Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets Part 93

RICHARD GLOVER From 'Leonidas,' Book XII Admiral Hosier's Ghost

WILLIAM WHITEHEAD Variety

WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE c.u.mnor Hall The Mariner's Wife

LORD NUGENT Ode to Mankind

JOHN LOGAN The Lovers Written in a Visit to the Country in Autumn Complaint of Nature

THOMAS BLACKLOCK The Author's Picture Ode to Aurora, on Melissa's Birthday

MISS ELLIOT AND MRS c.o.c.kBURN The Flowers of the Forest The Same

SIR WILLIAM JONES A Persian Song of Hafiz

SAMUEL BISHOP To Mrs Bishop To the Same

SUSANNA BLAMIRE The Nabob What Ails this Heart o' mine?

JAMES MACPHERSON Ossian's Address to the Sun Desolation of Balclutha Fingal and the Spirit of Loda Address to the Moon Fingal's Spirit-home The Cave

WILLIAM MASON Epitaph on Mrs Mason An Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers

JOHN LOWE Mary's Dream

JOSEPH WARTON Ode to Fancy

MISCELLANEOUS Song Verses, copied from the Window of an obscure Lodging-house, in the neighbourhood of London The Old Bachelor Careless Content A Pastoral Ode to a Tobacco-pipe Away! let nought to Love displeasing Richard Bentley's sole Poetical Composition Lines addressed to Pope

INDEX

SPECIMENS, WITH MEMOIRS, OF THE LESS-KNOWN BRITISH POETS.

THIRD PERIOD.

FROM DRYDEN TO COWPER.

SIR CHARLES SEDLEY.

Sedley was one of those characters who exert a personal fascination over their own age without leaving any works behind them to perpetuate the charm to posterity. He was the son of Sir John Sedley of Aylesford, in Kent, and was born in 1639. When the Restoration took place he repaired to London, and plunged into all the licence of the time, shedding, however, over the putrid pool the sheen of his wit, manners, and genius.

Charles was so delighted with him, that he is said to have asked him whether he had not obtained a patent from Nature to be Apollo's viceroy.

He cracked jests, issued lampoons, wrote poems and plays, and, despite some great blunders, was universally admired and loved. When his comedy of 'Bellamira' was acted, the roof fell in, and a few, including the author, were slightly injured. When a parasite told him that the fire of the play had blown up the poet, house and all, Sedley replied, 'No; the play was so heavy that it broke down the house, and buried the poet in his own rubbish.' Latterly he sobered down, entered parliament, attended closely to public business, and became a determined opponent of the arbitrary measures of James II. To this he was stimulated by a personal reason. James had seduced Sedley's daughter, and made her Countess of Dorchester. 'For making my daughter a countess,' the father said, 'I have helped to make his daughter' (Mary, Princess of Orange,) 'a queen.'

Sedley, thus talking, acting, and writing, lived on till he was sixty- two years of age. He died in 1701.

He has left nothing that the world can cherish, except such light and graceful songs, sparkling rather with point than with poetry, as we quote below.

TO A VERY YOUNG LADY.

1 Ah, Chloris! that I now could sit As unconcerned, as when Your infant beauty could beget No pleasure, nor no pain.

2 When I the dawn used to admire, And praised the coming day; I little thought the growing fire Must take my rest away.

3 Your charms in harmless childhood lay, Like metals in the mine, Age from no face took more away, Than youth concealed in thine.

4 But as your charms insensibly To their perfection pressed, Fond Love as unperceived did fly, And in my bosom rest.

5 My pa.s.sion with your beauty grew, And Cupid at my heart, Still as his mother favoured you, Threw a new flaming dart.

6 Each gloried in their wanton part, To make a lover, he Employed the utmost of his art, To make a Beauty, she.

7 Though now I slowly bend to love, Uncertain of my fate, If your fair self my chains approve, I shall my freedom hate.

8 Lovers, like dying men, may well At first disordered be, Since none alive can truly tell What fortune they must see.

SONG.

1 Love still has something of the sea, From whence his mother rose; No time his slaves from doubt can free, Nor give their thoughts repose.

2 They are becalmed in clearest days, And in rough weather tossed; They wither under cold delays, Or are in tempests lost.

3 One while they seem to touch the port, Then straight into the main Some angry wind, in cruel sport, The vessel drives again.

4 At first Disdain and Pride they fear, Which if they chance to 'scape, Rivals and Falsehood soon appear, In a more cruel shape.

5 By such degrees to joy they come, And are so long withstood; So slowly they receive the sum, It hardly does them good.

6 'Tis cruel to prolong a pain; And to defer a joy, Believe me, gentle Celemene, Offends the winged boy.

7 An hundred thousand oaths your fears, Perhaps, would not remove; And if I gazed a thousand years, I could not deeper love.

JOHN POMFRET,

The author of the once popular 'Choice,' was born in 1667. He was the son of the rector of Luton, in Bedfordshire, and, after attending Queen's College, Cambridge, himself entered the Church. He became minister of Malden, which is also situated in Bedfordshire, and there he wrote and, in 1699, published a volume of poems, including some Pindaric essays, in the style of Cowley and 'The Choice.' He might have risen higher in his profession, but Dr Compton, Bishop of London, was prejudiced against him on account of the following lines in the 'Choice:'--