* school, that Winckelmann, who joined the Romish Church not from conviction but for his convenience as an artist, "is more than absolved at the bar of the highest criticism." If morality be a mere matter of social compact, resting upon no divine and steadfast basis, the paramount claims of art upon the artist might allow him to act the part of a hypocrite, since this insincerity would be "only one incident of a culture in which the moral instinct, like the religious or political, was lost in the artistic." We, however, who believe that the world is under the government of an all-wise and all-holy Being, must utterly reject a principle which strikes at the root of that divine order. At the same time, this belief does not require from painter or poet a direct and prominent inculcation of moral and religious truth. The artist's first duty is not to preach but to paint, the poet's first duty is to sing; and such lessons as they have to teach must be in subordination to their art, for thus only will they prove impressive and permanent. Cowper, it may be admitted, forgetting that he was a poet, too often preached sermons in metre; but when, instead of preaching, he is content to utter poetically what is in him, we accept his teaching with pleasure. There is a fine passage in "Comus," in which Milton writes of Wisdom seeking for sweet-retired solitude in which "to plume her feathers and let grow her wings." A similar thought, no doubt, suggested * "Studies of the History of the Renaissance," by W. H. Pater, p. 157 (Macmillan). these lines, which are extracted from the sixth book of the "Task.” The reader must understand that they are written beneath the trees on a bright day in winter, in the silence of the snow. "No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. The redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes, and more than half suppressed : From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes And learning wiser grow without his books. The mere materials with which Wisdom builds, As a lyric poet, Cowper's gifts are tenderness of feeling, simplicity of expression, and a playfulness which is all the more winning as coming from the saddest of poets. He is never highly musical, unless it be when expressing a strong emotion, and his habit of reflection forbids the birdlike bursts of song that haunt the ear with their melody. Read the exquisite lines "To Mary," the sonnet addressed to her, "Boadicea," "On the Loss of the Royal George," "The Poplar Field," and "The Castaway," and you will be able to appreciate the variety as well as limitation of Cowper's gifts as a lyrist. These poems are all serious and beautiful, but Cowper-witness the "Faithful Bird," the "Epitaph on a Hare," and the "Jackdaw "—also wrote with incomparable ease about trifles; and that he could excel as a balladist needs no argument, since everybody has read "John Gilpin." I do not think with Mr. Goldwin Smith that Cowper took to translating Homer under an evil star. It gave him the steady occupation that he needed, and lightened many an hour of sorrow. The work was intellectual enough to occupy his mind, and at the same time sufficiently mechanical to divert it; and no one who reads the poet's letters can question the relief it afforded. But if the labour were a benefit to the workman, was it good also for the world? On this point the opinions of competent critics differ widely. Cowper was a sounder scholar than Pope, and his version is universally allowed to be more accurate than any which preceded it. Mr. Goldwin Smith declares that while Pope delights schoolboys, Cowper delights nobody—an assertion which will be vehemently contradicted by many readers. If they want authorities to back their favourable judgment they may refer to Thomas Campbell, who expressed his admiration of Cowper's Homer, and said that he used to read it to his wife, who was moved to tears by some passages of it. And the judgment of the author of "The Pleasures of Hope" was expressed with equal warmth by the author of "The Pleasures of Memory." "My father," said Rogers, "used to recommend Pope's Homer to me; but with all my love of Pope, I never could like it. I delight in Cowper's Homer; I have read it again and again." [Southey's edition of Cowper, originally published in fifteen volumes and reprinted in eight volumes (Bohn's Standard Library), is the best that we possess. It contains an interesting biography, written in the pure style of which Southey was so consummate a master. The poet's correspondence, and his translations of the "Iliad" and “Odyssey,” will be found in this edition. An able and original memoir of Cowper, by John Bruce, is prefixed to a beautiful edition of his poems, with illustrative notes, 3 vols. (Bell and Son). The Globe Cowper, edited with notes, contains all the original poems and translations with the exception of the Homer, and has a short but admirably written biography by the Rev. William Benham. Mr. Benham's point of view is, I think, a true one throughout. A biography of Cowper has also appeared in "English Men of Letters," written by Professor Goldwin Smith.] CHAPTER XII. THE GEORGIAN POETS (Continued). ROBERT BURNS. Robert Burns, 1759-1796. COWPER and Burns were contemporaries, and although there was a great gulf of years between them, the poems by which both are remembered were published nearly at the same time. The "Task" appeared in 1784; Burns's first volume was published in 1786. No two men could be more unlike in temperament, in character, in the impulses which prompted their verse; but it has been rightly said that they were poetic brothers in the love of nature, in the sincerity with which they uttered what they felt, in their detestation of hypocrisy and affectation. The peasant, who "Walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough upon the mountain-side," owes nothing of his fame to his position. In reading Burns we do not think of what he was, but of what S |