Page images
PDF
EPUB

Dull to the sense of new delight,

On thee the drooping Muse attends ; As some fond lover, robb’d of sight,

On thy expressive power depends ; Nor would exchange thy glowing lines, To live the lord of all that shines.

But let me chase those vows away

Which at ambition's shrine I made; Nor ever let thy skill display

Those anxious moments, ill repaid : Oh ! from my breast that season raze, And bring my childhood in its place.

Bring me the bells, the rattle bring.

And bring the hobby I bestrode ; When, pleased, in many a sportive ring,

Around the room I jovial rode :
Ev'n let me bid my lyre adieu,
And bring the whistle that I blew.
Then will I muse, and pensive say,

Why did not these enjoyments last ; How sweetly wasted I the day,

While innocence allow'd to waste !
Ambition's toils alike are vain,
But ah ! for pleasure yield us pain.

HENRY CAREY.

(Died, Oct. 4, 1743.) HENRY Carey was a musician by profession, pleasing song of “ Sally in our alley." He came and author both of the words and melody of the to an untimely death by his own hands.

SALLY IN OUR ALLEY..

Of all the girls that are so smart,

There's none like pretty Sally ; She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley. There is no lady in the land,

Is half so sweet as Sally: She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage-nets,

And through the streets does cry 'em ; Her mother she sells laces long,

To such as please to buy 'em :
But sure such folks could ne'er beget

So sweet a girl as Sally!
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

When she is by, I leave my work,

(I love her so sincerely) My master comes like any Turk,

And bangs me most severely:
But, let him bang his belly full,

I'll bear it all for Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.
Of all the days that's in the week,

I dearly love but one day ;
And that's the day that comes betwixt

A Saturday and Monday;
For then I'm dress'd all in my best,

To walk abroad with Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,

And often am I blamed,
Because I leave him in the lurch,

As soon as text is named :
I leave the church in sermon time,

And slink away to Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley. (* Carey in the third Edition of his Poems, published in 1729, before “the Ballad of Sally in our Alley,” has placed this note:

THE ARGUMENT. “ A vulgar error having long prevailed among many persons, who imagine Sally Salisbury the subject of this ballad, the Author begs leave to undeceive and assure them it has not the least allusion to her, he being a stranger to her very name at the time this Song was composed, For as innocence and virtue were ever the boundaries to his Muse, so in this little poem he had no other view than to set forth the beauty of a chaste and disinterested passion, even in the lowest class of human life. The real occasion was this: a Shoemaker's 'Prentice making holiday with his Sweetheart, treated her with a sight of Bedlam, the puppet-shows, the flying-chairs, and all the elegancies of Moorfields: from whence proceeding to the Farthing-pie-house, he gave her a collation of buns, cheese-cakes, gammon of bacon, stuff*d beef, and bottled ale; through all which scenes the Author dodged them (charmed with the simplicity of their courtship), from whence he drew this little sketch of nature; but being then young and obscure, he was very much ridiculed by some of his acquaintance for this performance; which nevertheless made its way into the polite world, and amply recompensed him by the applause of the divine Addison, who was pleased (more than once) to mention it with approbation," p. 127. There was some attempt to rob Carey of his right to his ballad, as there was to rob Denham, Garth, and Akenside, but it did not succeed then, though it occasioned uneasiness to the author, nor will it now, when it can affect him no more.]

When Christmas comes about again,

Oh then I shall have money ;
I'll hoard it up, and box it all,

I'll give it to my honey :
I would it were ten thousand pounds,

I'd give it all to Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master, and the neighbours all,

Make game of me and Sally ;
And (but for her) I'd better be

A slave, and row a galley :
But when my seven long years are out,

O then I'll marry Sally,
O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed,

But not in our alley.

CHARLES CHURCHILL.

[Born, 1731. Died, 1764.)

man.

He was the son of a respectable clergyman, from the staget. A letter from another actor, who was curate and lecturer of St. John's West of the name of Davis, who seems rather to have minster. He was educated; at Westminster dreaded than experienced his severity, is preschool, and entered of Trinity college, Cam served in Nichols's Literary Anecdotes of the bridge, but not being disposed

Eighteenth Century, in which the poor comedian

deprecates the poet's censure in an expected “O'er crabbed authors life's gay prime to waste, Or cramp wild genius in the chains of taste,"

publication, as likely to deprive him of bread.

What was mean in Garrick might have been an he left the university abruptly, and coming to object of compassion in this humble man; but London made a clandestine marriage in the Churchill answered him with surly contempt, Fleet*. His father, though much displeased at and holding to the plea of justice, treated his the proceeding, became reconciled to what could fears with the apparent satisfaction of a hangnot be remedied, and received the imprudent His moral character, in the mean time, couple for about a year under his roof. After did not keep pace with his literary reputation. this young Churchill went for some time to As he got above neglect he seems to have thought study theology at Sunderland, in the north of himself above censure. His superior, the Dean England, and having taken orders, officiated at of Westminster, having had occasion to rebuke Cadbury, in Somersetshire, and at Rainham, a him for some irregularities, he threw aside at once living of his father's in Essex, till upon the death the clerical habit and profession, and arrayed of his father, he succeeded in 1758 to the curacy | his ungainly form in the splendour of fashion. and lectureship of St. John's Westminster. Here Amidst the remarks of his enemies, and what he he conducted himself for some time with a de

pronounces the still more insulting advice of his corum suitable to his profession, and increased prudent friends upon his irregular life, he pubhis narrow income by undertaking private lished his epistle to Lloyd, entitled Night, a sort tuition. He got into debt, it is true ; and Dr. of manifesto of the impulses, for they could not Lloyd, of Westminster, the father of his friend be called principles, by which he prosessed his the poet, was obliged to mediate with his cre conduct to be influenced. The leading maxims ditors for their acceptance of a composition ; of this epistle are, that prudence and hypocrisy but when fortune put it into his power Churchill in these times are the same thing ! that good honourably discharged all his obligations. His hours are but fine words ; and that it is better Rosciad appeared at first anonymously, in 1761, to avow faults than to conceal them. Speaking and was ascribed to one or other of half the wits of his convivial enjoyments he says in town; but his acknowledgment of it, and his

" Night's laughing hours unheeded slip away, poetical “ Apology,” in which he retaliated upon Nor one dull thought foretells approach of day." the critical reviewers of his poem, (not fearing to affront even Fielding and Smollett,) made

In the same description he somewhat awkwardly

introduces him at once famous and formidable. The players, at least, felt him to be so. Garrick himself,

“ Wine's gay God, with TENPERANCE by his side,

Whilst IIEALTH attends." who though extolled in the Rosciad was sarcastically alluded to in the Apology, courted him † Nichols, in his Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth like a suppliant; and his satire had the effect of Century, vol. vi. p. 424. gives this information of Tom

Davies's being driven off the stage by Churchill's satire, driving poor Tom Davies, the biographer of

on the authority of Dr. Johnson. This Davies was the Garrick, though he was a tolerable performer, editor of Dramatic Miscellanies, and of the Life and

Works of Lillo. The name of the other poor player [* Mr. Southey believes that his marriage took place who implored Churchill's mercy was T. Davis, his name previous to his entering the university of Cambridge. being differently spelt from that of Garrick's biographer. Life of Couper, vol. i. p. 70.]

Churchill's answer to him is also preserved by Nichols.

How would Churchill have belaboured any fool Churchill may be ranked as a satirist immeor hypocrite who had pretended to boast of diately after Pope and Dryden, with perhaps a health and temperance in the midst of orgies greater share of humour than either. He has that turned night into day!

the bitterness of Pope, with less wit to atone for By his connexion with Wilkes he added poliit; but no mean share of the free manner and tical to personal causes of animosity, and did energetic plainness of Dryden §. After the Rosnot diminish the number of unfavourable eyes | ciad and Apology he began his poem of the that were turned upon his private character. Ghost (founded on the well-known story of CockHe had certainly, with all his faults, some strong lane), many parts of which tradition reports him and good qualities of the heart; but the particular to have composed when scarce recovered from proofs of these were not likely to be sedulously his fits of drunkenness. It is certainly a ramcollected as materials of his biography, for hebling and scandalous production, with a few had now placed himself in that light of reputa- such original gleams as might have crossed the tion when a man's likeness is taken by its sha- brain of genius amidst the bile and lassitude of dow and darkness. Accordingly, the most pro- dissipation. The novelty of political warfare minent circumstances that we afterwards learn seems to have given a new impulse to his powers respecting him are, that he separated from his in the Prophecy of Famine, a satire on Scotwife, and seduced the daughter of a tradesmanland, which even to Scotchmen must seem to in Westminster. At the end of a fortnight, sheath its sting in its laughable extravagance. either from his satiety or repentance, he advised His poetical Epistle to Hogarth is remarkable, this unfortunate woman to return to her friends; amidst its savage ferocity, for one of the best but took her back again upon her finding her panegyrics that was ever bestowed on that home made intolerable by the reproaches of a painter's works. He scalps indeed even barsister*. His reputation for inebriety also re- barously the infirmities of the man, but, on the ceived some public acknowledgments. Hogarth whole, spares the laurels of the artist. The folgave as much celebrity as he could to his love of lowing is his description of Hogarth's powers. porter, by representing him in the act of drink

“In walks of humour, in that cast of style, ing a mug of that liquor in the shape of a beart; Which, probing to the quick, yet makes us smile; but the painter had no great reason to congratu

In comedy, his nat'ral road to fame,

Nor let me call it by a meaner name, late himself ultimately on the effects of his carica

Where a beginning, middle, and an end ture. Our poet was included in the general Are aptly join'd; where parts on parts depend, warrant that was issued for apprehending Wilkes.

Each made for each, as bodies for their soul, He hid himself, however, and avoided imprison

So as to form one true and perfect whole,

Where a plain story to the eye is told, ment. In the autumn of 1764 he paid a visit to

Which we conceive the moment we behold, Mr.Wilkes at Boulogne, where he caught a miliary Hogarth unrivall’d stands, and shall engage fever, and expired in his thirty-third year1.

Unrivall'd praise to the most distant age." [* The only laudable part of Churchill's conduct during There are two peculiarly interesting passages bis short career of popularity was, that he carefully laid in his Conference. One of them, expressive of by a provision for those who were dependent on him.

remorse for his crime of seduction, has been This was his meritorious motive for that greediness of gain with which he was reproached : as if it were any

often quoted. The other is a touching descripreproach to a successful author, that he doled out his tion of a man of independent spirit reduced by writings in the way most advantageous for himself, and despair and poverty to accept of the means of susfixed upon them as high a price as his admirers were

taining life on humiliating terms. willing to pay! He thus enabled himself to bequeath an annuity of sixty pounds to his widow, and of fifty to the “What proof might do, what hunger might effect, more unhappy woman, who, after they had both repented What famish'd nature, looking with neglect of their guilty intercourse, had fled to him again for the On all she once held dear, what fear, at strife protection, which she knew not where else to seek. And With fainting virtue for the means of life, when these duties had been provided for, there remained Might make this coward flesh, in love with breath, some surplus for his two sons. Well would it be if he Shudd'ring at pain, and shrinking back from death, might be as fairly vindicated on other points.-SOUTHEY, In treason to my soul, descend to bear, Corper, vol. ii. p. 160.]

Trusting to fate, I neither know nor care. [t Mr. Campbell has missed the point of the picture. Once,-at this hour those wounds afresh I feel, Churchill is represented as a bear in clerical bands that Which nor prosperity nor time can heal, are torn, and ruffled paws.]

[+ Only a day before that event took place," says Southey, Those wounds, which humbled all that pride of man, " he made his will, wherein it is mournful to observe there Which brings such mighty aid to virtue's plan; is not the slightest expression of religious faith or hope.”

[$ Is he not rather an excellent Oldham? His poetical His body was brought from Boulogne to Dover, and

character, however, has been given by Cowper, in a few interred in the church of St. Martin, where his grave is

sententious lines, --see his Table Talk. Churchill, with distinguished by what Mr. Southey calls an epicurean line from one of his own poems :

his many excellencies, never rises to the poetical heights

of Pope and Dryden. He is coarse, vigorous, surly, and Life to the last enjoyd, here Churchill lies.

slovenly: See also Byron's poem entitled "Churchill's Grave:”

full of gall I stood before the grave of him who blazed

Wormwood and sulphur, sharp and toothed withal. The comet of a season.

Ben Jonson. (Works, vol. x. p. 287.) and Scott's note.]

and has a swing of versification peculiarly his own.]

Once, awed by fortune's most oppressive frown,

his first reputation. His Duellist is positively By legal rapine to the earth bow'd down,

dull; and his Gotham, the imaginary realm of My credit at last gasp, my state undone, Trembling to meet the shock I could not shun,

which he feigns himself the sovereign, is calcuVirtue gave ground, and black despair prevail'd; lated to remind us of the proverbial wisdom of Sinking beneath the storm, my spirits fail'd,

its sages*. It was justly complained that he Like Peter's faith."

became too much an echo of himself, and that But without enumerating similar passages,

before his short literary career was closed, his which may form an exception to the remark, originality appeared to be exhausted. the general tenor of his later works fell beneath

INTRODUCTION TO “ THE ROSCIAD."

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player

Whilst to six feet the vig'rous stripling grown, Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.

Declares that Garrick is another Coan. The buskin’d heroes of the mimic stage

When place of judgment is by whim supplied, No longer whine in love, and rant in rage!

And our

have their rise in pride ; The monarch quits his throne, and condescends When, in discoursing on each mimic elf, Humble to court the favour of his friends; We praise and censure with an eye to self; For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,

All must meet friends, and Ackman bids as fair And their applause to gain, recounts his claps. In such a court as Garrick for the chair. Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,

At length agreed, all squabbles to decide, To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume, By some one judge the cause was to be tried; In pompous strain fight o'er th' extinguish'd war, But this their squabbles did afresh renew, And show where honour bled in every scar. Who should be judge in such a trial :- Who !

But though bare merit might in Rome appear For Johnson some, but Johnson, it was fear'd, The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here ; Would be too grave: and Sterne too gay appear'd: We form our judgment in another way;

Others for Francklin voted ; but 'twas known, And they will best succeed who best can pay: He sicken'd at all triumphs but his own : Those, who would gain the votes of British tribes, For Colman many, but the peevish tongue Must add to force of merit force of bribes. Of prudent age found out that he was young: What can an actor give ? In every age

For Murphy some few pilfering wits declared, Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage; Whilst Folly clapp'd her hands, and Wisdom stared. Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player, Appear as often as their image there : They can't, like candidate for other seat,

CIIARACTER OF A CRITICAL FRIBBLE. Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat. Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon, And of roast beef they only know the tune : With that low cunning, which in fools supplies, But what they have they give : could Clive do more, And amply too, the place of being wise, Though for each million he had brought home four? Which Nature, kind, indulgent parent, gave

Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair, To qualify the blockhead for a knave ; [charms, And hopes the friends of humour will be there; With that smooth falsehood, whose appearance In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat And reason of each wholesome doubt disarms, For those who laughter love instead of meat ; Which to the lowest depths of guile descends, Foote, at Old House, for even Foote will be By vilest means pursues the vilest ends, In self-conceit an actor, bribes with tea ;

Wears friendship’s mask for purposes of spite, Which Wilkinson at second hand receives, Fawns in the day, and butchers in the night; And at the New, pours water on the leaves. With that malignant envy, which turns pale,

The town divided, each runs several ways, And sickens, even if a friend prevail, As passion, humour, interest, party sways.

Which merit and success pursues with hate, Things of no moment, colour of the hair,

And damns the worth it cannot imitate ; Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,

With the cold caution of a coward's spleen, A dress well-chosen, or a patch misplaced, Which fears not guilt, but always seeks a screen, Conciliate favour, or create distaste.

Which keeps this maxim ever in her viewFrom galleries loud peals of laughter roll, What’s basely done, should be done safely too ; And thunder Shuter's praises— he's so droll.

[* Cowper was of another opinion. “Gothamn," he says, Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart, “is a noble and beautiful poem : making allowance (and Palmer ! Oh ! Palmer tops the janty part.

Dryden perhaps, in his Absalom and Achitophel, stands in Seated in pit, the dwarf, with aching eyes,

need of the same indulgence) for an unwarrantable Use

of Scripture, it appears to me to be a masterly performLooks up, and vows that Barry's out of size ;

."-SOUTHEY's Couper, vol. i. p. 91.)

FROM THE SAME.

[ocr errors]

ance."

With that dull, rooted, callous impudence,

Far be it from the candid Muse to tread
Which, dead to shame, and every nicer sense, Insulting o'er the ashes of the dead,
Ne'er blush'd, unless, in spreading vice's snares, But, just to living merit, she maintains,
She blunder'd on some virtue unawares :

And dares the test, whilst Garrick's genius reigns; With all these blessings, which we seldom find

Ancients in vain endeavour to excel, Lavish'd by nature on one happy mind,

Happily praised, if they could act as well. A motley figure, of the fribble tribe,

But though prescription's force we disallow, Which heart can scarce conceive, or pen describe, Nor to antiquity submissive bow ; Came simp’ring on: to ascertain whose sex

Though we deny imaginary grace, Twelve sage impanneld matrons would perplex.

Founded on accidents of time and place ; Nor male, nor female, neither and yet both ; Yet real worth of every growth shall bear Of neuter gender, though of Irish growth ; Due praise, nor must we, Quin, forget thee there. A six-foot suckling, mincing in its gait ;

His words bore sterling weight,nervous and strong Affected, peevish, prim, and delicate ;

In manly tides of sense they roll'd along.
Fearful it seem'd, though of athletic make, Happy in art, he chiefly had pretence
Lest brutal breezes should too roughly shake To keep up numbers, yet not forfeit sense.
Its tender form, and savage motion spread No actor ever greater heights could reach
O'er its pale cheeks the horrid manly red.

In all the labour'd artifice of speech.
Much did it talk, in its own pretty phrase, Speech ! Is that all !–And shall an actor found
Of genius and of taste, of play’rs and plays ;

A universal fame on partial ground ? Much too of writings, which itself had wrote,

Parrots themselves speak properly by rote, Of special merit, though of little note ;

And, in six months, my dog shall howl by note. For fate, in a strange humour, had decreed I laugh at those, who when the stage they tread, That what it wrote, none but itself should read;

Neglect the heart to compliment the head; Much too it chatter'd of dramatic laws,

With strict propriety their care 's contined Misjudging critics, and misplaced applause,

To weigh out words, while passion halts behind. Then with a self-complacent jutting air,

To syllable-dissectors they appeal, It smiled, it smirk’d, it wriggled to the chair ;

Allow them accent, cadence,-fools may feel ; And, with an awkward briskness not its own,

But, spite of all the criticising elves, Looking around, and perking on the throne,

Those whowould make us feel, inust feel themselves. Triumphant seem'd,when that strange savage dame, His eyes, in gloomy socket taught to roll, Known but to few, or only known by name,

Proclaim'd the sullen habit of his soul. Plain Common Sense, appear’d, by nature there Heavy and phlegmatic he trod the stage, Appointed, with plain truth, to guard the chair. Too proud for tenderness, too dull for rage. The pageant saw, and blasted with her frown, When Hector's lovely widow shines in tears, To its first state of nothing melted down.

Or Rowe’s gay rake dependent virtue jeers, Nor shall the Muse (for even there the pride

With the same cast of features he is seen Of this vain nothing shall be mortified)

To chide the libertine, and court the queen. Nor shallthe Muse (should fate ordain her rhymes, From the tame scene, which without passion flows, Fond, pleasing thought! to live in after times) With just desert his reputation rose ; With such a trifler's name her pages blot ;

Nor less he pleased, when, on some surly plan, known be the character, the thing forgot ;

He was, at once, the actor and the man. Let it, to disappoint each future aim,

In Brute he shone unequallid : all agree
Live without sex, and die without a name !

Garrick 's not half so great a brute as he.
When Cato's labour'd scenes are brought to view,
With equal praise the actor labour'd too ;

For still you'll find, trace passions to their root, CHARACTERS OF QUIN, TOM SHERIDAN, AND

Small difference 'twixt the stoic and the brute. GARRICK.

In fancied scenes, as in life's real plan,

He could not, for a moment, sink the man. Quin, from afar, lured by the scent of fame,

In whate'er cast his character was laid, A stage leviathan, put in his claim,

Self still, like oil, upon the surface play'd. Pupil of Betterton and Booth. Alone,

Nature, in spite of all his skill, crept in : Sullen he walk'd, and deem'd the chair his own.

Horatio, Dorax, Falstaff,- still 'twas Quin,
For how should moderns, mushrooms of the day,

Next follows Sheridan-a doubtful name,
Who ne'er those masters knew, know how to play? As yet unsettled in the rank of fame.
Grey-bearded vet'raus, who, with partial tongue,

This, fondly lavish in his praises grown,
Extol the times when they themselves were young ;

Gives him all merit ; that allows him none. Who having lost all relish for the stage,

Between them both we'll steer the middle course, See not their own defects, but lash the age, Nor, loving praise, rob judgment of her force. Received with joyful murmurs of applause

Just his conceptions, natural and great : Their darling chief, and lined his favourite cause. His feelings strong, his words enforced with weight.

FROM THE SAME.

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »