'Twas transport not to be exprest; Two smiling springs had waked the flow'rs The days grew hot, the ev`nings cool. A courteous neighbour at the door At morn, at noon, at eve, at night: Yet neighbours were not quite the thing; What joy, alas! could converse bring With awkward creatures bred at homeThe dog grew dull, or troublesome. The cat had spoil'd the kitten's merit, And, with her youth, had lost her spirit. And jokes repeated o'er and o'er, Had quite exhausted Jenny's store. -“And then, my dear, I can't abide This always sauntering side by side." "Enough!" he cries, "the reason's plain : For causes never rack your brain. Our neighbours are like other folks, Skip's playful tricks, and Jenny's jokes, Are still delightful, still would please, Were we, my dear, ourselves at ease. Look round, with an impartial eye, On yonder fields, on yonder sky; The azure cope, the flow'rs below, With all their wonted colours glow. The rill still murmurs; and the moon No change has made the seasons fail, The scene's the same, the same the weather- Agreed. A rich old uncle dies, The rosy morn had raised her head (As greater folks than he have done), Roll swift, ye wheels! to willing eyes Now nearer town, and all agog, They know dear London by its fog. Bridges they cross, through lanes they wind Leave Hounslow's dang'rous heath behind, Through Brentford win a passage free By roaring, "Wilkes and Liberty !” At Knightsbridge bless the short'ning way, (Where Bays's troops in ambush lay), O'er Piccadilly's pavement glide, (With palaces to grace its side), Till Bond-street with its lamps a-blaze Concludes the journey of three days. Why should we paint, in tedious song, How ev'ry day, and all day long, They drove at first with curious haste Through Lud's vast town; or, as they pass'd 'Midst risings, fallings, and repairs Of streets on streets, and squares on squares, 1 Scarce less astonishment arose At architects more fair than those--- And corn, and grass, and shepherd's bowers, Whilst the black ewes, who own'd the hair, O London, thou prolific source, I know not which, that livelier dunce To crush domestic bliss at once. Of thee, Pantheon, let me speak But what are these to scenes which lie Secreted from the vulgar eye, And battle all the powers of song?-A brazen throat, an iron tongue, (Which poets wish for, when at length Their subject soars above their strength,) Would shun the task. Our humbler Muse, (Who only reads the public news, They reach'd all heights, and rose with ease; Advanced to fashion's wavering head, So separate, so quite bon-ton, Silence is eloquence, 'tis said. Are you too tired?"—then check'd a groan. "How delicate the married life! "True to the bias of our kind, "Twas social converse, change of scene, "We left the lonesome place; and found, In dissipation's giddy round, A thousand novelties to wake (Sip the cool springs that murmuring flow, "Behold us now, dissolving quite Our company, the exalted set Of all that's gay, and all that's great : As makes our home the more our own. Must from the heart sincerely flow; RICHARD GLOVER. [Born, 1712. Died, 1785.] RICHARD GLOVER was the son of a Hamburgh merchant in London, and was born in St. Martin's-lane, Cannon-street. He was educated at the school of Cheam, in Surrey; but, being intended for trade, was never sent to the university. This circumstance did not prevent him from applying assiduously to classical learning; and he was, in the competent opinion of Dr. Warton, one of the best Greek scholars of his time. This fact is worth mentioning, as it exhibits how far a determined mind may connect the pursuits, and even distinctions of literature, with an active employment. His first poetical effort was a poem to the memory of Sir Isaac Newton, which was written at the age of sixteen; and which his friend, Dr. Pemberton, thought fit to prefix to a "View of the Newtonian Philosophy," which he published. Dr. Pemberton, who was a man of more science than taste, on this and on some other occasions, addressed the public with critical eulogies, on the genius of Glover, written with an excess of admiration, which could be pardoned only for its sincerity. It gives us a higher idea of the youthful promises of his mind, to find that the intelligent poet Green had the same prepossession in his favour. Green says of him in the "Spleen," "But there's a youth, that you can name, The birth of Pallas may explain." At the age of twenty-five he published nine books of his " "Leonidas." The poem was immediately taken up with ardour by Lord Cobham, to whom it was inscribed, and by all the readers of verse, and leaders of politics, who professed the strongest attachment to liberty. It ran rapidly through three editions, and was publicly extolled by the pen of Fielding, and by the lips of Chatham. Even Swift in one of his letters from Ireland, drily inquires of Pope, "who is this Mr. Glover, who writ' Leonidas, which is reprinting here, and hath great vogue* ?” Overrated as "Leonidas" might be, Glover stands acquitted of all attempts or artifice to promote its popularity by false means. He betrayed no irritation in the disputes which were raised about its merit; and his personal character appears as respectable in the ebb as in the flow of his poetical reputation. In the year 1739 he published his poem "London; or the Progress of Commerce," in which, instead of selecting some of those interesting views of the progress of social life and civilisation, which the subject might have afforded, he confined himself to exciting the national spirit against the Spaniards. This purpose was better [* Pope's answer does not appear: "it would have been curious," says Dr. Warton, "to have known his opinio concerning a poem that is written in a taste and manner so different from his own, in a style formed on the Grecian school, and with the simplicity of the ancient."] effected by his nearly contemporary ballad of render it, upon the whole, unpleasing. Beau"Hosier's Ghost." His talents and politics introduced him to the notice and favour of Frederick, Prince of Wales, whilst he maintained an intimate friendship with the chiefs of the opposition. In the mean time, he pursued the business of a merchant in the city, and was an able auxiliary to his party, by his eloquence at public meetings, and by his influence with the mercantile body. Such was the confidence in his knowledge and talents, that in 1743 the merchants of London deputed him to plead, in behalf of their neglected rights, at the bar of the house of commons, a duty which he fulfilled with great ability. In 1744, he was offered an employment of a very different kind, being left a bequest of 5007. by the Duchess of Marlborough, on condition of his writing the duke's life, in conjunction with Mallet. He renounced this legacy, while Mallet accepted it, but never fulfilled the terms. Glover's rejection of the offer was the more honourable, as it came at a time when his own affairs were so embarrassed as to oblige him to retire from business for several years, and to lead a life of the strictest economy. During his distresses, he is said to have received from the Prince of Wales a present of 5007. In the year 1751, his friends in the city made an attempt to obtain for him the office of city chamberlain; but he was unfortunately not named as a candidate, till the majority of votes had been engaged to Sir Thomas Harrison. The speech which he made to the livery on this occasion did him much honour, both for the liberality with which he spoke of his successful opponent, and for the manly but unassuming manner in which he expressed the consciousness of his own integrity, amidst his private misfortunes, and asserted the merit of his public conduct as a citizen. The name of Guildhall is certainly not apt to inspire us with high ideas either of oratory or of personal sympathy; yet there is something in the history of this transaction which increases our respect, not only for Glover, but for the scene itself, in which his eloquence is said to have warmly touched his audience with a feeling of his worth as an individual, of his spirit as a politician, and of his powers as an accomplished speaker. He carried the sentiments and endowments of a polished scholar into the most popular meeting of trading life, and showed that they could be welcomed there. Such men elevate the character of a mercantile country. During his retirement from business, he finished his tragedy of "Boadicea," which was brought out at Drury Lane in 1753, and was acted for nine nights, it is said "successfully," perhaps a misprint for successively. Boadicea is certainly not a contemptible drama: it has some scenes of tender interest between Venusia and Dumnorix; but the defectiveness of its incidents, and the frenzied character of the British queen mont and Fletcher, in their play on the same subject, have left Boadicea, with all her rashness and revengeful disposition, still a heroine; but Glover makes her a beldam and a fury, whom we could scarcely condemn the Romans for having carted. The disgusting novelty of this impression is at variance with the traditionary regard for her name, from which the mind is unwilling to part. It is told of an eminent portrait-painter, that the picture of each individual which he took had some resemblance to the last sitter: when he painted a comic actress, she resembled a doctor of divinity, because his imagination had not yet been delivered of the doctor. The converse of this seems to have happened to Glover. He anticipated the hideous traits of Medea, when he produced the British queen. With a singular degree of poetical injustice, he leans to the side of compassion in delineating Medea, a monster of infanticide, and prepossesses us against a high-spirited woman, who avenged the wrongs of her country, and the violation of her daughters. His tragedy of "Medea" appeared in 1761; and the spirited acting of Mrs. Yates gave it considerable effect. In his later years, his circumstances were greatly improved, though we are not informed from what causes. He returned again to public life; was elected to parliament; and there distinguished himself, whenever mercantile prosperity was concerned, by his knowledge of commerce, and his attention to its interests. In 1770 he enlarged his "Leonidas" from nine to twelve books, and afterwards wrote its sequel, the "Athenaid," and a sequel to "Medea.” The latter was never acted, and the former seldom read. The close of his life was spent in retirement from business, but amidst the intimacy of the most eminent scholars of his time. Some contemporary writers, calling themselves critics, preferred "Leonidas" in its day to "Paradise Lost;" because it had smoother versification, and fewer hard words of learning. The re-action of popular opinion, against a work that has been once over-rated, is apt to depress it beneath its just estimation. It is due to "Leonidas" to say, that its narrative, descriptions, and imagery, have a general and chaste congruity with the Grecism of its subject. It is far, indeed, from being a vivid or arresting picture of antiquity; but it has an air of classical taste and propriety in its design; and it sometimes places the religion and manners of Greece in a pleasing and impressive light. The poet's description of Dithyrambus making his way from the cave of Eta, by a secret ascent, to the temple of the Muses, and bursting, unexpectedly, into the hallowed presence of their priestess Melissa, is a passage fraught with a considerable degree of the fanciful and beautiful in superstition. The abode of Oïleus is also traced with a suavity of local description, which is not unusual to Glover; and the speech of Melissa, when she first receives the tidings of her venerable father's death, supports a fine consistency with the august and poetical character which is ascribed to her. "A sigh Broke from her heart, these accents from her lips. The undeniable fault of the entire poem is, that it wants impetuosity of progress, and that its characters are without warm and interesting individuality. What a great genius might have made of the subject, it may be difficult to pronounce by supposition; for it is the very character of genius to produce effects which cannot be calculated. But imposing as the names of Leonidas and Thermopyla may appear, the subject which they formed for an epic poem was such, that we cannot wonder at its baffling the powers of Glover. A poet, with such a theme, was furnished indeed with a grand outline of actions and sentiments; but how difficult was it, after all that books could teach him, to give the close and veracious appearance of life to characters and manners beheld so remotely on the verge of the horizon of history! What difficulty to avoid coldness and generality, on the one hand, if he delineated his human beings only with the manners which history could authenticate; and to shun grotesqueness and inconsistency on the other, if he filled up the vague outline of the antique with the particular and familiar traits of modern life! Neither Fenelon, with all his genius, nor Barthelemy, with all his learning, have kept entirely free of this latter fault of incongruity, in modernising the aspect of ancient manners. The characters of Barthelemy, in par. ticular, often remind us of statues in modern clothes. Glover has not fallen into this impurity; but his purity is cold: his heroes are like outlines of Grecian faces, with no distinct er minute physiognomy. They are not so much poetical characters, as historical recollections. There are, indeed, some touches of spirit in Artemisia's character, and of pathos in the episode of Teribazus; but Leonidas is too good a Spartan, and Xerxes too bad a Persian, to be pitied; and most of the subordinate agents, that fall or triumph in battle, only load our memories with their names. The local descriptions of "Leonidas," however, its pure sentiments, and the classical images which it recals, render it interesting, as the monument of an accomplished and amiable mind ". FROM "LEONIDAS," BOOK I. OPENING OF THE POEM-OFFER OF LEONIDAS TO DEVOTE HIMSELF FOR HIS COUNTRY. THE virtuous Spartan, who resign'd his life To Corinth flew. Her Isthmus was the seat He finds the Spartan people with their kings ; Here Alpheus paused. Leutychides, who shared Her valiant race to wage a distant war There let our standards rest. Your solid strength, O most ungen'rous counsel! Most unwise! [* Glover's Leonidas, though only party spirit could have extolled it as a work of genius, obtained no incon siderable sale, and a reputation which flourished for half a century. It has now a place in the two great generd collections, and deserves to hold it. The author has the merit of having departed from bad models, rejected ail false ornaments and tricks of style, and trusted to the dignity of his subject. And though the poem is cold and bald, stately rather than strong in its best parts, and in general rather stiff than stately, there is in its very nakedness a sort of Spartan severity that commands respect.-SOUTHEY, Life of Cowper, vol. ii, p. 176.] |