On twigs of hawthorn he regaled, And, when his juicy salads failed, A Turkey carpet was his lawn, His frisking was at evening hours, But most before approaching showers, Eight years and five round-rolling moons. I kept him for his humor's sake, My heart of thoughts that made it ache, But now beneath this walnut shade He, still more agèd, feels the shocks BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. WILLIAM COWPER was born at Great Berkhamstead, November 26, 1731. His father was the rector of the parish, and his mother was Ann Donne of the family of the famous John Donne. Cowper was educated at a private school and afterwards at Westminster. It was intended that he should follow the profession of law, and, after the completion of his studies at Westminster, he entered the Middle Temple and was articled to a solicitor. At the age of twenty-two, through the influence of his uncle, Major Cowper, he was appointed to two clerkships in the House of Lords. The excitement brought on by this occurrence, together with an unhappy love affair, induced an attack of insanity, from which he suffered for more than a year. In 1773 he suffered from a second attack of insanity, which continued for sixteen months. It was not until 1780, when in his fiftieth year, that he began really to write poetry. His first volume was published in 1732, and comprised, besides several shorter pieces, the three poems, "Conversation," "Retirement,” and “Table Talk." His second volume appeared in 1785, and contained "The Task," "Tirocinium," and the ballad of "John Gilpin," which had already become famous through the recitations of one Henderson, an actor. Cowper's translation of Homer was completed and published in 1791. From that time until his death in 1800 he suffered from hopeless dejection, regarding himself as an object of divine wrath, a condemned and forsaken outcast. Cowper was not a great poet; but he was the first to abandon the mechanical versification and conventional phrases of the artificial poets, to find inspiration and guidance in nature. It may be said that he lacked creative power; but he possessed a quickness of thought, a depth of feeling, and a certain manliness and sincerity, which lifted him above the level of the ordinary versifiers of his time. Other Poems to be Read: The Castaway; John Gilpin; The Task; The Loss of the Royal George. REFERENCES: Southey's Life of William Cowper; Cowper (English Men of Letters), by Goldwin Smith; Hazlitt's English Poets; Macaulay's Essay on Moore's Life of Byron; Life of Cowper, in the "Globe Edition" of his works. Oliver Goldsmith. THREE PICTURES FROM "THE DESERTED VILLAGE." SWEET was the sound, when oft at evening's close Up yonder hill the village murmur rose. That feebly bends beside the plashy spring; She only left of all the harmless train, NEAR Yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,1 And still where many a garden-flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's1 modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, 2 And passing rich with forty pounds3 a year; Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place; Sat by his fire, and talked the night away, Wept o'er his wounds or, tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won. His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed; Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, BESIDE yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew; |