LETTER XXIV.

_SCHOOLS._

To every class we have a school assign'd, Rules for all ranks and food for every mind; Yet one there is, that small regard to rule Or study pays, and still is deem'd a school: That, where a deaf, poor, patient widow sits, And awes some thirty infants as she knits; Infants of humble, busy wives, who pay Some trifling price for freedom through the day. At this good matron's hut the children meet, Who thus becomes the mother of the street. 10 Her room is small, they cannot widely stray-- Her threshold high, they cannot run away; Though deaf, she sees the rebel-heroes shout;-- Though lame, her white rod nimbly walks about; With band of yarn she keeps offenders in, And to her gown the sturdiest rogue can pin. Aided by these, and spells, and tell-tale birds, Her power they dread and reverence her words. To learning's second seats we now proceed, Where humming students gilded primers read; 20 Or books with letters large and pictures gay, To make their reading but a kind of play-- "Reading made Easy," so the titles tell; But they who read must first begin to spell. There may be profit in these arts, but still Learning is labour, call it what you will-- Upon the youthful mind a heavy load; Nor must we hope to find the royal road. Some will their easy steps to science show, And some to heav'n itself their by-way know; 30 Ah! trust them not;--who fame or bliss would share, Must learn by labour, and must live by care. Another matron of superior kind For higher schools prepares the rising mind; _Preparatory_ she her learning calls, The step first made to colleges and halls. She early sees to what the mind will grow, Nor abler judge of infant-powers I know; She sees what soon the lively will impede, And how the steadier will in turn succeed; 40 Observes the dawn of wisdom, fancy, taste, And knows what parts will wear and what will waste: She marks the mind too lively, and at once Sees the gay coxcomb and the rattling dunce. Long has she lived, and much she loves to trace Her former pupils, now a lordly race; Whom when she sees rich robes and furs bedeck, She marks the pride which once she strove to check. A burgess comes, and she remembers well How hard her task to make his worship spell; 50 Cold, selfish, dull, inanimate, unkind, 'Twas but by anger he display'd a mind; Now civil, smiling, complaisant, and gay, The world has worn th' unsocial crust away; That sullen spirit now a softness wears, And, save by fits, e'en dulness disappears: But still the matron can the man behold, Dull, selfish, hard, inanimate, and cold. A merchant passes;--"probity and truth, Prudence and patience, mark'd thee from thy youth." 60 Thus she observes, but oft retains her fears For him, who now with name unstain'd appears; Nor hope relinquishes for one who yet Is lost in error and involved in debt; For latent evil in that heart she found, More open here, but here the core was sound. Various our day-schools: here behold we one Empty and still;--the morning duties done, Soil'd, tatter'd, worn, and thrown in various heaps, Appear their books, and there confusion sleeps; 70 The workmen all are from the Babel fled, And lost their tools, till the return they dread. Meantime the master, with his wig awry, Prepares his books for business by-and-by. Now all th' insignia of the monarch laid Beside him rest, and none stand by afraid; He, while his troop light-hearted leap and play, Is all intent on duties of the day; No more the tyrant stern or judge severe, He feels the father's and the husband's fear. 80 Ah! little think the timid trembling crowd, That one so wise, so powerful, and so proud, Should feel himself, and dread the humble ills Of rent-day charges and of coalman's bills; That, while they mercy from their judge implore, He fears himself--a knocking at the door; And feels the burthen as his neighbour states His humble portion to the parish-rates. They sit th' allotted hours, then eager run, Rushing to pleasure when the duty's done; 90 His hour of leisure is of different kind, Then cares domestic rush upon his mind; And half the ease and comfort he enjoys, Is when surrounded by slates, books, and boys. Poor Reuben Dixon has the noisiest school Of ragged lads, who ever bow'd to rule; Low in his price--the men who heave our coals, And clean our causeways, send him boys in shoals. To see poor Reuben, with his fry beside-- Their half-check'd rudeness and his half-scorn'd pride-- 100 Their room, the sty in which th' assembly meet, In the close lane behind the Northgate-street; T' observe his vain attempts to keep the peace, Till tolls the bell, and strife and troubles cease, Calls for our praise; his labour praise deserves, But not our pity; Reuben has no nerves. 'Mid noise and dirt, and stench, and play, and prate, He calmly cuts the pen or views the slate. But Leonard!--yes, for Leonard's fate I grieve, Who loathes the station which he dares not leave; 110 He cannot dig, he will not beg his bread; All his dependence rests upon his head; And, deeply skill'd in sciences and arts, On vulgar lads he wastes superior parts. Alas! what grief that feeling mind sustains, In guiding hands and stirring torpid brains; He whose proud mind from pole to pole will move, And view the wonders of the worlds above; Who thinks and reasons strongly--hard his fate, Confined for ever to the pen and slate. 120 True, he submits, and when the long dull day Has slowly pass'd, in weary tasks, away, To other worlds with cheerful view he looks, And parts the night between repose and books. Amid his labours, he has sometimes tried To turn a little from his cares aside; Pope, Milton, Dryden, with delight has seized, His soul engaged and of his trouble eased. When, with a heavy eye and ill-done sum, No part conceived, a stupid boy will come; 130 Then Leonard first subdues the rising frown, And bids the blockhead lay his blunders down; O'er which disgusted he will turn his eye, } To his sad duty his sound mind apply, } And, vex'd in spirit, throw his pleasures by. } Turn we to schools which more than these afford-- The sound instruction and the wholesome board; And first our school for ladies:--pity calls For one soft sigh, when we behold these walls, Placed near the town, and where, from window high, 140 The fair, confined, may our free crowds espy, With many a stranger gazing up and down, And all the envied tumult of the town; May, in the smiling summer-eve, when they Are sent to sleep the pleasant hours away, Behold the poor (whom they conceive the bless'd) Employ'd for hours, and grieved they cannot rest. Here the fond girl, whose days are sad and few Since dear mamma pronounced the last adieu, Looks to the road, and fondly thinks she hears 150 The carriage-wheels, and struggles with her tears. All yet is new, the misses great and small, Madam herself, and teachers, odious all; From laughter, pity, nay command, she turns, But melts in softness, or with anger burns; Nauseates her food, and wonders who can sleep On such mean beds, where she can only weep. She scorns condolence--but to all she hates Slowly at length her mind accommodates; Then looks on bondage with the same concern 160 As others felt, and finds that she must learn As others learn'd--the common lot to share, To search for comfort and submit to care. There are, 'tis said, who on these seats attend, And to these ductile minds destruction vend; Wretches (to virtue, peace, and nature, foes) To these soft minds, their wicked trash expose; Seize on the soul, ere passions take the sway, And lead the heart, ere yet it feels, astray: Smugglers obscene!--and can there be who take 170 Infernal pains, the sleeping vice to wake? Can there be those, by whom the thought defiled Enters the spotless bosom of a child? By whom the ill is to the heart convey'd, } Who lend the foe, not yet in arms, their aid, } And sap the city-walls before the siege be laid? } Oh! rather skulking in the by-ways steal, And rob the poorest traveller of his meal; Burst through the humblest trader's bolted door; Bear from the widow's hut her winter-store; 180 With stolen steed on highways take your stand, Your lips with curses arm'd, with death your hand;-- Take all but life--the virtuous more would say, } Take life itself, dear as it is, away, } Rather than guilty thus the guileless soul betray. } Years, pass away--let us suppose them past, Th' accomplish'd nymph for freedom looks at last; All hardships over, which a school contains, The spirit's bondage and the body's pains; Where teachers make the heartless, trembling set 190 Of pupils suffer for their own regret; Where winter's cold, attack'd by one poor fire, Chills the fair child, commanded to retire; She felt it keenly in the morning air, Keenly she felt it at the evening prayer. More pleasant summer; but then walks were made Not a sweet ramble, but a slow parade; They moved by pairs beside the hawthorn-hedge, Only to set their feelings on an edge; And now at eve, when all their spirits rise, 200 Are sent to rest, and all their pleasure dies; Where yet they all the town alert can see, And distant plough-boys pacing o'er the lea. These and the tasks successive masters brought-- The French they conn'd, the curious works they wrought, The hours they made their taper fingers strike, Note after note, all dull to them alike; Their drawings, dancings on appointed days, Playing with globes, and getting parts of plays; The tender friendships made 'twixt heart and heart, 210 When the dear friends had nothing to impart:-- All! all! are over;--now th' accomplished maid Longs for the world, of nothing there afraid. Dreams of delight invade her gentle breast, And fancied lovers rob the heart of rest; At the paternal door a carriage stands, Love knits their hearts, and Hymen joins their hands. Ah!--world unknown! how charming is thy view, Thy pleasures many, and each pleasure new! Ah!--world experienced! what of thee is told? 220 How few thy pleasures, and those few how old! Within a silent street, and far apart From noise of business, from a quay or mart, Stands an old spacious building, and the din You hear without, explains the work within; Unlike the whispering of the nymphs, this noise Loudly proclaims a "boarding-school for boys." The master heeds it not, for thirty years Have render'd all familiar to his ears; He sits in comfort, 'mid the various sound 230 Of mingled tones for ever flowing round; Day after day he to his task attends-- Unvaried toil, and care that never ends. Boys in their works proceed; while his employ Admits no change, or changes but the boy; Yet time has made it easy;--he beside Has power supreme, and power is sweet to pride. But grant him pleasure;--what can teachers feel, Dependent helpers always at the wheel? Their power despised, their compensation small, 240 Their labour dull, their life laborious all; Set after set, the lower lads to make Fit for the class which their superiors take; The road of learning for a time to track In roughest state, and then again go back; Just the same way on other troops to wait-- Attendants fix'd at learning's lower gate. The day-tasks now are over;--to their ground Rush the gay crowd with joy-compelling sound; Glad to [elude] the burthens of the day, 250 The eager parties hurry to their play. Then in these hours of liberty we find The native bias of the opening mind; They yet possess not skill the mask to place, And hide the passions glowing in the face; Yet some are found--the close, the sly, the mean, Who know already all must not be seen. Lo! one who walks apart, although so young, He lays restraint upon his eye and tongue; Nor will he into scrapes or dangers get, 260 And half the school are in the stripling's debt. Suspicious, timid, he is much afraid Of trick and plot--he dreads to be betray'd; He shuns all friendship, for he finds they lend, When lads begin to call each other friend. Yet self with self has war; the tempting sight Of fruit on sale provokes his appetite;-- See! how, he walks the sweet seduction by; } That he is tempted, costs him first a sigh-- } 'Tis dangerous to indulge, 'tis grievous to deny! 270 } This he will choose, and whispering asks the price. The purchase dreadful, but the portion nice; Within the pocket he explores the pence; Without, temptation strikes on either sense, The sight, the smell;--but then he thinks again Of money gone! while fruit nor taste remain. Meantime there comes an eager thoughtless boy, Who gives the price and only feels the joy: Example dire! the youthful miser stops, And slowly back the treasured coinage drops. 280 Heroic deed! for should he now comply, Can he to-morrow's appetite deny? Beside, these spendthrifts who so friendly live, Cloy'd with their purchase, will a portion give.-- Here ends debate, he buttons up his store, And feels the comfort that it burns no more, Unlike to him the tyrant-boy, whose sway All hearts acknowledge; him the crowds obey: At his command they break through every rule; Whoever governs, he controls the school; 290 'Tis not the distant emperor moves their fear, But the proud viceroy who is ever near. Verres could do that mischief in a day, For which not Rome, in all its power, could pay; And these boy-tyrants will their slaves distress, And do the wrongs no master can redress. The mind they load with fear; it feels disdain } For its own baseness; yet it tries in vain } To shake th' admitted power;--the coward comes again. } 'Tis more than present pain these tyrants give, 300 Long as we've life some strong impressions live; And these young ruffians in the soul will sow Seeds of all vices that on weakness grow. Hark! at his word the trembling younglings flee; Where he is walking none must walk but he; See! from the winter-fire the weak retreat; His the warm corner, his the favourite seat, Save when he yields it to some slave to keep Awhile, then back, at his return, to creep. At his command his poor dependents fly, 310 And humbly bribe him as a proud ally; Flatter'd by all, the notice he bestows Is gross abuse, and bantering and blows; Yet he's a dunce, and, spite of all his fame Without the desk, within he feels his shame: For there the weaker boy, who felt his scorn, For him corrects the blunders of the morn; And he is taught, unpleasant truth! to find The trembling body has the prouder mind. Hark to that shout, that burst of empty noise, 320 From a rude set of bluff, obstreperous boys; They who, like colts let loose, with vigour bound, And thoughtless spirit, o'er the beaten ground; Fearless they leap, and every youngster feels His Alma active in his hands and heels. These are the sons of farmers, and they come With partial fondness for the joys of home; Their minds are coursing in their fathers' fields, And e'en the dream a lively pleasure yields; They, much enduring, sit th' allotted hours, 330 And o'er a grammar waste their sprightly powers; They dance; but them can measured steps delight, Whom horse and hounds to daring deeds excite? Nor could they bare to wait from meal to meal, Did they not slyly to the chamber steal, And there the produce of the basket seize, The mother's gift! still studious of their ease. Poor Alma, thus oppress'd, forbears to rise, But rests or revels in the arms and thighs[72]. "But is it sure that study will repay 340 The more attentive and forbearing?"--Nay! The farm, the ship, the humble shop have each Gains which severest studies seldom reach. At college place a youth, who means to raise His state by merit and his name by praise; Still much he hazards; there is serious strife In the contentions of a scholar's life. Not all the mind's attention, care, distress, Nor diligence itself, ensure success; His jealous heart a rival's power may dread, 350 Till its strong feelings have confused his head, And, after days and months, nay, years of pain, He finds just lost the object he would gain. But, grant him this and all such life can give, For other prospects he begins to live; Begins to feel that man was form'd to look And long for other objects than a book. In his mind's eye his house and glebe he sees, And farms and talks with farmers at his ease; And time is lost, till fortune sends him forth 360 To a rude world unconscious of his worth; There in some petty parish to reside, The college-boast, then turn'd the village-guide; And, though awhile his flock and dairy please, He soon reverts to former joys and ease: Glad when a friend shall come to break his rest, And speak of all the pleasures they possess'd-- Of masters, fellows, tutors, all with whom They shared those pleasures, never more to come; Till both conceive the times by bliss endear'd, 370 Which once so dismal and so dull appear'd. But fix our scholar, and suppose him crown'd With all the glory gain'd on classic ground; Suppose the world without a sigh resign'd, And to his college all his care confined; Give him all honours that such states allow, The freshman's terror and the tradesman's bow; Let his apartments with his taste agree, And all his views be those he loves to see; Let him each day behold the savoury treat, 380 For which he pays not, but is paid to eat; These joys and glories soon delight no more, Although, withheld, the mind is vex'd and sore; The honour too is to the place confined; Abroad they know not each superior mind: Strangers no _wranglers_ in these figures see, Nor give they worship to a high degree. Unlike the prophet's is the scholar's case, His honour all is in his dwelling-place; And there such honours are familiar things; 390 What is a monarch in a crowd of kings? Like other sovereigns he's by forms address'd, By statutes govern'd and with rules oppress'd. When all these forms and duties die away, And the day passes like the former day, Then, of exterior things at once bereft, He's to himself and one attendant left; Nay, John too goes; nor aught of service more Remains for him; he gladly quits the door, And, as he whistles to the college-gate, 400 He kindly pities his poor master's fate. Books cannot always please, however good; Minds are not ever craving for their food; But sleep will soon the weary soul prepare For cares to-morrow that were this day's care; For forms, for feasts, that sundry times have past, And formal feasts that will for ever last. "But then from study will no comforts rise?" Yes! such as studious minds alone can prize; Comforts, yea! joys ineffable they find, 410 Who seek the prouder pleasures of the mind: The soul, collected in those happy hours, Then makes her efforts, then enjoys her powers; And in those seasons feels herself repaid, For labours past and honours long delay'd. No! 'tis not worldly gain, although by chance The sons of learning may to wealth advance; Nor station high, though in some favouring hour The sons of learning may arrive at power; Nor is it glory, though the public voice 420 Of honest praise will make the heart rejoice; But 'tis the mind's own feelings give the joy, Pleasures she gathers in her own employ-- Pleasures that gain or praise cannot bestow, Yet can dilate and raise them when they flow. For this the poet looks the world around, Where form and life and reasoning man are found. He loves the mind in all its modes to trace, And all the manners of the changing race; Silent he walks the road of life along, 430 And views the aims of its tumultuous throng; He finds what shapes the Proteus-passions take, And what strange waste of life and joy they make, And loves to show them in their varied ways, With honest blame or with unflattering praise. 'Tis good to know, 'tis pleasant to impart, These turns and movements of the human heart; The stronger features of the soul to paint, And make distinct the latent and the faint; Man as he is, to place in all men's view, 440 Yet none with rancour, none with scorn pursue; Nor be it ever of my portraits told,-- "Here the strong lines of malice we behold."--

* * * * *

This let me hope, that when in public view I bring my pictures, men may feel them true; "This is a likeness," may they all declare, "And I have seen him, but I know not where;" For I should mourn the mischief I had done, If as the likeness all would fix on one. Man's vice and crime I combat as I can, 450 But to his GOD and conscience leave the man; I search (a [Quixote!]) all the land about, To find its giants and enchanters out, (The giant-folly, the enchanter-vice, Whom doubtless I shall vanquish in a trice;) But is there man whom I would injure?--no! I am to him a fellow, not a foe-- A fellow-sinner, who must rather dread The bolt, than hurl it at another's head. No! let the guiltless, if there such be found, 460 Launch forth the spear, and deal the deadly wound; How can I so the cause of virtue aid, Who am myself attainted and afraid? Yet, as I can, I point the powers of rhyme, And, sparing criminals, attack the crime.

FOOTNOTES:

[72] Should any of my readers find themselves at a loss in this place, I beg leave to refer them to a poem of Prior, called Alma, or the Progress of the Mind.

ERRATA

[_Except in the case of short poems with unnumbered lines, or in that of prefaces, mottos, notes &c. the line of the poem, not the line of the page, is cited._]

PAGE 1 l. 11 for _chests_ read _chiefs_.

p. 3 l. 5 for _she's a_ read _she, "'s a_.

p. 4 l. 2 for _beaut'y_ read _beauty's_.

p. 5 l. 18 for _moans_ read _mourn_.

p. 7 l. 9 for _stand_ read _stands_.

p. 9 l. 1 for _Shenstone's_ read _Byrom's_.

p. 14 l. 31 for _nature_ read _Nature's_.

p. 20 l. 75 for _devine_ read _divine_. _ib._ l. 90 for _unwraught_ read _unwrought_. _ib._ l. 102 for _pleasures_ read _pleasure's_.

p. 21 l. 116 for _distant_ read _distance_.

p. 23 l. 186 for _desturb_ read _disturb_. _ib._ l. 196 for _titt'ring_ read _titt'rings_. _ib._ note for _puris_ read _purus_.

p. 24 l. 214 for _sits_ read _sets_. _ib._ l. 226 for _fall_ read _pall_. _ib._ for _refind_ read _refin'd_.

p. 27 l. 82 for _to humble or to brave_ read _too humble or too brave_.

p. 28 l. 101 for _Errors_ read _Error's_.

p. 30 l. 153 for _be_ read _by_.

p. 48 l. 41 for _Meonides_ read _Mæonides_. _ib._ l. 54 for _triump'd_ read _triumph'd_. _ib._ l. 61 for _Wonders_ read _wanders_.

p. 49 l. 67 for _Titerus_ read _Tityrus_. _ib._ l. 69 for _Neareds_ read _Nereids_. _ib._ l. 83 for _glomiest_ read _gloomiest_. _ib._ l. 87 for _Thompson_ read _Thomson_. _ib._ l. 89 for _years Verdent_ read _year's Verdant_. _ib._ l. 91 for _Aspin_ read _Aspen_.

p. 50 l. 104 for _Vally_ read _Valley_. _ib._ l. 111 for _glomier_ read _gloomier_. _ib._ l. 118 for _Challange_ read _Challenge_.

p. 51 l. 142 for _Disapointment_ read _Disappointment_. _ib._ l. 149 for _Currant_ read _Current_. _ib._ l. 160 for _Eccho's_ read _Echo's_.

p. 52 l. 185 for _ignious_ read _igneous_. _ib._ l. 201 for _not_ read _out_. _ib._ l. 212 for _ages_ read _age's_. _ib._ l. 215 for _ratling_ read _rattling_.

p. 53 l. 235 for _Simphony_ read _Symphony_. _ib._ l. 237 for _Scence_ read _Scene_.

p. 55 l. 295 for _Fiend, fang'd_ read _Fiend and fang'd_. _ib._ l. 297 for _thretned_ read _threaten'd_. _ib._ l. 313 for _Rotteness_ read _Rottenness_.

p. 56 l. 343 for _distinguis'd_ read _distinguish'd_. _ib._ l. 351 for _Worldwind's_ read _Whirlwind's_.

p. 57 l. 379 for _dispis'd_ read _despis'd_.

p. 59 l. 439 for _beseige_ read _besiege_. _ib._ l. 441 for _tenaceous_ read _tenacious_. _ib._ l. 446 for _Death Thoughts_ read _Death, Thought's_. _ib._ l. 466 for _Emminence_ read _Eminence_.

p. 82 note for _Od. 8_ read _Od. 6_.

p. 87 l. 8 for _Paneg. ad Pisones, Lucan_ read _Paneg. ad Pisones_.

p. 115 l. 543 for _reverend_ read _reverent_.

p. 123 l. 118 for _Theirs_ read _Their_.

p. 146 l. 157 for _Indited_ read _Indicted_.

p. 152 l. 393 for _silly_ read _slily_.

p. 155 l. 8 for _teneres_ read _teneras_. _ib._ l. 15. The reading in Shakspere is not _furnish up_, but _finish up_.

p. 158 l. 8 for _restat_ read _restet_.

p. 161 l. 139 for _cives_ read _chives_.

p. 182 l. 63 not in inverted commas.

p. 187 ll. 235-6 not in inverted commas.

p. 205 l. 270 for _passion_ read _passions_.

p. 211 l. 507 for _Snowden's_ read _Snowdon's_.

p. 212 ll. 551-2 not in inverted commas.

p. 230 l. 214 for _One_ read _one_.

p. 232 l. 319 for _Reubens_ read _Rubens_. _ib._ l. 320 for _shall_ read _shalt_.

p. 237 l. 96 for _If_ read _In_.

p. 238 l. 11. _I'll know no more_, not printed as beginning of new stanza.

p. 239 l. 36 not printed as beginning of new stanza. _ib._ not in inverted commas.

p. 251 l. 4 for 22 read 22 _and_ 23.

p. 252 l. 5 for _dolor_ read _labor_.

p. 256 l. 4 for _deplorant_ read _deplangunt_.

p. 257 l. 22 for _elmin_ read _elmen_.

p. 284 l. 7 for _scenes_ read _place hath_. _ib._ l. 15 for _discutient_ read _discutiunt_. _ib._ l. 17 for _ver._ 520 read vv. 519-523.

p. 289 l. 154 (Lonely yet public stands) not enclosed _sic_ in brackets.

p. 292 l. 299 for _suceeds_ read _succeeds_.

p. 301 l. 266 for _thoughts_ and _spirits_ read _thoughts'_ and _spirit's_.

p. 303 l. 13 for _of_ read _o'er_. _ib._ l. 14 for _while_ read _whilst_.

p. 307 l. 132 for _Comes_ read _Come_.

p. 313 l. 6 for _Churches_ read _Church's_. _ib._ l. 12 for _knew_ read _know_. _ib._ l. 14 for _Oh!_ read _Ah!_

p. 327 l. 528 for _staid_ read _stay'd_.

p. 328 l. 12 for xxvii. read xxviii.

p. 329 l. 6 for _leader_ read _captain_. _ib._ l. 8 for _beer: all_ read _beer ... all_. _ib._ _ib._ for _I_ read _and I_. _ib._ ll. 10, 11 for _and they shall all worship me as_ read _and worship me_.

p. 336 l. 7 for _Manilius_ read _Plaut. Trucul._

p. 340 l. 114 for _professions_ read _professions'_.

p. 347 instead of ll. 4, 5 read as in text: _Finirent multi letho mala; credula vitam Spes alit, et melius cras fore semper ait_.

p. 364 l. 6 for _Catull_, lib. 3 read _(Dionys.) Cato De Moribus_ III. 7. _ib._ l. 7 for _fatiscat_ read _fatiscit_.

p. 374 l. 14 for _Et_ read _Sed_. _ib._ for _juncta_ read _multa_.

p. 407 l. 7 for _pool_ read _pond_. _ib._ l. 9 is followed in Shakspere by the line: '_Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit._'

p. 417 l. 5 for _quia_ read _quam_. _ib._ l. 12 for _tibi_ read _cui_. _ib._ l. 15 for _blessing_ read _blessings_.

p. 422 l. 147 for _reverend_ read _reverent_.

p. 428 l. 114 for _blissing_ read _blessing_.

p. 431 l. 5 six lines follow after 'Burning Lamp.' _ib._ for _wast_ read _wert_. _ib._ l. 7 five lines follow after _this fire_. _ib._ 'An everlasting bonfire light!' follows after 'perpetual triumph.' _ib._ l. 8 for _in a_ read _with thee in the_.

p. 439 l. 4 for _who_ read _that_. _ib._ l. 5 for _in time_ read _in the time_.

p. 451 l. 71 for _birth_ read _berth_.

p. 480 l. 4 for _Coepis_ read _Coepisti_. _ib._ for _desines_ read _desinis_.

p. 485 l. 166 for _then_ read _than_.

p. 502 l. 7 for _my_ read _our_.

p. 512 l. 24 six lines follow after _at taw_.

p. 519 l. 250 for _illude_ read _elude_.

p. 524 l. 452 for _Quixotte!_ read _Quixote!_

The (mis)quotation from Ovid in p. 5 cannot be identified; the lines quoted on p. 284 as 'Pope's Homer's Iliad, bk. vi. line 45' are not to be found in that work; and the stanza attributed on p. 294 to Percy is not traceable to the _Reliques_.

VARIANTS.

=POEMS.= Dedication and Preface. Variants in edition of 1807 (first edition).

Dedication:

p. =88=, l. 2. Henry-Richard.

p. =89=, l. 5. judgement. l. 10. have taught.

Preface:

p. =90=, l. 11. enquiry. l. 27. judgement.

p. =91=, l. 23. among. l. 32. as Mr Boswell (since Lord Auchinleck) has told.

p. =92=, l. 7. suspence.

p. =93=, l. 2, my friends. l. 5. judgement. l. 9. blameable.

p. =94=, l. 13. such opinion. l. 18. Charles-James. l. 28. criticizing. l. 36. judgement.

p. =95=, l. 12. judgement. l. 15. Lope de Vega. l. 22. an high degree. l. 26. Lope de Vega.

p. =96=, l. 20. judgement. l. 26. in a beneficed clergyman.

p. =97=, l. 23. Baptisms. l. 31. enquiry.

p. =98=, l. 25. judgement. l. 26. intitled.

p. =99=, l. 8. judgement. l. 14. or the exultation.

=THE LIBRARY.= Variants in edition of 1781 (first edition).

l. 16. _for_ wo: woe. l. 22. prevail. l. 28. her old. _instead of_ ll. 51-54:

Come then, and entering view this spacious scene, This sacred dome, this noble magazine;

l. 57. asswage. _instead of_ ll. 63-178:

In this selection, which the human mind With care has made; for Glory has design'd, All should be perfect; or at least appear From falshood, vanity, and passion clear: But man's best efforts taste of man, and show The poor and troubled source from whence they flow; His very triumphs his defeats must speak, And ev'n his wisdom serves to prove him weak. Fashion, though Folly's child, and guide of fools, Rules e'en the wisest, and in Learning rules; From courts and crowds to Wisdom's seat she goes, And reigns triumphant o'er her mother's foes: Yon Folios, once the darlings of the mode, Now lie neglected like the birth-day ode; There Learning, stuff'd with maxims trite though sage, Makes Indigestion yawn at every page; Chain'd like Prometheus, lo! the mighty train Brave Time's fell tooth, and live and die again; And now the scorn of men and now the pride, The sires respect them, and the sons deride.

l. 183. every note and every comment. l. 197. is. l. 200. your judges are your rivals. _instead of_ ll. 201-322:

But ne'er, discourag'd, fair attempts lay by, } For Reason views them with approving eye, } And Candour yields what cavillers deny. } She sees the struggles of the soul to steer Through clouds and darkness, which surround us here, And, though the long research has ne'er prevail'd, Applauds the trial and forgets it fail'd.

_followed by_ ll. 105--140 _of the text; then continuing:_

Wits, Bards and Idlers fill a tatter'd row; And the vile Vulgar lie disdain'd below.

Amid these works, on which the eager eye Delights to fix, or glides reluctant by Where all combin'd their decent pomp display, Where shall we first our early offering pay?

To thee PHILOSOPHY! to thee, the light, The guide of mortals through their mental night, By whom the world in all its views is shown, Our guide through Nature's works, and in our own; Who place in order Being's wondrous chain, } Save where those puzzling, stubborn links remain, } By art divine involv'd, which man can ne'er explain. } These are thy volumes; and in these we look, As abstracts drawn from Nature's larger book; Here first describ'd the humble glebe appears, Unconscious of the gaudy robe it wears; All that the earth's profound recesses hide, And all that roll beneath the raging tide; The sullen gem that yet disdains to shine, And all the ductile matter of the mine. Next to the vegetable tribes they lead, Whose fruitful beds o'er every balmy meed Teem with new life, and hills, and vales, and groves, Feed the still flame, and nurse the silent loves; Which, when the Spring calls forth their genial power Swell with the seed, and flourish in the flower: There, with the husband-slaves, in royal pride, Queens, like the Amazons of old, reside; There, like the Turk, the lordly husband lives, And joy to all the gay seraglio gives; There, in the secret chambers, veil'd from sight, A bashful tribe in hidden flames delight; There, in the open day, and gaily deck'd, The bolder brides their distant lords expect; Who with the wings of love instinctive rise, And on prolific winds each ardent bridegroom flies. Next are that tribe whom life and sense inform, The torpid beetle, and the shrinking worm; And insects, proud to spread their brilliant wing, To catch the fostering sunbeams of the spring; That feather'd race, which late from winter fled, To dream an half-existence with the dead; Who now, returning from their six months' sleep, Dip their black pinions in the slumbering deep; Where, feeling life from stronger beams of day, The scaly myriads of the ocean play. Then led by Art through Nature's maze, we trace The sullen people of the savage race; And see a favourite tribe mankind attend, And in the fawning follower find the friend.

l. 346. virtues seek. l. 390. subtle. l. 408. a song. l. 410. did ne'er l. 422. Abridgements. l. 431. cries. _instead of_ l. 432: Ere laws arose, ere tyrants bade them rise; l. 435. no tumults. _instead of_ ll. 441-2:

Bound by no tyes but those by nature made, Virtue was law, and gifts prevented trade.

l. 444. chearless. _instead of_ l. 454: Taught by some conquering friends who came as foes. l. 477. Primæval. _After_ l. 478:

Now turn from these, to view yon ampler space, There rests a sacred, grave and solemn race; There the devout an awful station keep, Vigils advise and yet dispose to sleep; There might they long in lasting peace abide } But controversial authors lie beside, } Who friend from friend and sire from son divide: } Endless disputes around the world they cause Creating now, and now controuling laws.

_followed by_ ll. 223-266 _of the text, with the ensuing variations:_