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JOAN OF ARC,
Ballads, Lyrics, and Minor Poems.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOHN GILBERT.
WITH way-worn feet, a pilgrim woe-begone,
Life's upward road I journeyed many a day,
And hymning many a sad yet soothing lay Beguiled my wandering with the charms of song.
Lonely my heart, and rugged was my way,
The wild and simple flowers of Poesy ;
Entwined each ramdom weed that pleased mine eye. Accept the wreath, BELOVED! it is wild
And rudely garlanded; yet scorn not thon The humble offering, where the sad rue weaves 'Mid gayer flowers its intermingled leaves,
And I have twined the myrtle for thy brow.
It has been well said,“ that the Life of ROBERT SOUTHEY is a picture the very first sight of which elicits boundless satisfaction ; frequent and very close inspection qualifies delight ; 'a last and parting look would seem to justify the early admiration."
Robert Southey was born on the 12th of August, 1774; through both his parents he descended from respectable families of the county of Somerset. His father was in business as a linendraper in Bristol, but though a man of the highest integrity, was unsuccessful in trade ; and the care of young Southey in his childhood was undertaken by his mother's maiden aunt, Miss Tyler. Of this lady, Southey, in his Autobiography, has drawn a very speaking portrait. She appears to have had a great passion for theatres and actors, and as the Bristol was frequently honoured by visits of the great actors of the day, they became visitors at Miss Tyler's, and at those times her appearance and manners were those of the well-bred lady; but at other times she lived in her kitchen, and her attire was literally rags. But ragged as she might be, yet her notions of uncleanness were rigid in the extreme: a chair used by one she thought an unclean person was sent to the garden to be aired ; and on one occasion, a man who had called on business, and had the temerity to seat
himself in the lady's own chair, threw her into a paroxysm of wild distress and despair; and Southey tells us that she once buried a cup for six weeks in order to purify it from the lips of some one (no favourite, we suppose) who was considered dirty. With this oddity Southey lived till his sixth or seventh year, and to keep him from contact with dirt, he was not permitted to have playmates, nor to
noise that might disturb the old lady. He had no propensity for boyish sports. However, as soon as he could read, he was furnished with the History of the Seven Champions of England, Goody Two-shoes, and much more such delectable literature for children, all which was splendidly bound in the flowered and gilt Dutch paper
of former days. Trivial as this kind of reading may now appear, it laid the foundation of a love of books which grew with the child's growth and ceased not in age. As the boy accompanied his aunt before he was seven years old, he had been to the theatre more frequently than from the age of twenty till the day of his death. This familiarity with the drama of course directed his reading, so that by the time he was eight years old, he had read through Shakspeare, and Beaumont and Fleteher; and at nine he set about a tragedy, the subject of which was the Continence of Scipio. He had in the meantime been sent to a small day-school in Bristol, and afterwards removed to another at Corstone, near Bath. So ardent was his pursuit of knowledge, that at thirteen he had mastered Spenser, and, through translations, Tasso and Ariosto, and become acquainted with Ovid and Homer, besides all the light literature of the day that came in his way. In 1787, when in his fourteenth year, Southey was sent to Westminster School, where he remained four years, when he