GEORGE CRABBE.-Born, 1754; Died, 1832. George Crabbe was the son of a man in humble life at Aldborough, in Suffolk. Receiving a good education, he went to London to seek a living by his pen, but failed, and was rescued from great distress by Burke, to whom he made his case known. Entering Holy Orders, he was finally appointed rector of Trowbridge, Wilts. His poems, "The Borough," ," "The Parish Register," &c., are all drawn from real life, and show marvellous truthfulness of description, and not seldom a tender pathos and quiet humour that lend them a great charm. To AN ENGLISH PEASANT. From "The Parish Register." pomp and pageantry1 in nought allied, 1 pageantry, display. 2 contemning, despising. A friend to virtue, his unclouded breast (Bane of the poor! it wounds their weaker mind, 3 stoic pride. The self-restraint and unpitying pride of the Stoic philosophers were proverbial, Compelled to kneel, and tremble at the sight, W, BLAKE.-Born, 1757; Died, 1828. William Blake was a celebrated engraver, but, also, a poet of no ordinary merit. His designs as an artist were as full of genius as his verses, but he never rose, during his life, above comparative poverty and obscurity. THE LAND OF DREAMS. "AWAKE, awake, my little boy! Thou wast thy mother's only joy; Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? "O what land is the Land of Dreams? What are its mountains, and what are its streams? Among the lilies, by waters fair. She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight: O when shall I again return!" "Dear child! I, also, by pleasant streams Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams :— "Father, O Father! what do we here, The son of a Scottish ploughman, and himself bred to the same humble calling, Robert Burns showed himself a poet of amazing genius. To estimate its strength his disadvantages must be remembered. As a song writer he is, perhaps, unequalled, and while humour marks some of his pieces; exquisite sensibility to natural beauty others; a large-hearted humanity not a few; there can be no question of the tender depth of feeling and delicate purity of expression in those given here. TO MARY' IN HEAVEN. THοu lingering star, with less'ning ray, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. Oh, Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of peaceful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? 1 Mary Campbell, an early love of 2 the morning star. Burns, who died in her youth. That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Eternity will not efface1 Those records dear of transports past; Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, The flowers sprang wanton" to be prest, Still o'er these scenes my mem❜ry wakes, My Mary dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? 3 Ayr, a streamlet in Ayrshire, Scotland. 'efface, wear away. 5 wanton, as if asking, in their joy. |