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Edward Hovel Thurlow (Lord Thurlow) wurde um's Jahr 1781 geboren. Er ist der Sohn des verstorbenen Dr. Thomas Thurlow, Bischof von Durham, Bruder des grossen Lord Kanzler Thurlow. Seine Studien machte er zu Cambridge. Später trat er zuerst öffentlich als Lobredner einiger bedeutender Männer auf, welche er in Sonetten erhob; sodann gab er ein Gedicht unter dem Titel „Moonlight“ heraus, in welchem er sich Milton zum Vorbilde genommen. Ausserdem hat er noch mehreres Poetische veröffentlicht, wie Select Poems 1821 ; Poems on several occasions; Angelica, or the Fate of Proteus; Arcita and Palamon, u. a.

Abschon einige Beurtheiler Thurlow einer scharfen, ja sarkastischen Kritik unterworfen haben, so ist dennoch wahre Poesie in den Werken dieses Edelmannes nicht zu verkennen. Er besitzt eine Frische der Phantasie und der Empfindung, einen Reichthum im Ausdrucke, und eine Anmuth, welche an Herrick, oder auch an Moore erinnern.

Song to May.
May! queen of blossoms,

And fulfilling flowers,
With what pretty music

Shall we charm the hours ?
Wilt thou have pipe and reed,
Blown in the open mead?
Or to the lute give heed

In the green bowers ?

Thou hast no need of us,

Or pipe or wire,
That hast the golden bee

Ripened with fire;
And many thousand more
Songsters, that thee adore,
Filling earth's grassy floor

With new desire.

Thou hast thy mighty herds,

And circled me with sacred rays,
Tame, and free livers;

To be a poet in his sight:
Doubt not, thy music too

Then, thus I give the crown to thee,
In the deep rivers ;

Whose impress is fidelity.
And the whole plumy flight,
Warbling the day and night
Up at the gates of light,
See, the lark quivers !

Sonnets.

The Summer, the divinest Summer burns, When with the jacinth

The skies are bright with azure and with Coy fountains are tressed;

gold; And for the mournful bird

The mavis, and the nightingale by turns, Greenwoods are dressed,

Amid the woods a soft enchantment hold: That did for Tereus pine;

The flowering woods, with glory and delight, Then our songs be thine,

Their tender leaves unto the air hare To whom our hearts incline:

spread; May, be thou blessed!

The wanton air, amid their alleys bright,

Doth softly fly, and a light fragrance shed: The nymphs within the silver fountains play,

The angels on the golden banks recline, Wherein great Flora, in her bright array,

Hath sprinkled her ambrosial sweets divine: The Sun - Flower.

Or, else, I gaze upon that beauteous face,

O Amoret! and think these sweets have Behold, my dear, this lofty flower,

place. That now the golden sun receives; No other deity has power,

But only Phoebus, on her leaves; As he in radiant glory burns,

Now Summer has one foot from out the From east to west her visage turns.

world, Her golden mantle floating in the air;

And her love-darting eyes are backward The dial tells no tale more true,

hurled, Than she his journal on her leaves,

To bid adieu to this creation fair: When morn first gives him to her view, a flight of swallows circles her before, Or night, that her of him bereaves,

And Zephyrus, her jolly harbinger, A dismal interregnum bids

Already is a-wing to Heaven's door, Her weeping eyes to close their lids. Whereat the Muses are expecting her;

And the three Graces in their heavenly ring,

Are dancing with delicious harmony; Forsaken of his light, she pines

And Hebe doth her flowery chalice bring, The cold, the dreary night away,

To sprinkle nectar on their melody: Till in the east the crimson sings

Jove laughs to see his angel, Summer, come, Betoken the great god of day;

Warbling his praise, to her immortal home. Then, lifting up her drooping face, She sheds around a golden grace.

The crimson Moon, uprising from the sea, O Nature, in all parts divine !

With large delight foretells the harvest What moral sweets her leaves disclose! Then in my verse her truth shall shine, Ye shepherds, now prepare your melody, And be immortal, as the rose,

To greet the soft appearance of her sphere! Anacreon's plant; arise, thou flower, And, like a page, enamoured of her train, That hast fidelity thy dower!

The star of evening glimmers in the west : Then raise, ye shepherds, your observant

strain, Apollo, on whose beams you gaze, That so of the Great Shepherd here are Has filled my breast with golden light;

blest!

near:

Our fields are full with the time-ripened grain, How am I with thy sad delight beguiled, Oar vineyards with the purple clusters How hold with fond imagination play!

swell:

By the broad taper I call up the time Her golden splendour glimmers on the main, When Harold on the bleeding verdure lay, And vales and mountains her bright glory Though great in glory, overstained with crime

tell:

And fallen by his fate from kingly sway! Then sing, ye shepherds! for the time is come On bleeding knights, and on war-broken When we must bring the enriched harvest

arms, home. Torn banners and the dying steeds you

shone, When this fair England, and her peerless

charms,

And all, but honour, to the foe were gone! O Moon, that shinest on this heathy wild, Here died the king, whom his brave subjects And light'st the hill of Hastings with thy

chose, ray,

But, dying, lay amid his Norman foes!

Tennant.

William Tennant wurde 1785 zu Unstruther in der schottischen Grafschaft Fife geboren. Er hatte das Unglück, schon in seiner Kindheit den Gebrauch seiner Füsse zu verlieren, so dass er stets an Krücken gehen musste. Den ersten Unterricht erhielt er in der Unstruther Stadtschule, und studirte von 4799 an, zwei Jahre auf der Universität St. Andrews. Da er in Folge beschränkter Mittel seine Studien nicht beendigen konnte, wurde er Schreiber, dann Kornfactor zu Glasgow und später zu Unstruther, wo er Muse fand, seine Studien fortzusetzen und sich mit Homer und Virgil, so wie mit Ariosto, Camoens und Wieland bekannt zu machen. Ausserdem widmete er sich auch dem Hebräischen mit Vorliebe. Im Jahr 1813 wurde er Schulmeister zu Denins bei St. Andrews. Hier benutzte er seine Musezeit zur Erlernung des Arabischen, Spanischen und Persischen. Im Jahre 1836 kam er als Professor der morgenländischen Literatur an Mary's College in St. Andrews, welche Stelle er noch vor wenigen Jahren bekleidete.

Als Dichter trat Tennant schon 1812 mit seinem komisch-epischen Gedichte Anster Fair“, in Ottaverime auf, welche Versart er in England wieder in Aufnahme brachte. Es behandelt nämlich die Heirath der Maggie Louder, einer in Balladen und Ueberlieferungen gefeierten Heldin des schottischen Gesanges und der jungfräulichen Schönheit. Dieses Gedicht zeugt von einer reichbegabten Phantasie des Dichters, der selbst gewöhnlichen Dingen den Reiz der Neuheit durch schöne Bilder und lebensvolle Schilderungen zu verleihen wusste. Diesem Gedichte sind noch mehrere poetische Werke gefolgt, wie Cardinal Beaton, ein Trauerspiel, ferner zwei Gedichte: the Thane of five und the Dinging Down of the Cathedral, so wie Hebrew Dramas 1846.

From Anster Fair.

And when the low Sun's glory-buskined

feet The Morning of Anster Fair.

Walk on the blue wave of the Ægean I wish I had a cottage snug and neat

tide Upon the top of many fountained Ide, Oh! I would kneel me down, and worship That I might thence, in holy fervour, greet

there The bright-gowned Morning tripping up The God who garnished ont a world so ber side:

bright and fair!

less range,

The saffron-elbowed Morning up the slope For, toilingly, each bitter beadle swung,

Of heaven canaries in her jewelled shoes, Even till he smoked with sweat, his greasy And throws o'er Kelly-law's sheep-nibbled top

rope, Her golden apron dripping kindly dews; And almost broke his bell-wheel, ushering in And never, since she first began to hop The morn of Anster Fair with tinkle-tankling Up heaven's blue causeway, of her beams

din. profuse, Shone there a dawn so glorious and so gay, And, from our steeple's pinnacle outspread, As shines the merry dawn of Anster mar

ket-day.
The town's long colours flare and flap on

high,

Whose anchor, blazoned fair in green and red, Round through the vast circumference of sky Whilst on the boltsprit, stern, and topmast

Curls, pliant to each breeze that whistles by; One speck of small cloud cannot eye

head behold, Save in the east some fleeces bright of dye, Streams the red gaudery of flags in air,

Of brig and sloop, that in the harbour lie, That stripe the hem of heaven with woolly All to salute and grace the morn of Anster gold,

Fair.
Whereon are happy angels wont to lie

Lolling, in amaranthine flowers enrolled,
That they may spy the precious light of Description of the Heroine.

God,

Her form was as the Morning's blithesome Flung from the blessed East o'er the fair Earth abroad.

star, That, capped with lustrous coronet of

beams,

Rides up the dawning orient in her car, The fair Earth laughs through all her bound

New-washed, and doubly fulgent from

the streams Heaving her green hills high to greet the

beam;

The Chaldee shepherd eyes her light afar, City and village, steeple, cot, and grange, so shone the stately form of Maggie Lauder,

And on his knees adores her as she gleams; Ġilt as with Nature's purest leaf-gold seem; And so the admiring crowds pay homage The heaths and upland muirs, and fallows, change

and applaud her. Their barren brown into a ruddy gleam, And, on ten thousand dew-bent leaves and Each little step her trampling palfrey took,

sprays,

Shaked her majestic person into grace, Twinkle ten thousand suns, and fling their And as at times his glossy sides she strook

petty rays.

Endearingly with whip's green silken lace, (The prancer seemed to court such kind

rebuke, Up from their nests and fields of tender corn Loitering with wilful tardiness of pace),

Full merrily the little skylarks spring, By Jove, the very waving of her arm And on their dew-bedabbled pinions borne, Had power a brutish lout to unbrutify and Mount to the heaven's blue key-stone

charm! flickering; They turn their plume-soft bosoms to the Her face was as the summer cloud, where on

morn;

The dawning sun delights to rest his rays! And hail the genial light, and cheer’ly sing; Compared with it, old Sharon's vale, o'erEcho the gladsome hills and valleys round,

grown As half the bells of Fife ring loud and swell With flaunting roses, had resigned its the sound.

praise; For why? Her face with heaven's own roses

shone, For when the first upsloping ray was flung Mocking the morn, and witching men to On Anster steeple's swallow-harbouring

gaze; top,

And he that gazed with cold unsmitten soul, Its bell and all the bells around were rung That blockhead's heart was ice thrice baked Sonorous, jangling, loud, without a stop;

beneath the Pole.

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