66 Now farewell grief, and welcome joy For since I have found thee, lovely youth, We never more will part.' WILLIAM COWPER. (1731-1800.) BORN at Great Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, and educated at Westminster. When only six years old he lost his mother. He was intended for the bar, but was totally unfit for public life. A profound melancholy settled on him, resulting in periodical attacks of madness. In 1766 went to live with a kind and cheerful family, named Unwin, first at Huntingdon, and afterwards at Olney (Bucks). Fifty years old when he began to write poetry; indeed, the whole of the works of this gentle and retiring poet were composed in the intervals of reason, which he had between the year 1780, and that of his death in 1800, four years after the death of his devoted friend, Mary Unwin. Cowper's principal poems are, Table Talk; Hope; The Progress of Error; The Task; John Gilpin; Verses to his Mother's Picture; a translation of Homer, etc. Cowper is also distinguished as a Letter writer. ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S OH that those lips had language! Life hath passed (Blest be the art that can immortalise, Oh welcome guest, though unexpected here, Who bidd'st me honour with an artless song But gladly, as the precept were her own : A momentary dream that thou art she. My mother! when I learnt that thou wast dead, Say wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gavest me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss. Ah, that maternal smile! it answers-Yes. I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such? It was. Where thou art gone Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown : May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, The parting word shall pass my lips no more! Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of a quick return : What ardently I wished, I long believed, And, disappointed still, was still deceived; By hopes unfounded every day beguiled, Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, I learnt at last submission to my lot, But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. SLAVERY. OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, My ear is pained, My soul is sick with every day's report Of wrong and outrage with which Earth is filled. It does not feel for man; the natural bond That falls asunder at the touch of fire. He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not coloured like his own; and having power I had much rather be myself the slave And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. GOD THE AUTHOR OF NATURE. A soul in all things, and that soul is God. Where no eye sees them. And the fairer forms, He sets the bright procession on its way, He marks the bounds which winter may not pass, And, ere one flowery season fades and dies, Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows, But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, E Of His unrivalled pencil. He inspires THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN was a citizen Of credit and renown, A train-band captain eke was he John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, To-morrow is our wedding-day, Unto the Bell at Edmonton, My sister, and my sister's child, He soon replied, "I do admire Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear; |