And smiled to feel my Second's weight, And hear its creaking sound.

"And here's a gaoler sweet," quoth he,

'You cannot bribe or cozen;

To keep one ward in custody

Wise men will forge a dozen."

But daybreak saw a lady guide
My Whole across the plain,
With a handsome cavalier beside,
To hold her bridle-rein :

And "blessings on the bonds," quoth he, “ Which wrinkled age imposes,

If woman must a prisoner be,

Her chain should be of roses."

And though in that old age of sport
The rufflers of the camp and court
Had little time to pray,

'Tis said Sir Hilary muttered there:
Two syllables by way of prayer.

My First to all the brave and proud
Who see to-morrow's sun;

My Next with her cold and quiet cloud
To those who find their dewy shroud
Before to-day's be done;

And both together to all blue eyes

That weep when a warrior nobly dies.

This charade is still a mystery to me.

Solve it,

fair readers!

X.

PEASANT POET S.

JOHN CLARE.

NEARLY at the same period, when Macaulay and Praed sprang into public life, the world of letters was startled by the announcement of a new poet, a Northamptonshire peasant, whose claims to dis~ tinction were vouched for by judges of no ordinary sagacity, little given to mistake, and by no means addicted to enthusiasm. His character was blameless and amiable. Although of a frame little suited to severity of toil, he had for many years supported his aged parents by manual labour, and in bringing his powers into the light of day, he had undergone more than the ordinary amount of delay, of suspense, of disappointment, and of "the hope deferred that maketh the heart sick."

From the prefaces to his three publications, the "Poems, Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery,"

"The Village Minstrel," and "The Rural Muse," his early history may be collected. At the age of thirteen, when he could read tolerably, and knew something of writing and arithmetic, he met, accidentally, with Thomson's "Seasons," a book which not only awakened in his mind the love of poetry, but led him at once to the kind of poetry in which, from situation and from natural aptitude, he was most likely to succeed. For another sixteen years his brief leisure was filled with attempts more or less successful, to clothe, in the language of verse, his own feelings and observations. His chief trial, during this long probation, must have been his entire loneliness of mind-the absence of all companionship or sympathy. At this time he met with the "Patty" whom he afterwards married, and, in the hope of improving his circumstances, began to consider seriously about publishing a small volume by subscription; and having ascertained that the expense of three hundred copies of a prospectus would not be more than a pound, he set himself resolutely to work, and by hard labour, day and night, at length succeeded in accumulating the required sum.

"I distributed my papers," said the poor author, "but as I could get no way of pushing them into higher circles than those with whom I was acquainted, they consequently passed off as quietly as if they had still been in my possession, unprinted and not

seen." For a long while the number of subscribers stood at seven. At length, however, a copy of the proposals won their way to London. Messrs. Taylor and Hessey gave twenty pounds for the Poems; and, what was far better for the author, contrived to obtain for them immediate publicity.

The little volume was striking in what it had and in what it wanted. The very struggle between original thought and imperfect expression sometimes resulted in happiness and beauty. One thing was certain John Clare was no imitator. Persons of taste and generosity in the higher classes took him by the hand. Lord Exeter sent for him to Burleigh, and hearing that he earned thirty pounds per annum by field labour, settled an annuity of fifteen pounds upon him, with a view to his devoting half his time to agricultural occupations, and half to literary pursuits. This benevolent proposal, which sounds so hopefully, proved a notable failure, chiefly in consequence of our national failing of running after everything and everybody that has attained a sufficient portion of notoriety. Poor Clare became as great a lion as if he had committed two or three murders. He was frequently interrupted, as often as three times a-day, during his labours in the harvest-field, to gratify the curiosity of admiring visitors; and a plan, excellent in its principle, was abandoned perforce. Other wealthy and liberal noblemen oined in the good work. Lord Spencer