Page images
PDF
EPUB

they are, and crowns me with a winter garland. In this respect therefore, I and my cotemporary Bards are by no means upon a par. They write when the delightful influences of fine weather, fine prospects, and a brisk motion of the animal spirits, make Poetry almost the lauguage of nature; and I, when icicles depend from all the leaves of the Parnassian laurel, and when a reasonable man would as little expect to succeed in verse, as to hear a Black-bird whistle. This must be my apology to you for whatever want of fire and animation you may observe in what you will shortly have the perusal of. As to the Public if they like me not there is no remedy. A friend will weigh and consider all disadvantages, and make as large allowances as an Author can wish, and larger perhaps then he has any right to expect; but not so the World at large; whatever they do not like, they will not by any apology be persuaded to forgive, and it would be in vain to tell them that I wrote my verses in January, for they would immediately reply, Why did not you write them in May ?" A question that might puzzle a wiser head than we Poets are generally blessed with.

66

I was informed by Mrs. Unwin that she strongly solicited her Friend to devote his thoughts to Puetry, of considerable extent, on his recovery from his very long fit of mental dejection, suggesting to him, at the same time, the first subject of his Song, “The Progress of Error!" which the reader will recollect as the second Poem

in

in his first volume.

The time when that volume was completed,

and the motives of its excellent Author for giving it to the world, are clearly displayed in the following very interesting letter to his fair poetical Cousin.

MY DEAR COUSIN,

LETTER XXXI.

To Mrs. COWPER.

October 19, 1781.

Your fear lest I should think you un

worthy of my correspondence on account of your delay to answer, may change sides now, and more properly belongs to me. It is long since I received your last, and yet I believe I can say truly that not a post has gone by me since the receipt of it, that has not reminded me of the debt I owe you, for your obliging and unreserved communications both in prose and verse, especially for the latter, because I consider them as marks of your peculiar confidence. The truth is, I have been such a verse-maker myself, and so busy in preparing a volume for the press, which I imagine will make its appearance in the course of the winter, that I hardly had leisure to listen to the calls of any other engagement. It is however finished, and gone to the Printer's, and I have nothing now to do with it, but to correct the sheets as they are sent to me, and consign it over to the judgment of the Public. It is a bold undertaking at this time of day, when so many writers of the greatest abilities have gone before, who seem to have anticipated every va

[blocks in formation]

luable subject, as well as all the graces of poetical embellishment, to step forth into the world in the character of a Bard, especially when it is considered that luxury, idleness, and vice have debauched the public taste, and that nothing hardly is welcome, but childish fiction, or what has at least a tendency to excite a laugh. I thought however that I had stumbled upon some subjects that had never before been poetically treated, and upon some others, to which I imagined it would not be difficult to give an air of novelty, by the manner of treating them. My sole drift is to be useful; a point which however, I knew, I should in vain aim at, unless I could be likewise entertaining. I have therefore fixed these two strings upon my bow, and by the help of both have done my best to send my arrow to the mark. My readers will hardly have begun to laugh, before they will be called upon to correct that levity, and peruse me with a more serious air. As to the effect, I leave it alone in his hands who can alone produce it; neither prose nor verse, can reform the manners of a dissolute age, much less can they inspire a sense of religious obligation, unless assisted and made efficacious by the power who superintends the truth he has vouchsafed to impart.

You made my heart ach with a sympathetic sorrow, when you described the state of your mind on occasion of your late visit into Hartfordshire. Had I been previously informed of your journey before you made it, I should have been able to have foretold

all

all your feelings with the most unerring certainty of prediction. You will never cease to feel upon that subject, but with your principles of resignation and acquiescence in the divine will, you will always feel as becomes a Christian. We are forbidden to murmur, but we are not forbidden to regret; and whom we loved tenderly while living, we may still pursue with an affectionate remembrance, without having any occasion to charge ourselves with rebellion against the Sovereignty that appointed a separation. A day is coming, when I am confident, you will see and know, that mercy to both parties was the principal agent in a scéne, the recollection of which is still painful.

Those who read what the Poet has here said of his intended publication, may perhaps think it strange, that it was introduced to the world with a Preface not written by himself, but by his friend, Mr. Newton. The circumstance is singular; but it arose from two amiable peculiarities in the character of Cowper, his extreme diffidence in regard to himself, and his kind eagernees to gratify the affectionate ambition of a friend, whom he tenderly esteemed! Mr. Newton has avowed the fervency of this ambition in a very ingenuous and manly manner, and they must have little candor indeed, who are disposed to cavil at his alacrity in presenting himself to the public as the bosom friend of that incomparable Author,whom he had attended so faithfully in sickness and in sorrow!-I hope it is no sin

to

to covet honour as the Friend of Cowper, for, if it is, I fear I may say but too truly in the words of Shakespeare,

"I am the most offending soul alive."

Happy however if I may be able so to conduct, and finish this biographical compilation, that those, who knew and loved him best, may be the most willing to applaud me as his Friend; a title, that my heart prefers to all other distinction!

The immediate success of his first volume was very far from being equal to its extraordinary merit. For some time it seemed to be neglected by the Public, although the first Poem in the collection contains such a powerful image of its Author, as might be thought sufficient not only to excite attention, but to secure attachment: for Cowper had undesignedly executed a masterly portrait of himself, in describing the true Poet: I allude to the following Verses in "Table Talk."

Nature, exerting an unwearied power,

Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower;
Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads
The dancing Naiads thro' the dewy meads:
She fills profuse ten thousand little throats

With music, modulating all their notes;

And charms the woodland scenes, and wilds unknown
With artless airs, and concerts of her own;

But

« PreviousContinue »