FABLES FOR THE COURT.* Addressed to Mr. Michael Clayfield, of Bristol. THE SHEPHERDS. MORALS, as critics must allow, And if we credit Dodsley's word, All applications are absurd. What has the author to be vain in * Transcribed by Mr. Catcott, Oct. 19, 1796, from Chatterton's MS. It has been urged, and for an obvious reason, that the poems acknowledged by Chatterton to be of his own composition, are of a cast much inferior to those which he produced as written by Rowley. If this be true, we should remember that Chatterton lavished all his powers on the counterfeit Rowley, with whom he intended to astonish or to deceive the world, and that his miscellanies were the temporary progeny of indigence, inconvenience, and distraction: that the former pieces were composed, with one uniform object in view, in a state of leisure and repose, through the course of nearly one year and a half; and the latter, amidst the want of common necessaries, in disquietude and in dissipation, at the call of booksellers, and often on occasional topics, within four months. But I do not grant this boasted inequality. If there is any, at least the same hand appears in both. The miscellanies contain many strokes of uncommon spirit and imagination, and such as would mark any boy of seventeen for a genius. Let me add, that both collections contain an imagery of the same sort. Mr. Walpole observes, very truly, that Chatterton and the supposed Rowley animated by so congenial a spirit, that the compositions of the one can hardly be discriminated from the other. The same soul animates all, and the limbs that would remain to Rowley would indeed be disjecti membra poeta. Rowley would not only have written with a spirit by many centuries posterior to that of his age, but his mantle escaping the hands of all his contemporaries and successors, must have been preserved nothing the worse for time, and reserved to invest Chatterton from head to foot."-WARTON. "were And substitutes a second scene To publish what the first should mean? Besides, it saucily reflects Upon the reader's intellects. When arm'd in metaphors and dashes, The bard some noble villain lashes, The tragic muse, once pure and chaste, Not rigid Johnson seems to mean, When villainy and vices shine, You wo'nt find Sandwich in the line; My knowledge of the Earl of Bute. A flock of sheep, no matter where, 'Tis true, by strange affection led, And, fearful of a winter storm, Against the present heavy debt, And hardly make a villain great. The pious bosom and the back The flock rejoic'd, and could no less And Edinburgh was heard to sing 1 Now heaven be prais'd for such a king. All join'd in joy and expectation, FRAGMENT. INT'REST, thou universal God of men, What though Astrea decks my soul in gold, In a low cottage shaking with the wind, The ragged chapman found his word a law, |