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FSTANZAS.

volume, entitled “ The Song of the Patriot, melancholy that requires the utmost exer-
Sonnets, and Songs,” was thrown accident- tions of my philosophy to encounter."
ally in my way; and its perusal occasions About this period he wrote the following:-
me to acquainte the readers of the Table
Book with its uncommon merit. I do not To A LEAFLESS HAWTHORN.
know anything concerning the poet Hail, rustic tree! for, though November's wind
beyond what I have derived from printed Has thrown thy verdant mantle to the ground:
particulars, which I now endeavour to dif- Yet Nature, to thy vocal inmates kind,
fuse. That he is highly esteemed by a With berries red thy matron-boughs has crown'd.
discriminating brother bard in his native Thee do I envy: -for, bright April show'rs
county, is apparent by the following beau Will bid again thy fresh green leaves expand;
tiful address to him in the Nottingham And May, light floating in a cloud of flow’rs,
Mercury :

Will cause thee to re-bloom with magic band.
But, on my spring, when genial dew-drops fell,

Soon did life's north-wind curdle them with frost; My thoughts are of a solitary place,'

And, when my summer-blossom op'd its bell,
Where twilight dwells, where sunbeams rarely fall;

In blight and mildew was its beauty lost.
And there a wild-rose hangs in pensive grace,
Reflected in a fountain clear nd sinall;

Before adducing other specimens of Above them rise dark shadowy trees and tall,

his talents, it seems proper to give some Whilst round them grow rank night-shades in the account of the poet; and it can scarcely gloom,

be better related than in the following Which seem with noxious influence to pall The fountain's light, and taint the flower's perfume ;

MEMOIR OF ROBERT MILLHOUSE, BY HIS As fainly they would mar what they might not out ELDER BROTHER, JOHN MILLHOUSE. bloom.

Robert Millhouse was born at NottingThese, mind me, Millhouse I of thy spirit's light,

ham the 14th of October, 1788, and was That twilight makes in life so dark as thine !

the second of ten children. The poverty of And though I do not fear the rose may blight, his parents compelled them to put him to

Or that the fountain's how may soon decline ; work at the age of six years, and when ten

Hope, is there none, the boughs which frown malign, he was sent to work in a stocking-loom. High over-head, should let in heaven's sweet face; He had been constantly sent to a Sunday

Yet shall not these their life unknown resign, school, (the one which was under the partiFor nature's votaries, wandering in each place, cular patronage of that truly philanthropic Shall find their secret sbade, and marvel at their ornament of human nature, the late Mr.

Francis Wakefield,) till about the last-men

tioned age, when a requisition having been It appears from a small volume, pub- sent by the rector of St. Peter's parish, Dr. lished in 1823, entitled “ Blossoms—by Staunton, to the master of the school, for Robert Millhouse-being a Selection of six of his boys to become singers at the Sonnets from his various Manuscripts," church, Robert was one that was selected; that the Rev. Luke Booker, LL.D. vicar. and thus terminated his education, which of Dudley, deemed its author “a man merely consisted of reading, and the first whose genius and character seemed to merit rudiments of writing. the patronage of his country, while his

When sixteen years old he first evinced pressing wants, in an equal degree, claimed

an inclination for the study of poetry, which its compassion." The doctor “presumed originated in the following manner.-Being to advocate his case and his cause” before

one day at the house of an acquaintance, the “ Literary Fund,” and a donation he observed on the chimney-piece two honourable to the society afforded the poet small statues of Shakspeare and Milton, temporary relief. This, says Millhouse, which attracting his curiosity, he read on a was at a time when darkness surrounded tablet in front of the former, that celebrated me on every side.” In a letter to Dr.

inscriptionBooker, lamenting the failure of a subscription to indemnify him for publishing his

"The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself, poems, when sickness had reduced a wife and infant child to the borders of the grave,

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ;

And like the baseless fabric of a vision, he says, “ I am now labouring under in

Leave not a wreck behind !" disposition both of body and mind; which, with the united evils of poverty and a bad Its beauty and solemnity excited in his trade, have brought on me á species of mind the highest degree of admiration!

grace.

At the first opportunity he related the oc- a desire that, if they met with his approcurrence to me with apparent astonish- bation, he would insert them in his paper; ment, and concluded by saying, “ Is it not with which request that gentleman very Scripture ?" In reply, I told him it was a promptly complied. Having now a greater passage from Shakspeare's play of the confidence in himself, he attempted some

Tempest," a copy of which I had in my thing of a larger kind, and produced, in the possession, and that he had better read it. summer of 1812, the poem of “Nottingham For, although he had from his infancy been Park.” accustomed to survey with delight the In 1814 the regiment was disembodied, beautiful scenery which surrounds Not- when he again returned to the stockingtingham, had heard with rapture the sing. loom, and for several years entirely neging of birds, and been charmed with the lected composition. In 1817 he was placed varied beauties of the changing seasons; on the staff of his old regiment, now the and though his feelings were not unfreó Royal Sherwood Foresters; and in the quently awakened by hearing read pathetic following year became a married man. The narratives, or accounts of the actions and cares of providing for a family now increased sufferings of great and virtuous men, yet he his necessities; he began seriously to reflect was totally ignorant that such things were on his future prospects in life; and perin any wise connected with poetry. ceiving he had no other chance of bettering

He now began to read with eagerness his condition than by a publication, and such books as I had previously collected, not having sufficient already written to the principal of which were some of the form a volume, he resolved to attempt plays of Shakspeare, Paradise Lost, Pope's something of greater magnitude and imEssay on Man, the select poems of Gray, portance than he had hitherto done ; and Collins, Goldsmith,'Prior, and Parnell, two in February, 1819, began the poem of volumes of the Tatler, and Goldsmith's “ Vicissitude.” The reader will easily conEssays, all of the cheapest editions. But, ceive that such a theme required some ere long, by uniting our exertions, we were knowledge of natural and moral philosoenabled to purchase Suttaby's miniature phy, of history, and of the vital principles edition of Pope's Homer, Dryden's Virgil, of religion. How far he has succeeded in Hawkesworth's translation of Telemachus, this poem is not for me to say; but certain Mickle's version of the Lusiad, Thomson's it is, as may be expected from the narrowSeasons, Beattie's Minstrel, &c. These ness of his education, and his confined were considered as being a most valuable access to books, his knowledge is very acquisition; and the more so, because we superficial : however, with unceasing exhad feared we should never be able to ertions, sometimes composing while at obtain a sight of some of them, through work under the pressure of poverty and illtheir being too voluminous and expensive. health, and at other times, when released

In 1810 he became a soldier in the Not- from his daily labour, encroaching upon tinghamshire militia, joined the regiment the hours which ought to have been allotted at Plymouth, and shortly afterwards made to sleep, by the end of October, 1820, the an attempt at composition.

work was brought to a conclusion. It will readily be expected that now, being separated, we should begin to correspond with each other; and one day, on To his brother's narrative should be opening a letter which I had just received added, that Robert Millhouse's “ Vicissifrom him, I was agreeably surprised at the tude," and other poems, struggled into the sight of his first poetical attempt, the world with great difficulty, and were suca “ Stanzas addressed to a Swallow ;" which ceeded by the volume of “ Blossoms.” The was soon after followed by the small piece impression of both was small, their sale written “On finding a Nest of Robins.” slow, and their price low; and nearly as Shortly after this the regiment embarked at soon as each work was disposed of, the Plymouth, and proceeded to Dublin; from produce was exhausted by the wants of the which place, in the spring of 1812, I re author and his family. ceived in succession several other efforts of Fresh and urgent necessities have rehis muse.

quired fresh exertions, and the result is Being now desirous of knowing for cer « The Song of the Patriot, Sonnets, and tain whether any thing he had hitherto pro- Songs," a four-shilling volume, "printed duced was worthy to appear in print, he for the Author and sold by R. Hunter, requested me to transmit some of them to St. Paul's Church-yard, and J. Dunn, Not the editor of the Nottingham Review, with tingham." The book appeared in the

autumn of last year, after poor Millhouse prepared to offer whole hecatombs of hůhad suffered much privation from the bad man victims: the interests of other nations state of the times. It was published with were no further regarded, than as they could a slender list of subscribers--only seventy- be rendered subservient to the gratification seven !-and, though intended to improve of her ambition; and mankind at large his situation, has scarcely defrayed the bills were considered as possessing no rights, of the stationer and printer.

but such as might with the utmost proThe author of “ The Song of the Pa- priety be merged in that devouring vortex. triot” anticipated the blight of his efforts. With all their talents and their grandeur, In the commencement of that poem, he they were unprincipled oppressors, leagued says:

in a determined conspiracy against the 'Tis difficult for little men

liberty and independence of mankind." To raise their feeble pigmy heads so high,

Every English patriot disclaims, on behalf As to attract the glance of passing ken

of his country, the exclusive selfishness of Where giant shoulders in tercept the sky;

Roman policy; and Millhouse is a patriot And ah! 'tis difficult for such as I,

in the true sense of the word. His “ Song To wake fit strains where mighty minstrels sing;

of the Patriot" is a series of energetic Perhaps, even this, shall but be born and die; stanzas, that would illustrate the remark. Not fated to enjoy a second spring,

At the hazard of exceeding prescribed But like some hawk-struck bird, expire on new-fledg'd limits, two more are added to the specimens wing.

already quoted. with all a poet's fire, and all a patriot's A barrier, to control the despot's will; In this poem there are stanzas expressed A beacon, lighted on a giant hill;

A sea-girt watch-tower to each neighbouring state; heartfelt devotion to his country.

An instrnment of all-directing fate Land of my fathers ! may thy rocky coast

Is Britain; for whate'er in man is great, Long be the bulwark of thy free-born race; Full to that greatness have her sons attain'd; Long may thy patriots have just cause to boast

Dreadful in war to hurl the battle's weight; That mighty Albion is their native place;

Supreme in arts, in commerce unrestrain'd; Still be thy sons unequall'd in the chase

Peerless in magic song, to hold the soul enchain'd. Of glory, be it science, arts, or arms;

And first o'erweening conquerors to disgrace ; In wealth and power stupendous is our isle I Yet happier far, when Peace in all her charms,

Obtain'd by Labour's persevering hand : Drives out from every land the din of war's alarms. And heaven-born Liberty extends her smile Potent art thou in poesy-Yet there still

To the remotest corners of our land : Is one thing which the bard hath seldom scann'd;

The meanest subject feels her potent wand; That national, exalting local thrill,

Peasant and peer are by one law controll'd; Which makes our home a consecrated land :)

And this it is, that keeps us great and grand :

This is the impulse makes our warriors bold, 'Tis not enough to stretch the Muses' wand

And knits more close the bond our fathers seal'd of old. O'er states, where thy best blood has purchas'd fame;

Nor that thy fertile genius should expand
To cast o'er foreign themes the witching flame :

The prevailing feature in Robert MillThis hath thy lyre perform'd, and won a glorious He loves his country, and deems his birth

house's effusions is of a domestic nature.

place and the hearth of his family its brightBe every hill and dale, where childhood wanders,

est spots. One of his sonnets combines And every grove and nook, the lover knows,

these feelings :
And every stream, and runlet that meanders,
And every plain that covers freedom's foes

HOME.
The dwelling-place of Song, -and where repose
The great immortal worthies of our isle

Scenes of my birth, and careless childhood hours! Be hallow'd ground-and when the pilgrim goes

Ye smiling hills, and spacious fertile vales! To hail the sacred dast, and muse a while,

Where oft I wander'd, plucking vernal fowers, Be heard the free-born strain to blanch the tyrant's

And revell'd in the odour-breathing gales; smile.

Should fickle Fate, with talismanic wand,

Bear me afar where either India glows, The patriotism of that people, traces of Or fix my dwelling on the Polar land, whose victories are observable in many of

Where Nature wears her ever-during snowys; our customs, has been well discriminated. Still shall your charms my fondest themes adorn; " In the most virtuous times of the Roman When placid evening paints the western sky, republic their country was the idol, at whose shrine her greatest patriots were at all times

• Robert Hall

Dame.

And when Hyperion wakes the blushing Morn, backward, and preserve the same sense.

To rear his gorgeous sapphire throne on high. There is a specimen of this “ literary inFor, to the guileless heart, where'er we roam,

genuity” in the present volume of the No scenes delight us like our much-lov'd Home.

Table Book, (col. 28.) The “Lives of the

viz: 'A man so humble, with such acquire. Saints” afford another, ments as have been here exemplified, and

St. Martin (of whom there is an account so unfortunate as to have derived little from in the Every-Day Book, vol. i. p. 1469) their exercise but pain and disappointment, having given up the profession of a soldier, may be imagined to have penned the fol and being elected bishop of Tours, when lowing address in distress and despond. prelates neither kept carriages, horses, nor ency:

servants, had occasion to go to Rome, in

order to consult his holiness upon some To GENIUS.

important ecclesiastical matter. As he was O born of heaven, thou Child of magic Song! walking gently along the road, he met the

What pangs, what cutting hardships wait on thee, devil, who politely accosted him, and ven

When thou art doom'd to cramping Poverty; tured to observe how fatiguing and inThe pois'nous shafts from Defamation's tongue,-- decorous it was for him to perform so long The jeers and tauntings of the blockhead throngs a journey on foot, like the commonest of Who joy to see thy bold exertions fail;

cockle-shell-chaperoned pilgrims. The saint While Hunger, pinching as December's galo, knew well the drift of Old Nick's address, Brings moody dark Despondency along.

and commanded him immediately to be And, should'st thou strive Fame's lofty mount to come a beast of burthen, or jumentum ; scale,

which the devil did in a twinkling, by The steps of its ascent are cut in sand;

assuming the shape of a mule. The saint And half-way up-a spake-scourge in her hand,

jumped upon the fiend's back, who, at first, Lurks pallid Envy, ready to assail :

trotted cheerfully along, but soon slackened And last, if thou the top, expiring, gain,

his pace. The bishop, of course, had neither When Fame applauds, thou hearest not the strain.

whip nor spurs, but was possessed of a In this sheet there is not room to further much more powerful stimulus, for, says the make known, or plead at greater length, legend, he made the sign of the cross, and the claims of Robert Millhouse to notice the smarting devil instantly galloped away. and protection. I should blush for any father of sin returned to sloth and obsti

Soon, however, and naturally enough, the reader of poetical taste, with four shillings to spare, who, after perusing the preceding nacy, and Martin hurried him again with extracts

, would hesitate to purchase the repeated signs of the cross, till twitched poet's last little volume,

I should more

and stung to the quick by those crossings than blush for the inore wealthy, who are

so hateful to him, the vexed and tired rereputed patrons of talent, if they decline to probate uttered the following distich in a seek out and effectually succour him. I rage :am, and am likely to remain, wholly unac Signa te, Signa: temere me tangis et angis : quainted with him: my only wish is to Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor, induce attention to a talented and estimable individual, who is obscure and neg

That is — “ Cross, cross thyself - thou lected, because he is unobtrusive and plaguest and vexest me without ne

necessity; modest.

for, owing to my exertions, Rome, the ob

ject of thy wishes, will soon be near.” The August 8, 1827.

singularity of this distich consists, as hinted above, in its being palindromical ;

or it reads backwards as well as in the AN INFERNAL PALINDROME. common way-Angis, the last word of the

first line, makes signa-et makes te-and [Palindrome. A word or sentence which is the same read backward as forwards: as, madam ; or this the last line, read backwards, makes Roma

so on to the beginning. Amor, the last of sentence Subi dura a rudibus. Johnson.]

-ibit makes tibi-and so forth. Whence did Geoffry Crayon derive “The These lines have been quoted imperPoor Devil Author," the title to one of his fectly and separately in "Encyclopedies" “Tales of a Traveller," but from a legendary and other books, under the words “ Palinstory, according to which the devil is ac- dromical verses;" but the reader will not quainted with versification, although his easily meet with the legendary tale, which lines are constructed in a very remarkable gives them historical consistence and meano manner; for they can be read forward and ing..

Garrick Plays.

My father's Usher, but the world's beside,

Because he goes before it all in folly. No. XXIX. [From the “Gentleman Usher," a Comedy, [From the “ Bastard," a Tragedy, Author by G. Chapman, 1606.]

Unknown, 1652.] Vincentio, a Prince (to gain him over to his interest in a love-affair) gulls Bassiolo,

Lover's Frown. a formal Gentleman Usher to a Great Lord,

Roderiguez, Thy uncle, Love, holds still a jealous with commendations of his wise house-or

eye dering at a great Entertainment.

On all my actions; and I am advised, Vinc. - besides, good Sir, your Show did shew so

That his suspicious ears well

Are still behind the hangings; that the servants Bass. Did it indeed, my Lord ?

Have from him in command to watch who visits. Vinc. O Sir, believe it,

'Tis safest, in my judgment, in his presence 'Twas the best fashion'd and well-order'd thing,

That thou forbear to cast a smile upon me; That ever eye beheld : and therewithal,

And that, like old December, I should look The fit attendance by the servants used,

With an unpleasant and contracted brow, The gentle guise in serving every guest,

Varina. What, can'st thou change thy heart, my In other entertainments; every thing

dear, that heart About your house so sortfully disposed,

Of Resh thou gav'st me, into adamant, That ev'n as in a turn-spit (call'd & Jack)

Or rigid marble ? can'st thou frown on me? One vice assists another; the great wheels,

Rod. You do mistake me, sweet, I mean not so Turning but softly, make the less to whirr

To change my heart; I'll change my countenance, About their business ; every different part

But keep my heart as loyal as before. Concurring to one commendable end:

Var. In truth I cannot credit it, that thou So, and in such conformance, with rare grace

Can'st cast a frown on me; I prithee, try. Were all things order'd in your good Lord's house.

Rod. Then thus : Bass, The most fit Simile that ever was.

(he tries, and cannot; they smile on each other.) Vinc. But shall I tell you plainly my conceit, Var. I prithee, sweet, betake thyself to school; Touching the man that (I think) caused this order? This lesson thou must learn ; in faith thou art out, Bass. Aye, good my Lord,

Rod. Well, I must learn, and practice it, or we Vinc. You note my Simile?

Shall blast our budding hopes. Bass. Drawn from the turn-spit

Var. Come, try again. Vinc. I see, you have me.

Rod. But if I try, and prove a good proficient; Even as in that quaint engine you have seen

If I do act my part discretely, you À little man in shreds stand at the winder,

Must take it as a play, not as a truth ; And seems to put in act all things about him,

Think it a formal, not a real frowd. Lifting and pulling with a mighty stir,

Var. I shall Yet adds po force to it, nor nothing does :

Rod. Then thus : i'faith, minion, I'll look to thee. So, though your Lord be a brave gentleman,

(she swoons.) And seems to do this business, he does nothing.' Some man about him was the festival robe

Rod. Why, how now, sweet l-I did mistrust thy That made him shew so glorious and divine.

weakness :

Now I have learn'd my part, you are to seek.
Bass. I cannot tell, my Lord; but I should know,
If any such there were.

Var. 'Faith, 'twas my weakness ; when I did per

ceive Vinc. Should know, quoth you? I warrant, you know well. Well, some there be,

A cloud of rage condensed on thy brow, Shall have the fortune to have such rare men

My heart began to melt. (Like brave Beasts to their arms) support their state; When others, of as high a worth and breed, Are made the wasteful food of them they feed. [From “ Love Tricks," a Comedy, by What stato bath your Lord made you for your service? James Shirley.]

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