The oak-crowned sisters, and their chaste-eyed queen, Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial: He, with viny crown advancing, To some unwearied minstrel dancing: As if he would the charming air repay, O Music! sphere-descended maid, Dirge in Cymbeline, sung by Guiderius and Arviragus. To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring No wailing ghost shall dare appear And melting virgins own their love. The red-breast oft, at evening hours, When howling winds, and beating rain, Each lonely scene shall thee restore, Ode on the Death of Mr Thomson. [The scene is on the Thames, near Richmond.] In yonder grave a Druid lies, Where slowly winds the stealing wave; In yon deep bed of whispering reeds May love through life the soothing shade. The maids and youths shall linger here, To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore, When Thames in summer wreaths is drest; And oft suspend the dashing oar, To bid his gentle spirit rest. And oft, as Ease and Health retire The friend shall view yon whitening spire, And 'mid the varied landscape weep. But thou, who own'st that earthy bed, That mourn beneath the gliding sail? Yet lives there one whose heedless eye Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near? With him, sweet bard, may fancy die, And joy desert the blooming year. But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide No sedge-crowned sisters now attend, Now waft me from the green hill's side, Whose cold turf hides the buried friend. And see, the fairy valleys fade, Dun night has veiled the solemn view. Yet once again, dear parted shade, Meek nature's child, again adieu ! The genial meads, assigned to bless Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom; Long, long thy stone and pointed clay In the Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands, according to Mr Lowell, 'the whole Romantic School is foreshadowed;' while Mr Gosse has said that it contains passages which are 'unrivalled for rich melancholy fullness' between Milton and Keats. But it deals only very lightly, and in about half of its thirteen stanzas, with specific superstitions; about half are compliment to Home and praise of Scotland generally. One stanza puts the will-o'-the-wisp at the service of the kelpie; two stanzas are devoted to the melancholy fate of the swain who becomes the victim, and the distress of his bereaved widow and children. Then follow these stanzas: Unbounded is thy range; with varied skill Thy muse may, like those feathery tribes which spring From their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing Round the moist marge of each cold Hebrid isle, To that hoar pile, which still its ruin shows: In whose small vaults a pigmy-folk is found, Whose bones the delver with his spade upthrows, And culls them, wondering, from the hallowed ground! Or thither, where, beneath the showery west, The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid; The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold, But, oh, o'er all, forget not Kilda's race, On whose bleak rocks, which brave the wasting tides, Fair nature's daughter, virtue, yet abides. Go! just, as they, their blameless manners trace! Then to my ear transmit some gentle song, Of those whose lives are yet sincere and plain, Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs along, And all their prospect but the wintry main. With sparing temperance, at the needful time, They drain the scented spring; or, hunger-prest, Along the Atlantic rock, undreading climb, And of its eggs despoil the solan's nest. Thus, blest in primal innocence, they live Sufficed, and happy with that frugal fare Which tasteful toil and hourly danger give. Hard is their shallow soil, and bleak and bare; Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there! See the memoir of Collins by Dyce in his edition of the Works (1827); and that prefixed by W. Moy Thomas to the Aldine edition (1858; new ed. 1892). Mark Akenside (1721-70), author of The Pleasures of Imagination, was the son of a respectable butcher at Newcastle-upon-Tyne; and in boyhood the fall of one of his father's cleavers on his foot rendered him lame for life. At the Newcastle schools he showed precocity and promise, and was already writing verse. The Society of Dissenters advanced a sum to educate him for the ministry, but after a session of theology at Edinburgh he changed his views, and, returning the money, entered himself as a student of medicine. His (far from brilliant) Hymn to Science was apparently written about this time. He took his degree of M.D. at Leyden in 1744, and in the same year he had issued anonymously his Pleasures of Imagination. The price demanded for the copyright was £120; and Pope advised Dodsley not to make a niggardly offer,' for this is no every day writer.' The success of the work justified poet, critic, and publisherthough Gray dissented and Warburton condemned. The same year, after having in a poetical epistle attacked Pulteney under the name of Curio, Akenside commenced physician at Northampton, but did not succeed. He then (1746) engaged to contribute to Dodsley's Museum, began to practise in London as a physician, and published several medical treatises. At Edinburgh and at Leyden he had formed an intimacy with a young Englishman of fortune, Jeremiah Dyson, which ripened into an enthusiastic friendship; and Mr Dyson-afterwards Clerk of the House of Commons and a Lord of the Treasury--was free-handed enough to allow his poet-friend £300 a year. After writing a few Odes and attempting a reconstruction of his great poem, Akenside made no further efforts in literature, save a few occasional poems and some medical works. In 1757 appeared the expanded and altered form of the First Book of what was now called, by way of distinction, The Pleasures of the Imagination; of the Second Book in 1765; and a fragment of an intended Fourth Book was published after his death. He became distinguished as a physician; his society was courted for his taste, knowledge, and eloquence; but his solemn sententiousness of manner, his romantic ideas of liberty, and his unbounded admiration of the ancients exposed him occasionally to ridicule. The physician in Peregrine Pickle, who gives a feast in the manner of the ancients, was universally understood to be a caricature of Akenside. He irritated the Whigs by becoming a Tory after he was appointed queen's physician; and as doctor to one of the London hospitals obtained an unpleasant repute for carelessness towards poor patients. In his later days Akenside reverted with delight to his native landscape on the banks of the Tyne. In his fragment of a Fourth Book of his Imagination, written in the last year of his life, there is one striking passage: O ye dales Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands; where Those studies which possessed me in the dawn Of honourable fame, of truth divine By the sweet magic of harmonious verse. The Pleasures of Imagination is a didactic poem in three books of blank verse. Gray censured the mixture in it of philosophy-from Hutcheson and Shaftesbury; Plato, Lucretius, and even the papers by Addison in the Spectator were also laid under contribution by the imaginer. The pleasures his poem professes to treat 'proceed,' he says, 'either from natural objects, as from a flourishing grove, a clear and murmuring fountain, a calm sea by moonlight, or from works of art, such as a noble edifice, a musical tune, a statue, a picture, a poem.' But in reality Akenside dealt chiefly with abstract subjects, and rarely succeeded in grafting upon them human or poetic interest. The work is an uninspired but dignified and graceful melange of reflection and illustration, reason and imagination, deism, optimism, and commonplace eighteenth-century philosophising. There is too much exposition, too much rhetoric, and, on the other hand, sometimes too much ornament. The constant admiration of virtue and lofty ideals, though probably sincere, is not stimulating. And many long passages are less alluring than sections of an abridged handbook of psychology and æsthetics: Suffice it to have said Where'er the power of ridicule displays But his highest flights have variety and energy. For him, familiarity with physical science enhanced the charms of nature. Unlike Campbell, who repudiated these 'cold material laws,' he viewed the rainbow with new pleasure after he had studied the Newtonian theory of light and colours : Nor ever yet The melting rainbow's vernal tinctured hues In which the sunbeams gleaming from the west The diffuse and florid descriptions of the Imagination are the natural outcome of Akenside's youthful exuberance. He was afterwards conscious of the defects of his poem, and saw that there was too much leaf for the fruit; but in cutting off these luxuriances he sacrificed some of the finest And through the mists of passion and of sense, To Heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view, That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul [shade, Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing The fated rounds of Time. Thence far effused, Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars, Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view, True Beauty. Thus doth beauty dwell There most conspicuous, even in outward shape Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, Of beauteous and sublime: here hand in hand When guilt brings down the thunder, called aloud For lo! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, The Sense for Beauty. This, nor gems nor stores of gold, The sunshine gleaming, as through amber clouds, Of luxury, the siren ! not the bribes Of sordid wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils Of pageant honour, can seduce to leave Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns : Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home This fair inspired delight: her tempered powers Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms And rolling waves, the sun's unwearied course, Whom nature's works can charm, with God himself Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, (From the close of Book iii.) Inscription for a Statue of Chaucer at Such was old Chaucer: such the placid mien In the ode On leaving Holland, after a farewell to the 'sober seat' of the Muse at Leyden, to the fogs and grave pacific air' of Holland, where never mountain zephyr blew,' are these blither verses on England-a veritable return to nature in the concrete : O my loved England, when with thee Like mountain snows; till down their side I trace the village and the sacred spire, While bowers and copses green the golden slope divide? Ye nymphs who guard the pathless grove, With Venus and with Juno move In concert round the Olympian father's throne? The last verse unfortunately ends in bathos, and the answer of Phœbus is not even suggested. In another ode of a grateful convalescent this strikes a sympathetic chord : How gladly, 'mid the dews of dawn, My weary lungs thy healing gale, The balmy west or the fresh north, inhale! How gladly, while my musing footsteps rove Round the cool orchard or the sunny lawn, Awaked I stop, and look to find What shrub perfumes the pleasant wind, Or what wild songster charms the Dryads of the grove! The standard edition of Akenside's poetical works is that of Dyce (1834), with a Life prefixed; and there is another by Gilfillan (1857). James Grainger (c. 1721–66) was probably born at Duns in Berwickshire, the son of a ruined Jacobite gentleman of Cumberland, who had had to take a berth in the excise. He studied medicine in Edinburgh, was an army surgeon (1745-48), made the tour of Europe, and after 1753 established himself in practice in London, but had to support himself largely by his pen. His poem of Solitude appeared in 1755, and was praised by Johnson, who considered the opening 'very noble.' Grainger wrote several other pieces, translated Tibullus, and was a critic in the Monthly Review. In 1759 he went to St Christopher in the West Indies, married a lady of fortune, and commenced practising as a physician. During his residence there he wrote his poem of the Sugar-cane (1764), which Shenstone thought capable of being rendered a good poem; and the arguments in which Southey said were 'ludicrously flat and formal.' Some passages are certainly ridiculous enough: 'he very poetically,' says Campbell, 'dignifies the poor negroes with the name of "swains ;"' while the line 'Now Muse, let's sing of rats' is a stock example of bathos. The mongoose had not yet been introduced into the West Indies, and so escaped the attentions of the Muse. Grainger died in St Christopher. |