THE PLEASURES OF RETIREMENT. THRICE happy he who by some shady grove, But doth converse with that eternal love! Oh, how more sweet is bird's harmonious moan, Or the hoarse sobbings of the widowed dove, Than those smooth whisperings near a prince's throne, Which good make doubtful, do the evil prove! Oh, how more sweet is zephyr's wholesome breath, And sighs embalmed which new-born flowers unfold, Than that applause vain honour doth bequeath! How sweet are streams to poison2 drunk in gold! The world is full of honours, troubles, slights ;Woods' harmless shades have only true delights. DIRGE OVER FIDELE'S TOMB.3 Drummond. Soft maids and village hinds shall bring No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; And melting virgins own their love. No withered witch shall here be seen, (1) His own-by himself. (2) To poison, &c.-Compared to poison. (3) This exquisite poem seems to have been suggested by the funeral chant over the body of Imogen, under the assumed name of Fidele, in Shakspere's "Cymbeline." Sir E. Brydges commends its "simplicity and pathos," its "highly poetical thought and tone," its "exquisite polish, without one superfluous, one prosaic word." He continues thus:-"The extreme transparency of the words and thoughts would induce a vulgar reader to consider them [such poems] trite, while they are the expression of a genius so refined as to be all essence of spirit." The redbreast oft, at evening hours, When howling winds and beating rain Collins. TO MAY.2 THOUGH many suns have risen and set But evermore throughout thy reign Earth, sea, thy presence feel-nor less, If yon ethereal blue With its soft smile the truth express, The inmost heart of man, if glad, And eyes that cannot but be sad Let fall a brightened tear. (1) The redbreast, &c.—It is thought that Gray was indebted to this stanza for the lines in the "Elegy" (see p. 65) beginning "There scattered oft," &c. (2) Among the many beautiful poems of the same author, there is not perhaps a more finished composition than this-not one more noticeable for the "curiosa felicitas," that "grace beyond the reach of art,"-which evinces the perfect mastery of the artist. Since thy return, through days and weeks The old, by thee revived, have said, And wayworn wanderers, poorly fed, Who tripping lisps a merry song But now, when every sharp-edged blast His mother leaves him free to taste Lo! streams that April could not check By thee, thee only, could be sent How delicate the leafy veil Through which yon House of God By few but shepherds trod! And lowly huts, near beaten ways, No sooner stand attired In thy fresh wreaths, than they for praise Season of fancy and of hope, A blossom from thy crown to drop, Nor add to it a flower! (1) Gurgling, &c.-In one line of this couplet we may almost hear the "gurgling," and in the other almost feel the stillness, of the water. (2) Curling, &c.-One of those "felicities of phrase alluded to in the first note. Keep, lovely May,' as if by touch Of self-restraining art, This modest charm of not too much, Part seen, imagined part! Wordsworth. THE POET. AGES elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared, And charms the woodland scenes, and wilds unknown, (1) Keep, lovely May, &c.-The most satisfactory test of superlative excellence, in point of composition, of such lines as this and the following, would be afforded by the attempt to improve them by the alteration or addition of even a single word. The success of Horace himself in such an endeavour would have been extremely doubtful. (2) Mantuan swan-Virgil, so called because he was born at Mantua, in Italy. A particular species of swans had the reputation among the ancients of singing very beautifully-hence poets were figuratively styled swans. (3) "Colours dipt in heaven"—an expression borrowed from "Paradise Lost." A soul exalted above earth; a mind MORAL MAXIMS, EPIGRAMS, &c. I. LIVE WHILE YOU LIVE.' "LIVE while you live," the epicure would say, ' II. LINES UNDER MILTON'S PORTRAIT. THREE poets in three distant ages born, III. HOPE. Cowper. Doddridge. THE wretch, condemned with life to part, And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise. Dryden. (1) Dr. Johnson has pronounced this epigram the finest in the language. (2) Expectation-is here employed in precisely the same sense as hope; for the distinction between them, see note 1, p. 203. |