THE POETICAL WORKS OF MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. WITH MEMOIRS Of the AUTHOR; AND OBSERVATIONS ON His GENIUS and WRITINGS.
BY J. LANGHORNE.
LONDON: Printed for T. BECKET and P. A. DEHONDT, at Tully's Head, near Surry Street in the Strand. MDCCLXV.
CONTENTS.
[]- MEMOIRS of the Author, Page 1
- Oriental Eclogues.
- Eclogue I. 11
- Eclogue II. 14
- Eclogue III. 18
- Eclogue IV. 21
- Odes deſcriptive and allegorical.
- Ode to Pity, 27
- Ode to Fear, 29
- Ode to Simplicity, 32
- Ode on the poetical Character, 35
- Ode, written in the Year 1746, 38
- Ode to Mercy, 39
- Ode to Liberty, 41
- Ode to a Lady, on the Death of Colonel Charles Roſs in the Action at Fontenoy. Written in May 1745, 48
- Ode to Evening, 51
- Ode to Peace, 54
- The Manners. An Ode. 55
- The Paſſions. An Ode ſor Muſic, 59
- An Epiſtle to Sir Thomas Hanmer, on his Edition of Shakeſpear's Works, 64
- Dirge in Cymbeline, 71
- Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomſon, 73.
- [] General Obſervations on the Oriental Eclogues, 79
- Obſervations on Eclogue I. 85
- Obſervations on Eclogue II. 87
- Obſervations on Eclogue III. 92
- Obſervations on Eclogue IV. 93
- General Obſervations on the Odes deſcriptive and allegorical, 99
- Obſervations on the Ode to Pity, 105
- Obſervations on the Ode to Fear, 107
- Obſervations on the Ode to Simplicity, 111
- Obſervations on the Ode on the poetical Character, 113
- Obſervations on the Ode, written in the Year 1746 115
- Obſervations on the Ode to Mercy, ibid.
- Obſervations on the Ode to Liberty, 116
- Obſervations on the Ode, to a Lady, on the Death of Colonel Charles Roſs in the Action of Fon⯑tenoy. Written in May 1745, 120
- Obſervations on the Ode to Evening, 121
- Obſervations on the The manners. An Ode, 125
- Obſervations on the The Paſſions. An Ode for Muſic, 128
- Obſervations on the An Epiſtle to Sir Thomas Hanmer, on his Edition of Shakeſpear's works 131
- Obſervations on the Dirge in Cymbeline, ibid.
- Obſervations on the Ode on the death of Mr. Thomſon, ibid.
MEMOIRS of the AUTHOR.
[i]THE enthuſiaſm of poetry, like that of reli⯑gion, has frequently a powerful influence on the conduct of life, and either throws it into the retreat of uniform obſcurity, or marks it with irre⯑gularities that lead to miſery and diſquiet. The gifts of imagination bring the heavieſt taſk upon the vigilance of reaſon; and to bear thoſe faculties with unerring rectitude, or invariable propriety, requires a degree of firmneſs and of cool attention which doth not always attend the higher gifts of the mind. Yet, difficult as nature herſelf ſeems to have rendered the taſk of regularity to genius, it is the ſupreme conſolation of dulneſs and folly, to point with gothic triumph to theſe exceſſes, which are the overflowings of faculties they never enjoyed. Perfectly unconſcious that they are indebted to their ſtupidity for the conſiſtency of their conduct, they plume themſelves on an imaginary virtue, which has its origin in what is really their diſgrace.—Let ſuch, if ſuch dare approach the ſhrine of COLLINS, withdraw to a reſpectful diſtance, and, ſhould they [ii] behold the ruins of genius, or the weakneſs of an exalted mind, let them be taught to lament that nature has left the nobleſt of their works imper⯑fect.
OF ſuch men of genius as have borne no public character, it ſeldom happens that any memoirs can be collected, of conſequence enough to be record⯑ed by the biographer. If their lives paſs in obſcu⯑rity, they are generally too uniform to engage our attention; if they cultivate and obtain popularity, envy and malignity will mingle their poiſon with the draughts of praiſe; and through the induſtry of thoſe unwearied fiends, their reputation will be ſo chequered, and their characters ſo diſguiſed, that it ſhall become difficult for the hiſtorian to ſeparate truth from falſhood.
OF our exalted poet, whoſe life, though far from being popular, did not altogether paſs in pri⯑vacy, we meet with few other accounts than ſuch as the life of every man will afford, viz. when he was born, where he was educated, and where he died. Yet even theſe ſimple memoirs of the man will not be unacceptable to thoſe who admire the poet: for we never receive pleaſure without a de⯑ſire to be acquainted with the ſource from whence it ſprings; a ſpecies of curioſity, which, as it ſeems [iii] to be inſtinctive, was, probably, given us for the noble end of gratitude; and, finally, to elevate the enquiries of the mind to that fountain of perfection from which all human excellence is derived.
CHICHESTER, a city in Suſſex, had the honour of giving birth to the author of the following po⯑ems, about the year 1721. His father, who was a reputable tradeſman in that city, intended him for the ſervice of the church; and with this view, in the year 1733, he was admitted a ſcholar of that illuſtrious ſeminary of genius and learning, Win⯑cheſter college, where ſo many diſtinguiſhed men of letters, ſo many excellent poets have received their claſſical education. Here he had the good fortune to continue ſeven years under the care of the very learned Dr. Burton; and at the age of nineteen, in the year 1740, he had merit ſufficient to procure a diſtinguiſhed place in the liſt of thoſe ſcholars, who are elected, upon the foundation of Wincheſter, to New College in Oxford. But as there were then no vacancies in that ſociety, he was admitted a commoner of Queen's College in the ſame univerſity; where he continued till July 1741, when he was elected a demy of Magdalen College. During his reſidence at Queen's, he was at once diſtinguiſhed for genius and indolence; his [iv] exerciſes, when he could be prevailed upon to write, bearing the viſible characteriſtics of both. This remiſs and inattentive habit might probably ariſe, in ſome meaſure, from diſappointment: he had, no doubt, indulged very high ideas of the a⯑cademical mode of education, and when he found ſcience within the fetters of logic and of Ariſtotle, it was no wonder if he abated of his diligence to ſcek her where the ſearch was attended with artifi⯑cial perplexities, and where, at laſt, the purſuer would graſp the ſhadow for the ſubſtance.
WHILE he was at Magdalen College, he applied himſelf chiefly to the cultivation of poetry, and wrote the epiſtle to Sir Thomas Hanmer, and the Oriental Eclogues, which, in the year 1742, were publiſhed under the title of Perſian Eclogues.—The ſucceſs of theſe poems was far from being equal to their merit; but to a novice in the purſuit of fame, the leaſt encouragement is ſufficient: if he does not at once acquire that reputation to which his merit intitles him, he embraces the encomiums of the few, forgives the many, and intends to open their eyes to the ſtriking beauties of his next Pub⯑lication.
WITH proſpects ſuch as theſe, probably, Mr. Collins indulged his fancy, when, in the year 1743, [v] after having taken the degree of a batchelor of arts, he left the univerſity, and removed to London.
To a man of ſmall fortune, a liberal ſpirit, and uncertain dependencies, the metropolis is a very dangerous place. Mr. Collins had not been long in town before he became an inſtance of the truth of this obſervation. His pecuniary reſources were ex⯑hauſted, and to reſtore them by the exertion of ge⯑nius and learning, though he wanted not the pow⯑er, he had neither ſteadineſs nor induſtry. His ne⯑ceſſities, indeed, ſometimes carried him as far as a ſcheme, or a title page for a book; but, whether it were the power of diſſipation, or the genius of repoſe that interfered, he could proceed no farther. Several books were projected, which he was very able to execute; and he became, in idea, an hiſtorian, a critic, and a dramatic poet by turns. At one time he determined to write an hiſtory of the revival of Let⯑ters; at another to tranſlate and comment upon Ariſtotle's Poetics; then he turned his thoughts to the Drama, and proceeded ſo far towards a trage⯑dy—as to become acquainted with the manager.
UNDER this unaccountable diſſipation, he ſuf⯑fered the greateſt inconveniencies. Day ſucceeded day, for the ſupport of which he had made no pro⯑viſion, and in which he was to ſubſiſt either by the [vi] long-repeated contributions of a friend, or the ge⯑neroſity of a caſual acquaintance.—Yet indolence triumphed at once over want and ſhame; and nei⯑ther the anxieties of poverty, nor the heart-burning of dependance had power to animate reſolution to perſeverance.
As there is a degree of depravity into which if a man falls, he becomes incapable of attending to any of the ordinary means that recall men to virtue, ſo there are ſome circumſtances of indigence ſo ex⯑tremely degrading, that they deſtroy the influences of ſhame itſelf; and moſt ſpirits are apt to ſink, under their oppreſſion, into a ſullen and unambiti⯑ous deſpondence.
HOWEVER this might be with regard to Mr. Collins, we find that, in the year 1746, he had ſpirit and reſolution enough to publiſh his Odes de⯑ſcriptive and allegorical. Mr. MILLAR, a book⯑ſeller in the Strand, and a favourer of genius, when once it has made its way to ſame, publiſhed them ON THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT.—He hap⯑pened, indeed, to be in the right not to publiſh them on his own; for the ſale was by no means ſucceſsful: and hence it was that the author, con⯑ceiving a juſt indignation againſt a blind and taſte⯑leſs age, burnt the remaining copies with his own hands.
[vii] ALLEGORICAL and abſtracted poetry was above the taſte of thoſe times, as much, or more than it is of the preſent. It is in the lower walks, the plain and practical paths of the muſes only that the generality of men can be entertained. The higher efforts of imagination are above their capacity; and it is no wonder therefore, if the Odes deſcrip⯑tive and allegorical met with few admirers.
UNDER theſe circumſtances, ſo mortifying to e⯑very juſt expectation, when neither his wants were relieved, nor his reputation extended, he found ſome conſolation in changing the ſcene, and viſit⯑ing his uncle, colonel MARTIN, who was, at that time, with our army in Flanders. Soon after his arrival, the colonel died, and left him a conſiderable fortune.
HERE, then, we ſhould hope to behold him happy; poſſeſſed of independence, and removed from every ſcene, and every monument of his former miſery. But, fortune had delayed her favours till they were not worth receiving. His faculties had been ſo long harraſſed by anxiety, diſſipation, and diſtreſs, that he fell into a nervous diſorder, which brought with it an unconquerable depreſſion of ſpi⯑rits, and at length reduced the fineſt underſtanding to the moſt deplorable childiſhneſs. In the firſt [viii] ſtages of his diſorder he attempted to relieve him⯑ſelf by travel, and paſſed into France; but the grow⯑ing malady obliged him to return; and having con⯑tinued, with ſhort intervals* in this pitiable ſtate till the year 1756, he died in the arms of a ſiſter at Chicheſter.
MR. Collins was, in ſtature, ſomewhat above the middle ſize; of a brown complexion, keen, ex⯑preſſive eyes, and a ſixed, ſedate aſpect, which, from intenſe thinking, had contracted an habitual frown. His proſiciency in letters was greater than could have been expected from his years. He was ſkilled in the learned languages, and acquainted with the Italian, French, and Spaniſh.—It is obſervable that none of his poems bear the marks of an amorous diſpoſition, and that he is one of thoſe few poets, who have ſailed to Delphi, without touching at Cythera. The alluſions of this kind that appear in his Orien⯑tal Eclogues were indiſpenſable in that ſpecies of poetry; and it is very remarkable that in his Paſſi⯑ons, an ode for muſic, love is omitted, though it ſhould have made a principal figure there.
ORIENTAL ECLOGUES.
ECLOGUE I.
SELIM; or, the SHEPHERD'S MORAL.
[11]ECLOGUE II.
HASSAN; or, the CAMEL-DRIVER.
[14]ECLOGUE III.
ABRA; or, the GEORGIAN SULTANA.
[18]ECLOGUE IV.
AGIB and SECANDER; or, the FUGITIVES.
[21]ODES DESCRIPTIVE and ALLEGORICAL.
ODE TO PITY.
[27]ODE TO FEAR.
[29]EPODE.
[30]ANTISTROPHE.
ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
[32]ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER.
[35]ODE, Written in the Year, MDCCXLVI.
[38]ODE TO MERCY.
[39]STROPHE.
ANTISTROPHE.
ODE TO LIBERTY.
[41]STROPHE.
EPODE.
2.
ANTISTROPHE.
SECOND EPODE.
ODE, To a Lady, on the Death of Colonel CHARLES ROSS in the Action at Fontenoy.
Written MAY, MDCCXLV.
[48]ODE TO EVENING.
[51]ODE TO PEACE
[54]THE MANNERS. AN ODE.
[55]THE PASSIONS.
An ODE for MUSIC.
[59]AN EPISTLE
Addreſſed to Sir THOMAS HANMER, on his Edition of SHAKESPEAR'S Works.
[64]DIRGE In CYMBELINE.
[71]ODE, ON THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON.
[73]OBSERVATIONS ON THE ORIENTAL ECLOGUES.
OBSERVATIONS, etc.
[79]THE genius of the paſtoral, as well as of every other reſpectable ſpecies of poetry, had its ori⯑gin in the Eaſt, and from thence was tranſplanted by the Muſes of Greece; but whether from the continent of the leſſer Aſia, or from Egypt, which, about the aera of the Grecian paſtoral, was the hoſpitable nurſe of letters, it is not eaſy to determine. From the ſub⯑jects and the manner of Theocritus, one would incline to the latter opinion, while the hiſtory of Bion is in ſavour of the former.
HOWEVER, though it ſhould ſtill remain a doubt through what channel the paſtoral travelled weſtward, there is not the leaſt ſhadow of uncertainty concerning its Oriental origin.
In thoſe ages, which, guided by ſacred chronolo⯑gy, from a comparative view of time, we call the early ages, it appears from the moſt authentic hiſto⯑rians, that the chieſs of the people employed themſelves in rural exerciſes, and that aſtronomers and legiſla⯑tors were at the ſame time ſhepherds. Thus Strabo informs us that the hiſtory of the creation was com⯑municated to the Egyptians by a Chaldean ſhepherd.
[80] FROM theſe circumſtances it is evident not only that ſuch ſhepherds were capable of all the dignity and elegance peculiar to poetry, but that whatever poetry they attempted would be of the paſtoral kind; would take its ſubjects from thoſe ſcenes of rural ſim⯑plicity in which they were converſant, and, as it was the offspring of Harmony and Nature, would employ the powers it derived from the former to celebrate the beauty and benevolence of the latter.
ACCORDINGLY we find that the moſt ancient po⯑ems treat of agriculture, aſtronomy, and other objects within the rural and natural ſyſtems.
WHAT conſtitutes the difference between the Geor⯑gic and the Paſtoral is love, and the colloquial, or dra⯑matic form of compoſition peculiar to the latter: this form of compoſition is ſometimes diſpenſed with, and love and rural imagery alone are thought ſuffici⯑ent to diſtinguiſh the paſtoral. The tender paſſion, however, ſeems to be eſſential to this ſpecies of poetry, and is hardly ever excluded from thoſe pieces that were intended to come under this denomination: e⯑ven in thoſe eclogues of the Amoebean kind, whoſe only purport is a trial of ſkill between contending ſhep⯑herds, love has its uſual ſhare, and the praiſes of their reſpective miſteſſes are the general ſubjects of the competitors.
IT is to be lamented that ſcarce any oriental com⯑poſitions of this kind have ſurvived the ravages of ig⯑norance, [81] tyranny and time; we cannot doubt that many ſuch have been extant, poſſibly as far down as that fatal period, never to be mentioned in the world of letters without horrour, when the glorious monu⯑ments of human ingenuity periſhed in the aſhes of the Alexandrian library.
THOSE ingenious Creeks whom we call the parents of paſtoral poetry were, probably, no more than imi⯑tators of imitators, that derived their harmony from higher and remoter ſources, and kindled their poeti⯑cal fires at thoſe unextinguiſhed lamps which burned within the tombs of oriental genius.
IT is evident that Homer has availed himſelf of thoſe magnificent images and deſcriptions ſo fre⯑quently to be met with in the books of the Old Teſta⯑ment; and why may not Theocritus, Moſchus and Bion have found their archetypes in other eaſtern wri⯑ters, whoſe names have periſhed with their works? yet, though it may not be illiberal to admit ſuch a ſuppoſition, it would, certainly, be invidious to con⯑clued what the malignity of cavillers alone could ſug⯑geſt with regard to Homer, that they deſtroyed the ſources from which they borrowed, and, as it is fa⯑bled of the young of the pelican, drained their ſup⯑porters to death.
As the ſeptuagint-tranſlation of the Old Teſtament was performed at the requeſt, and under the patro⯑nage [82] of Ptolemy Philadelphus, it were not to be won⯑dered if Theocritus, who was entertained at that prince's court, had borrowed ſome part of his paſto⯑ral imagery from the poetical paſſages of thoſe books.—I think it can hardly be doubted that the Sicilian poet had in his eye certain expreſſions of the prophet Iſaiah, when he wrote the following lines.
The cauſe, indeed, of theſe phenomena is very diffe⯑rent in the Greek from what it is in the Hebrew po⯑et; the former employing them on the death, the latter on the birth of an important perſon: but the marks of imitation are nevertheleſs obvious.
IT might, however, be expected that if Theocri⯑tus had borrowed at all from the ſacred writers, the celebrated paſtoral Epithalamium of Solomon, ſo much within his own walk of Poetry, would not cer⯑tainly have eſcaped his notice. His Epithalamium on the marriage of Helena, moreover, gave him an o⯑pen [83] field for imitation; therefore, if he has any ob⯑ligations to the royal bard, we may expect to find them there. The very opening of the poem is in the ſpirit of the Hebrew ſong: ‘ [...].’ The colour of imitation is ſtill ſtronger in the follow⯑ing paſſage:
This deſcription of Helen is infinitely above the ſtyle and figure of the Sicilian paſtoral—"She is like the riſing of the golden morning, when the night de⯑parteth, and when the winter is over and gone. She reſembleth the cypreſs in the garden, the horſe in the chariots of Theſſaly." Theſe figures plainly declare their origin, and others equally imi⯑tative might be pointed out in the ſame idyllium.
THIS beautiful and luxuriant marriage-paſtoral of Solomon is the only perfect form of the oriental ec⯑logue that has ſurvived the ruins of time; a happineſs for which it is, probably, more indebted to its ſacred [84] character than to its intrinſic merit. Not that it is by any means deſtitute of poetical excellence: like all the eaſtern poetry, it is bold, wild and unconnected in its figures, alluſions and parts, and has all that grace⯑ful and magnificent daring which characteriſes its metaphorical and comparative imagery.
IN conſequence of theſe peculiarities, ſo ill adapted to the frigid genius of the north, Mr. COLLINS could make but little uſe of it as a precedent for his oriental eclogues; and even in his third eclogue, where the ſubject is of a ſimilar nature, he has choſen rather to follow the mode of the Doric and the Latian paſtoral.
THE ſcenery and ſubjects then of the following ec⯑logues alone are Oriental; the ſtyle and colouring are purely European; and, for this reaſon, the author's preface, in which he intimates that he had the origi⯑nals from a merchant who traded to the Eaſt, is o⯑mitted as being now altogether ſuperfluous.
WITH regard to the merit of theſe eclogues, it may juſtly be aſſerted, that in ſimplicity of deſcripti⯑on and expreſſion, in delicacy and ſoftneſs of num⯑bers, and in natural and unaffected tenderneſs, they are not to be equalled by any thing of the paſtoral kind in the Engliſh language.
ECLOGUE I.
[85]THIS eclogue, which is entitled Selim, or the Shepherd's Moral, as there is nothing drama⯑tic in the ſubject, may be thought the leaſt entertain⯑ing of the four: but it is, by no means, the leaſt va⯑luable. The moral precepts which the intelligent ſhepherd delivers to his fellow-ſwains and virgins, their companions, are ſuch as would infallibly pro⯑mote the happineſs of the paſtoral life.
IN imperſonating the private virtues, the poet has obſerved great propriety, and has formed their ge⯑nealogy with the moſt perfect judgment, when he re⯑preſents them as the daughters of truth and wiſdom.
THE characteriſtics of Modeſty and Chaſtity are ex⯑tremely happy and peintureſque:
[86] The two ſimiles borrowed from rural objects are not only much, in character, but perfectly natural and ex⯑preſſive. There is, notwithſtanding, this defect in the former, that it wants a peculiar propriety; for purity of thought may as well be applied to chaſtity as to modeſty; and from this inſtance, as well as from a thouſand more, we may ſee the neceſſity of diſtin⯑guiſhing, in characteriſtic poetry, every object by marks and attributes peculiarly its own.
IT cannot be objected to this eclogue that it wants both theſe eſſential criteria of the paſtoral, love and the drama; for though it partakes not of the latter, the former ſtill retains an intereſt in it, and that too very material, as it profeſſedly conſults the virtue and happineſs of the lover, while it informs what are the qualities —that muſt lead to love.
ECLOGUE II.
[87]ALL the advantages that any ſpecies of poetry can derive from the novelty of the ſubject and ſcenery, this eclogue poſſeſſes. The rout of a camel⯑driver is a ſcene that ſcarce could exiſt in the imagi⯑nation of an European, and of its attendant diſtreſſes he could have no idea.—Theſe are very happily and minutely painted by our deſcriptive poet. What ſub⯑lime ſimpliciry of expreſſion! what nervous plainneſs in the opening of the poem!
The magic pencil of the poet brings the whole ſcene before us at once, as it were by enchantment, and in this ſingle couplet we feel all the effect that ariſes from the terrible wildneſs of a region unenlivened by the habitations of men. The verſes that deſcribe ſo mi⯑nutely the camel-driver's little proviſions, have a touch⯑ing influence on the imagination, and prepare to en⯑ter more feelingly into his future apprehensions of diſtreſs:
It is difficult to ſay whether his apoſtrophe to, the "mute companions of his toils" is more to be admired for the elegance and beauty of the poetical imagery, or for the tenderneſs and humanity of the ſentiment. He who can read it without being affect⯑ed, will do his heart no injuſtice, if he concludes it to be deſtitute of ſenſibility:
Yet in theſe beautiful lines there is a flight error, which writers of the greateſt genius very frequently fall into.—It will be needleſs to obſerve to the accurate reader that in the fifth and ſixth verſes there is a ver⯑bal pleonaſm, where the poet ſpeaks of the green de⯑lights of verdant vales. There is an overſight of [89] the ſame kind, in the Manners, an Ode; where the poet ſays,
This fault is indeed a common one, but to a reader of taſte it is nevertheleſs diſguſtful; and it is menti⯑oned here as the error of a man of genius and judg⯑ment, that men of genius and judgment may guard againſt it.
MR. COLLINS ſpeaks like a true Poet as well in ſen⯑timent as expreſſion, when, with regard to the thirſt of wealth, he ſays,
But, however juſt theſe ſentiments may appear to thofſe who have not revolted from nature and ſimplicity, had the author proclaimed them in Lombard-ſtreet, or Cheapſide, he would, not have been complimented with the underſtanding of the bellman.—A ſtriking proof [90] that our own particular ideas of happineſs regulate our opinions concerning the ſenſe and wiſdom of o⯑thers!
It is impoſſible to take leave of this moſt beautiful eclogue without paying the tribute of admiration ſo juſtly due to the following nervous lines.
This, amongſt many other paſſages to be met with in the writings of Collins, ſhews that his genius was perfectly capable of the grand and magnificent in de⯑ſcription, notwithſtanding what a learned writer has advanced to the contrary. Nothing, certainly, could be more greatly conceived, or more adequately ex⯑preſſed than the image in the laſt couplet.
THAT deception, ſometimes uſed in rhetoric and poetry, which preſents us with an object, or ſen⯑timent contrary to what we expected, is here intro⯑duced to the greateſt advantage:
But this, perhaps, is rather an artificial prettyneſs, than a real, or natural beauty.
ECLOGUE III.
[92]THAT innocence, and native ſimplicity of man⯑ners, which, in the firſt eclogue, was allowed to conſtitute the happineſs of love, is here beautifully deſcribed in its effects. The Sultan of Perſia marries a Georgian ſhepherdeſs, and finds in her embraces that genuine felicity which unperverted nature alone can beſtow. The moſt natural and beautiful parts of this eclogue are thoſe where the fair Sultana refers with ſo much pleaſure to her paſtoral amuſements, and thoſe ſcenes of happy innocence in which ſhe had paſſed her early years; particularly when, upon her firſt departure,
This picture of amiable ſimplicity reminds one of that paſſage, where Proſerpine, when carried off by Plu⯑to, regrets the loſs of the flowers ſhe had been ga⯑thering.
ECLOGUE IV.
[93]THE beautiful, but unfortunate country, where the ſcene of this pathetic eclogue is laid, had been recently torn in pieces by the depredations of its ſavage neighbours, when Mr. Collins ſo affectingly deſcribed its misfortunes. This ingenious man had not only a pencil to pourtray, but a heart to feel for the miſeries of mankind, and it is with the utmoſt tenderneſs and humanity he enters into the narrative of Circaſſia's ruin, while he realizes the ſcene, and brings the preſent drama before us. Of every cir⯑cumſtance that could poſſibly contribute to the tender effect this paſtoral was deſigned to produce, the poet has availed himſelf with the utmoſt art and addreſs. Thus he prepares the heart to pity the diſtreſſes of Circaſſia, by repreſenting it as the ſcene of the hap⯑pieſt love.
To give the circumſtances of the dialogue a more af⯑fecting ſolemnity, he makes the time midnight, and [94] deſcribes the two ſhepherds in the very act of flight from the deſtruction that ſwept over their country:
There is a beauty and propriety in the epithet wilder⯑ing, which ſtrikes us more forcibly, the more we con⯑ſider it.
THE opening of the dialogue is equally happy, natural and unaffected; when one of the ſhepherds, weary and overcome with the flight, calls upon his companion to review the length of way they had paſſ⯑ed.—This is, certainly, painting from nature, and the thoughts, however obvious, or deſtitute of refinement, are perfectly in character. But as the cloſeſt purſuit of nature is the ſureſt way to excellence in general, and to ſublimity in particular, in poetical deſcripti⯑on, ſo we find that this ſimple ſuggeſtion of the ſhep⯑herd is not unattended with magnificence. There is grandeur and variety in the landſkip he deſcribes:
[95] There is, in imitative harmony, an act of expreſſing a ſlow and difficult movement by adding to the uſual number of pauſes in a verſe. This is obſervable in the line that deſcribes the aſcent of the mountain: ‘And laſt ‖ this loſty mountain's ‖ weary ſide ‖’ Here we find the number of pauſes, or muſical bars, which, in an heroic verſe, is commonly two, increaſ⯑ed to three.
THE liquid melody, and the numerous ſweetneſs of expreſſion in the following deſcriptive lines is almoſt inimitably beautiful:
Nevertheleſs in this delightful landſkip there is an ob⯑vious ſault: there is no diſtinction between the plain of Zabran and the vale of Aly; they are both flowery, and conſequently undiverſiſied. This could not pro⯑ceed from the poet's want of judgment, but from in⯑attention: it had not occurred to him that he had [96] employed the epithet flowery twice within ſo ſhort a compaſs; an overſight which thoſe who are accu⯑ſtomed to poetical, or, indeed, to any other ſpecies of compoſition, know to be very poſſible.
NOTHING can be more beautifully conceived, or more pathetically expreſſed than the ſhepherd's ap⯑prehenſions for his fair country-women, expoſed to the ravages of the invaders.
There is, certainly, ſome very powerful charm in the liquid melody of ſounds. The editor of theſe poems could never read, or hear the following verſe repeat⯑ed without a degree of pleaſure otherwiſe entirely un⯑accountable: ‘Their eye's blue languish, and their golden hair.’ Such are the Oriental Eclogues, which we leave with the ſame kind of anxious pleaſure we feel upon a tem⯑porary parting with a beloved friend.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE ODES DESCRIPTIVE and ALLEGORICAL.
OBSERVATIONS, etc.
[99]THE genius of COLLINS was capable of every de⯑gree of excellence in lyric poetry, and perfectly qualified for that high province of the muſe. Poſſeſſ⯑ed of a native ear for all the varieties of harmony and modulation, ſuſceptible of the fineſt feelings of ten⯑derneſs and humanity, but, above all, carried away by that high enthuſiaſm, which gives to imagination its ſtrongeſt colouring, he was, at once, capable of ſoothing the ear with the melody of his numbers, of influencing the paſſions by the force of his pathos, and of gratifying the fancy by the luxury of deſcription.
IN conſequence of theſe powers, but, more parti⯑cularly, in conſideration of the laſt, he choſe ſuch ſubjects for his lyric eſſays as were moſt favourable for the indulgence of deſcription and allegory; where he could exerciſe his powers in moral and perſonal paint⯑ing; where he could exert his invention in con⯑ferring new attributes on images or objects already known, and deſcribed, by a determinate number of characteriſtics; where he might give an uncommon eclat to his figures, by placing them in higher atti⯑tudes [100] or in more advantageous lights, and introduce new forms from the moral and intellectual world into the ſociety of inperſonated beings.
SUCH, no doubt, were the advantages he derived from the deſcriptive and allegorical nature of his themes.
IT ſeems to have been the whole induſtry of our author (and it is, at the ſame time, almoſt all the claim to moral excellence his writings can boaſt) to promote the influence of the ſocial virtues, by paint⯑ing them in the faireſt and happieſt lights. ‘Melior fieri tuendo,’ would be no improper motto to his poems in general, but of his lyric poems it ſeems to be the whole moral tendency and effect. If, therefor, it ſhould appear to ſome readers that he has been more induſtrious to cultivate deſcription than ſentiment; it may be ob⯑ſerved that his deſcriptions themſelves are ſentimental, and anſwer the whole end of that ſpecies of writing, by embelliſhing every feature of virtue, and by con⯑veying, through the effects of the pencil, the fineſt moral leſſons to the mind.
HORACE ſpeaks of the fidelity of the ear in preſe⯑rence to the uncertainty of the eye; but if the mind receives conviction, it is, certainly, of very little im⯑portance [101] through what medium, or by which of the ſenſes it is conveyed. The impreſſions left on the imagination may, poſſibly, be thought leſs durable than the depoſits of the memory, but it may very well admit of a queſtion whether a concluſion of rea⯑ſon, or an impreſſion of imagination, will ſooneſt make its way to the heart. A moral precept conveyed in words is only an account of truth in its effects; a mo⯑ral picture is truth exemplified; and which is moſt likely to gain on the affections, it may not be difficult to determine.
THIS, however, muſt be allowed, that thoſe works approach the neareſt to perfection which unite theſe powers and advantages; which at once influence the imagination, and engage the memory; the former by the force of animated, and ſtriking deſcription, the latter by a brief but harmonious conveyance of precept: thus, while the heart is influenced through the operation of the paſſions, or the fancy, the effect, which might otherwiſe have been tranſient, is ſecur⯑ed by the co-operating power of the memory, which treaſures up in a ſhort aphoriſm the moral of the ſcene.
THIS is a good reaſon, and this, perhaps, is the only reaſon that can be given, why our dramatic per⯑formances ſhould generally end with a chain of coup⯑lets. In theſe the moral of the whole piece is uſually [102] conveyed, and that aſſiſtance which the memory bor⯑rows from rhyme, as it was probably the original cauſe of it, gives its uſefulneſs and propriety even there.
AFTER theſe apologies for the deſcriptive turn of the following odes, ſomething remains to be ſaid on the origin and uſe of allegory in poetical compoſition.
BY this we are not to underſtand the trope in the ſchools, which is defined aliud verbis, aliud ſenſu oſtendere, and of which Quintilian ſays, Uſus eſt, ut triſtia dicamus melioribus verbis, out bonae rei gratia quaedam contrariis ſignificemus, etc. It is not the ver⯑bal, but the ſentimental allegory, not allegorical ex⯑preſſion (which, indeed, might come under the term of metaphor) but allegorical imagery, that is here in queſtion.
WHEN we endeavour to trace this ſpecies of figu⯑rative ſentiment to its origin, we find it coeval with literature itſelf. It is generally agreed that the moſt ancient productions are poetical, and it is certain that the moſt ancient poems abound with allegorical imagery.
IF, then, it be allowed that the firſt literary pro⯑ductions were poetical, we ſhall have little or no diffi⯑culty in diſcovering the origin of allegory.
At the birth of letters, in the tranſition from hiero⯑glyphical to literal expreſſion, it is not to be wonder⯑ed if the cuſtom of expreſſing ideas by perſonal ima⯑ges [103] which, had ſo long prevailed, ſhould ſtill retain its influence on the mind, though the uſe of letters had rendered the practical application of it ſuperflu⯑ous. Thoſe who had been accuſtomed to exprefs ſtrength by the image of an elephant, ſwiftneſs by that of a panther, and courage by that of a lion, would make no ſcruple of ſubſtituting, in letters, the ſymbols for the ideas they had been uſed to repre⯑ſent.
HERE we plainly ſee the origin of allegorical expreſ⯑ſion, that it aroſe from the aſhes of hieroglyphics; and if to the ſame cauſe we ſhould refer that figura⯑tive boldneſs of ſtyle and imagery which diſtinguiſh the oriental writings, we ſhall, perhaps, conclude more juſtly, than if we ſhould impute it to the ſupe⯑rior grandeur of the eaſtern genius.
FROM the ſame ſource with the verbal, we are to derive the ſentimental allegory, which is nothing more than a continuation of the metaphorical or ſymbolical expreſſion of the ſeveral agents in an action, or the different objects in a ſcene.
The latter moſt peculiarly comes under the denomi⯑nation of allegorical imagery; and in this ſpecies of allegory we include the imperſonation of paſſions, af⯑fections, virtues and vices, etc. on account of which, principally, the following odes were properly termed by their author, allegorical.
[104] WITH reſpect to the utility of this figurative writ⯑ing, the ſame arguments, that have been advanced in favour of deſcriptive poetry, will be of weight like⯑wiſe here. It is, indeed from imperſonation, or, as it is commonly termed perſonification, that poetical deſcription borrows its chief powers and graces. With⯑out the aid of this, moral and intellectual painting would be flat and unanimated, and even the ſcenery of material objects would be dull without the intro⯑duction of fictitious life.
THESE obſervations will be moſt effectually illu⯑ſtrated by the ſublime and beautiful odes that occaſi⯑oned them: in thoſe it will appear how happily this allegorical painting may be executed by the genuine powers of poetical genius, and they will not fail to prove its force and utility by paſſing through the ima⯑gination to the heart.
ODE TO PITY.
[105]The propriety of invoking Pity through the mediati⯑on of Euripides is obvious.—That admirable poet had the keys of all the tender paſſions, and, therefor, could not but ſtand in the higheſt eſleem with a wri⯑ter of Mr. COLLIN'S ſenſibility.—He did,indeed, ad⯑mire him as much, as MILTON profeſſedly did, and probably for the ſame reaſons; but we do not find that he has copied him ſo cloſely as the laſt mention⯑ed poet has ſometimes done, and particularly in the opening of Samſon-Agoniſtes, which is an evident i⯑mitation of the following paſſage in the [...].
[106] The "eyes of dewy light" is one of the happieſt ſtrokes of imagination, and may be ranked among thoſe expreſſions which ‘—give us back the image of the mind.’
Suffex, in which country the Arun is a ſmall river, had the honour of giving birth to OTWAY as well as to COLLINS. Both theſe poets became the objects of that pity by which their writings are diſtinguiſhed. There was a ſimilitude in their genius and in their ſufferings. There was a reſemblance in the misfor⯑tunes and in the diſſipation of their lives; and the circumſtances of their death cannot be remembered without pain.
THE thought of painting in the temple of Pity the hiſtory of human misfortunes, and of drawing the ſcenes from the tragic muſe, is very happy, and in every reſpect worthy the imagination of COLLINS.
ODE TO FEAR.
[107]MR. C—who had often determined to apply himſelf to dramatic poetry, ſeems here, with the ſame view, to have addreſſed one of the princi⯑pal powers of the drama, and to implore that mighty influence ſhe had given to the genius of Shakeſpear:
In the conſtruction of this nervous ode the author has ſhewn equal power of judgment and imagination. Nothing can be more ſtriking than the violent and ab⯑rupt abbreviation of the meaſure in the fifth and ſixth verſes, when he feels the ſtrong influences of the pow⯑er he invokes:
The editor of theſe poems has met with nothing in the ſame ſpecies of poetry, either in his own, or in [108] any other language, equal, in all reſpects, to the fol⯑lowing deſcription of Danger.
It is impoſſible to contemplate the image conveyed in the two laſt verſes without theſe emotions of terror it was intended to excite. It has, moreover, the entire advantage of novelty to recommend it; ſor there is too much originality in all the circumſtances to ſup⯑poſe that the author had in his eye that deſcription of the penal ſituation of Cataline in the ninth AEneid:
The archetype of the Engliſh poet's idea was in na⯑ture, and probably, to her alone he was indebted, for the thought. From her, likewiſe, he derived that magnificence of conception, that horrible grandeur of imagery diſplayed in the following lines.
That nutritive enthuſiaſm, which cheriſhes the ſeeds of poetry, and which is, indeed, the only ſoil wherein they will grow to perfection, lays open the mind to ail the influences of fiction. A paſſion for whatever is greatly wild, or magnificent in the works of nature, ſeduces the imagination to attend to all that is extra⯑vagant, however unnatural. Milton was notoriouſ⯑ly fond of high romance, and gothic diableries; and Collins, who in genius and enthuſiaſm bore no very diſtant reſemblance to Milton, was wholly carried a⯑way by the ſame attachments.
‘On that thrice hallow'd eve, etc.’ [110] There is an old traditionary ſuperſtition, that on St. Mark's eve the forms of all ſuch perſons as ſhall die within the enſuing year, make their ſolemn entry into the churches of their reſpective pariſhes, as St. Patrick ſwam over the channel, without their heads.
ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
[111]THE meaſure of the ancient ballad ſeems to have been made choice of for this ode, on account of the ſubject, and it has, indeed, an air of ſimplici⯑ty, not altogether unaffecting.
This allegorical imagery of the honey'd ſtore, the blooms, and mingled murmurs of Hybla, alluding to the ſweetneſs and beauty of the attic poetry, has the fineſt and the happieſt effect: yet, poſſibly, it will bear a queſtion whether the ancient Greek tragedians had a general claim to ſimplicity in any thing more than the plans of their drama. Their language, at leaſt, was infinitely metaphorical; yet it muſt be own⯑ed that they juſtly copied nature and the paſſions, and ſo far, certainly, they were entitled to the palm of true ſimplicity: the following moſt beautiful ſpeech [112] of Polynices will be a monument of this ſo long as poetry ſhall laſt.
The poet cuts off the prevalence of Simplicity among the Romans with the reign of Auguſtus; and indeed, it did not continue much longer, moſt of the compo⯑ſitions, after that date, giving into falſe and artificial ornament.
In theſe lines the writings of the Provencial poets are principally alluded to, in which, ſimplicity is gene⯑rally ſacrificed to the rapſodies of romantic love.
ODE On the Poetical Character.
[113]THIS ode is ſo infinitely abſtracted and replete with high enthuſiaſm, that it will find few readers capable of entering into the ſpirit of it, or of reliſh⯑ing its beauties. There is a ſtyle of ſentiment as ut⯑terly unintelligible to common capacities, as if the ſubject were treated in an unknown language; and it is on the ſame account that abſtratcted poetry will ne⯑ver have many admirers. The authors of ſuch po⯑ems muſt be content with the approbation of thoſe heaven-favoured geniuſes, who, by a ſimiliarity of taſte and ſentiment, are enabled to penetrate the high myſterics of inſpired fancy, and to purſue the loftieſt flights of enthuſiaſtic imagination. Nevertheleſs the praiſe of the diſtinguiſhed few is certainly preferable to the applauſe of the undiſcerning million; for all praiſe is valuable in proportion to the judgment of thoſe who conſer it.
As the ſubject of this ode is uncommon, ſo are the ſtyle and expreſſion highly metaphorical and abſtract⯑ed; [114] thus the ſun is called "the rich-hair'd youth of morn," the ideas are termed "the ſhadowy tribes of mind," etc. We are ſtruck with the propriety of this mode of expreſſion here, and it aſſords us new proofs of the analogy that ſubſiſts between language and ſentiment.
NOTHING can be more loſtily imagined than the creation of the Ceſtus of Fancy in this ode: the alle⯑gorical imagery is rich and ſublime: and the obſer⯑vation that, the dangerous paſſions kept aloof, during the operation, is founded on the ſtricteſt philoſophical truth; for poetical fancy can exiſt only in minds that are perfectly ſerene, and in ſome meaſure abſtracted from the influences of ſenſe.
THE ſcene of Milton's "inſpiring hour" is per⯑fectly in character, and deſcribed with all thoſe wild⯑wood appearances, of which the great poet was ſo en⯑thuſiaſtically fond:
ODE, Written in the Year, MDCCXLVI.
ODE TO MERCY.
[115]THE ode written in 1746, and the ode to Mer⯑cy, ſeem to have been written on the ſame oc⯑caſion, viz. the late rebellion; the ſormer in memo⯑ry of thoſe heroes who fell in defence of their coun⯑try, the latter to excite ſentiments of compaſſion in ſavour of thoſe unhappy and deluded wretches who became a ſacrifice to public juſtice.
THE language and imagery of both are very beau⯑tiful, but the ſeene and figures deſcribed in the ſtrophe of the ode to Mercy are exquiſitely ſtriking, and would afford a painter one of the fineſt ſubjects in the world.
ODE TO LIBERTY.
[116]THE ancient ſtates of Greece, perhaps the only ones in which a perfect model of liberty ever exiſted, are naturaily brought to view in the opening of the poem.
There is ſomething extremely bold in this imagery of the locks of the Spartan youths, and greatly ſuperior to that deſeription Jocaſta gives us of the hair of Po⯑lynices:
This alludes to a fragment of Alcaeus ſtill remaining, in which the poet celebrates Harmodius and Ariſtogi⯑ton, [117] who ſlew the tyrant Hipparchus, and thereby reſtored the liberty of Athens.
THE fall of Rome is here moſt nervouſly deſcribed in one line: ‘With heavieſt ſound, a giant-ſtatue, fell.’ The thought ſeems altogether new, and the imitative harmony in the ſtructure of the verſe is admirable.
AFTER, bewailing the ruin of ancient liberty, the poet conſiders the influence it has retained, or ſtill re⯑tains, among the moderns; and here the republics of Italy naturally engage his attention.—Florence, in⯑deed, only to be lamented on the account of loſing its liberty under thoſe patrons of letters, the Medice⯑an family; the jealous Piſa, juſtly ſo called in reſpect to its long impatience and regret under the ſame yoke; and the ſmall Marino, which, however unreſpectable with regard to power or extent of territory, has, at leaſt, this diſtinction to boaſt, that it has preſerved its liberty longer than any other ſtate ancient or mo⯑dern, having, without any revolution, retained its preſent mode of government near 1400 years. More⯑over the patron ſaint who founded it, and from whom it takes its name, deſerves this poetical record, as he is, perhaps, the only ſaint that ever contributed to the eſtabliſhment of freedom.
In theſe lines the poet alludes to thoſe ravages in the ſtate of Genoa, occaſioned by the unhappy diviſions of the Guelphs and Gibelines.
For an account of the celebrated event referred to in theſe verſes, ſee Voltaire's Epiſtle to the King of Pruſſia.
THE Flemings were ſo dreadfully oppreſſed by this ſanguinary general of Philip the ſecond, that they of⯑fered their ſovereignty to Elizabeth; but, happily for her ſubjects, ſhe had policy and magnanimity e⯑nough to refuſe it. Deformeaux, in his Abrége Chro⯑nologique de l' Hiſtoire d'Eſpagne, thus deſcribes the ſufferings of the Flemings. "Le Duc d' Albe ache⯑voit de réduire les Flamands au déſeſpoir. Aprés avoir inondé les echafauts du ſang le plus noble et le plus précieux, il faſoit conſtruire des citadelles en di⯑vers [119] endroits, et vouloit établir l' Alcavala, ce tribute onéreux qui avoit été longtems en uſage parmi les Eſpagnols."
Abreg. Chron. Tom. IV.
Mona is properly the Roman name of the Iſle of An⯑gleſey, anciently ſo famous, for its Druids; but ſome⯑times, as in this place, it is given to the Iſle of Man. Both theſe iſles ſtill retain much of the genius of ſu⯑perſtition, and are now the only places where there is the leaſt chance of finding a fairy.
ODE, To a Lady, on the Death of Colonel CHARLES ROSS in the Action at Fontenoy.
Written MAY, MDCCXLV.
[120]THE iambic kind of numbers, in which this ode is conceived, ſeems as calculated for tender and plaintive ſubjects, as for thoſe where ſtrength or rapidity is required—This, perhaps, is owing to the repetition of the ſtrain in the ſame ſtanza; for ſorrow rejects variety, and affects an uniformity of complaint. It is needleſs to obſerve that this ode is replete with harmony, ſpirit, pathos: and there, ſurely, appears no reaſon why the ſeventh and eighth ſtanzas ſhould be omitted in that copy printed in Dodſley's collecti⯑on of poems.
ODE TO EVENING.
[121]THE blank ode has for ſome time ſolicited ad⯑miſſion into the Engliſh poetry; but its efforts hitherto ſeem to have been vain, at leaſt its recepti⯑on has been no more than partial. It remains a que⯑ſtion, then, whether there is not ſomething in the nature of blank verſe leſs adapted to the lyric than to the heroic meaſure, ſince, though it has been gene⯑rally received in the latter, it is yet unadopted in the former. In order to diſcover this, we are to conſider the different modes of theſe different ſpecies of poetry. That of the heroic is uniform; that of the lyric is va⯑rious: and in theſe circumſtances of uniformity and variety, probably, lies the cauſe why blank verſe has been ſucceſsful in the one, and unacceptable in the other. While it preſented itſelf only in one form, it was familiarized to the ear by cuſtom; but where it was obliged to aſſume the different ſhapes of the ly⯑ric muſe, it ſeemed ſtill a ſtranger of uncouth figure, was received rather with curioſity than with pleaſure, and entertained without that eaſe, or ſatisfaction, which acquaintance and familiarity produce—More⯑over, the heroic blank verſe obtained a ſanction of infinite importance to its general reception, when it [122] was adopted by one of the greateſt poets the world e⯑ver produced, and was made the vehicle of the no⯑bleſt poem that ever was written. When this poem at length extorted that applauſe which ignorance and prejudice had united to withhold, the verſification ſoon found its imitators, and became more generally ſuc⯑ceſsful than even in thoſe countries from whence it was imported. But lyric blank verſe has met with no ſuch advantages; for Mr. Collins, whoſe genius and judg⯑ment in harmony might have given it ſo powerful an effect, has left us but one ſpecimen of it in the Ode to Evening.
IN the choice of his meaſure he ſeems to have had in his eye Horace's ode to Pyrrha; for this ode bears the neareſt reſemblance to that mixt kind of the aſcle⯑piad and pherecratic verſe; and that reſemblance in ſome degree reconciles us to the want of rhyme, while it reminds us of thoſe great maſters of antiquity, whoſe works had no need of this whimſical jingle of ſounds.
FROM the following paſſage one might be induced to think that the poet had it in view to render his ſub⯑ject and his verſification ſuitable to each other on this occaſion, and that, when he addreſſed himſelf to the ſober power of evening, he had thought proper to lay aſide the ſoppery of rhyme;
But whatever were the numbers, or the verſification of this ode, the imagery and enthuſiaſm it contains could not fail of rendering it delightful. No other of Mr. Collins's odes is more generally characteriſtic of his genius. In one place we diſcover his paſſion for viſionary beings:
In another we behold his ſtrong bias to melancholy:
Then appears his taſte for what is wildly grand and magnificent in nature; when, prevented by ſtorms from enjoying his evening walk, he wiſhes for a ſitu⯑ation,
And, through the whole, his invariable attachment to the expreſſion of painting;
It might be a ſufficient encomium on this beautiful ode to obſerve, that it has been particularly admired by a lady to whom Nature has given the moſt perfect principles of taſte. She has not even complained of the want of rhyme in it, a circumſtance by no means unfavourable to the cauſe of lyric blank verſe; ſor ſurely, if a fair reader can endure an ode without bells and chimes, the maſculine genius may diſpenſe with them.
THE MANNERS. AN ODE.
[125]FROM the ſubject and ſentiments of this ode, it ſeems not improbable that the author wrote it about the time when he left the Univerſity; when, wea⯑ry with the purſuit of academical ſtudies, he no lon⯑ger confined himſelf to the ſearch of theoretical know⯑lege, but commenced the ſcholar of humanity, to ſtu⯑dy nature in her works, and man in ſociety.
THE following farewell to ſcience exhibits a very juſt as well as ſtriking picture; for however exalted in the theory the Platonic doctrines may appear, it is certain that Platoniſm and Pyrrhoniſm are nearly al⯑lied:
When the mind goes in purſuit of viſionary ſyſtems, it is not far from the regions of doubt; and the great⯑er its capacity to think abſtractedly, to reaſon and re⯑fine, [126] the more it will be expoſed to and bewildered in uncertainty.—From an enthuſiaſtic warmth of temper, indeed, we may for a while be encouraged to perſiſt in ſome adopted ſyſtem; but when that enhuſiaſm, which is founded on the vivacity of the paſſions, gra⯑dually cools and dies away with them, the opinions it ſupported drop from us, and we are thrown upon the inhoſpitable ſhore of doubt.—A ſtriking proof of the neceſſity of ſome moral rule of wiſdom and vir⯑tue, and ſome ſyſtem of happineſs eſtabliſhed by un⯑erring knowlege and unlimited power!
IN the poet's addreſs to Humour in this ode, there is one image of ſingular beauty and propriety. The ornaments in the hair of wit are of ſuch a nature, and diſpoſed in ſuch a manner, as to be perfectly ſym⯑bolical and characteriſtic:
Nothing could be more expreſſive of wit, which con⯑ſiſts in a happy colliſion of comparative and relative [127] images, than this reciprocal reflection of light from the diſpoſition of the jewels.
The author could only mean to apply this to the time when he wrote, ſince other nations had produc⯑ed works of great humour as he himſelf acknowleges afterwards.
The Mileſian and Tuſcan romances were by no means diſtinguiſhed for humour; but as they were the mo⯑dels of that ſpecies of writing in which humour was afterwards employed, they are, probably for that reaſon only, mentioned here.
THE PASSIONS.
An Ode for Muſic.
[128]IF the muſic, which was compoſed for this ode, had equal merit with the ode itſelf, it muſt have been the moſt excellent performance of the kind, in which poetry and muſic have, in modern times, united. Other pieces of the ſame nature have derived their greateſt reputation from the perfection of the muſic that accompanied them, having in themſelves little more merit than that of an ordinary ballad: but in this we have the whole ſoul and power of poetry—Expreſſion that, even without the aid of muſic, ſtrikes to the heart; and imagery, of power enough to tran⯑ſport the attention without the forceful alliance of correſponding ſounds! what, then, muſt have been the effect of theſe united!
IT is very obſervable that though the meaſure is the ſame, in which the muſical efforts of fear, anger and deſpair are deſcribed, yet by the variation of the cadence, the character and operation of each is ſtrong⯑ly expreſſed: thus particularly of deſpair:
He muſt be a very unſkilful compoſer who could not catch the power of imitative harmony from theſe lines.
THE picture of Hope that follows this is beautiful almoſt beyond imitation. By the united powers of ima⯑gery and harmony, that delightful Being is exhibited with all the charms and graces that pleaſure and fan⯑cy have appropriated to her:
[130] In what an exalted light does the above ſtanza place this great maſter of imagery and harmony! what va⯑ried ſweetneſs of numbers! what delicacy of judg⯑ment and expreſſion! how characteriſtically does Hope prolong her ſtrain, repeat her ſoothing cloſes, call upon her aſſociate Echo for the ſame purpoſes, and diſplay every pleaſing grace peculiar to her! ‘And Hope enchanted ſmil'd, and wav'd her golden hair.’
The deſcriptions of joy, jealouſy and revenge are ex⯑cellent, though not equally ſo; thoſe of melancholy and chearfulneſs are ſuperior to every thing of the kind; and, upon the whole, there may be very little hazard in aſſerting that this is the fineſt ode in the Engliſh language.
AN EPISTLE
Addreſſed to Sir THOMAS HANMER, on his Edition of SHAKESPEAR'S Works.
[131]THIS poem was written by our author at the univerſity, about the time when Sir Thomas Hanmer's pompous edition of Shakeſpear was printed at Oxford. If it has not ſo much merit as the reſt of his poems, it has ſtill more than the ſubject deſerves. The verſification is eaſy and genteel, and the alluſi⯑ons always poetical. The character of the poet Flet⯑cher in particular is very juſtly drawn in this epiſtle.
DIRGE In CYMBELINE.
ODE, ON THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON.
MR. COLLINS had ſkill to complain. Of that mournful melody and thoſe tender images which are the diſtinguiſhing excellencies of ſuch pie⯑ces as bewail departed friendſhip, or beanty, he was [132] an almoſt unequalled maſter. He knew perfectly to exhibite ſuch circumſtances, peculiar to the objects, as awaken the influences of pity; and while, from his own great ſenſibility, he felt what he wrote, he na⯑turally addreſſed himſelf to the feelings of others.
To read ſuch lines as the following, all beautiful and tender as they are, without correſponding emo⯑tions of pity, is ſurely impoſſible: ‘The tender thought on thee ſhall dwell.’
The ode on the death of Thomſon ſeems to have been written in an excurſion to Richmond by water. The rural ſcenery has a proper effect in an ode to the me⯑mory of a poet, much of whoſe merit lay in deſcrip⯑tions of the ſame kind, and the appellations of "Druid" and "meek nature's child" are happily characteriſtic. For the better underſtanding of this ode, it is neceſſary to remember that Mr. Thomſon lies buried in the church of Richmond.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5432 The poetical works of Mr William Collins With memoirs of the author and observations on his genius and writings By J Langhorne. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5D44-0