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with me.

mediocrity, and which had gained me more credit, than the sound, good sense of my old master was at all pleased with) poetry itself, yea novels and romances, became insipid to me. In my friendless wanderings on our leave-* days, (for I was an orphan, and had scarce any connections in London) highly was I delighted, if any passenger, especially if he were drest in black, would enter into conversation

For I soon found the means of directing it to my favorite subjects

Of providence, fore-knowledge, will, and fate,
Fix'd fate, free will, fore-knowledge absolute,

And found no end in wandering mazes lost. This preposterous pursuit was, beyond doubt, injurious, both to my natural powers, and to the progress

education. It would perhaps have been destructive, had it been continued; but from this I was auspiciously withdrawn, partly indeed by an accidental introduction to an amiable family, chiefly however, by the genial influence of a style of poetry, so tender, and yet so manly, so natural and real, and yet so dignified, and harmonious, as the sonnets, &c. of Mr. Bowles! Well were it for me perhaps, had I never relapsed into the same mental disease ; if I had continued to plack the flower and reap the harvest from the cultivated surface, instead of delving in the unwholesome quicksilver mines of metaphysic depths. But if in after time I have sought a refuge from bodily pain and mismanaged sensibility in abstruse researches, which exercised the strength and subtlety of the understanding without awakening the feelings of the heart; still there was a long and blessed interval, dure ing which my natural faculties were allowed to expand, and my original tendencies to develope themselves : my fancy, and the love of nature, and the sense of beauty in forms and sounds.

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* The Christ Hospital phrase, not for holidays altogether, but for those on which the boys are permitted to go beyond the precincts of the school.

The second advantage, which I owe to my early perusal, and admiration of these poems (to which let me add, though known to me at a somewhat later period, the Lewsdon Hill of Mr. Crow) bears more immediately on my present subject. Among those with whom I conversed, there were, of course, very many who had formed their taste, and their notions of poetry, from the writings of Mr. Pope and his followers: or to speak more generally, in that school of French poetry, condensed and invigorated by English understanding, which had predominated from the last century.

I was not blind to the merits of this school, yet as from inexperience of the world, and conse

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quent want of sympathy with the general subjects of these poems, they gave me little pleasure, I doubtless undervalued the kind, and with the presumption of youth withheld from its masters the legitimate name of poets. I saw, that the excellence of this kind consisted in just and acute observations on men and manners in an artificial state of society, as its matter and substance : and in the logic of wit, conveyed in smooth and strong epigramatic couplets, as its form. Even when the subject was, addressed to the fancy, or the intellect, as in the Rape of the Lock, or the Essay on Man ; nay, when it was a consecutive narration, as in that astonishing product of matchless talent and ingenuity, Pope's Translation of the Iliad; still a point was looked for at the end of each second line, and the whole was as it were a sorites, or, if I may exchange a logical for a grammatical metaphor, a conjunction disjunctive, of epigrams. .. Meantime the matter and diction seemed to me characterized not so much by poetic' thoughts, as by thoughts translated into the language of poetry. On this last point, I. had occasion to render my own thoughts gradually more and more plain to myself, by frequent amicable disputes concerning Darwin's BOTANIC GARDEN, which, for some years, was greatly extolled, not only by the reading public in general, but even by those, whose genius

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and natural robustness of understanding enabled them afterwards to act foremost in dissipating these “painted mists” that occasionally rise from the marshes at the foot of Parnassus. During my first Cambridge vacation, I assisted a friend in a contribution for a literary society in Devonshire: and in this I remember to have compared Darwin's work to the Russian pa. lace of ice, glittering, cold and transitory. In the same essay too, I assigned sundry reasons, chiefly drawn from a comparison of passages in the Latin poets with the original Greek, from which they were borrowed, for the preference of Collins's odes to those of Gray, and of the simile in Shakspeare

“ How like a younker or a prodigal,
The skarfed bark puts from her native bay
Hugg’d and embraced by the strumpet wind !
How like a prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails,

Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind !".
to the imitation in the bard;
“Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows

While proudly riding o'er the azure realm.
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,
Youth at the prow and PLEASURE at the helm,
Regardless of the sweeping whirlwinds sway,

That hush'd in grim repose, expects it's evening prey." (In which, by the bye, the words “realm” and “sway” are rhymes dearly purchased.) I preferred the original on the ground, that in the

imitation it depended wholly in the compositor's putting, or not putting a small Capital, both in this, and in many other passages of the · same poet, whether the words should be personifications, or mere abstracts. I mention this, because in referring various lines in Gray to their original in Shakspeare and Milton; and in the clear perception how completely all the propriety was lost in the transfer ; I was, at that early period, led to a conjecture, which, many years afterwards was recalled to me from the same thought having been started in conversation, but far more ably, and developed more fully, by Mr. WordsWORTH; namely, that this style of poetry, which I have characterised above, as translations of prose thoughts into poetic language, had been kept up by, if it did not wholly arise from, the custom of writing Latin verses, and the great importance attached to these exercises, in our public schools. Whatever might have been the case in the fifteenth century, when the use of the Latin tongue was so general among learned men, that Erasmus is said to have forgotten his native language; yet in the present day it is not to be supposed, that a youth can think in Latin, or that he can have any other reliance on the force or fitness of his phrases, but the authority of the author from 'whence he has adopted them. Consequently he must first prepare his thoughts,

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