless boldness of his handling, James's-square, which, from its warm and sheltered situa. equally removed from insipidity and handicraft, stamps tion, he was in the habit of frequenting, he was met by a the hand of a master upon the most trifling of his per- | near relation of the writer, who, after accompanying him formances. His colouring is natural, chaste, and power- / for a short distance, prepared to quit him. “No ; don't ful, and his tones, for the most part, mellow and deep; go yet," said he, "my good fellow; stay and take another the texture of his flesh is uniformly excellent, and his turn or two with me. I like to walk in the decline of tho penciling rich and full; his carnatious transparent, fresh, I last summer's sun
Where saving wisdom yet had placed no screen, I mark'd with secret joy the opening bloom
Swells with its recent transports, recent fears, While battled malice hastes thy powers to own, And tenderest titles strike yet charm thy ears, And wonders at the worth so long unknown ! Say, wilt thou from thy feelings pause a while,
I too, whose voice no claims but truth's e'er moved, To view my humble labours with a smile? Who long have seen thy merits, long have loved, Thou wilt : for still 'tis thy delight to praise, Yet loved in silence, lest the rout should say, And still thy fond applause has crown'd my lays. Too partial friendship tuned th' applausive lay, Here then I rest; soothed with the hope to prove Now, now that all conspire thy name to raise, The approbation of “the few I love." May join the shout of unsuspected praise.
Join'd (for ambitious thoughts will sometimes Go then, since the long struggle now is o’er,
rise) And envy can obstruct thy fame no more,
To the kind sufferance of the good and wise. With ardent hand thy magic toil pursue,
Thus happy,—I can leave, with tranquil breast, And pour fresh wonders on the raptured view. Fashion's loud praise to Laura and the rest, One SUN is set, one GLORIOUS SUN, whose rays Who rhyme and rattle, innocent of thought, Long gladdend Britain with no common blaze: Nor know that nothing can proceed from naught. O mayst THOU soon (for clouds begin to rise) Thus happy,–I can view, unruffled, Miles Assert his station in the eastern skies,
Twist into splay-foot doggrel all St. Giles, Glow with his fires, and give the world to see | Edwin spin paragraphs with Vaughan's whole Another REYNOLDS risen, MY FRIEND, in THEE!
skill But whither roves the muse? I but design'd Este, rapt in nonsense, gnaw his gray goose To note the few whose praise delights my mind; I quill, But friendship's power has drawn the verse astray, Merry in dithyrambics rave his wrongs, Wide from its aim, a long but flowery way. | And Weston, foaming from Pope's odious songs, Yet one remains, ONE NAME for ever dear,
“Much injured Weston,” vent in odes his grief, With whom, conversing many a happy year, | And fly to Urban for a short relief.
ROBERT BURNS, the son of William Burnes, or Mr. Murdoch having been compelled to leave Ayr, Burness, was born on the 25th of January, 1759, in in consequence of some inadvertent expressions a clay-built cottage, about two miles to the south directed against Dr. Dalrymple, the elder Burns of the town of Ayr, in Scotland. His father, who himself undertook, for a time, the tuition of his was a gardener and small farmer, appears to have family. When Robert, however, was about fourteen been a man highly and deservedly respected, and years of age, his father sent him and Gilbert,“ week Burns' description of him as “ the saint, the father, about, during the summer quarter,” to a parish and the husband," of the Cotter's Saturday Night, school, by which means they alternately improved attests the affectionate reverence with which he themselves in writing, and assisted their parents regarded him. At the age of six years, Robert was in the labours of a small farm. According to our sent to a small school at Alloway Miln, then super-poet's own account, he, as he says, first committed intended by a teacher namned Campbell; but who, the sin of rhyme a little before he had attained his retiring shortly after, was succeeded by a Mr. John sixteenth year. The inspirer of his muse was love, Murdoch. Under the tuition of this gentleman, the the object of which he describes as a “bonnie, sweet, subject of our memoir made rapid progress in read- sonsie lass,” whose charms he was anxious to celeing, spelling, and writing, and though, to use his brate in verse. “I was not so presumptuous," he own words, “ it cost the schoolmaster some thrash- says, “as to imagine that I could make verses like ings,” he soon became an excellent English scholar. printed ones, composed by men who had Greek and A love of reading and a thirst for general knowledge Latin ; but my girl sung a song which was said to were observable at an early age; and before he had be composed by a small country laird's son, on one attained his seventeenth year, he had read Salmon's of his father's maids, with whom he was in love; and Guthrie's Geographical Grammars, the Lives of and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well Hannibal and Wallace, The Spectator, Pope's Works, as he : for, excepting that he could shear sheep, and some of Shakspeare's Plays, Tull and Dickson oncast peats, his father living in the moorlands, he had Agriculture, Tooke's Pantheon, Locke's Essay on no more scholar-craft than myself. Thus with me the Understanding, Stackhouse's History of the Bible, began love and poetry.” The British Gardener's Directory, Boyle's Lectures, The production alluded to is the little ballad Allan Ramsay's Works, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine commencingof Original Sin, Hervey's Meditations, and a Collec
0! once I loved a bonnie lass, tion of Songs. These works formed the whole of which Burns himself characterized as “ a very puehis collection, as mentioned by himself in a letter rile and silly performance;" yet, adds Mr. Lockhart, to Dr. Moore ; but his brother Gilbert adds to this it contains, here and there, lines of which he need list Derham's Physico and Astro-Theology, and a hardly have been ashamed at any period of his life. few other works. Of this varied assortment," the “ In my seventeenth year,” says Burns, “ to give Collection of Songs,” says the poct himself, “was my manners a brush, I went to a country dancingmy vade-mecum. I pored over them, driving my school. My father had an unaccountable antipathy cart, or walking to labour, song by song, verse by against these meetings, and my going was, what to verse; carefully noticing the true tender and sub- this moment I repent, in opposition to his wishes." lime, from affectation or fustian; and I am con- Then, referring to his views in life, he continuesvinced I owe to this practice much of my critic- “ The great misfortune of my life was to want an craft, such as it is.”
aim. I had felt early some stirrings of ambition, With Mr. Murdoch, Burns remained for about but they were the blind gropings of Homer's Cytwo years, during the last few weeks of which the clops round the walls of his cave. The only two preceptor himself took lessons in the French lan-openings by which I could enter the temple of forguage, and communicated the instructions he re-tune, were the gate of niggardly economy, or the ceived to his pupil, who, in a short time, obtained path of little chicaning bargain-making. The first a sufficient knowledge of French to enable him to is so contracted an aperture, I never could squeeze read and understand any prose author in that lan- myself into it: the last I always hated—there was guage. The facility with which he acquired the contamination in the very entrance. Thus abanFrench induced him to commence the rudiments of doned to no view or aim in life, with a strong appeLatin, but whether from want of diligence or of tite for sociability, as well from native hilarity as time, or that he found the task more irksome than from a pride of observation and remark; a constihe anticipated, he soon abandoned his design of ac- tutional melancholy, or hypocondriacism, that made quiring a knowledge of the language of the Romans. me fly from solitude; add to these incentives to