תמונות בעמוד
PDF
ePub

part of his conduct, in verses like the following, in his Conference, and which evidently came from his heart :

Look back! a thought which borders on despair,
Which human nature must, yet can not bear.
'Tis not the babbling of a busy world,
Where praise or censure are at random hurled,
Which can the meanest of my thoughts control,
Or shake one settled purpose of my soul;
Free and at large might their wild curses roam,
If all, if all, alas! were well at home.
No; 'tis the tale, which angry conscience tells,
When she with more than tragic horror swells
Each circumstance of guilt; when stern, but true,
She brings bad actions forth into review,
And, like the dread handwriting on the wall,

Bids late remorse awake at reason's call;
Armed at all points, bids scorpion vengeance pass,
And to the mind holds up reflection's glass-
The mind which starting heaves the heartfelt groan,
And hates that form she knows to be her own.

Churchill's genius was evidently above mediocrity; and hence when The Rosciad appeared, he was hailed as a second Dryden. The 'fatal facility' of his verse, and his unscrupulous satire of living individuals and passing events, had the effect of making all London 'ring from side to side' with his applause, at a time when the real poetry of the age could hardly obtain either publishers or readers. The moral lesson which his life and career teach is unmistakable. With his clerical profession he had renounced his bel of in Christianity itself; and though he made his will only the day before his death, there is in it not the slightest expression of religious faith or hope. W close this gloomy sketch with the following sprightly passage from the Pphecy of Famine :

Two boys whose birth, beyond all question, springs
From great and glorious, though forgotten kings,
Shepherds of Scottish lineage, born and bred
On the same bleak and barren mountain's head
By niggard nature doomed on the same rocks
To spin out life, and starve themselves and flocks,
Fresh as the morning, which, enrobed in mist,
The mountain's top with usual dulness kissed,
Jockey and Sawney to their labours rose;
Soon clad I ween, where nature needs no clothes;
Where from their youth inured to winter skies,
Dress and her vain refinements they despise.

Jockey, whose manly high cheek bones to crown,
With freckles spotted flamed the golden down,
With meikle art could on the bagpipes play,
Even from the rising to the setting day;

Sawney as long without remorse could bawl
Home's madrigals, and ditties from Fingal.
Oft at his strains, all natural though rude,
The Highland lass forgot her want of food,
And, whilst she scratched her lover into rest,
Sunk pleased, though hungry, on her Sawney's breast.
Far as the eye could reach no tree was seen;
Earth, clad in russet, scorned the lively green;
The plague of locusts they secure defy,
For in three hours a grasshopper must die:
No living thing whate'er its food, feasts there,
But the chameleon who can feast on air.
No birds, except as birds of passage flew;
No bee was known to hum, no dove to coo:
No stream, as amber smooth, as amber clear,
Were seen to glide, or heard to warble here:
Rebellion's spring, which through the country ran,
Furnished with bitter draughts the steady clan:
No flowers embalmed the air, but one white rose,
Which, on the tenth of June, by instinct blows;
By instinct blows at morn, and, when the shades
Of drizzly eve prevail, by instinct fades.

JOHN LANGHORNE, an amiable and excellent clergyman, presents a striking contrast with the two poets last noticed. He was, like Churchill, the son of a clergyman, and was born at Kirkby Steven, in Westmoreland, in 1735. Having entered into orders, he obtained the curacy and lectureship of St. John's, Clerkenwell, in London, and afterwards a prebendary in Wells Cathedral. As a minister of the gospel, Langhorne was beloved, and even revered by all who intimately knew him; and as a preacher he was greatly admired. After a brief but useful career, he died at the early age of fortyfive, on the first day of April, 1779.

The poetical works of Dr. Langhorne were chiefly slight effusions, dictated by the passion or impulse of the moment. His ballad, Owen of Carron, founded on the old Scottish tale of Gil Morrice, is smoothly versified, but in poetical merit it is inferior to the original. His best and most original poem is his Country Justice. Here he paints the rural life of England in its true colors; and his picture of the gipsys, and sketches of venal clerks and rapacious overseers, are genuine likenesses. In the following passage he pleads warmly for the poor vagrant tribe :—

Still mark if vice or nature prompt the deed;
Still mark the strong temptation and the need:
On pressing want, on famine's powerful call,
At least more lenient let thy justice fall.
For him who, lost to every hope of life,
Has long with Fortune held unequal strife,
Known to no human love, no human care,
The friendless, homeless object of despair:
For the poor vagrant feel, while he complains,
Nor from sad freedom send to sadder chains.

Alike if folly or misfortune brought

Those last of woes his evil days have wrought;
Believe with social mercy and with me,
Folly's misfortune in the first degree.

Perhaps on some inhospitable shore

The houseless wretch a widowed parent bore;
Who then, no more by golden prospects led,
Of the poor Indian begged a leafy bed.
Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain,
Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain;
Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew,
The big drops mingling with the milk he drew,
Gave the sad presage of his future years,

The child of misery, baptized in tears.

The allusion to the dead soldier and his widow on the field of battle was made the subject of a print by Bunbury, under which were engraved the pathetic lines of Langhorne. Sir Walter Scott remarks that the only time he ever saw Burns, this picture was in his room. Burns shed tears over it; and Scott, then only fifteen years old, was the only person present who could tell him where the lines were to be found. The passage is beautiful in itself, but this incident will embalm and preserve it forever. To the extract from the Country Justice,' we add the following fervent and pious ode:

ETERNAL PROVIDENCE.

Light of the world, Immortal Mind;
Father of all the human kind!

Whose boundless eye that knows no rest,
Intent on nature's ample breast,
Explores the space of earth and skies,

And sees eternal incense rise!

To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

Though thou this transient being gave,
That shortly sinks into the grave;
Yet 'twas thy goodness still to give
A being that can think and live;
In all thy works thy wisdom see,
And stretch its towering mind to thee.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.
And still this poor contracted span,
This life, that bears the name of man,
From thee derives its vital ray,

Eternal source of life and day!

Thy bounty still the sunshine pours,

That gilds its morn and evening hours.

To thee my humble voice I raise;

Forgive, while I presume to praise.

Through error's maze, through folly's night,
The lamp of reason lends me light;

Where stern affliction waves her rod,
My heart confides in thee, my God!
When nature shrinks, oppressed with woes,
Even then she finds in thee repose.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

Affliction flies, and Hope returns ;

Her lamp with brighter splendour burns;
Gay Love with all his smiling train,
And Peace and Joy are here again;
These, these, I know, 'twas thine to give;
I trusted; and, behold, I live!

To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

O may I still thy favour prove!
Still grant me gratitude and love.
Let Truth and Virtue guard my heart;
Nor peace, nor hope, nor joy depart:
But yet, whate'er my life may be,
My heart shall still repose on thee!
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.

Besides his poems Dr. Langhorne produced several works in prose, the most successful of which was his Letters of Theodosius and Constantia; and in conjunction with his brother, he published a Translation of Plutarch's Lives, which is still regarded as the best English version of that ancient author.

SIR WILLIAM JONES, whose profound learning and philological researches, were the wonder and admiration of his contemporaries, was a poet also of no mean pretensions; but, as Southey justly observes, 'it is not as a poet, but as an oriental scholar and legislator, an enlightened lawyer and patriot, that he earned his laurels, and perpetuated his name.'

William Jones was the son of a celebrated mathematician, and was born in London, in 1746. He had the misfortune, however, to lose his father when he was only three years of age; but his mother, on whom his education now devolved, was, by her virtues and extensive learning, well qualified for the task. When in his fifth year, his youthful imagination was caught by the sublime description of the angel in the tenth chapter of the Apocalypse, and the impression was never effaced from his mind. In 1753, he was placed at Harrow school, where he continued nearly ten years, and became an accomplished and critical classical scholar. He did not confine his attention merely to the ancient authors usually studied at the school, but acquired also a knowledge of the Arabic characters, and sufficient Hebrew to enable him to read the Psalms.

In 1764, Jones entered University College, Oxford; and his taste for oriental literature increasing, he engaged a native of Aleppo, with whom he had become acquainted in London, to act as his preceptor. He also assidu

ously perused the Greek poets and historians. In his nineteenth year, he accepted an offer to become private tutor to Lord Althorp, afterwards Earl Spencer. A fellowship at Oxford was also conferred upon him, and thus the scholar was relieved from the fear of want, and enabled to pursue his favorite studies with unremitting diligence. An opportunity for displaying one branch of his acquirements was afforded in 1768. The king of Denmark in that year visited England, and brought with him an eastern manuscript, containing the life of Nadir Shah, which he wished translated into French. Jones executed this arduous task successfully, being, as Lord Teignmouth, his biographer, remarks, the only oriental scholar in England adequate to the performance. He still continued in the noble family of Spencer, and, in 1769, accompanied his pupil to the continent.

On his return to England in the following year, Jones, feeling anxious to attain an independent position in life, entered as a student of the Temple, and, applying himself with his characteristic ardor to his new profession, he contemplated, with pleasure, the 'stately edifice of the laws of England,' and soon mastered their most important principles and details. In 1774, he published Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry, but finding that jurisprudence was a jealous mistress, and would not admit the eastern muses to participate in his attentions, he devoted himself for some years exclusively to his legal studies. In 1778, having now commenced practice at the bar, he published a translation of the speeches of Isæus, in causes concerning the law of succession to property at Athens, to which he added notes and a commentary. The stirring events of the time in which he lived, were not beheld without strong interest by this accomplished scholar. He was decidedly opposed to the American war, and to the slave-trade, at that time so prevalent; and, in 1781, he produced his noble Alcaic Ode, animated by the purest spirit of patriotism, and a high strain of poetical enthusiasm. Anxious to go abroad, he obtained the appointment of one of the judges of the supreme court, at Fort William, in Bengal, and the honor of knighthood was, at the same time, conferred upon him.

In April, 1783, Sir William Jones, in the thirty-seventh year of his age, married the daughter of the bishop of St. Asaph, and immediately after embarked for India. He entered upon his judicial functions with all the advantages of a high reputation, unsullied integrity, disinterested benevolence, and unwearied perseverance. In the intervals of leisure from his judicial duties, he directed his attention to scientific objects, and established a society in Calcutta to promote inquiries by the ingenious, and to concentrate the knowledge to be collected in Asia. In 1784, he wrote The Enchanted Fruit, or Hindoo Wife, a poetical tale, and A Treatise on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India, besides contributing to The Asiatic Miscellany, a periodical established in Calcutta. In 1789, he translated an ancient Indian drama, Sacontala, or the Fatal Ring, which exhibits a picture of Hindoo manners in the century preceding the Christian era. He also contemplated an epic poem on the Discovery of England by Brutus, to which

« הקודםהמשך »