As yet Cowper's productions were few in number, but at the age of 50, during his convalescence, he composed, at the suggestion of Mrs. Unwin and other friends, a volume of poetry comprising, Hope, The progress of Error,' 'Charity and Expostulation.' At the advice of Lady Austin he began the "Task;' to her promptings we are also indebted for John Gilpin. Some time after this he wrote the "Tirocinium,' a poem exposing the then existing system of public education THOUGHTS ON NATURE. Happy, if full of days, but happier far, If, ere we yet discern life's evening star, Sick of the service of a world that feeds Its patient drudges with dry chaff and weeds, We can escape from custom's idiot sway, 5 To serve the Sovereign we were born t'obey: Then sweet to muse upon his skill displayed, 15 The Invisible, in things scarce seen revealed, Once prone on earth, now buoyant upon air; Whose shape would make them, had they bulk and size, More hideous foes than fancy can devise; With helmet-heads and dragon-scales adorned, 25 The mighty myriads, now securely scorned, Would mock the majesty of man's high birth, Despise his bulwarks, and unpeople earth. in England, in which the feeling produced by his own sufferings, when at school, is very easily traced. He then undertook the translation of Homer, which he published by subscription. Soon afterwards, he again fell into religious despondency, and the death of Mrs. Unwin (1796) proved a final blow both for his mind and body. He lingered three years in misery, and died in 1800, aged 69, and was buried in the parish church of East Dereham. Stars countless, each in his appointed place, Fast anchored in the deep abyss of space: At such a sight to catch the poet's flame, And with a rapture like his own exclaim, These are thy glorious works, thou Source of good! How dimly seen, how faintly understood! Thine, and upheld by thy paternal care, 45 This universal frame, thus wondrous fair; Thy power divine, and bounty beyond thought, Adored and praised in all that thou hast wrought, Absorbed in that immensity I see, I shrink abashed, and yet aspire to thee; 50 Instruct me, guide me to that heavenly day, Thy words more clearly than thy works, display That, while Thy truths my grosser thoughts refine, I may resemble thee, and call thee mine! GRATITUDE TO GOD. How blest thy creature is, O God, He views the lustre of thy word, Through all the storms that veil the skies, The Sun of Righteousness he eyes Struck by that light the human heart, The glorious orb, whose golden beams Since first, obedient to thy word Has cheered the nations with the joys But, Jesus, 'tis thy light alone 10 15 20 JOHN GILPIN. John Gilpin was a citizen, Of credit and renown, John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, My sister and my sister's child, Will fill the chaise, so you must ride He soon replied, I do admire And you are she, my dearest dear, I am a linen-draper bold, As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender (1) Will lend his horse to go. So down he came; for loss of time, "Twas long before the customers Good lack! quoth he-yet bring it me, 10 In which I bear my trusty sword 15 20 Quoth Mistress Gilpin, That's well said; 25 John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife; That, though on pleasure she was bent, Now Mistress Gilpin, careful soul! 55 60 65 70 His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat, Now see him mounted once again But finding soon a smoother road 80 30 The morning came, the chaise was brought, To drive up to the door, lest all So three doors off the chaise was stay'd, Six precious souls, and all agog 40 Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, The stones did rattle underneath That trot became a gallop soon, He little dreamt, when he set out, For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he, His journey to begin, The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay, 50 Till loop and button failing both, When turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. At last it flew away. (1) Cloth-presser. A bottle swinging at each side, 110 The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Away went Gilpin-who but he; And still as fast as he drew near And now as he went bowing down Down ran the wine into the road, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. But still he seem'd to carry weight, For all might see the bottles' necks, The calender, amaz'd to see His neighbour in such trim, 'What news? what news? your tidings tell, 115 Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 120 125 130 135 140 'Stop, stop, John Gilpin! here's the house'They all at once did cry; "The dinner waits, and we are tir'd:' But yet his horse was not a whit For why? his owner had a house So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; Away went Gilpin, out of breath, 150 170 175 180 When straight he came with hat and wig, A hat not much the worse for wear, He held them up, and in his turn Said John, 'It is my wedding-day; And all the world would stare, So turning to his horse, he said, Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! 155 Away went Gilpin, and away 160 185 190 195 200 205 210 Where English minds and manners may be found, Shall be constrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year most part deform'd 5 With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost, I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, And fields without a flower, for warmer France With all her vines; nor for Ausonia's groves Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire Or all that we have left is empty talk III. Hark! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright; News from all nations lumbering at his back. cern 10 Is to conduct it to the destin'd inn; And, having dropp'd the expected bag, pass on. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some; To him indifferent whether grief or joy. 15 Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks, Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet With tears, that trickled down the writer's cheeks Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains, 20 Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, |