154 Peace may be the lot of the mind SONG. Air-" The Lass of Pattie's Mill.” When all within is peace, How nature seems to smile! It is content of heart Gives nature pow'r to please; Seem bright as smiling May, And evening's closing eye The vast majestic globe, In nature's various robe, With wondrous skill display'd, A dreary wild at best; It flutters to depart, And longs to be at rest. I add the following song (adapted to the march in Scipio) for two reasons; because it is pleasing to promote the celebrity of a brave man, calamitously cut off in his career of honour, and because the song was a favourite production of the poet's; so much so that he amused himself by translating it into Latin verse. take the version from one of his subsequent letters, for the sake of annexing it to the original. I A land breeze shook the shrouds, Down went the Royal George, Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; It was not in the battle; His sword was in its sheath, Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, Full-charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more. In Submersionem Navigii cui Georgius Regale Nomen inditum. Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat, Malus ad summas trepidabat undas, Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam Nec sinunt ultrà tibi nos recentes Magne, qui nomen, licèt incanorum, Non hyems illos furibunda mersit, Fissa non rimis abies, nec atrox Let the reader, who wishes to impress on his mind a just idea of the variety and extent of Cowper's poetical powers, contrast this heroic ballad, of exquisite pathos, with his diverting history of John Gilpin ! That admirable and highly-popular piece of pleasantry was composed at the period of which I am now speaking. An elegant and judicious writer, who has recently favoured the public with three interesting volumes relating to the early poets of our country, conjectures that a poem written by the celebrated Sir Thomas More in his youth (the merry jest of the Sergeant and Frere) may have suggested to Cowper his tale of John Gilpin; but that fascinating ballad had a different origin; and it is a very remarkable fact, that full of gaiety and humour as this favourite of the public has abundantly proved itself to be, it was really composed at a time when the spirit of the poet, as he informed me himself, was very deeply tinged with his depressive malady. It happened one afternoon in those years when his accomplished friend Lady Austen made a part of his little evening circle, that she observed him sinking into increasing dejection; it was her custom on these occasions to try all the resources of her sprightly powers for his immediate relief. She told him the story of John Gilpin (which had been treasured in her memory from her childhood), to dissipate the gloom of the passing hour. Its effect on the fancy of Cowper had the air of enchantment; he informed her the next morning that convulsions of laughter, brought on by his recollection of her story, had kept him waking during the greatest part of the night, and that he had turned it into a ballad. So arose the pleasant poem of John Gilpin. It was eagerly copied, and finding its way rapidly to the newspapers, it was seized by the lively spirit of Henderson the comedian, a man, like the Yorick described by Shakspeare," of infinite jest, and most excellent fancy," as a proper subject for the display of his own comic powers; and by reciting it in his public readings, he gave uncommon celebrity to the ballad, before the public suspected to what poet they were indebted for the sudden burst of ludicrous amusement. Many readers were astonished when the poem made its first authentic appearance in the second volume of Cowper. A pleasing proof of the medicinal effect that this sportive ballad continued to produce on the spirits of its author appears in the next letter. CIX.-TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR FRIEND, Nov. 4, 1782. You are too modest; though your last consisted of three sides only, I am certainly a letter in your debt. It is possible that this present writing may prove as short; yet short as it may be, it will be a letter, and make me creditor, and you my debtor. A letter, indeed, ought not to be estimated by the length of it, but by the contents; and how can the contents of any letter be more agreeable than your last? You tell me that John Gilpin made you laugh tears, and that the ladies at court are delighted with my poems. Much good may they do them! May they become as wise as the writer wishes them, and they will be much happier than he! I know there is in the book that wisdom which cometh from above, because it was from above that I received it. May they receive it too! for whether they drink it cut of the cistern, or whether it falls upon them immediately from the clouds, as it did on me, it is all one. It is the water of life, which whosoever drinketh shall thirst no more. As to the famous horseman above-mentioned, he and his feats are an inexhaustible source of merriment. At least we find him so, and seldom meet without refreshing ourselves with the recollection of them. You are perfectly at liberty to deal with them as you please. Auctore tantum anonymo imprimantur; and when printed send me a copy. I congratulate you on the discharge of your duty and your conscience, by the pains you have taken for the relief of the prisoners: you proceeded wisely, yet courageously, and deserved better success. Your labours, however, will be remembered elsewhere, when you shall be forgotten here; and if the poor folk at Chelmsford should never receive the benefit of them, you will yourself receive it in heaven. It is pity that men of fortune should be determined to acts of beneficence sometimes by popular whim or prejudice, and sometimes by motives still more unworthy. The liberal subscription raised in behalf of the widows of the seamen lost in the Royal George was an instance of the former. At least a plain, short, and sensible letter in the newspaper convinced me at the time that it was an unnecessary and injudicious collection; and the difficulty you found in effectuating your benevolent intentions on this occasion constrains me to think that had it been an affair of more notoriety than merely to furnish a few poor fellows with a little fuel to preserve their extremities from the frost, you would have succeeded better. Men really pious delight in doing good by stealth; but nothing less than an ostentatious display of bounty will satisfy mankind in general. I feel myself disposed to furnish you with an opportunity to shine in secret. We do what we can; but that can is little. You have rich friends, are eloquent on all occasions, and know how to be pathetic on a proper one. The winter will be severely felt at Olney by many whose sobriety, industry and honesty recommend them to charitable notice; and we think we could tell such persons as Mr. Mr. —, half-a-dozen tales of distress that would find their way into hearts as feeling as theirs. You will do as you see good; and we, in the mean time, shall remain convinced that you will do your best. Lady Austen will no doubt do something; for she has great sensibility and compassion. Yours, my dear Unwin, CX.-TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR WILLIAM, ——, or W. C. Nov. 18, 1782. On the part of the poor, and on our part, be pleased to make acknowledgments, such as the occasion calls for, to our beneficent friend Mr.-—. I call him ours, because, having experienced his kindness to myself in a former instance, and in the present his disinterested readiness to succour the distressed, my ambition will be satisfied with nothing less. He may depend upon the strictest secrecy: no creature shall hear him mentioned, either now or hereafter, as the person from whom we have received this bounty; but when I speak of him, or hear him spoken of by others, which sometimes happens, I shall not forget what is due to so rare a character. I wish, and your mother wishes it too, that he could sometimes take us in his way to --: he will find us happy to receive a person whom we must needs account it an honour to know. We shall exercise our best discretion in the disposal of the money; but in this town, where the gospel has been preached so many years, where the people have been favoured so long with laborious and conscientious ministers, it is not an easy thing to find those who make no profession of religion at all, and are yet proper objects of charity. The profane are so profane, so drunken, dissolute, and in every respect worthless, that to make them partakers of his bounty would be to abuse it. We promise, however, that none shall touch it but such as are miserably poor, yet at the same time industrious and honest, two characters frequently united here, where the most watchful and unremitting labour will hardly procure them bread. We make none but the cheapest laces, and the price of them is fallen almost to nothing. Thanks are due to yourself likewise, and are hereby accordingly rendered, for waiving your claim in behalf of your own parishioners. You are always with them, and they are always, at least some of them, the better for your residence among them. Olney is a populous place, inhabited chiefly by the half-starved and the ragged of the earth, and it is not possible for our small party and small ability to extend their operations so far as to be much felt among such numbers. Accept, |