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ERRATA.

Page 17, line 2 from bottom, for 'Lyson,' read 'Lysons.'

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201, line 22, for Aberystwith,' read Aberystruth.' 346, line 1, for '1817,' read 1807.'

MEMOIR.

EDWARD, eldest son of John Bradford Coples

ton, rector of Offwell, in the county of Devon, was born at Offwell on the 2nd of February, 1776, and was educated by his father until he arrived at the age of fifteen. of fifteen. Of his early boyhood, no particular notices have been preserved; nor have I any anecdotes to give of that precocity in intellect, which has sometimes proved not less fallacious as to future hopes than marvellous for the present: but with such allowance as a poet's words require, may say that he

I

Undoubtedly

Was fashioned to much honour. From his cradle
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one.

The sapling tree, gathering strength, 'occulto ævo,' was marked and transplanted at a very early age: for in 1791 we find Edward Copleston elected a scholar of C. C. C., Oxford; and in 1793 he appears as the successful candidate for the Latin Verse Prize; thus winning his first public honours, and, as it chanced, reciting his poem, amidst the splendours of an installation-that of the Duke of Portland, chancellor of the university. The letter

B

in which he announced his success to his father

has been preserved as a family relic, and is here given as a pleasing specimen of the artless and eager joy of the young scholar :

My dear Father,

I am happy to inform you that your expectations with regard to my getting the university prize are verified. This morning I received the enchanting news, and I have taken the earliest opportunity of imparting it to you. Indeed, one of the greatest sources of pleasure to me from so distinguished an honour, is the thought of the satisfaction you will feel, as well as all the family. I have just been to Mr. Crowe, the public orator, who has paid me the most flattering compliments. I know you will excuse this slovenly and short letter, and impute it to the flurry of my spirits, which you will easily believe are rather agitated at so unexpected an event; and indeed it almost appears to me like a dream. I am so impatient that you should be informed of this, that I almost fancy every line I write retards your seeing my letter. And I am convinced no other intelligence after this can be any ways interesting to you. I will write again in a day or two, and be more particular; at present, I can only add my duty and kindest love to my mother, love to my brothers and sisters, And I am, my dear Father,

Your ever dutiful and affectionate son,

E. COPLESTON.

A MS. book, containing this prize poemMarius in Tugurio ruinarum Carthaginiensiumtogether with some other college exercises of no slight merit, now lies before me. Nor is it trivial to remark upon the extreme neatness and beauty of the writing, because, when this manner is uni

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formly preserved, as in the bishop's case, through life, we prognosticate, without the aid of the graphiologist, clear thought and methodical accuracy. To write intelligibly, was indeed matter of principle with Bishop Copleston; and that any person, able to handle a pen, should habitually do otherwise, he thought showed some degree of arrogance, or else of selfish carelessness. Let me further mention, as a pleasing trait, that this early MS. book contains a careful transcript of a Latin verse exercise, written by the bishop's younger brother, then of the age of sixteen, and living at home with his father.

An old friend and contemporary of the bishop, when a scholar at C. C. C., has kindly sent me the following specimen of his youthful muse, not unworthy to be classed with Milton's Latin effusions at the same age. The lines were written at Offwell, during a vacation, and sent to his friend by post, his age being then seventeen.

Sæpe ego vicinâ cùm nuncius urbe rediret

(Unde refert quicquid poscit ab urbe domus)
Sæpe steti expectans si forsitan Oxoniensi
Adveniat tandem littera facta manu.
Sed multos delusa dies spes longior usque,
Et magis a votis cedere visa meis;

Nec quid agat "Corpus," nec tu Marcelle, meorum
Inter amicorum semper habende chorum,

Qui valeas novi: Seu lætos inter ut olìm
Felices profers lætus et ipse jocos;
Nec partem (largo perfusus membra lyæo)
Demere de solido spernis ut antè die;

Sepositâque omni (namque hoc est vivere) curâ
Appetis extremâ non nisi nocte torum :—
Sive (quod avertant Fata et quodcunque juventæ
Gaudet in adversis numen adesse bonæ)
Stratus in ægroto dum tu torquêre cubili,
Aufugit ardenti pulsa dolore quies,

Dumque doles calido salientes sanguine venas,

Vexat adhuc variam pustula multa cutem;-
Seu tandem immenso laudum perculsus amore
Amplius ignavos non sinis ire dies,

Et nî vana fides, nunquam fleture laborem,
Confisus propriis viribus alta petis,

Quippe ut, quod dudùm meritò domus inclyta poscit,
Personet eloquium Sheldoniana tuum ;
(Nam te nec pigræ semper succumbere menti
Exstiterit quamvìs hactenus iste pudor,
Nec te crediderim ingenio quandò tibi tali
Dî dederunt, paucis quale dedêre frui,
Desidiam infamem potiùs sine fine fovere
Quam petere ingenio præmia digna tuo)
Quicquid agis, responsa rogo. Si Musa negârit;
Ne pete, quærenti quod tibi Musa negat;
Te verò curasque tuas sermone pedestri,

Et reliqui quid agant, fac mihi charta ferat.
Intereà (invitâ si sit, mî ignosce, Minervâ)
Versiculos, præsens quos tulit hora, dabo:
Nec mirêre precor, flatus si Crassior Austri
Spiret Hyperboreis duriùs auriculis,
Aut sese incultis Cantata Devonia Musis

Jactet, et agrestes tantùm amet illa modos.
Vive meo nunquàm memori elapsurus amore
Et, quod nunc volo se sic et habere, vale.

E. COPLESTON.

Offwell, Nov. 24, 1796.

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