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Büchern, voll feiner Bemerkungen und guter Schilderungen in einer correcten, anmuthigen und einfachen Sprache verfasst. Sie ersehien besonders gedruckt zuerst London 1744, dann in seinen Miscellanies London 1770 und findet sich auch nebst anderen Gedichten von ihm, im 102. Bde der Bell'schen und im 10. Bde der Anderson'schen Sammlung.



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Rolls toward the western main. Hail, sacred from Armstrong's Art of Preserving

flood! Health.

May still thy hospitable swains be blest

In rural innocence; thy mountains still What does not fade? the tower that long had Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful woods


For ever flourish; and thy vales look gay The crush of thunder and the warring winds, With painted meadows, and the golden grain! Shook by the slow, but sure destroyer, Time, Oft, with thy blooming sons, when life was new, Now hangs in doubtful ruins o'er its base. Sportive and petulant, and charm'd with toys, And flinty pyramids, and walls of brass, In thy transparent eddies have I lay'd ·Descend; the Babylonian spires are sunk; Oft trac'd with patient steps thy fairy banks, Achaia, Rome, and Egypt moulder down. With the well-imitated fly to hook Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones, The eager trout, and with the slender line And tottering empires crush by their own weight. And yielding rod solicit to the shore This huge rotundity we tread grows old; The struggling panting pray: while vernal clouds And all those worlds that roll around the Sun, And tepid gales obscur'd the ruffled pool, The Sun himself, shall die; and ancient Night And from the deeps callid forth the wanton Again involve the desolate abyss : 'Till the great Father through the lifeless gloom Extend his arm to light another world, And bid new planets roll by other laws. For through the regions of unbounded space, Where unconfin'd Omnipotence has room,

How to live happiest; how avoid the pains, Being, in various systems, fluctuates still The disappointments, and disgusts of those Between creation and abhorr'd decay:

Who would in pleasure all their hours employ; It ever did, perhaps, and ever will.

The precepts here of a divine old man
New worlds are still emerging from the deep; I could recite. Though old, he still retain'd
The old descending, in their turns to rise. His manly sense, and energy of mind.

Virtuous and wise he was, but not severe;
He still remember'd that he once was young:
His easy presence check'd no decent joy.

Him even the dissolute admir'd; for he
But if the breathless chase o'er hill and dale A graceful looseness when he pleas'd put on,
Exceed your strength, a sport of less fatigue, And laughing could instruct. Much had he read
Not less delightful, the prolific stream

Much more had seen: he studied from the life, Affords. The crystal rivulet, that o'er

And in th' original perus'd mankind. A stony channel rolls its rapid maze,

Vers'd in the woes and vanities of life, Swarms with the silver fry. Such, trough the He pitied man: and much he pitied those


Whom falsely-smiling fate has cursd with means Of pastoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent; To dissipate their days in quest of joy. Such Eden, sprung from Cumbrian mountains ; "Our aim is happiness; 'tis yours, 'tis mine,"


He said; "'tis the pursuit of all that live: The Esk, o'erhung with woods; and such the Yet few attain it, if 'twas e'er attain'd.


But they the widest wander from the mark, On whose Arcadians banks I first drew air, Who through the flowery paths of sauntering joy Liddel; till now, except in Doric lays

Seek this coy goddess; that from stage to stage Tun'd to her murmurs by her love-sick swains, Invites us still, but shifts as we pursue. Unknown in song; though not a purer stream, For, not to name the pains that pleasure brings Through meads more fowery, more romantic To counterpoise itself, relentless fate

Forbids that we through gay voluptuous wilds


Should ever roam: and were the fates more kind, Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breast
Our narrow luxuries would soon grow stale: That generous luxury the gods enjoy."
Were these exhaustless, nature would grow sick, Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly sage
And, cloy'd with pleasure, squeamishly com- Sometimes declaim'd. Of right and wrong he

taught That all is vanity, and life a dream.

Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard; Let nature rest: be busy for yourself,

And (strange to tell!) he practis'd what he And for your friend; be busy even in vain,

Rather than tease her sated appetites.
Who never fasts, no banquet e'er enjoys;
Who never toils or watches, never sleeps.

There is a charm, a power that sways the Let nature rest: and when the taste of joy

breast, Grows keen, indulge; but shun satiety.

Bids every passion revel or be still; "'Tis not for mortals always to be blest. Inspires with rage, or all your cares dissolves; But him the least the dull or painful hours Can sooth distraction, and almost despair. Of life oppress, whom sober sense conducts, That power is music: far beyond the stretch And virtue, through this labyrinth we tread. Of those unmeaning warblers on our stage: Virtue and sense I mean not to disjoin; Those clumsy heroes, those fat-headed gods, Virtue and sense are one; and, trust me, still Who move no passion justly but contempt: A faithless heart betrays the head unsound. Who, like our dancers, light indeed and strong, Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool)

Do wond'rous feats, but never heard of grace. Is sense and spirit with humanity:

The fault is ours; we bear those monstrous arts, 'Tis sometimes angry, and its frown confounds; Good heaven! we praise them: we, with loudest 'Tis even vindictive, but in vengeance just.

peals, Knaves fain would laugh at it; some great ones Applaud the fool that highest lifts his heels;


And, with insipid show of rapture, die
But at his heart the most undaunted son On ideot notes impertinently long.
Of fortune dreads its name and aweful charms. But he the muse's laurel justly shares,
To noblest uses this determines wealth;

A poet he, and touch'd with heaven's own fire, This is the solid pomp of prosperous days; Who, with bold rage or solemn pomp of sounds, The peace and shelter of adversity.

Inflames, exalts, and ravishes the soul; And if you pant for glory, build your fame Now tender, plaintive, sweet almost to pain, On this foundation, which the secret shock In love dissolves you; now in sprightly strains Defies of envy and all-sapping time

Breathes a gay rapture through your thrilling The gaudy gloss of fortune only strikes

The vulgar eye; the suffrage of the wise Or melts the heart with airs divinely sad;
The praise that's worth ambition, is attain'd Or wakes to horror the tremendous strings
By sense alone, and dignity of mind.

Such was the bard, whose heavenly strains “Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul,

of old Is the best gift of Heaven: a happiness

Appeas'd the fiend of melancholy Saul.
That even above the smiles and frowns of fate Such was, if old and heathen fame say true,
Exalts great Nature's favourites; a wealth The man who bade the Theban domes ascend,
That ne'er encumbers, nor can be transferr'd. And tam'd the savage nations with his song;
Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd; And such the Thracian, whose melodious lyre,
Or dealt by chance to shield a lucky knave, Tun'd to soft woe, made all the mountains weep;
Or throw a cruel sunshine on a fool.

Sooth'd ev’n th' inexorable powers of hell,
But for one end, one much-neglected use, And half-redeem'd his lost Eurydice.
Are riches worth your care; (for Nature's wants Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,
Are few, and without opulence supplied ;) Expels diseases, softens every pain,
This noble end is, to produce the soul;

Subdues the rage of poison, and the plague; To show the virtues in their fairest light; And hence the wise of ancient days ador'd To make humanity the minister

One Power of physic, melody and song.


Richard Glover, der Sohn eines Kaufmanns, ward 1712 in London geboren, widmete sich dem Stande seines Vaters; ward 1761 Parlamentsmitglied für Weymouth und starb allgemein geachtet 1786. Er hinterliess zwei Tragödieen: Boadicea und Medea, mehrere kleinere Poesieen und ein grösseres Epos Leonidas, nebst einer Fortsetzung: The Athenaid. Dieses Heldengedicht war es vorzüglich, das ihm grossen Ruhm erwarb, aber er überlebte denselben. Es ist ein Werk edelster Gesinnung, voll trefflicher Gedanken, reich an meisterhaften Schilderungen, consequent durchgeführt und correct, aber trotz dem Allem doch nur Prosa in poetischer Form und lässt allen Bestrebungen des Dichters ungeachtet, auf das Gemiith eben so sehr wie auf den Verstand zu wirken, kalt und theilnahmlos; man wird weder ergriffen noch begeistert durch dasselbe, obwohl der Stoff alle Mittel zu tieferer Wirkung darbietet. Aehnliches lässt sich von seinen beiden Trauerspielen sagen, die, in antiker Form gehalten, veranlassen die Kunst des Verfassers zu bewundern, der Alles besitzt, nur nicht poetische Schöpfungskraft. Dagegen hat aber Glover in der unten mitgetheilten Ballade ein Meisterwerk hinterlassen, das zu dem Besten gehört, was die gerade in dieser Gattung so reiche englische Nationalliteratur aufzuweisen vermag.

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“Unrepining at thy glory,

Thy successful arms we hail; But remember our sad story

And let Hosier's wrongs prevail Sent in this foul clime to languish,

Think what thousands fell in vain, Wasted with disease and anguish,

Not in glorious battle slain.”

Here the Bastimentos viewing,

We recal our shameful doom,
And our plaintive cries renewing,

Wander through the midnight gloom."

“O'er these waves for ever mourning,

Shall we roam depriv'd of rest,
If to Britain's shore returning,

You neglect my just request;
After this proud foe subduing,

When your patriot friends you see,
Think on vengeance for my ruin,

And for England sham'd in me."

“Hence with all my train attending

From their oozy tombs below, Through the hoary foam ascending,

Here I feed my constant woe:


William Shenstone ward 1714 zu Hales-Owen in Shropshire geboren, erhielt eine wissenschaftliche Bildung in Oxford und zog sich dann auf sein väterliches Erbe, das Landgut the Leasowes zurück, das er sehr verschönerte und wo er 1763 in stiller Abgeschiedenheit von der Welt starb. Er zeichnete sich vorzüglich als lyrischer und elegischer Dichter durch Wärme des Gefühls, tiefe Innigkeit und Einfachheit aus. Seine Werke erschienen gesammelt erst nach seinem Tode, London 1764, 3 Bde in 8.; sie enthalten Idyllen, Oden, Balladen und mehrere grössere Poesieen, unter denen das Urtheil des Herkules zwar correct aber geistlos, dagegen die Dorfschulmeisterin in Spenser's Manier eine sehr gelungene Leistung ist. Shenstone's Gedichte befinden sich im 99 -- 100. Bde der Bell'schen und im 9. der Anderson'schen Sammlung.

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And work the simple vassals mickle woe; from Shenstone's School- mistress.

For not a wind might curl the leaves that

blew, In every village mark'd with little spire, But their limbs shudder'd, and their pulse Embower'd in trees, and hardly known to

beat low; Fame,

And as they look'd they found their horrour There dwells in lowly shed, and mean attire,

grew, A matron old, whom we School - mistress And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view.

name; Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame; They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent, So have I seen (who has not, may conceive) Aw'd by the power of this relentless dame; A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd; And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,

So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave, For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are sorely

Of sport, of song, of pleasure, of repast; shent. They start, they stare, they wheel, they look

aghast; And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree, Sad servitude! such comfortless annoy Which Learning near her little dome did stowe; May no bold Briton's riper age e'er taste! Whilom a twig of small regard to see,

No superstition clog his dance of joy, Though now so wide its waving branches flow;'No vision empty, vain, his native bliss destroy.

Near to this dome is found a patch so green, Redress'd affronts, for vile affronts there pass'd;
On which the tribe their gambols do display; And warn'd them not the fretful to deride,
And at the door imprisoning-board is seen, But love each other dear, whatever them betide.
Lest weakly wights of smaller size should


Right well she knew each temper to descry; Eager, perdie, to bask in sunny day!

To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise; The noises intermixed, which thence resound, Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high, Do Learning's little tenement betray;

And some entice with pittance small of praise, Where sits the dame, disguis'd in look pro- And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays:


E'en absent, she the reins of power doth hold, And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she around.


Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold, Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,

'T will whisper in her ear, and all the scene Emblem right meet of decency does yield:

unfold. Her apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe, As is the hare-bell that adorns the field:

Lo now with state she utters the command! And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield

Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair; Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear en

Their books of stature small they take in hand, twin'd,

Which with pellucid horn secured are, With dark distrust, and sad repentance fill'd;

To save from finger wet the letters fair: And stedfast hate, and sharp affliction join'd,

The work so gay that on their back is seen, And fury uncontroul'd, and chastisement unkind.

St. George's high achievements does declare;

On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been,

Kens the forth-coming rod, unpleasing sight, A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown;

I ween! A russet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air; 'Twas simple russet, but it was her own; 'Twas her own country bred the flock so fair! 'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare ;

But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle skie, And, sooth to say, her pupils, rang'd around,

And Liberty unbars her prison-door; Through pious awe, did term it passing rare;

And like a rushing torrent out they fly, For they in gaping wonderment abound,

And now the grassy cirque had cover'd o'er And think, no doubt, she been the greatest

With boisterous revel-rout and wild uproar; wight on ground.

A thousand ways in wanton rings they run,

Heaven shield their short-liv'd pastimes, I Albeit no flattery did corrupt her truth,

implore! Ne pompous title did debauch her ear;

For well may freedom erst so dearly won, Goody, good-woman, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth, Appear to British elf more gladsome than the sun. Or dame, the sole additions she did hear; Yet these she challenged, these she held right

Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade, dear:

And chase gay fies, and cull the fairest Ne would esteem him act as mought behove,

flowers; Who should not honour'd eld with these revere:

For when my bones in grass-green sods are For never title yet so mean' could prove,

laid, But there was eke a mind which did that title

For never may ye taste more careless hours love.

In knightly castles, or in ladies' bowers.
O vain to seek delight in earthly thing!

But most in courts where proud Ambition In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem

towers; By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defac'd,

Deluded wight! who weens fair Peace can In which, when he receives his diadem,

spring Our sovereign prince and liefest liege is plac'd, The matron sate; and some with rank she Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king.

grac'd (The source of children's and of courtiers


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