Fill'd with heroic ardour at the sight, That was of age to combat with a rat; par Lady Austen became a tenant of the parsonage at Olney. When Mr. Newton occupied that sonage, he had opened a door in the garden-wall, which admitted him in the most commodious manner to visit the sequestered poet, who resided in the next house. Lady Austen had the advantage of this easy intercourse, and so captivating was her society, both to Cowper and to Mrs. Unwin, that these intimate neighbours might be almost said to make one family, as it became their custom to dine always together, alternately in the houses of the two ladies. The musical talents of Lady Austen induced Cowper to write a few songs of peculiar sweetness and pathos, to suit particular airs that she was accustomed to play on the harpsichord. We insert three of these, as proofs that, even in his hours of social amusement, the poet loved to dwell on ideas of tender devotion and pathetic solemnity. SONG WRITTEN IN THE SUMMER OF 1783, AT THE REQUEST OF LADY AUSTEN. AIR-" My fond shepherds of late," &c. No longer I follow a sound; No longer a dream I pursue : I have sought thee in splendour and dress, An humble ambition and hope The voice of true wisdom inspires! 'Tis sufficient, if peace be the scope, And the summit of all our desires. Peace may be the lot of the mind But rapture and bliss are confined SONG. AIR-" The lass of Pattie's mill." When all within is peace, How Nature seems to smile! Delights that never cease, The live-long day beguile. From morn to dewy eve, With open hand she showers Fresh blessings to deceive And soothe the silent hours. It is content of heart Gives Nature power to please; The mind that feels no smart Enlivens all it sees; Can make a wintry sky Seem bright as smiling May. And evening's closing eye As peep of early day. The vast majestic globe, So beauteously array'd In Nature's various robe, With wond'rous skill display'd. Is to a mourner's heart A dreary wild at best; And longs to be at rest. The following song, adapted to the march in Scipio, obtained too great a celebrity not to merit insertion in this place. It relates to the loss of the Royal George, the flag-ship of Admiral Kempenfelt, which went down with nine hundred persons on board, (among whom was Rear-Admiral Kempenfelt,) at Spithead, August 29, 1782. The song was a favourite production of the poet's; so much so, that he amused himself by translating it into Latin verse. We take the version from one of his subsequent letters, for the sake of annexing it to the original. SONG, ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. VOL. II. Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more! Fast by their native shore! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, G Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; It was not in the battle; His sword was in its sheath; Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more. IN SUBMERSIONEM NAVIGII, CUI GEORGIUS, REGALE NOMEN. INDITUM. Plangimus fortes. Periere fortes, * Attempts have recently been made to recover this vessel; and some of the guns have been raised, and found to be in excellent order. Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat, Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam Nec sinunt ultrà tibi nos recentes Magne, qui nomen, licèt incanorum, Non hyems illos furibunda mersit, Navitæ sed tum nimium jocosi Vos, quibus cordi est grave opus piumque, Hi quidem (sic dîîs placuit) fuere : Let the reader, who wishes to impress on his mind a just idea of the variety and extent of Cowper's poetical powers, contrast this heroic ballad of exquisite pathos with his diverting history of John Gilpin ! |