WILLIAM DRUMMOND. BORN 1585-DIED 1649. the vanity of human life, which has been pronounced equal to the splendid passages of Jeremy Taylor on this sublimest of all earthly topics. If tradition may be credited, it was composed in one of the caves in the lofty cliff on which the House of Hawthornden stands, and which is to this day called "The Cypress Grove." About this time, and while in the same frame of mind, he wrote what he called "Flowers of Zion; or Spiritual Poems." The publication of these volumes brought Drummond great fame, and led to a familiar correspondence with several of the literary magnates of his day, among whom may be mentioned Ben Jonson, Michael Drayton, Dr. Arthur Johnston the Latin poet, and the Earls of Ancrum and Stirling. Drayton in an elegy on the English poets takes occasion to speak of Drummond with much distinction. From the Drummonds of Carnock, after-"The Cypress Grove;" a prose rhapsody on wards Dukes of Perth, were descended the Drummonds of Hawthornden, a branch rendered as famous by the poet, as the other has been by statesmen and warriors. William Drummond, son of Sir John Drummond, was born at Hawthornden, December 13, 1585. He was educated at the recently founded University of Edinburgh, and being designed by his father for the legal profession, was in the year 1606 sent, in accordance with the custom of that day, to France to prosecute the study of the law. He appears to have been a most diligent student, studying with great assiduity, taking notes of the lectures which he attended, and writing observations of his own upon them. That he was well fitted for this profession is not left to conjecture. The learned President Lockhart, on being shown these manuscripts, declared that if Drummond had followed the law "he might have made the best figure of any lawyer of his time." In 1610 his father, Sir John, died, and he returned to Scotland to take possession of an independent inheritance, as Laird of Hawthornden, at the same time deciding to look for happiness in rural life and literary pursuits. A more lovely spot for a poet's retreat we never saw in or out of Scotland. "Classic Hawthornden," Sir Walter called it. Within a small space are combined all the elements of sublime and picturesque scenery, and in the immediate neighbourhood is Roslyn Castle, one of the most interesting of Gothic ruins. In this charming retreat Drummond gave himself up to the study of the poets of Greece and Rome, of modern Italy and France; and to the formation upon them of an English style of his own. His earliest publication of which we have any knowledge, is a volume of poems of the date of 1616, when he was in his thirty-first year. This volume, however, is stated in the title to be the second edition. His next work was produced after his recovery from a dangerous illness, and was entitled 66 The most remarkable incident connected with the literary life of the Laird of Hawthornden, was the visit which the great dramatist "Rare Ben Jonson" paid to him in the spring of 1619. The Scottish poet kept notes of the opinions expressed by his distinguished guest, and chronicled some of his personal failings. Jonson alludes to all the contemporary poets and dramatists; but the most singular of all is his reference to Shakspere, of whom he speaks with as little reverence as of any of the others. He said, Shakspere wanted art, and sometimes sense; for in one of his plays he brought a number of men, saying they had suffered shipwreck in Bohemia, where is no sea near by an hundred miles." In describing Jonson Drummond says, "He was a great lover and praiser of himself, a contemner and scorner of others, given rather to lose a friend than a jest; jealous of every word and action of those about him, especially after drink, which is one of the elements in which he lived; a dissembler of the parts which reign in him; a bragger of some good that he wanted: thinking nothing well done, but what either he himself or some of his friends have said or done. He is passionately kind or angry, careless either to gain or keep; vindictive, but if he be well answered at himself, interprets best sayings and deeds often to the worst. He was for any religion, as being versed in both; oppressed with fancy, which hath overmastered his reason, a general disease in many poets." "In short," concludes Drummond, "he was in his personal character the very reverse of Shakspere, as surly, ill-natured, proud, and disagreeable, as Shakspere, with ten times his merit, was gentle, good-natured, easy, and amiable." It should be said to Ben's honour, that when he spared not the absent, neither did he overlook him who was present. Hawthornden's verses, he allowed, "were all good, especially his epitaph on Prince Henry; save that they smelled too much of the schools, and were not after the fancy of the times; for a child," said he, "may write after the fashion of the Greek and Latin verses, in running; yet, that he wished for pleasing the king, that piece of 'Forth Feasting' had been his own." Our poet has been most unjustly attacked for his remarks about Jonson, which was simply a rough memorandum for his own use, never intended for publication. Though it treats with unparalleled severity the character and foibles of the English dramatist, there is every proof that he has not done him any injustice. It is not kindly, nor can it be said to be hostilely written. There is scarcely any writer that had any personal acquaintance with Jonson who does not confirm Drummond's sketch. Howell, in one of his letters, has a passage which may suffice to acquit our poet of any singularity in his opinions. "I was invited yesterday," he says, "to a solemn supper by B. J. There was good company, excellent cheer, choice wines, and jovial welcome. One thing intervened, which almost spoiled the relish of the rest, that B. began to engross all the discourse, to vapour extremely of himself, and by vilifying others to magnify his own name. T. Ca. buzzed me in the ear, that though Ben had barrelled up a great deal of knowledge, yet it seems he had not read the ethics, which, amongst other precepts of morality, forbid self-commendation, declaring it to be an ill-favoured solecism in good manners." It was about the time of the English poet's visit that Drummond formed an attachment for a young lady, daughter to Cunninghame of Barnes, an ancient and honourable house. His affection was reciprocated, the marriage day was appointed, and preparations going forward for its solemnization, when she was taken ill with a fever of which she soon after died His deep grief on this sad event he has ex pressed in many of those sonnets which hav given him the title of the Scottish Petrarch and it has been well said that he celebrated h dead mistress with more passion and sincerit than others use to praise their living one Finding his home, after this event, irksome him, he sought consolation on the Continen where he resided for eight years, spending h time chiefly in Paris and Rome. During h travels he collected a large library of the b ancient Greek and Latin authors, and t works of the most esteemed modern writers France, Italy, and Spain. He afterwards p sented the collection to the College of Ed burgh. The catalogue accompanying the about 500 volumes, printed in the year 16 is furnished with a Latin preface, from Dru mond's pen, upon "the advantage and hon of libraries." On his return to his native land, wh Drummond found already breaking out those political troubles which so unhap closed the career of Charles I., he retired the residence of his brother-in-law, Sir J Scot, where he wrote his History of the Jameses, Kings of Scotland. For purit style and elegance of expression it is surpassed by any Scottish work of his It was not published until after Drumme death. In the year 1630 he married E beth Logan, daughter to Sir Robert Lo in whom he either found, or fancied he found, a resemblance to his first love. his marriage he had several children, eldest of whom, a son, was knighted by Ch II. We know little of the private life o poet after this period, but that he lived tired life at his beautiful house of Hawt den, which he repaired, as we learn fro inscription bearing date 1638 still to be upon the building. Drummond died Dec 4, 1649, wanting only nine days to the pletion of his sixty-fourth year. His was interred in Lasswade church, in the neigh- | Verse, being heretofore so precious to Prince bourhood of Hawthornden. Besides his history he wrote several political tracts, all strongly in favour of royalty. Henry and to King Charles, shall live and flourish in all ages, whiles there are men to read them, or art and judgment to approve them." Some of his poems remained in MS. till incorporated in the folio edition of his works issued in 1711. The most popular of those detached productions printed in the poet's lifetime was entitled "Polemo-Middinia, or the Battle of the Dunghill." This was a satire upon some of the author's contemporaries; and contains much humour in a style of composi tion which had not before been attempted in Scotland. It long retained its popularity in Edinburgh, where it was almost yearly reprinted; and it was published at Oxford in 1691, with Latin notes and a preface by Bishop Gibson. The latest edition of Drummond's works appeared in London in 1833, with a life by Peter Cunningham, a son of "honest Allan." In 1873 another memoir of the poet appeared, from the pen of Professor David Masson. It is as a poet, however, that Drummond is now known and remembered. His poems, though occasionally tinged with the conceits of the Italian school, possess a harmony and sweetness unsurpassed by the productions of any of his English or Scottish contemporaries. His sonnets are particularly distinguished for tenderness and delicacy. William Hazlitt remarks, "Drummond's sonnets, I think, come as near as almost any others to the perfection of this kind of writing, which should embody a sentiment, and every shade of a sentiment, as it varies with time, and place, and humour, with the extravagance or light ness of a momentary impression." It is generally conceded that Drummond is second only to Shakspere as a sonnet writer; and Henry Hallam, Thomas Campbell, and Robert Southey have concurred, with some variations in degree The first poem which appears among our of praise, in assigning him a high place among selections from Drummond was designed as a British poets who appeared before Milton. compliment to King James VI., on his visit Drummond seems throughout his life, if we to Scotland in 1617. Of the many effusions except the early collections, to have entertained which that event called forth this only has little concern for the preservation of his poems. maintained its popularity, and indeed, as a Many of them were only printed, during his performance professedly panegyrical, it is no lifetime, upon loose sheets; and it was not till ordinary praise to say that it has done so. 1656 that Sir John Scot caused them to be col-" It attracted," as Lord Woodhouselee has relected and published in one volume. An edi- marked, the envy as well as the praise of Ben tion of this collection was republished in Lon- Jonson, is superior in harmony of numbers to don in 1659, with the following highly encomi- any of the compositions of the contemporary astic title: The most Elegant and Elaborate poets of England, and in its subject one of the most elegant panegyrics ever addressed by a 66 Poems of that great Court Wit, Mr. William THE RIVER OF FORTH FEASTING. (EXTRACT.) What blust'ring noise now interrupts my sleep? This golden people, glancing in my sight? What echoing shouts thus cleave my crystal Whence doth this praise, applause, and love arise? deeps! And seem to call me from my watery court? What melody, what sounds of joy and sport, What load-star draweth us all eyes? Are convey'd hither from each night-born spring? View I that living face, see I those looks, Which in unusual pomp on tiptoes stand, And, full of wonder, overlook the land? Whence Do I behold that worth, that man divine, This age's glory, by these banks of mine? come these glittering throngs, these Then find I true what I long wish'd in vain; meteors bright, My much-beloved prince is come again. So unto them whose zenith is the pole, To virgins flowers, to sun-burnt earth the rain, When six black months are past, the sun does To mariners fair winds amidst the main; roll: Stone-rolling Tay, Tyne, tortoise-like that flows, The pearly Don, the Dees, the fertile Spey, Wild Severn, which doth see our longest day; Ness, smoking sulphur, Leve, with mountains crown'd, Strange Lomond, for his floating isles renown'd; The Irish Rian, Ken, the silver Ayr, The snaky Doon, the Orr with rushy hair, The crystal-streaming Nith, loud-bellowing Clyde, Tweed which no more our kingdoms shall divide, Rank-swelling Annan, Lid with curl'd streams, The Esks, the Solway, where they lose their names; To every one proclaim our joys and feasts, Cool shades to pilgrims, which hot glances burn, light. This is that happy morn, That day, long-wished day, Of all my life so dark, (If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn, And fates my hopes betray,) Which, purely white, deserves An everlasting diamond should it mark. But show thy blushing beams, And thou two sweeter eyes Shalt see than those which by Peneus' streams Did once thy heart surprise: Nay, suns, which shine as clear As thou when two thou didst to Rome appear. A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre, Let Zephyr only breathe, And with her tresses play, Kissing sometimes those purple ports of death. Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels. hue, The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue: Here is the pleasant place, And nothing wanting is, save she, alas! DEDICATION OF A CHURCH. Jerusalem, that place divine, The vision of sweet peace is named; She, decked in new attire from heaven, To Christ, on whom her joy depends. Her walls, wherewith she is inclosed, The gates, adorned with pearls most bright, All those who are on earth distressed These stones the workmen dress and beat In this fair frame to stand for ever, To God, who sits in highest seat, Whose boundless power we still adore, SONNETS. Dear chorister, who from those shadows sends- Who ne'er (not in a dream) did taste delight, Since Winter's gone, and sun in dappled sky love." In Mind's pure glass when I myself behold, Triumphing chariots, statues, crowns of bays, A good that never satisfies the mind, A sweet with floods of gall that runs combined, A glory at opinion's frown that lowers, A style of greatness in effect a dream, Thrice happy he who by some shady grove, But doth converse with that eternal love. Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve! Than that applause vain honour doth bequeath! How sweet are streams to poison drank in gold! |