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of every description, not only by the most dence, if we rightly understand his biographer, lavish and indiscriminate praise of every in that was the immediate cause of the unfora di&dual he has occasion to mention, but by a tunate derangement that overclouded the regeneral spirit of approbation and indulgence mainder of his life. In his thirty-first year, towards every practice and opinion which he his friends procured for him the office of has found it necessary to speak of. Among reading-clerk to the House of Lords ; but the the other symptoms of book making which this idea of reading in public, was the source of publication contains, we can scarcely forbear such torture and apprehension to him, that he Peckoning the expressions of this too obsequious very soon resigned that place, and had interest and unoffending philanthropy.

enough to exchange it for that of clerk of the The constitutional shyness and diffidence journals, which was supposed to require no of Cowper appeared in his earliest childhood, personal attendance. An unlucky dispute in and was not subdued in any degree by the Parliament, however, made it necessary for bustle and contention of a Westminster edu- him to appear in his place; and the consecation ; where, though he acquired a consid- quences of this requisition are stated by Mr. erable portion of classical learning, he has Hayley, in the following, not very lucid, achimself declared, that "he was never able to count. raise his eye above the shoe-buckles of the

" His terrors on this occasion arose to such an elder boys, who tyrannized over him.” From this seminary, he seems to have passed, with his reason for alihough he had endeavoured to

astonishing height, that they uiterly overwhelmed out any academical preparation, into the So- prepare himself for his public duty, by attending ciety of the Inner Temple, where he continued closely at the office for several months, to examine to reside to the age of thirty-three. Neither the parliamentary journals, his application was ren. his biographer nor his letters give any satis- dered useless by that excess of diffidence, which factory account of the way in which this large made him conceive, that whatever knowledge he and most important part of his life was spent. at ihe bar of the House. This distressing appre

might previously acquire, it would all forsake him Although Lord Thurlow was one of his most hension increased to such a degree, as the time for intimate associates, it is certain that he never his appearance approached, that when the day so made any proficiency in the study of the law; anxiously dreaded arrived, he was unable to make and the few slight pieces of composition, in the experiment. The very friends, who called on which he appears to have been engaged in of Lords, acquiesced in the cruel necessity of relinthis interval, are but a scanty produce for fif- quishing the prospect of a station so severely forteen years of literary leisure. That a part of midable to a frame of such singular sensibility." those years was very idly spent, indeed, ap- “ The conflict between the wishes of just affecpears from his own account of them. In a tionale ambition, and the terrors of diffidence, so letter to his cousin, in 1786, he says,

entirely overwhelmed his health and faculties, that

after two learned and benevolent divines (Mr. John "I did actually live three years with Mr. Chap. Cowper, his brother, and the celebrated Mr. Mar. man, a solicitor; that is to say, I slept three years tin Madan, his first cousin) had vainly endeavoured in his house ; but I lived, that is to say, I spent my to establish a lasting tranquillity in his mind, by days in Southampton Row, as you very well re- friendly and religious conversation, it was found member. There was 1, and the future Lord Chan. necessary to remove him to St. Alban's, where he cellor, constantly employed, from morning to night, resided a considerable time, under the care of that in giggling, and making giggle, instead of studying eminent physician Dr. Corton, a scholar and a poet, the law."'-Vol. i. p. 178.

who added to many accomplishments a peculiar And in a more serious letter to Mr. Rose, I had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with

sweetness of manners, in very advanced life, when he makes the following just observations. him."-Vol. i. pp. 25, 26.

"The colour of our whole life is generally such as the three or four first years, in which we are our

In this melancholy state he continued for own masters, make it. Then it is that we may be upwards of a year, when his mind began said to shape our own destiny, and to treasure up slowly to emerge from the depression under for ourselves a series of future successes or disap. which it had laboured, and to seek for conpointments. Had I employed my time as wisely as

solation in the study of the Scriptures, and you, in a si'uation very similar to yours, I had never been a poet perhaps, but I might by this time have other religious occupations. In ihe city of acquired a characier of more importance in soci. Huntingdon, to which he had been removed ety; a situation in which my friends would have in his illness, he now formed an acquaintance been beter pleased to see me. But three years with the family of the Reverend Mr. Unwin, misspent in an attorney's office, were almost of

with whose widow the greater part of his after course followed by several more equally misspent life was passed. The series of letters, which in the Temple; and the consequence has been, as the Italian epitaph says, Slo qui."--The only use Mr. Hayley has introduced in this place, are I can make of myself now, al' least the best, is to altogether of a devotional cast, and bear eviserve in lerrorem to others, when occasion may dent symptoms of continuing depression and happen to offer, that they may escape (so far as my anxiety. He talks a great deal of his converadmoritions can have any weight with them) my sion, of the levity and worldliness of his folly and my fate."-Vol. i. pp. 333, 334.

former life, and of ihe grace which had at last Neither the idleness of this period, however, been vouchsafed to him; and seems so entirely por the gaiety in which it appears to have and constantly absorbed in those awful medibeen wasted, had corrected that radical defect stations, as to consider not only the occupations in his constitution, by which he was disabled of his earlier days, but all temporal business from making any public display of his acqui- or amusement, as utterly unworthy of his atsitions; and it was the excess of this diffi- tention. We do not think it necessary to make any extract from this part of the publication; 1 pieces. When I can find no other occupation, I and perhaps Mr. Hayley might have spared ihink; and when I think, I am very apt to do it in some of the methodistical raptures and dissert- rhyme. Hence it comes to pass, that the season ations that are contained in those letters, of poetry, unfolds mine, such as they are, and without any injury either to the memory of crowns me with a winter garland. In this respect, his friend, or the reputation of his own per- therefore, I and my contemporary bards are by no formance.

means upon a par. They write when the delightful After the death of Mr. Unwin, he retired influence of fine weather, fine prospects, and a brisk with his widow to the village of Olney in motion of the animal spirits, make poetry almost the

language of nature; and I, when icicles depend froni 1768, where he continued in the same pious all the leaves of the Parnassian laurel, and when a and sequestered habits of life till the year reasonable man would as little expect to succeed in 1772, when a second and more protracted verse, as to hear a black bird whistle. This must visitation of the same tremendous malady ob- be my apology to you for whatever want of fire and scured his faculties for a melancholy period animation you may observe in what you will shortly of eight years; during which he was attended have the perusal of. As to the public, if they like

me not, there is no remedy."-Vol. i. pp. 105, 106. by Mrs. Unwin with a constancy and tenderness of affection, which it was the great busi

The success of his first volume, which apness of his after life to repay.

In 1780, he peared in the end of the year 1781, was by began gradually to recover; and in a letter no means such as to encourage him to proceed of that year to his cousin, describes himself to a second; and, indeed, it seems now to be in this manner:

admitted by every body but Mr. Hayley, that

it was not well calculated for becoming popu“You see me sixteen years older, at ihe least, lar. Too serious for the general reader, it than when I saw you last ; but the effects of time had too much satire, wit, and criticism, to be secm to have taken place rather on the outside of my head than within it. What was brown is be. a favourite with the devout and enthusiastic; come grey, but what was foolish remains foolish the principal poems were also too long and still. Green fruit must rot before it ripens, if the desultory, and the versification throughout was season is such as to afford it nothing but cold winds more harsh and negligent, than the public had and dark clouds, that interrupt every ray of sunshine. yet been accustomed to. The book therefore mad King Lear would have made his soldiers was very little read, till the increasing fame march) as if they were shod with felt! Not so

of the author brought all his works into notice; silently but that I hear them; yet were it not that I and then, indeed, it was discovered, that it am always listening to their fight, having no in, contained many traits of strong and original firmity that I had not when I was much younger, I genius, and a richness of idiomatical phraseshould deceive myself with an imagination that I lology, that has been but seldom equalled in am still young."-Vol. i. pp. 96, 97.

our language. One of the first applications of his returning In the end of this year, Cowper formed an powers was to the taming and education of accidental acquaintance with the widow of Sir the three young hares, which he has since Thomas Austen, which, in spite of his insupercelebrated in his poetry: and, very soon after, able shyness, ripened gradually into a mutual the solicitations of his affectionate companion and cordial friendship, and was the immediate first induced him to prepare some moral pieces source of some of his happiest hours, and for publication, in the hope of giving a salu- most celebrated productions. The facétious tary employment to his mind. At the age of history of “John Gilpin” arose from a sug. fifty, therefore, and at a distance from all the gestion of that lady, in circumstances and in excitements that emulation and ambition usu

a way that marks the perilous and moody ally hold out to a poet, Cowper began to write state of Cowper's understanding more strik. for the public, with the view of diverting his ingly perhaps than any general description. own melancholy, and doing service to the

** It happened one afternoon, in those years, cause of morality. Whatever effect his pub- when his accomplished friend Lady Austen made a lications had on the world, the composition part of his little evening circle, that she observed of them certainly had a most beneficial one him sinking into increasing dejection; it was her on himself. In a letter to his cousin he says, custom, on these occasions, to try all the resources

of her sprightly powers for his immediate relief. “Dejection of spirits, which I suppose may have She told him the story of John Gilpin (which had prevenied many a man from becoming an author, been treasured in her memory from her childhood) to made me one. I find constant employment neces- dissipate the gloom of the passing hour: Its effects sary, and therefore take care to be constantly em. on the fancy of Cowper had the air of enchantment. ployed.-Manual occupations do not engage the He informed her the next morning, that convulsions mind sufficiently, as I know by experience, having of laughter, brought on by his recollection of her tried many. But composition, especially of verse, story, had kept him waking during the greatest part absorbs it wholly. I write, therefore, generally of the nighi! and that he had turned it into a ballad. three hours in a morning, and in an evening 1 -So arose the pleasant poem of John Gilpin."transcribe. I read also, but less than I write.''- Vol. i. pp. 128, 129. Vol. i. p. 147.

In the course of the year 1783, however, There is another passage in which he talks Lady Austen was fortunate enough to direci of his performance so light and easy a the poet to a work of much greater importance; manner, and assumes so much of the pleasing, and to engage him, from a very accidental though 'antiquated language of Pope and Ad- circumstance, in the composition of "The dison, that we cannot resist extracting it. Task,” by far the best and the most popular

“My labours are principally the production of of all his performances. The anecdote, which last winter ; all indeed, except a few of the minor is such as the introduction of that poem has

before us.

probably suggested to most readers, is given translation, about this time, seem to have in this manner by Mr. Hayley.

drawn from him the following curious and ** This lady happened, as an admirer of Milton, unaffected delineation of his own thoughts and to be pariial io blank verse, and often solicited her feelings. poetical friend to try his powers in that species of composition. After repeated solicitation, he pro- menced an author, I am most abundantly desirous

“I am not ashamed to confess, that having commised her, if she would furnish ihe subject, to comply with her request. • Oh!' she replied, you can

to succeed as such. I have (whal perhaps you litle never be in want of a subject , -you can write upon suspect me of) in my nature, an infinite share of am. any-write upon this sola!' The poet obeyed her bition. But with it, I have at the same tinie, as command; and, from the lively repartee of familiar you well know, an equal share of diffidence. "To conversation, arose a poem of many thousand verses,

this combination of opposite qualities it has been pnexampled, perhaps, both in its origin and excel owing, that, till lately, I stole through life without lence."-Vol. i. p. 135.

undertaking any thing, yet always wishing to dis

tinguish myself. At lasi I ventured : ventured, too, This extraordinary production was finished in the only path that, at so late a period, was yet in less than a year, and became extremely open to me; and I am determined, if God hath not popular from the very first month of its publica- determined otherwise, to work my way through tion. The charm of reputation, however, could he obscurity that hath been so long my portion,

into notice."'-Vol. i. p. 190. not draw Cowper from his seclusion; and his solitude became still more dreary about this

As he advanced in his work, however, he period, by the cessation of his intercourse seems to have become better pleased with with Lady Austen, with whom certain little the execution of it; and in the year 1790, jealousies on the part of Mrs. Unwin (which addresses to his cousin the following candid the biographer might as well have passed and interesting observations: though we canover in silence) obliged him to renounce any not but regret that we have not some specifarther connection. Besides the Task and mens at least of what he calls the quaint and Jahn Gilpin, he appears to have composed antiquated style of our earlier poets: and are several smaller poems for this lady, which are not without our suspicions that we should published, for the first time, in the work now have liked it better than that which he ulti

We were particularly struck with mately adopted. a ballad on the unfortunate loss of the Royal George, of which the following stanzas may he success of my translation, though in time past

“To say the truth, I have now no sears about serve as a specimen.

I have had many. I knew there was a style some* Toll for the brave!

wher could I but find it, in which Homer ought Brave Kempenselt is gone ;

to be rendered, and which alone would suit him. His last seafight is foughı;

Long time I blundered about it, ere I could attain His work of glory done.

10 any decided judgment on the matter. At first I

was betrayed, by a desire of accommodating my “It was not in the battle;

language to the simplicity of his, into much of the No tempest gave the shock; quaininess that belonged to our writers of the fif. She sprang no latal leak;

teenth century. In the course of many revisals, I She ran upon no rock.

have delivered myself from this evil. I believe, en. "His sword was in its sheath;

tirely : but I have done it slowly, and as a man His fingers held the pen,

separates himself from his mistress, when he is When Kempenfelt went down,

going to marry. I had so strong a predilection in With twice four hundred men.

favour of this style, at first, that I was crazed to Vol. i.

find that others were not as much enamoured with

it as myself, At every passage of that sort, which The same year that saw the conclusion of I obliterated, I groaned bitterly, and said to myself, ** The Task," found Cowper engaged in the I am spoiling my work to please those who have translation of Homer. This laborious under- no taste for the simple graces of antiquity. But in laking, is said, by Mr. Hayley, to have been I became a convert to their opinion : and in the last

measure, as I adopted a more modern phraseology, first suggested to him by Lady Austen also; revisal, which I am now making, am not sensible though there is nothing in the correspondence of having spared a single expression of the obsolete he has published, that seems to countenance kind. I see my work so much improved by this that idea. The work was pretty far advanced alteration, that I am filled with wonder at my own before he appears to have confided the secret the more, when I consider, that Milton, with

backwardness to assent to the necessity of it; and of it to any one.

In a letter to Mr. Hill, he whose manner I account myself intimately, acexplains his design in this manner:

quainted, is never quaint, never wangs through the "Knowing it to have been universally the opinion nose, but is every where grand and elegant, without of the literali, ever since they have allowed them resorting to musiy antiquity for his beauties. On selves to consider the matter coolly, that a transla. The contrary, he took a long stride forward, left the tion, properly so called, of Homer, is, notwithstand language of his own day far behind him, and anticing whai Pope has done, a desideratum in the ipated the expressions of a century yet to come.” English language, it struck me, that an attempt to

-Vol. i. pp. 360, 361. supply be deficiency would be an honourable one;

The translation was finished in the year and having made myself, in former years, somewhat critically a master of the original, I was, by 1791, and published by subscription immethis double translation, induced to make the attempt diately after. Several

applications were made myself

. I am now translating into blank verse to the University of Oxford 'or the honour of the last book of the Iliad, and mean to publish by their subscription, but without success. Their subscription."'-Vol. i. p. 154.

answer was, " That they subscribed to nothSome observations that were by Dr. ing.”—“It seems not a little extraordinary,” Maty and others, upon a specimen of his says the offended poet on this occasion, “that

O

p. 127.

60 too.

persons so nobly patronised themselves on the wonder at his taste, and be so 100."-Vol. i. pp. score of literature, should resolve to give no 161–163. encouragement to it in return.': We think

The following is very much in the same

style. The period that elapsed from the publication of his first volume in 1781, to that of his cupied by us and our Meubles, is as much superior

“ This house, accordingly, since it has been ocHomer in 1791, seems to have been by far to what it was when you saw it as you can imagine. the happiest and most- brilliant part of Čow- The parlour is even elegant. When I say that the per's existence. It was not only animated by parlour is elegant, I do not mean to insinuate that the vigorous and successful exertions in which he study is not so. It is neat, warm, and silent, he was engaged, but enlivened, in a very produce in it an incomparable translation of Homer.

and a much better study than I deserve, if I do not pleasing manner, by the correspondence and

I think every day of those lines of Milion, and con. society of his cousin, Lady Hesketh, who re- gratulate myselí on having obtained, before I am newed, about this time, an intimacy that quite superannuated, what he seems not to have seems to have endeared the earlier days of hoped for sooner. their childhood. In his letters to this lady,

• And may at length my weary age we have found the most interesting traits of For if it is not a hermitage, at least it is a much

Find out ihe peaceful hermitage.' his simple and affectionate character, com- better thing; and you must always understand, bined with an innocent playfulness, and viva- my dear, that when poets talk of cottages, hermit city, that charms the more, when contrasted ages, and such like things, they mean a house with with the gloom and horror to which it suc- six sashes in front, two comfortable parlours, a ceeded, and by which it was unfortunately smart staircase, and three bedchambers of convereplaced. Our limits will not allow us to nient dimensions; in short, exacıly such a house make many extracts from this part of the as this."-Vol. i. pp. 227, 228. publication. We insert, however, the follow- In another letter, in a graver humour, he ing delightful letter, in answer to one from says Lady Hesketh, promising to pay him a visit

"I am almost the only person at Weston, known during the summer.

to you, who have enjoyed tolerable health this " I shall see you again !-I shall hear your voice- winter. In your next letter give us some account we shall take walks together: I will show you my of your own state of health, for I have had my prospects, the hovel, ihe alcove, the Ouse, and is anxieties about you. The winter has been mild; banks, every thing that I have described. I antici. but our winters are in general such, that, when a pate the pleasure of those days not very far distant, friend leaves us in the beginning of ihat season, I and feel a part of it at this moment. Talk not of always feel in my heart a perhaps, importing that an inn; mention it not for your life. We have we have possibly met for the lasi lime, and that the never had so many visitors, but we could easily ac- robins may whistle on the grave of one of us before commodate them all, though we have received the return of summer. Unwin, and his wife, and his sister, and his son, • Many thanks for the cuckow, which arrived all at once. My dear, I will not let you come till perfectly safe, and goes well, 10 the amusement the end of May, or beginning of June, because be- and amazement of all who hear it. Hannah lies fore that time iny green-house will not be ready to awake to hear it ; and I am not sure that we have receive us; and it is the only pleasant room be.

not others in the house that admire his music as longing to us. When the plants go out, we go in. much as she."'-Vol. i. p. 331. I line it with mats, and spread the floor with mats, and there you shall sit with a bed of mignonelle at

In the following passage, we have all the your side, and a hedge of honeysuckles, roses, and calmness of a sequestered and good-natured jesmine; and I will make you a bouquet of myrtle man, and we doubt whether there was another every day. Sooner than the time I mention, the educated and reflecting individual to be found country will not be in complete beauty. And I in the kingdom, who could think and speak will tell you what you shall find at your first en. so dispassionately of the events which were trance. Imprimis, As soon as you have entered the vestibule, if you cast a look on either side of

passing in 1792. you, you shall see on the right hand a box of my “The French, who, like all lively folks, are ex. making. It is the box in which have been lodged treme in every thing, are sich in their zeal for all my hares, and in which lodges puss at present. freedom; and if it were possible to make so noble But he, poor fellow, is worn out with age, and pro- a cause ridiculous, their manner of promoting it mises to die before you can see him. On the right could not fail to do so. Princes and peers reduced hand stands a cupboard, the work of the same to plain gentlemanship, and gentles reduced to a author. It was once a dove-cage, but I transform level with their own lackeys, are excesses of which ed it. Opposite to you stands a table, which I also they will repent hereafter. Difference of rank and made; but a merciless servant having scrubbed it subordination are, I believe, of God's appointment, until it became paralyric, it serves no purpose now and, consequently, essential to the well-being of but of ornament; and all my clean shoes stand society: bui what we mean by fanaticism in reliunder it. On the left hand, at the farther end of gion, is exacıly that which animales their politics; this superb vestibule, you will find the door of the and, unless time should sober them, they will, parlour into which I shall conduct you, and where after all, be an unhappy people. Perhaps it deI will introduce you to Mrs. Unwin (unless we serves not much 10 be wondered al, that at their should meet her before),—and where we will be as first escape from tyrannic shackles, they should happy as the day is long! Order yourself, my act extravagantly, and treat their kings as they have cousin, to the Swan al Newport, and there you sometimes treated their idols. To these, however, shall find me ready to conduci you to Olney. They are reconciled in due time again; but their

“My dear, I have told Homer what you say respect for monarchy is at an end. They want about casks and urns: and have asked him whether nothing now but a litile English sobriery, and that he is sure that it is a cask in which Jupiter keeps they want extremely. I heartily wish ihem some his wine. He swears that it is a cask, and that it wil in their anger; for it were great pily that so will never be any thing better than a cask to eternity. many millions should be miserable for want of it." So if the god is content with it, we must even|--Vol. i. p. 379.

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Homer was scarcely finished, when a pro- cility were beginning to be painfully visible ; nor posal was made to the indefatigable translator, can narure present a spectacle more truly pivíable, to engage in a magnificent edition of Milton, for dominion, which it knows not either how 10 for which he was to furnish a version of his retain, or how to relinquish.”—Vol.ii. pp. 161, 162. Latin and Italian poetry, and a critical commentary upon his whole works. Mr. Hayley

From a part of these evils, however, the had, at this time, undertaken to write a life poet was relieved, by the generous compasof Milton: and some groundless reports, as sion of Lady Hesketh, who nobly took upon to an intended rivalry between him and Cow- herself the task of superintending this melanper, led to a friendly explanation, and to a

choly household. We will not withhold from very cordial and affectionate intimacy. In our readers the encomium she has so well the year 1792, Mr. Hayley paid a visit to his earned from the biographer. newly acquired friend at Weston; and hap

“ Those only, who have lived with the superpened to be providentially present with him annuated and melancholy, can properly appreciate when the agony which he experienced from the value of such magnanimous friendship, or perthe sight of a paralytic attack upon Mrs. Un- cost the mortal who exeris it, if that mortal has win; had very nearly affected his understand received from nature a frame of compassionate ing. The anxious attention of his friend, and sensibility. The lady, to whom I allude, has felt the gradual recovery of the unfortunaté pa

but too severely, in her own health, the heavy tax tient, prevented any very calamitous effect that mortality is forced to pay for a resolute perrefrom this unhappy occurrence: But his spirits

verance in such painful duty."-Vol. ii. p. 177. appear never to have recovered the shock;

It was impossible, however, for any care or and the solicitude and apprehension which he attention to arrest the progress of that dreadconstantly felt for his long tried and affection- ful depression, by which the faculties of this ate companion, suspended his literary exer- excellent man were destined to be extintions, aggravated the depression to which he guished. In the beginning of the year 1794, had always been occasionally liable, and ren- he became utterly incapable of any sort of dered the remainder of his life a very preca- exertion, and ceased to receive pleasure from nous struggle against that overwhelming mal- the company or conversation of his friends. ady by which it was at last obscured. In the Neither a visit from Mr. Hayley, nor his end of summer, he returned Mr. Hayley's visit Majesty's order for a pension 3001. a-year, at Eartham; but came back again to Weston, was able to rouse him from that languid and with spirits as much depressed and forebod- melancholy state into which he had gradually ings as gloomy as ever. His constant and been sinking; and, at length, it was thought tender attention to Mrs Unwin, was one cause necessary to remove him from the village of of his neglect of every thing else. “I cannot Weston to Tuddenham in Norfolk, where he sit,” he says in one of his letters, “ with my could be under the immediate superintendpen in my hand, and my books before me, while ence of his kinsman, the Reverend Mr. Johnshe is, in effect, in solitude-silent, and look- son. After a long cessation of all corresponding in the fire." A still more powerful cause ence, he addressed the following very moving was, the constant and oppressive dejection lines to the clergyman of the favourite vilof spirits that now began again to overwhelm lage, to which he was no more to return : him. “It is in vain," he says, " that I have “I will forget, for a moment, that to whomso. made several attempts to write since I came ever I may address myself, a letter from me can no from Sussex. Unless more comfortable days otherwise be welcome, than as a curiosity. To arrive, than I have now the confidence to look you, sir, I address this, urged by extreme penury for, there is an end of all writing with me! thing of what is doing, and has been done, at

of employment, and the desire I feel to learn some. I have no spirits. When Rose came, I was Weston (my beloved Weston!) since I left it? obliged to prepare for his coming, by a nightly No situation, at least when the weather is clear dose of laudanum."

and bright, can be pleasanter than what we have In the course of the year 1793, he seems here: which you will easily credit, when I add, 10 have done little but revise his translation that it imparts something a little resembling pleaof Homer, of which he meditated an im-ion !- If Mr. Gregson and the Courtney's are

sure even to me.—Gratily me with news of Wesproved edition. Mr. Hayley came to see him there, mention mne to them in such terms as you a second time at Weston, in the month of sce good. Tell me if my poor birds are living! November; and gives this affecting and pro- I never see the herbs I used to give them, without phetic account of his situation

a recollection of them, and sometimes am ready to " He possessed completely at this period all the gather them, forgetting that I am not at home.

Pardon this intrusion.' admirable facullies of his mind, and all the native tenderness of his heart; but there was something In summer 1796, there were some faint indescribable in his appearance, which led me to glimmerings of returning vigour, and he again apprehend, that, without some signal event in his applied himself, for some time, to the revisal favour, 10 re-animate his spirits, they would gradu- of his translation of Homer. In December, ally sink into hopeless dejection. The state of his aged infirm companion, afforded additional ground Mrs. Unwin died; and such was the severe for increasing solicitude. Her cheer!ul and benefi- depression under which her companion then cent spirit could hardly resist her own accumulated laboured, that he seems to have suffered but maladies, so far as to preserve ability sufficient to little on the occasion. He never afterwards watch over the tender health of him whom she had mentioned her name! At intervals, in the watched and guarded so long. Imbecility of body and mind must graelually render this tender and summer, he continued to work at the revisal heroic woman unfit for the charge which she had of his Homer, which he at length finished in so laudably sustained. The signs of such imbe | 1799; and afterwards translated some of

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