Then look'd so wise, before he knew The business he was made to do; That, pleas'd to see with what a grace He gravely show'd his forward face, Jove talk'd of breeding him on high, An under-something of the sky. But ere he gave the mighty nod, Nor with long streets and longer roads Her honors made, "Great Jove," she cried, "This thing was fashion'd from my side: His hands, his heart, his head are mine; Then what hast thou to call him thine ?" Nay, rather ask," the monarch said, What boots his hand, his heart, his head, "Halves, more than halves!" cried honest Care, As thus they wrangled, Time came by; For heads of canes an age ago. Known by the gods, as near he draws, And thus pronounc'd the words of Fate: Since body from the parent Earth, And soul from Jove receiv'd a birth, Where ever since the seasons wheel, ""Tis well," said Jove, and for consent Thundering he shook the firmament. "Our umpire Time shall have his way, With Care I let the creature stay: Let business vex him, avarice blind, Let doubt and knowledge rack his mind, Let error act, opinion speak, And want afflict, and sickness break, THE BOOK-WORM. COME hither, boy, we'll hunt to-day, I took thee in the fact to fly). Come, bind the victim,-there he lies, And here between his numerous eyes This venerable dust I lay, From manuscripts just swept away. The goblet in my hand I take, (For the libation's yet to make,) A health to poets! all their days May they have bread, as well as praise; Sense may they seek, and less engage In papers fill'd with party-rage. But if their riches spoil their vein, Ye Muses, make them poor again. Now bring the weapon, yonder blade, With which my tuneful pens are made. I strike the scales that arm thee round, And twice and thrice I print the wound, The sacred altar floats with red, And now he dies, and now he's dead. How like the son of Jove I stand, This Hydra stretch'd beneath my hand! Lay bare the monster's entrails here, To see what dangers threat the year: Ye gods! what sonnets on a wench! What lean translations out of French! Tis plain, this lobe is so unsound, Sprints, before the months go round But hold, before I close the scene, The sacred altar should be clean. Oh had I Shadwell's second bays, Or, Tate! thy pert and humble lays! (Ye pair, forgive me, when I vow I never miss'd your works till now,) I'd tear the leaves to wipe the shrine, (That only way you please the Nine,) But since I chance to want these two, I'll make the songs of Durfey do. Rent from the corpse, on yonder pin, I hang the scales that brac'd it in; I hang my studious morning-gown, And write my own inscription down. "This trophy from the Pithon won, This robe, in which the deed was done. These, Parnell, glorying in the feat, Hung on these shelves, the Muses' seat. Here Ignorance and Hunger found Large realms of Wit to ravage round: Here Ignorance and Hunger fell; Two foes in one I sent to Hell. Ye poets, who my labors see, Come share the triumph all with me! Ye critics! born to vex the Muse, Go mourn the grand ally you lose." NICHOLAS ROWE. NICHOLAS ROWE, descended from an ancient derived his principal claims upon posterity, are family in Devonshire, was the son of John Rowe, chiefly founded on the model of French tragedy; Esquire, a barrister of reputation and extensive and in his diction, which is poetical without being practice. He was born in 1673, at the house of his bombastic or affected; in his versification, which is maternal grandfather, at Little Berkford, in Bed- singularly sweet; and in tirades of sentiment, given fordshire. Being placed at Westminster-school, with force and elegance, he has few competitors. under Dr. Busby, he pursued the classical studies As a miscellaneous poet, Rowe occupies but an ing simplicity, scarcely excelled by any pieces of the kind. His principal efforts, however, were in poetical translation; and his version of Lucan's Pharsalia has been placed by Dr. Johnson among the greatest productions of English poetry. of that place with credit. At the age of sixteen he inconsiderable place among his countrymen; but it was removed from school, and entered a student of has been thought proper to give some of his songs the Middle Temple, it being his father's intention or ballads in the pastoral strain; which have a touchto bring him up to his own profession; but the death of this parent, when Nicholas was only nineteen, freed him from what he probably thought a pursuit foreign to his disposition; and he turned his chief studies to poetry and polite literature. At the age of twenty-five he produced his first tra- In politics, Rowe joined the party of the Whigs, gedy, "The Ambitious Stepmother;" which was under whose influence he had some gainful posts, afterwards succeeded by "Tamerlane;" "The Fair without reckoning that of poet-laureate, on the acPenitent;" "" Ulysses;" "The Royal Convert;" cession of George I. He was twice married to "Jane Shore;" and "Lady Jane Grey." Of women of good connexions, by the first of whom these, though all have their merits, the third and the two last alone keep possession of the stage; but Jane Shore in particular never fails to be viewed with deep interest. His plays, from which are he had a son, and by the second, a daughter. He died in December, 1718, in the 45th year of his age, and was interred among the poets in Westminster Abbey. COLIN'S COMPLAINT. SONG, TO THE TUNE OF "GRIM KING OF THE DESPAIRING beside a clear stream, A shepherd forsaken was laid; To his sighs with a sigh did reply; Thus sadly complaining, he cried, When she smil'd, 'twas a pleasure too great. I listen'd, and cried, when she sung, "How foolish was I to believe She could dote on so lowly a clown, So kind and so constant would prove; "What though I have skill to complain, Though the Muses my temples have crown'd; "And you, my companions so dear, Forbear to accuse the false maid. Though through the wide world I should range, "Tis in vain from my fortune to fly; Twas hers to be false and to change, "Tis mine to be constant and die. If while my hard fate I sustain, Let her come with the nymphs of the plain, Is to shade me with cypress and yew; And when she looks down on my grave, Let her own that her shepherd was true. "Then to her new love let her go, And deck her in golden array, Be finest at every fine show, And frolic it all the long day; While Colin, forgotten and gone, No more shall be talk'd of, or seen, Unless when, beneath the pale Moon, His ghost shall glide over the green." THE CONTENTED SHEPHERD. TO MRS. A D As on a summer's day And as she passed by, With a scornful glance of her eye, "What a shame," quoth she, "For a swain must it be, Like a lazy loon for to die! "And dost thou nothing heed, What Pan our God has decreed; What a prize to-day Shall be given away, To the sweetest shepherd's reed! "There's not a single swain Of all this fruitful plain, But with hopes and fears The bonny boon to gain. JOSEPH ADDISON. JOSEPH ADDISON, a person in the foremost ranks | superior efforts, has deserved that degree of praise, of wit and elegant literature, was the son of the which, in general estimation, has been allotted to Reverend Lancelot Addison, at whose parsonage at him. It cannot be doubted that playful and huMilston, near Ambrosbury, Wiltshire, he was born morous wit was the quality in which he obtained in May, 1672. At the age of fifteen he was entered almost unrivalled pre-eminence; but the reader of of Queen's College, Oxford, where he distinguished his poem to Sir Godfrey Kneller will discover, in himself by his proficiency in classical literature, the comparison of the painter to Phidias, a very especially in Latin poetry. He was afterwards happy and elegant resemblance pointed out in his elected a demy of Magdalen College, where he took verse. His celebrated tragedy of "Cato," equally the degrees of bachelor and master of arts. In his remarkable for a correctness of plan, and a sustained twenty-second year he became an author in his own elevation of style, then unusual on the English language, publishing a short copy of verses addressed stage, was further distinguished by the glow of its to the veteran poet, Dryden. Other pieces in verse sentiments in favor of political liberty, and was and prose succeeded; and in 1695 he opened the equally applauded by both parties. career of his fortune as a literary man, by a complimentary poem on one of the campaigns of King William, addressed to the Lord-keeper Somers. A pension of 3001. from the crown, which his patron obtained for him, enabled him to indulge his inclination for travel; and an epistolary poem to Lord Halifax in 1701, with a prose relation of his travels, published on his return, are distinguished by the spirit of liberty which they breathe, and which, during life, was his ruling passion. The most famous of his political poems, "The Campaign," appeared in 1704. It was a task kindly imposed by Lord Halifax, who intimated to him that the writer should not lose his labor. It was accordingly rewarded by an immediate appointment to the post of commissioner of appeals. A very short account will suffice for the remainder of his works. His connexion with Steele engaged him in occasionally writing in the Tatler, the Spectator, and the Guardian, in which his productions, serious and humorous, conferred upon him immortal honor, and placed him deservedly at the head of his class. Some other periodical papers, decidedly political, were traced to Addison, of which The Freeholder was one of the most conspicuous. In 1716 he married the Countess-Dowager of Warwick, a connexion which is said not to have been remarkably happy. In the following year he was raised to the office of one of the principal secreta. ries of state; but finding himself ill suited to the post, and in a declining state of health, he resigned it to Mr. Craggs. In reality, his constitution was This will be the proper place for considering the suffering from an habitual excess in wine; and it is merits of Addison in his character of a writer in a lamentable circumstance that a person so generally verse. Though Dryden and Pope had already se- free from moral defects, should have given way to cured the first places on the British Parnassus, and a fondness for the pleasures of a tavern life. Addiother rivals for fame were springing to view, it will son died in June, 1719, leaving an only daughter scarcely be denied that Addison, by a decent medi- by the Countess of Warwick. ocrity of poetic language, rising occasionally to A LETTER FROM ITALY. TO THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES LORD HALIFAX, IN Salve magna parens frugum Saturnia tellus, Virg. Georg. ii. WHILE you, my lord, the rural shades admire, For their advantage sacrifice your ease; Me into foreign realms my fate conveys And still I seem to tread on classic ground; |