Chapter 20

_greet_: cry; _daurna_: dare not.--There can hardly exist a poem more truly tragic in the highest sense than this: nor, except Sappho, has any Poetess known to the Editor equalled it in excellence.

Poem 153.

_fou_: merry with drink; _coost_: carried; _unco skeigh_: very proud; _gart_: forced; _abeigh_: aside; _Ailsa craig_: a rock in the Firth of Clyde; _grat his een bleert_: cried till his eyes were bleared; _lowpin_: leaping; _linn_: waterfall; _sair_: sore; _smoor'd_: smothered; _crouse and canty_: blythe and gay.

Poem 154.

Burns justly named this "one of the most beautiful songs in the Scots or any other language." One verse, interpolated by Beattie, is here omitted:--it contains two good lines, but is quite out of harmony with the original poem.

_Bigonet_: little cap, probably altered from _beguinette_; _thraw_: twist; _caller_: fresh.

Poem 155.

_airts_: quarters; _row_: roll; _shaw_: small wood in a hollow, spinney; _knowes_: knolls.

Poem 156.

_jo_: sweetheart; _brent_: smooth; _pow_: head.

Poem 157.

_leal_: faithful; _fain_: happy.

Poem 158.

Henry VI. founded Eton.

Poem 161.

The Editor knows no Sonnet more remarkable than this, which, with 162, records Cowper's gratitude to the Lady whose affectionate care for many years gave what sweetness he could enjoy to a life radically wretched. Petrarch's sonnets have a more ethereal grace and a more perfect finish; Shakespeare's more passion; Milton's stand supreme in stateliness, Wordsworth's in depth and delicacy. But Cowper's unites with an exquisiteness in the turn of thought which the ancients would have called Irony, an intensity of pathetic tenderness peculiar to his loving and ingenuous nature. There is much mannerism, much that is unimportant or of now exhausted interest in his poems: but where he is great, it is with that elementary greatness which rests on the most universal human feelings. Cowper is our highest master in simple pathos.

Poem 163.

_fancied green_: cherished garden.

Poem 164.

Nothing except his surname appears recoverable with regard to the author of this truly noble poem: It should be noted as exhibiting a rare excellence,--the climax of simple sublimity.

It is a lesson of high instructiveness to examine the essential qualities which give first-rate poetical rank to lyrics such as "To-morrow" or "Sally in our Alley," when compared with poems written (if the phrase may be allowed) in keys so different as the subtle sweetness of Shelley, the grandeur of Gray and Milton, or the delightful Pastoralism of the Elizabethan verse. Intelligent readers will gain hence a clear understanding of the vast imaginative, range of Poetry;--through what wide oscillations the mind and the taste of a nation may pass;--how many are the roads which Truth and Nature open to Excellence.

Poem 166.

_stout Cortez_: History requires here Balbóa: (A.T.) It may be noticed, that to find in Chapman's Homer the "pure serene" of the original, the reader must bring with him the imagination of the youthful poet;--he must be "a Greek himself," as Shelley finely said of Keats.

Poem 169.

The most tender and true of Byron's smaller poems.

Poem 170.

This poem, with 236, exemplifies the peculiar skill with which Scott employs proper names: nor is there a surer sign of high poetical genius.

Poem 191.

The Editor in this and in other instances has risked the addition (or the change) of a Title, that the aim of the verses following may be grasped more clearly and immediately.

Poem 198.

_Nature's Eremite_: refers to the fable of the Wandering Jew.--This beautiful sonnet was the last word of a poet deserving the title "marvellous boy" in a much higher sense than Chatterton. If the fulfilment may ever safely be prophesied from the promise, England appears to have lost in Keats one whose gifts in Poetry have rarely been surpassed. Shakespeare, Milton, and Wordsworth, had their lives been closed at twenty-five, would (so far as we know) have left poems of less excellence and hope than the youth who, from the petty school and the London surgery, passed at once to a place with them of "high collateral glory."

Poem 201.

It is impossible not to regret that Moore has written so little in this sweet and genuinely national style.

Poem 202.

A masterly example of Byron's command of strong thought and close reasoning in verse:--as the next is equally characteristic of Shelley's wayward intensity, and 204 of the dramatic power, the vital identification of the poet with other times and characters, in which Scott is second only to Shakespeare.

Poem 209.

Bonnivard, a Genevese, was imprisoned by the Duke of Savoy in Chillon on the lake of Geneva for his courageous defence of his country against the tyranny with which Piedmont threatened it during the first half of the seventeenth century. This noble Sonnet is worthy to stand near Milton's on the Vaudois massacre.

Poem 210.

Switzerland was usurped by the French under Napoleon in 1800: Venice in 1797 (211).

Poem 215.

This battle was fought Dec. 2, 1800, between the Austrians under Archduke John and the French under Moreau, in a forest near Munich. _Hohen Linden_ means _High Limetrees_.

Poem 218.

After the capture of Madrid by Napoleon, Sir J. Moore retreated before Soult and Ney to Corunna, and was killed whilst covering the embarcation of his troops. His tomb, built by Ney, bears this inscription--"John Moore, leader of the English armies, slain in battle, 1809."

Poem 229.

The Mermaid was the club-house of Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and other choice spirits of that age.

Poem 230.

_Maisie_: Mary. Scott has given us nothing more complete and lovely than this little song, which unites simplicity and dramatic power to a wild-wood music of the rarest quality. No moral is drawn, far less any conscious analysis of feeling attempted:--the pathetic meaning is left to be suggested by the mere presentiment of the situation. Inexperienced critics have often named this, which may be called the Homeric manner, superficial, from its apparent simple facility: but first-rate excellence in it (as shown here, in 196, 156, and 129) is in truth one of the least common triumphs of Poetry.--This style should be compared with what is not less perfect in its way, the searching out of inner feeling, the expression of hidden meanings, the revelation of the heart of Nature and of the Soul within the Soul,--the analytical method, in short,--most completely represented by Wordsworth and by Shelley.

Poem 234.

_correi_: covert on a hillside; _Cumber_: trouble.

Poem 235.

Two intermediate stanzas have been here omitted. They are very ingenious, but, of all poetical qualities, ingenuity is least in accordance with pathos.

Poem 243.

This poem has an exaltation and a glory, joined with an exquisiteness of expression, which place it in the highest rank amongst the many masterpieces of its illustrious Author.

Poem 252.

_interlunar swoon_: interval of the Moon's invisibility.

Poem 256.

_Calpe_: Gibraltar; _Lofoden_: the Maelstrom whirlpool off the N.-W. coast of Norway.

Poem 257.

This lovely poem refers here and there to a ballad by Hamilton on the subject better treated in 127 and 128.

Poem 268.

_Arcturi_: seemingly used for _northern stars_.

_And wild roses_, etc. Our language has no line modulated with more subtle sweetness. A good poet _might_ have written _And roses wild_:--yet this slight change would disenchant the verse of its peculiar beauty.

Poem 270.

_Ceres' daughter_: Proserpine; _God of Torment_: Pluto.

Poem 271.

This impassioned address expresses Shelley's most rapt imaginations, and is the direct modern representative of the feeling which led the Greeks to the worship of Nature.

Poem 274.

The leading idea of this beautiful description of a day's landscape in Italy is expressed with an obscurity not unfrequent with its author. It appears to be,--On the voyage of life are many moments of pleasure, given by the sight of Nature, who has power to heal even the worldliness and the uncharity of man.

_Amphitrite_ was daughter to Ocean.

_Sun-girt City_: It is difficult not to believe that the correct reading is _Seagirt_. Many of Shelley's poems appear to have been printed in England during his residence abroad: others were printed from his manuscripts after his death. Hence probably the text of no English Poet after 1660 contains so many errors. See the Note on No. 9.

Poem 275.

_Maenad_: a frenzied Nymph, attendant on Dionysus in the Greek mythology.

_The sea-blooms_, etc.: Plants under water sympathise with the seasons of the laud, and hence with the winds which affect them.

Poem 276.

Written soon after the death, by shipwreck, of Wordsworth's brother John. This Poem should be compared with Shelley's following it. Each is the most complete expression of the innermost spirit of his art given by these great Poets:--of that Idea which, as in the case of the true Painter (to quote the words of Reynolds), "subsists only in the mind: The sight never beheld it, nor has the hand expressed it; it is an idea residing in the breast of the artist, which he is always labouring to impart, and which he dies at last without imparting."

Poem 278.

Proteus represented the everlasting changes united with ever-recurrent sameness, of the Sea.

Poem 279.

_the Royal Saint_: Henry VI.

INDEX OF WRITERS.

WITH DATES OF BIRTH AND DEATH.

ALEXANDER, William (1580-1640) 22

BACON, Francis (1561-1626) 57 BARBAULD, Anna Laetitia (1743-1825) 165 BARNEFIELD, Richard (16th Century) 34 BEAUMONT, Francis (1586-1616) 67 BURNS, Robert (1759-1796) 125, 132, 139, 144, 148, 149, 150, 151, 153, 155, 156 BYRON, George Gordon Noel (1788-1824) 169, 171, 173 190, 202; 209, 222, 232

CAMPBELL, Thomas (1777-1844) 181, 183, 187, 197, 206, 207, 215, 256, 262, 267, 283 CAREW, Thomas (1589-1639) 87 CAREY, Henry (-- -1743) 131 CIBBER, Colley (1671-1757) 119 COLERIDGE, Hartley (1796-1849) 175 COLERIDGE, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834) 168, 280 COLLINS, William (1720-1756) 124, 141, 146 COLLINS, --- (18th Century) 164 CONSTABLE, Henry (156-?-1604?) 15 COWLEY, Abraham (1618-1667) 102 COWPER, William (1731-1800) 129, 134, 143, 160, 161, 162 CRASHAW, Richard (1615?-1652) 79 CUNNINGHAM, Allan (1784-1842) 205

DANIEL, Samuel (1562-1619) 35 DEKKER, Thomas (-- -1638?) 54 DRAYTON, Michael (1563-1631) 37 DRUMMOND, William (1585-1649) 2, 38, 43, 55, 58, 59, 61 DRYDEN, John (1631-1700) 63, 116

ELLIOTT, Jane (18th Century) 126

FLETCHER, John (1576-1625) 104

GAY, John (1688-1732) 130 GOLDSMITH, Oliver (1728-1774) 138 GRAHAM, --- (1735-1797) 133 GRAY, Thomas (1716-1771) 117, 120, 123, 140, 142, 147, 158, 159

HERBERT, George (1593-1632) 74 HERRICK, Robert (1591-1674?) 82, 88, 92, 93, 96, 109, 110 HEYWOOD, Thomas (-- -1649?) 52 HOOD, Thomas (1798-1845) 224, 231, 235

JONSON, Ben (1574-1637) 73, 78, 90

KEATS, John (1795-1821) 166, 167, 191, 193, 198, 229, 244, 255, 270, 284

LAMB, Charles (1775-1835) 220, 233, 237 LINDSAY, Anne (1750-1825) 152 LODGE, Thomas (1556-1625) 16 LOGAN, John (1748-1788) 127 LOVELACE, Richard (1618-1658) 83, 99, 100 LYLYE, John (1554-1600) 51

MARLOWE, Christopher (1562-1593) 5 MARVELL, Andrew (1620-1678) 65, 111, 114 MICKLE, William Julius (1734-1788) 154 MILTON, John (1608-1674) 62, 64, 66, 70, 71, 76, 77, 85, 112, 113, 115 MOORE, Thomas (1780-1852) 185, 201, 217, 221, 225

NAIRN, Carolina (1766-1845) 157 NASH, Thomas (1567-1601?) 1

PHILIPS, Ambrose (1671-1749) 121 POPE, Alexander (1688-1744) 118 PRIOR, Matthew (1664-1721) 137

ROGERS, Samuel (1762-1855) 135, 145

SCOTT, Walter (1771-1832) 105, 170, 182, 186, 192, 194, 196, 204, 230, 234, 236, 239, 263 SEDLEY, Charles (1639-1701) 81, 98 SEWELL, George (-- -1726) 163 SHAKESPEARE, William (1564-1616) 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 36, 39, 42, 44, 45, 46, 48, 49 50, 56, 60 SHELLEY, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822) 172, 176, 184, 188, 195, 203, 226, 227, 241, 246, 252, 259, 260, 264, 265, 268, 271, 274, 275, 277, 285, 288 SHIRLEY, James (1596-1666) 68, 69 SIDNEY, Philip (1554-1586) 24 SOUTHEY, Robert (1774-1843) 216, 228 SPENSER, Edmund (1553-1598/9) 53 SUCKLING, John (1608/9-1641) 101 SYLVESTER, Joshua (1563-1618) 25 THOMSON, James (1700-1748) 122, 136

VAUGHAN, Henry (1621-1695) 75 VERE, Edward (1534-1604) 41

WALLER, Edmund (1605-1687) 89, 95 WEBSTER, John (-- -1638?) 47 WITHER, George (1588-1667) 103 WOLFE, Charles (1791-1823) 218 WORDSWORTH, William (1770-1850) 174, 177, 178, 179, 180, 189, 200, 208, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 219, 223, 238, 240, 242, 243, 245, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 253, 254, 257, 258, 261, 266, 269, 272, 273, 276, 278, 279, 281, 282, 286, 287 WOTTON, Henry (1568-1639) 72, 84 WYAT, Thomas (1503-1542) 21, 33

UNKNOWN: 9, 17, 40, 80, 86, 91, 94, 97, 106, 107, 108, 128

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

Absence, hear thou my protestation A Chieftain to the Highlands bound A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd All thoughts, all passions, all delights And are ye sure the news is true? And is this Yarrow?--This the Stream And thou art dead, as young and fair And wilt thou leave me thus? Ariel to Miranda:--Take Art thou pale for weariness Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? As it fell upon a day As I was walking all alane A slumber did my spirit seal As slow our ship her foamy track A sweet disorder in the dress At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake Awake, awake, my Lyre! A weary lot is thine, fair maid A wet sheet and a flowing sea A widow bird sate mourning for her Love

Bards of Passion and of Mirth Beauty sat bathing by a spring Behold her, single in the field Being your slave, what should I do but tend Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Best and brightest, come away Bid me to live, and I will live Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy Blow, blow, thou winter wind Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art

Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren Calm was the day, and through the trembling air Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night Come away, come away, death Come live with me and be my Love Crabbed Age and Youth Cupid and my Campaspe play'd Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench

Daughter of Jove, relentless power Daughter to that good earl, once President Degenerate Douglas! O the unworthy lord! Diaphenia like the daffadowndilly Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move? Down in yon garden sweet and gay Drink to me only with thine eyes Duncan Gray cam here to woo

Earl March look'd on his dying child Earth has not anything to show more fair Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Ethereal Minstrel! Pilgrim of the sky! Ever let the Fancy roam

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see Fair pledges of a fruitful tree Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing Fear no more the heat o' the sun For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove Forget not yet the tried intent Four Seasons fill the measure of the year From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony From Stirling Castle we had seen Full fathom five thy father lies

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even Go fetch to me a pint o' wine Go, lovely Rose!

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Happy the man, whose wish and care Happy those early days, when I He is gone on the mountain He that loves a rosy cheek Hence, all you vain delights Hence, loathéd Melancholy Hence, vain deluding Joys How delicious is the winning How happy is he born and taught How like a winter hath my absence been How sleep the Brave, who sink to rest How sweet the answer Echo makes How vainly men themselves amaze

I am monarch of all I survey I arise from dreams of thee I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song If doughty deeds my lady please I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden If Thou survive my well-contented day If to be absent were to be If women could be fair, and yet not fond I have had playmates, I have had companions I heard a thousand blended notes I met a traveller from an antique land I'm wearing awa', Jean In a drear-nighted December In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining In the sweet shire of Cardigan I remember, I remember I saw where in the shroud did lurk It is a beauteous evening, calm and free It is not Beauty I demand It is not growing like a tree I travell'd among unknown men It was a lover and his lass It was a summer evening I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking I wander'd lonely as a cloud I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! I wish I were where Helen lies

John Anderson, my jo, John

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son Let me not to the marriage of true minds Life! I know not what thou art Life of Life! thy lips enkindle Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore Like to the clear in highest sphere Love not me for comely grace Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours

Many a green isle needs must be Mary! I want a lyre with other strings Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour Mine be a cot beside the hill Mortality, behold and fear Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold Music, when soft voices die My days among the Dead are past My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My heart leaps up when I behold My Love in her attire doth show her wit My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow My thoughts hold mortal strife My true-love hath my heart, and I have his

No longer mourn for me when I am dead Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note Not, Celia, that I juster am Now the golden Morn aloft Now the last day of many days

O blithe new-comer! I have heard O Brignall banks are wild and fair Of all the girls that are so smart Of a' the airts the wind can blaw Of Nelson and the North O Friend! I know not which way I must look Of this fair volume which we World do name Oft in the stilly night O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm Oh, lovers' eyes are sharp to see Oh, snatch'd away in beauty's bloom! O listen, listen, ladies gay! O Mary, at thy window be O me! what eyes hath love put in my head O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O my Luve's like a red, red rose On a day, alack the day! On a Poet's lips I slept Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee One more Unfortunate One word is too often profaned O never say that I was false of heart On Linden, when the sun was low O saw ye bonnie Lesley O say what is that thing call'd Light O talk not to me of a name great in story Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd Over the mountains O waly waly up the bank O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being O World! O Life! O Time!

Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day Phoebus, arise! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth Proud Maisie is in the wood

Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair

Rarely, rarely, comest thou Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Shall I, wasting in despair She dwelt among the untrodden ways She is not fair to outward view She walks in beauty, like the night She was a phantom of delight Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile Souls of Poets dead and gone Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king Star that bringest home the bee Stern Daughter of the voice of God! Surprised by joy--impatient as the wind Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade Swiftly walk over the western wave

Take, O take those lips away Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind Tell me where is Fancy bred That time of year thou may'st in me behold That which her slender waist confined The curfew tolls the knell of parting day The forward youth that would appear The fountains mingle with the river The glories of our blood and state The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King The lovely lass o' Inverness The merchant, to secure his treasure The more we live, more brief appear The poplars are fell'd! farewell to the shade The sun is warm, the sky is clear The sun upon the lake is low The twentieth year is well-nigh past The World is too much with us; late and soon The World's a bubble, and the Life of Man There be none of Beauty's daughters There is a flower, the lesser Celandine There is a garden in her face There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream They that have power to hurt, and will do none This is the month, and this the happy morn This life, which seems so fair Three years she grew in sun and shower Thy braes were bonnie, Yarrow stream Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright Timely blossom, Infant fair Tired with all these, for restful death I cry Toll for the brave To me, fair Friend, you never can be old 'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won 'Twas on a lofty vase's side Two Voices are there, one is of the Sea

Under the greenwood tree

Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying Victorious men of earth, no more

Waken, lords and ladies gay Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie Were I as base as is the lowly plain We talk'd with open heart, and tongue We walk'd along, while bright and red We watch'd her breathing thro' the night Whenas in silks my Julia goes When Britain first at Heaven's command When first the fiery-mantled Sun When God at first made Man When he who adores thee has left but the name When icicles hang by the wall When I consider how my light is spent When I have borne in memory what has tamed When I have fears that I may cease to be When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes When in the chronicle of wasted time When lovely woman stoops to folly When Love with unconfined wings When maidens such as Hester die When Music, heavenly maid, was young When Ruth was left half desolate When the lamp is shatter'd When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame When to the sessions of sweet silent thought When we two parted Where art thou, my beloved Son Where shall the lover rest Where the remote Bermudas ride While that the sun with his beams hot Whoe'er she be Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant Why, Damon, with the forward day Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? With little here to do or see

Ye banks and braes and streams around Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon Ye distant spires, ye antique towers Ye Mariners of England Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye! Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more You meaner beauties of the night

Corrections to Collins edition: