C. AN ELEGY ON THE LADY JANE PAWLET, MARCHIONESS OF WINTON.2 HAT gentle ghost, besprent with April dew, I do obey you, beauty! for in death You seem a fair one. O that you had breath Stiff, stark! my joints 'gainst one another knock! 2 An Elegy on the lady Jane Pawlet, &c.] The folio reads lady Anne, though Jane, the true name, occurs, as Whalley observes, just below. This wretched copy is so full of errors, that the reader's attention would be too severely proved, if called to notice the tithe of them; in general, they have been corrected in silence. This lady Jane was the first wife of that brave and loyal nobleman, John, fifth marquis of Winchester. He was one of the greatest sufferers by the Usurpation; but he lived to see the restoration of the royal family, and died full of years and honour in 1674. The marchioness died in 1631, which is therefore the date of the Elegy. 3 What gentle ghost besprent with April dew, Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew?] Pope seems to have imitated the first lines of this elegy, in his poem to the Memory of an unfortunate Lady: "What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade, Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ?" WHAL. Pope's imitation, however, falls far short of the picturesque and awful solemnity of the original. * Great Savage of the Rock.] The seat of that family in He's good as great. I am almost a stone, Thou would'st have written, Fame, upon my breast: And the disposure will be something new, Sound thou her virtues, give her soul a name. Cheshire, from which the lady was descended. Camden gives us the following account of it: "The Wever flows between Frodsham, a castle of ancient note, and Clifton, at present called Rock Savage, a new house of the Savages, who by marriage have got a great estate here." Brit. p. 563. WHAL. And Piety the centre where all met. How did she leave the world, with what contempt Let angels sing her glories, who did call 5 Who saw the way was made it, and were sent 5 Then comforted her lord, and blest her son, &c.] Warton calls this a "pathetic Elegy," and indeed this passage has both pathos and beauty. It is a little singular that Jonson makes no allusion to her dying in childbed, which, it would appear from Milton's Epitaph, she actually did. He speaks of a disease: she was delivered of a dead child; and some surgical operation appears to have been performed, or attempted, without success. There can be no doubt of Jonson's accuracy; for he was living on terms of respectful friendship with the marquis of Winchester. Jonson principally dwells on the piety of this lady; she seems also to have been a person of rare endowments and accomplishments. Howell (p. 182) puts her in mind that he taught her Spanish, and sends her a sonnet which he had translated into that language from one in English by her ladyship, with the music, &c., and Cartwright returns her thanks, in warm language, "for two To carry and conduct the compliment And now through circumfused light she looks, Beholds her Maker, and in him doth see Which they that have the crown are sure to know! Go now, her happy parents, and be sad, If you not understand what child you had. If you dare grudge at heaven, and repent T'have paid again a blessing was but lent, And trusted so, as it deposited lay At pleasure, to be call'd for every day! most beautiful pieces, wrought by herself in needle-work, and presented to the University of Oxford, the one being the story of the Nativity, the other of the Passion of our Saviour." "Blest mother of the church, he, in the list, Poems, p. 196. When we were all born, we began to die; 6 Sir John Beaumont has also an elegy on the death of this lady, beginning with these lines: "Can my poor lines no better office have, But lie like scritch-owls still about the grave? Commending them that can commend again?" WHal. It may also be added that Eliot has an "Elegy on the lady Jane Paulet, marchioness of Winchester," &c., in which he follows Milton, as to the immediate cause of her death. Though the poem, which is very long, is in John's best manner, I should not have mentioned it, had it not afforded me an opportunity of explaining a passage in Shakspeare which has sorely puzzled the commentators: "Either (says the gallant Henry V.) Either our history shall, with full mouth, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Steevens says that the allusion is "to the ancient custom of writing on waxen tablets," and Malone proves, at the expense of two pages, that his friend has mistaken the poet's meaning, and that he himself is just as wide of it. In many parts of the continent, it is customary, upon the decease of an eminent person, for his friends to compose short laudatory poems, epitaphs, &c., and affix them to the herse, or grave, with pins, wax, paste, &c. Of this practice, which was once prevalent here also, I had collected many notices, which, when the circumstance was recalled to my mind by Eliot's verses, I tried in vain to recover: the fact, however, is certain. In the bishop of Chichester's verses to the memory of Dr. Donne, is this couplet : "Each quill can drop his tributary verse, Eliot's lines are these: "Let others, then, sad Epitaphs invent, And paste them up about thy monument; |