of a reclufe, inflamed with the fierce fpirit of bigotry. No fuppofition could have been wider from the truth; for Cowper was indeed a rare example of true Christian benevolence: yet, as the best of men have their little occafional foibles, he allowed himself, fometimes with his pen, but never, I believe, in conversation, to speak rather acrimoniously of several pursuits and pastimes, that seem not to deferve any austerity of reproof. Of this he was aware himself, and confeffed it, in the most ingenuous manner, on the following occafion. One of his intimate friends had written, in the first volume of his poems, the following paffage, from the younger Pliny, as descriptive of the book: "Multa tenuiter, multa fublimiter, multa venuste, multa tenere, multa dulciter, multa cum bile." Many paffages are delicate, many fublime, many beautiful, many tender, many fweet, many acrimonious.

Cowper was pleased with the application, and said, with the utmost candour and fincerity, "The latter part is very true indeed; yes! yes! there are "multa cum bile," many acrimonious.

Thefe little occafional touches of aufterity would naturally arife in a life fo fequeftered; but how just a fubject of surprise and admiration is it, to behold an author ftarting under fuch a load of disadvantages, and difplaying on the fudden fuch a variety of excellence! For, neglected as it was for a few years, the firft volume of Cowper exhibits such a diversity of poetical powers, as have been given very rarely indeed to any individual of the modern, or of the ancient world. He is not only great in paffages of pathos and fublimity, but he is equally admirable in wit and humour. After defcanting most copiously on facred subjects, with the animation of a prophet, and the fimplicity of an apostle, he paints the ludicrous characters of common life with the comic force of Moliere; particularly in his poem on Converfa

tion, and his exquifite portrait of a fretful temper; a piece of moral painting so highly finished, and so happily calculated to promote good humour, that a transcript of the verfes fhall close the first part of these memoirs.

Some fretful tempers wince at every touch;
You always do too little, or too much :
You speak with life, in hopes to entertain;
Your elevated voice goes through the brain:
You fall at once into a lower key;

That's worse :-the drone-pipe of an humble bee!
The fouthern fafh admits too ftrong a light;
You rife and drop the curtain :-now it's night.
He shakes with cold ;—you stir the fire, and strive
To make a blaze :-that's roafting him alive.
Serve him with ven'son, and he chooses fish ;
With foal-that's just the fort he would not wish.
He takes what he at first profess'd to loath;
And in due time feeds heartily on both :
Yet, ftill o'erclouded with a constant frown;
He does not fwallow, but he gulps it down.
Your hope to please him vain on every plan,
Himself should work that wonder, if he can.
Alas! his efforts double his distress;

He likes yours little, and his own still lefs.
Thus always teazing others, always teaz❜d,
His only pleasure is to be difpleas'd.

END OF THE FIRST PART.

VOL. I.

K

THE

LIFE

OF

COW PE R.

PART THE SECOND.

Ανηρ ηδιστος αοιδων.

A NEW era opens in the history of the Poet from

an incident that gave fresh ardour and vivacity to his fertile imagination.-In September, 1781, he happened to form an acquaintance with a lady highly accomplished herself, and fingularly happy in animating and directing the fancy of her poetical friends. The world will perfectly agree with me in this eulogy, when I add, that to this lady we are primarily indebted for the Poem of The Task, for the ballad of John Gilpin, and for the tranflation of Homer. But in my lively fense of her merit, I am almost forgetting my immediate duty, as the biographer of the Poet, to introduce her circumstantially to the acquaintance of my reader.

et.

A lady, whofe name was Jones, was one of the few neighbours admitted in the refidence of the retired PoShe was the wife of a clergyman, who refided at the village of Clifton, within a mile of Olney. Her fifter, the widow of Sir Robert Auften, Baronet, came to pass fome time with her in the autumn of 1781: and as

the two ladies chanced to call at a shop in Olney, oppofite to the house of Mrs. Unwin, Cowper obferved them from his window. Although naturally fhy, and now rendered more fo by his very long illness, he was fo ftruck with the appearance of the stranger, that on hearing she was fifter to Mrs. Jones, he requested Mrs. Unwin to invite them to teạ. So ftrong was his reluctance to admit the company of ftrangers, that after he had occafioned this invitation, he was for a long time unwil ling to join the little party; but having forced himself at laft to engage in converfation with Lady Austen, he was fo reanimated by her uncommon colloquial talents, that he attended the ladies on their return to Clifton, and from that time continued to cultivate the regard of his new acquaintance with fuch affiduous attention, that she foon received from him the familiar and endearing title of Sifter Ana.

The great and happy influence, which an incident,. that seems at firft fight fo trivial, produced very rapidly on the imagination of Cowper, will beft appear from the following Epistle, which, foon after Lady Auften's return to London for the winter, the Poet addressed to her, on the 17th of December, 1781.

DEAR ANNA-between friend and friend,
Profé answers every common end;

Serves, in a plain, and homely way,

T'exprefs th' occurrence of the day ;.

Our health, the weather, and the news;
What walks we take, what books we choose
And all the floating thoughts, we find

Upon the furface of the mind.

But when a Poet takes the pen,

Far more alive than other men,
He feels a gentle tingling come
Down to his finger and his thumb,,