And in thy minikin and embryo state,
Attach'd to the firm leaf of some salt weed,
Didst outlive tempests, such as wrung and rack'd
The joints of many a stout and gallant bark,
And whelm'd them in the unexplor'd abyss.
Indebted to no magnet and no chart,
Nor under guidance of the polar fire,
Thou wast a voyager on many coasts,
Grazing at large in meadows submarine,
Where flat Batavia just emerging peeps
Above the brine,-where Caledonia's rocks
Beat back the surge,--and where Hibernia shoots
Her wondrous causeway far into the main.
--Wherever thou hast fed, thou little thought'st,
And I not more, that I should feed on thee.
Peace therefore, and good health, and much good
fish,
To him who sent thee! and success, as oft
As it descends into the billowy gulph,
To the same drag that caught thee!-Fare thee well!
Thy lot thy brethren of the slimy fin
Would envy, could they know that thou wast doom'd To feed a bard, and to be prais'd in verse.
AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, Esq.
[Written Nov., 1784. Published 1785.]
DEAR JOSEPH-five and twenty years ago—
Alas, how time escapes!-'tis even so-
With frequent intercourse, and always sweet,
And always friendly, we were wont to cheat
A tedious hour-and now we never meet!
As some grave gentleman in Terence says,
('Twas therefore much the same in ancient days)
Good lack, we know not what to-morrow brings-
Strange fluctuation of all human things!
True. Changes will befall, and friends may part,
But distance only cannot change the heart :
And, were I call'd to prove th' assertion true,
One proof should serve- -a reference to you.
Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life,
Though nothing have occurr'd to kindle strife,
We find the friends we fancied we had won,
Though num'rous once, reduc'd to few or none?
Can gold grow worthless that has stood the touch?
No-gold they seem'd, but they were never such.
To the Halibut-9 gallant] noble 4. 20 I... I] me... we A.
Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, 20 Swinging the parlour-door upon its hinge, Dreading a negative, and overaw'd
Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad.
Go, fellow!--whither?-turning short about-
Nay-stay at home--you're always going out.
'Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end.-
For what?-An please you, sir, to see a friend.
A friend! Horatio cry'd, and seem'd to start--
Yea, marry shalt thou, and with all my heart.--
And fetch my cloak: for, though the night be
raw,
I'll see him too--the first I ever saw.
I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, And was his plaything often when a child; But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close, Else he was seldom bitter or morose.
Perhaps, his confidence just then betray'd,
His grief might prompt him with the speech he made;
Perhaps 'twas mere good-humour gave it birth,
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth.
Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind,
Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.
But, not to moralize too much, and strain
To prove an evil of which all complain,
(I hate long arguments, verbosely spun)
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done.
Once on a time an emp'ror, a wise man-
No matter where, in China or Japan--
Decreed that whosoever should offend
Against the well-known duties of a friend,
Convicted once, should ever after wear
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare.
The punishment importing this, no doubt,
That all was naught within, and all found out.
Oh, happy Britain! we have not to fear
Such hard and arbitrary measure here;
Else, could a law like that which I relate
Once have the sanction of our triple state,
Some few that I have known in days of old,
Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold;
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow,
Might traverse England safely to and fro,
An honest man, close-button'd to the chin,
Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within.
[Written 1784. Published in The Gentleman's Magazine, Jan., 1785; afterwards in 1800.]
THE poplars are fell'd, farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade,
The winds play no longer, and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elaps'd since I first took a view
Of my favourite field and the bank where they grew,
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade. 8
The blackbird has fled to another retreat
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat,
And the scene where his melody charm'd me before,
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
"Tis a sight to engage me, if any thing can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.
[Written Jan. (?), 1785. Published in The Gentleman's Magazine, Aug., 1785; afterwards in 1800.]
POPULEÆ cecidit gratissima copia silvæ,
Conticuere susurri, omnisque evanuit umbra.
Nullæ jam levibus se miscent frondibus auræ
Et nulla in fluvio ramorum ludit imago.
The Poplar-Field-1 farewell] and adieu 1785. 3 the] their 1785. 4 on his] in its 1785. 5 have] had 1785. first] last 1785. 7, 8 When behold on their sides in the grass they were laid, And I sat on the trees under which I had stray'd 1785.
9 fled to] sought out 1785. 11 melody] notes have oft 1785. 12 Resounds] Shall resound 1785. 13 hast'ning 1785. long] alas! 1785. 16 shall arise] rises up 1785.
17-20 Mr. Cowper afterwards altered this last stanza in the following manner:
The change both my heart and my fancy employs,
I reflect on the frailty of man, and his joys;
Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures, we see,
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.
Note to 1803 edition: but this is the text of 1785.
Hei mihi! bis senos dum luctu torqueor annos,
His cogor silvis suetoque carere recessu,
Cum sero rediens stratasque in gramine cernens
Insedi arboribus sub queis errare solebam.
Ah ubi nunc merulæ cantus? Felicior illum
Silva tegit, duræ nondum permissa bipenni;
Scilicet exustos colles camposque patentes
Odit, et indignans et non rediturus abivit.
Sed qui succisas doleo succidar et ipse,
Et prius huic parilis quam creverit altera silva
Flebor, et, exequiis parvis donatus, habebo
Defixum lapidem tumulique cubantis acervum.
Tam subito periisse videns tam digna manere
Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata--
Sit licet ipse brevis, volucrique simillimus umbræ,
Est homini brevior citiusque obitura voluptas.
SENT WITH TWO COCKSCOMBS TO MISS GREEN
[Written 1784 (?). Published by Bruce, 1863. A slightly different
version was first printed by Canon Benham in 1870.]
Two powder'd coxcombs wait at your command,
And, what is strange, both dress'd by Nature's hand.
Like other fops, they dread a sudden shower,
And seek a shelter in your closest bower.
Showy like them, like them they yield no fruit,
But then, to make amends, they both are mute.
EPITAPH ON DR. JOHNSON
[Written Jan., 1785. Published from letter to Unwin, dated Jan. 15 (MS. in British Museum), by Hayley, 1803.]
Here Johnson lies--a sage, by all allow'd,
Whom to have bred may well make England proud;
Whose prose was eloquence by wisdom taught,
The graceful vehicle of virtuous thought;
Whose verse may claim-grave, masculine, and strong,
Superior praise to the mere poet's song;
Who many a noble gift from heav'n possess'd,
And faith at last-alone worth all the rest.
Oh man immortal by a double prize!
By Fame on earth--by Glory in the skies!
13 Sed] Et volucrique... umbræ]
Idem Latine Redditum-10 Silva] Umbra 1785. 1785. 19 licet] licat 1800, 1803. præceps devectus ad umbras 1785.
Lines-1 Madam,-Two Cockscombs 1870. 3 sudden] hasty 1870. 4 beg a refuge 1870.
Epitaph-10 so BM., Hayley: On earth by fame, by favour in the skies! Southey, from letter to Newton, dated Jan. 5.
ON THE AUTHOR OF LETTERS ON
[Written Nov., 1785. Published by Johnson, 1824.]
THE Genius of th' Augustan age
His head among Rome's ruins rear'd,
And bursting with heroic rage,
When literary Heron appear'd,
Thou hast, he cried, like him of old
Who set th' Ephesian dome on fire,
By being scandalously bold,
Attain'd the mark of thy desire;
And for traducing Virgil's name
Shalt share his merited reward;
A perpetuity of fame,
That rots, and stinks, and is abhorr'd.
THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT
TO MRS. THROCKMORTON
[Written Dec., 1787. Published in The Gentleman's Magazine, Dec., 1788; afterwards in 1795.]
MARIA! I have ev'ry good
For thee wish'd many a time,
Both sad, and in a cheerful mood,
But never yet in rhime.
To wish thee fairer is no need,
More prudent, or more sprightly,
Or more ingenious, or more freed
From temper-flaws unsightly.
What favour, then, not yet possess'd,
Can I for thee require,
In wedded love already blest,
To thy whole heart's desire?
None here is happy but in part;
Full bliss is bliss divine;
And, doubtless, one in thine.
There dwells some wish in ev'ry heart,
That wish, on some fair future day,
Which fate shall brightly gild,
('Tis blameless, be it what it may)
I wish it all fulfill'd.
The Gift-5 is] were 1788.
13 is] are 1788.
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