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tRty fctoersfoe literature Series; 
 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 FROM 
 
 DRYDEN, COLLINS, GRAY, 
 COWPER, AND BURNS 
 
 EDITED WITH INTRODUCTIONS AND NOTES 
 
 CHARLES SWAIN THOMAS, A.M. 
 
 Head of the English Department in the 
 Newton (Mass.) High School 
 
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 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 (£rje Ifiifccwibc prrtfs Cambridge 
 
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 COPYRIGHT, I9I3, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
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PREFACE 
 
 This volume contains all the poems from Palgrave's 
 Golden Treasury that the National Conference on Uni- 
 form Requirements lists for Reading. It is a companion 
 volume to my edition of the Palgrave selections from 
 Wordsworth, Keats, and Shelley (R. L. S. No. 218), which 
 contains all the Golden Treasury poems that the Na- 
 tional Conference lists for Study. 
 
 It is believed teachers will find that the selection and 
 the grouping here made will greatly lighten their task, 
 and facilitate the efforts of the pupils. The book brings 
 into small compass all the selections required for reading, 
 and the assembling of all these lyrics under their proper 
 authors tends, moreover, to bring each poet's work into 
 bolder relief and finer outline. 
 
 The notes in the two volumes have been prepared with 
 the study and the reading distinction in mind. Difficult 
 allusions and phrases have been explained in each, but 
 there has been an endeavor to direct a more intense and 
 lingering gaze upon the study requirements. I feel, how- 
 ever, that such poems as Dryden's Sony for St. Cecilia's 
 Day or Gray's Bard cannot be read appreciatively with- 
 out a reasonable amount of study, and I should be loath 
 to make any distinction here between reading and study 
 that would in practice encourage superficiality. In each 
 case the removal of difficulties should simply prepare the 
 way for thorough enjoyment ; but in the case of those 
 poems designated for study, the full significance of the 
 theme of the poem, and related themes, likewise, may 
 profitably receive a longer time and a fuller discussion. 
 And this the notes encourage. 
 
 C. S. T. 
 
 Newton, Massachusetts, 
 December, 1912. 
 
CONTEXTS 
 
 JOHN DRYDEN 1 
 
 Song for St. Cecilia's Day, 1687 3 
 
 Alexander's Feast 5 
 
 WILLIAM COLLINS 9 
 
 Ode to Simplicity 11 
 
 Ode written in 1746 12 
 
 The Passions 13 
 
 Ode to Evening 16 
 
 THOMAS GRAY 19 
 
 Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude 21 
 
 On a Favourite Cat 22 
 
 The Bard 23 
 
 The Progress of Poesy 28 
 
 Ode on the Spring 31 
 
 Elegy written in a Country Churchyard . 33 
 
 Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College 38 
 
 Hymn to Adversity 40 
 
 WILLIAM COWPER 43 
 
 Loss of the Royal George 47 
 
 To a Young Lady 48 
 
 The Poplar Field 48 
 
 The Shrubbery 49 
 
 The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk .... 50 
 
 To Mary Unwin 51 
 
 To the Same 51 
 
 The Castaway 53 
 
 ROBERT BURNS 56 
 
 Lament for Culloden 59 
 
 A Farewell 59 
 
vi CONTENTS 
 
 The Banks o' Doon 60 
 
 To a Mouse 60 
 
 Mary Morison 62 
 
 Bonnie Lesley 63 
 
 O my Luve 's like a Red, Red Rose .... 63 
 
 Highland Mary 64 
 
 Duncan Gray 65 
 
 Jean 66 
 
 John Anderson 67 
 
 NOTES 69 
 
 INDEX OF FIRST LINES AND AUTHORS ... 91 
 
JOHN DRYDEN 
 
 1631-1700 
 
 When Professor Palgrave made up his Golden Treas- 
 ury and selected from John Dryden's works the two 
 short lyrics which follow, he unconsciously, perhaps, 
 threw into sharp contrast this slight lyric product — 203 
 lines — against the huge bulk of Dryden's literary en- 
 deavor. Yet with Professor Palgrave's judgment in selec- 
 tion, no critic would find serious disagreement. The inter- 
 esting point to note is the fact that notwithstanding 
 Dryden's reign of forty-two years as a literary leader of 
 England, so small a portion finds place in an anthology 
 such as the Golden Treasury. And all this is explained 
 when we discover that his genius was not essentially lyric. 
 He delighted in satire, he was a master in argumentative 
 verse, he wrote brilliant criticism, he was a skilled trans- 
 lator, and he left behind him almost as many plays as 
 did Shakespeare, but his purely lyric output was meager. 
 
 John Dryden, the oldest of fourteen children, was born 
 in August, 1631, the son of Puritan parents. He was edu- 
 cated at Westminster and at Cambridge. His school work 
 showed promise, but his university work was disappoint- 
 ing. Throughout his writings he voices no love for Cam- 
 bridge, where he remained seven years, but compares her 
 invidiously to Oxford. 
 
 Little is known of his life after leaving Cambridge in 
 1657, until his favorable reception among the wits of 
 London after the Restoration. Notwithstanding Dryden's 
 poetic lament for Cromwell, he wrote a famous ode to 
 Charles II when the monarchy was restored, and he eagerly 
 sought the company of the Royalists at Court. This loy- 
 alty was repaid by the laureateship, which he held from 
 1670 to 1688. 
 
 In the meantime Dryden had won favor as a dramatist. 
 Notwithstanding his Puritan training, he acceded to the 
 depraved moral tone of the period and debauched his 
 
2 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 dramas with gross vulgarity, justifying Cowper's stricture, 
 — "What a sycophant to the public taste was Dryden! 
 Sinning against his feelings, lewd in his writings, though 
 chaste in conversation." 
 
 When William and Mary came to the throne, in 1688, 
 Dryden lost his position as Poet-laureate. But he re- 
 sumed his work as a dramatist and retained his undis- 
 puted leadership among the literary men of the time un- 
 til his death in 1700. He was honored by burial in 
 Westminster Abbey in a grave by the side of Chaucer. 
 
 Dryden's influence continued with the next generation, 
 and shows itself most strongly in the writings of Pope. 
 The elder poet had shown the possibilities of the heroic 
 couplet, and a large amount of his verse is in that 
 form. He disclosed particularly its adaptability for satire in 
 such poems as Absalom and Achitophel, and Macflecknoe. 
 Pope in the next generation perfected the form of the 
 heroic couplet and brought it to a more glittering polish. 
 But he could not improve its satiric thrust. 
 
 The poets who succeeded Pope began to perceive that 
 mere cleverness in diction cannot make great poetry, and 
 Dryden's influence therefore began to wane. But even his 
 severest critics acknowledge his power, and grant their 
 praise to his Song for St. Cecilia's Day, and his Alex- 
 ander's Feast. With a greater nobility of character he 
 could have built a nobler verse and a more enduring 
 shrine. 
 
LYRICS BY DRYDEN 
 
 SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1687 
 
 From harmony, from heavenly harmony 
 
 This universal frame began : 
 When Nature underneath a heap 
 
 Of jarring atoms lay 
 And could not heave her head, 5 
 
 The tuneful voice was heard from high, 
 
 Arise, ye more than dead ! 
 Then cold and hot and moist and dry 
 In order to their stations leap, 
 
 And Music's power obey. 10 
 
 From harmony, from heavenly harmony 
 
 This universal frame began : 
 
 From harmony to harmony 
 Through all the compass of the notes it ran, 
 The diapason closing full in Man. 15 
 
 What passion cannot Music raise and quell ? 
 When Jubal struck the chorded shell 
 His listening brethren stood around, 
 And, wondering, on their faces fell 
 To worship that celestial sound. 20 
 
 Less than a god they thought there could not dwell 
 Within the hollow of that shell 
 That spoke so sweetly and so well. 
 What passion cannot Music raise and quell ? 
 
 The trumpet's loud clangor 25 
 
 Excites us to arms, 
 With shrill notes of anger 
 
 And mortal alarms. 
 The double double double beat 
 
 Of the thundering drum 30 
 
 Cries " Hark ! the foes come ; 
 Charge, charge, 't is too late to retreat ! " 
 
SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 The soft complaining flute 
 
 In dying notes discovers 
 
 The woes of hopeless lovers, 35 
 
 Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute. 
 
 Sharp violins proclaim 
 Their jealous pangs and desperation, 
 Fury, frantic indignation, 
 Depth of pains, and height of passion 40 
 
 For the fair disdainful dame. 
 
 But oh ! what art can teach, 
 What human voice can reach 
 
 The sacred organ's praise ? 
 Notes inspiring holy love, 45 
 
 Notes that wing their heavenly ways 
 
 To mend the choirs above. 
 
 Orpheus could lead the savage race, 
 And trees unrooted left their place 
 
 Sequacious of the lyre : 50 
 
 But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher: 
 When to her Organ vocal breath was given 
 An Angel heard, and straight appear'd — 
 
 Mistaking Earth for Heaven. 
 
 GRAND CHORUS 
 
 As from the power of sacred lays 55 
 
 The spheres began to move, 
 And sung the great Creator's praise 
 
 To all the blest above ; 
 So when the last and dreadful hour 
 This crumbling pageant shall devour, 60 
 The trumpet shall be heard on high, 
 The dead shall live, the living die, 
 And Music shall untune the sky. 
 
DRYDEN 
 
 ALEXANDER'S FEAST, OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC 
 
 'T was at the royal feast for Persia won 
 By Philip's warlike son — 
 Aloft in awful state 
 The godlike hero sate 
 
 On his imperial throne ; 5 
 
 His valiant peers were placed around, 
 Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound, 
 (So should desert in arms be crown'd) ; 
 The lovely Thais by his side 
 Sate like a blooming Eastern bride 10 
 
 In flower of youth and beauty's pride : — 
 Happy, happy, happy pair ! 
 None but the brave 
 None but the brave 
 None but the brave deserves the fair ! 15 
 
 Timotheus placed on high 
 Amid the tuneful quire 
 With flying fingers touch'd the lyre : 
 The trembling notes ascend the sky 
 And heavenly joys inspire. 20 
 
 The song began from Jove 
 Who left his blissful seats above — 
 Such is the power of mighty love ! 
 A dragon's fiery form belied the god ; 
 Sublime on radiant spires he rode 25 
 
 When he to fair Olympia prest, 
 And while he sought her snowy breast, 
 Then round her slender waist he curl'd, 
 And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the 
 
 world. 
 — The listening crowd admire the lofty sound ; 30 
 A present deity ! they shout around : 
 A present deity ! the vaulted roofs rebound : 
 With ravish'd ears 
 The monarch hears, 
 Assumes the god ; 35 
 
6 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Affects to nod 
 
 And seems to shake the spheres. 
 
 The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician 
 sung, 
 Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young: 
 The jolly god in triumph comes ; 40 
 
 Sound the trumpets, beat the drums ! 
 Flush'd with a purple grace 
 He shows his honest face : 
 
 Now give the hautboys breath ; he comes, he comes ! 
 Bacchus, ever fair and young, 45 
 
 Drinking joys did first ordain ; 
 Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, 
 Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: 
 Rich the treasure, 
 
 Sweet the pleasure, 60 
 
 Sweet is pleasure after pain. 
 
 Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain : 
 Fought all his battles o'er again, 
 And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew 
 
 the slain ! 
 The master saw the madness rise, 55 
 
 His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ; 
 And while he Heaven and Earth defied 
 Changed his hand and check'd his pride. 
 He chose a mournful Muse 
 
 Soft pity to infuse : 60 
 
 He sung Darius great and good, 
 By too severe a fate 
 Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, 
 Fallen from his high estate, 
 
 And weltering in his blood ; 65 
 
 Deserted at his utmost need 
 By those his former bounty fed ; 
 On the bare earth exposed he lies 
 With not a friend to close his eyes. 
 — With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, 70 
 Revolving in his alter'd soul 
 
DRYDEN 7 
 
 The various turns of Chance below ; 
 And now and then a sigh he stole, 
 And tears began to flow. 
 
 The mighty master smiled to see 75 
 
 That love was in the next degree ; 
 'T was but a kindred-sound to move, 
 For pity melts the mind to love. 
 Softly sweet, in Lydian measures 
 Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. 80 
 
 War, he sung, is toil and trouble, 
 Honour but an empty bubble ; 
 Never ending, still beginning, 
 Fighting still, and still destroying ; 
 If the world be worth thy winning, 85 
 
 Think, O think, it worth enjoying: 
 Lovely Thais sits beside thee, 
 Take the good the gods provide thee ! 
 — The many rend the skies with loud applause ; 
 So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause. 90 
 The prince, unable to conceal his pain, 
 Gazed on the fair 
 Who caused his care, 
 And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, 
 Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again : 95 
 
 At length with love and wine at once opprest 
 The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. 
 
 Now strike the golden lyre again : 
 A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! 
 Break his bands of sleep asunder 100 
 
 And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. 
 Hark, hark ! the horrid sound 
 Has raised up his head : 
 As awaked from the dead 
 
 And amazed he stares around. 105 
 
 Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, 
 See the Furies arise ! 
 See the snakes that they rear 
 How they hiss in their hair, 
 
8 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! 110 
 
 Behold a ghastly band, 
 
 Each a torch in his hand ! 
 
 Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain 
 
 And unburied remain 
 
 Inglorious on the plain : 115 
 
 Give the vengeance due 
 
 To the valiant crew ! 
 
 Behold how they toss their torches on high, 
 
 How they point to the Persian abodes 
 
 And glittering temples of their hostile gods. 120 
 
 — The princes applaud with a furious joy: 
 
 And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy ; 
 
 Thais led the way 
 
 To light him to his prey, 
 
 And like another Helen, fired another Troy ! 125 
 
 — Thus, long ago, 
 Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, 
 While orgiins yet were mute, 
 Timotheus, to his breathing flute 
 And sounding lyre 130 
 
 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. 
 At last divine Cecilia came, 
 Inventress of the vocal frame ; 
 The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store 
 Enlarged the former narrow bounds, 135 
 
 And added length to solemn sounds, 
 With Nature's mother- wit, and arts unknown before. 
 
 — Let old Timotheus yield the prize 
 Or both divide the crown ; 
 
 He raised a mortal to the skies ; 140 
 
 She drew an angel down ! 
 
WILLIAM COLLINS 
 
 1721-1759 
 
 A comparison of the dates which mark the hirth and 
 death of Collins with those which mark the birth and 
 death of Burns, shows that Collins lived only about a year 
 longer than Burns. He wrote in that time much less than 
 Burns ; indeed, he has left behind him only about fifteen 
 hundred lines of verse. And what he has written is scarcely 
 known to that wide populace who sing the songs of the 
 Scottish bard with such familiar ease. Collins is a favorite 
 with the academic few ; Burns is a favorite alike with 
 those few and with the untutored many. 
 
 Collins, who was the son of a prominent hatter of Chi- 
 chester, began to write very early. Indeed, one of his 
 poems, which has been lost, is said to have been printed 
 when the poet was a lad of eight. He wrote during his 
 school days at Winchester and during his university years 
 at Oxford. While still an undergraduate, only seventeen 
 years old, he published his Persian Eclogues and his 
 Epistle to Sir Thomas Hanmer. He grew restive at Ox- 
 ford, abandoned his university career before obtaining his 
 degree, and hurried to London to carry out some of the 
 chimerical schemes which crowded his brain. 
 
 His experience in London disclosed his weakness. He 
 was magnificently great in his conceptions ; he was pitifully 
 small in his executions. When the fame which he coveted 
 did not come to him, he abandoned himself to reckless ex- 
 travagance and dissipation, and soon found himself within 
 the unhappy toils of deht and hopeless poverty. 
 
 But he did not yield to unconditional surrender. In 
 1746 he published his Odes, Descriptive and Allegorical, 
 and upon these his title to fame mainly rests. He wa s 
 original enough to get away from the enmeshing restric- 
 tions of an artificial poetical regime which Pope and the 
 Classical School had perfected. He looked out upon nature 
 and felt the thrill of a residing beauty. Straightway he 
 
10 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 committed his emotions to verse form ; and so perfect was 
 his art reflected in his Ode to Evening that the reader 
 finds himself under the same controlling spell that the 
 quietude of summer evening in the country magically 
 creates. Swinburne notes the similarity produced by Col- 
 lins in verse and by Corot in painting. 
 
 The poet was keenly disappointed when his volume of 
 odes failed to sell. In a moment of cynicism he bought 
 the unsold portion of the edition and ruthlessly destroyed 
 the sheets. He at intervals after this resumed his poetic 
 labors, but never with the intensity of his former hope. 
 In 1748 he wrote, in honor of his friend James Thomson, 
 that touching elegy so full of languorous beauty beginning 
 with the stanza : — 
 
 In yonder grave a Druid lies, 
 Where slowly winds the stealing wave ! 
 The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, 
 To deck its poet's sylvan grave ! 
 
 A year later he wrote that long poem, On the Popular 
 Superstition of the Highlands, and in 1750 his Ode on 
 the Music of the Grecian Theatre. 
 
 In 1754 the crisis of a long smouldering nervous affec- 
 tion culminated in a violent attack of insanity that forced 
 a temporary confinement in an asylum. Later he was re- 
 leased and was taken to the home of his sister in Chiches- 
 ter, where he remained until his death in 1759. He never 
 regained his sanity. 
 
 The fact that Collins left us so small an amount of verse 
 needs to be supplemented by the additional fact that not 
 all of it has come down to us. The records of his life hold 
 titles, but the poems themselves have been lost. We know 
 that the author was a severe critic of his own prodiictions, 
 and doubtless much of his work he deliberately destroyed. 
 This is all the more credible because we know that his was 
 an acutely nervous temperament too often ruled by mere 
 whim. We are grateful for the poems that passed the mus- 
 ter of his scrutinizing eye and thus allowed the world to 
 add to its anthology his ringing notes of patriotic passion 
 and likewise those of a sweetly melancholy strain. 
 
LYRICS BY COLLINS 
 
 ODE TO SIMPLICITY 
 
 O Thou, by Nature taught 
 
 To breathe her genuine thought 
 In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong ; 
 
 Who first, on mountains wild, 
 
 In Fancy, loveliest child, 5 
 
 Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song ! 
 
 Thou, who with hermit heart, 
 
 Disdain'st the wealth of art, 
 And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall, 
 
 But com'st, a decent maid 10 
 
 In Attic robe array'd, 
 O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call ! 
 
 By all the honey'd store 
 
 On Hybla's thymy shore, 
 By all her blooms and mingled murmurs dear ; 15 
 
 By her whose love-lorn woe 
 
 In evening musings slow 
 Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear : 
 
 By old Cephisus deep, 
 
 Who spread his wavy sweep 20 
 
 In warbled wanderings round thy green retreat ; 
 
 On whose enamell'd side, 
 
 When holy Freedom died, 
 No equal haunt allured thy future feet : — 
 
 O sister meek of Truth, 25 
 
 To my admiring youth 
 Thy sober aid and native charms infuse ! 
 
 The flowers that sweetest breathe, 
 
 Though Beauty cull'd the wreath, 
 Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues. 30 
 
12 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 While Rome could none esteem 
 
 But Virtue's patriot theme, 
 You loved her hills, and led her laureat band ; 
 
 But stay'd to sing alone 
 
 To one distinguish'd throne ; 35 
 
 And turn'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land. 
 
 No more, in hall or bower, 
 
 The Passions own thy power ; 
 Love, only Love, her forceless numbers mean : 
 
 For thou hast left her shrine ; 40 
 
 Nor olive more, nor vine, 
 Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene. 
 
 Though taste, though genius, bless 
 
 To some divine excess, 
 Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole ; 45 
 
 What each, what all supply 
 
 May court, may charm our eye ; 
 Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul ! 
 
 Of these let others ask 
 
 To aid some mighty task ; 50 
 
 I only seek to find thy temperate vale ; 
 
 Where oft my reed might sound 
 
 To maids and shepherds round, 
 And all thy sons, O Nature ! learn my tale. 
 
 ODE WRITTEN IN 1746 
 
 How sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
 By all their country's wishes blest ! 
 When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, 
 Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, 
 She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
 Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 
 
 By fairy hands their knell is rung, 
 By forms unseen their dirge is sung : 
 
COLLINS 13 
 
 There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, 
 
 To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; 10 
 
 And Freedom shall awhile repair 
 
 To dwell a weeping hermit there ! 
 
 THE PASSIONS 
 
 AN ODE FOR MUSIC 
 
 When Music, heavenly maid, was young, 
 
 While yet in early Greece she sung, 
 
 The Passions oft, to hear her shell, 
 
 Throng'd around her magic cell 
 
 Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 5 
 
 Possest beyond the Muse's painting ; 
 
 By turns they felt the glowing mind 
 
 Disturb'd, delighted, raised, refined : 
 
 'Till once, 't is said, when all were fired, 
 
 Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired, 10 
 
 From the supporting myrtles round 
 
 They snatch'd her instruments of sound, 
 
 And, as they oft had heard apart 
 
 Sweet lessons of her forceful art, 
 
 Each (for Madness ruled the hour) 15 
 
 Would prove his own expressive power. 
 
 First Fear his hand, its skill to try, 
 
 Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, 
 And back recoil'd, he knew not why, 
 
 E'en at the sound himself had made. 20 
 
 Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, 
 In lightnings, own'd his secret stings ; 
 
 In one rude clash he struck the lyre 
 And swept with hurried hand the strings. 
 
 With woeful measures wan Despair, 25 
 
 Low sullen sounds, his grief beguiled ; 
 
 A solemn, strange, and mingled air, 
 'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild. 
 
14 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 But thou, Hope, with eyes so fair, 
 
 What was thy delighted measure? 30 
 
 Still it whisper'd promised pleasure 
 
 And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! 
 Still would her touch the strain prolong ; 
 
 And from the rocks, the woods, the vale 
 She call'd on Echo still through all the song ; 35 
 
 And, where her sweetest theme she chose, 
 
 A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; 
 And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden 
 hair ; — 
 
 And longer had she sung: — but with a frown 
 
 Revenge impatient rose : 40 
 
 He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down ; 
 And with a withering look 
 The war-denouncing trumpet took 
 
 And blew a blast so loud and dread, 
 
 Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe ! 45 
 
 And ever and anon he beat 
 The doubling drum with furious heat ; 
 
 And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between, 
 Dejected Pity at his side 
 
 Her soul-subduing voice applied, 50 
 
 Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, 
 
 While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from 
 his head. 
 
 Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd : 
 
 Sad proof of thy distressful state ! 
 Of differing themes the veering song was mix'cl ; 55 
 
 And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on 
 Hate. 
 
 With eyes up-raised, as one inspired, 
 Pale Melancholy sat retired ; 
 And from her wild sequester'd seat, 
 In notes by distance made more sweet, 60 
 
 Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul : 
 And dashing soft from rocks around 
 
COLLINS 15 
 
 Bubbing runnels join'd the sound ; 
 Through glades and glooms the mingled measure 
 stole, 
 Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, 65 
 Round an holy calm diffusing, 
 Love of peace, and lonely musing, 
 In hollow murmurs died away. 
 
 But O ! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone 
 
 When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 70 
 Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
 Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, 
 
 Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, 
 The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known ! 
 
 The oak-crown'd Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen, 
 Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen 76 
 
 Peeping from forth their alleys green : 
 
 Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear ; 
 And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear. 
 
 Last came Joy's ecstatic trial : 80 
 
 He, with viny crown advancing, 
 
 First to the lively pipe his hand addrest : 
 
 But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol 
 
 Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best : 
 
 They would have thought who heard the strain 85 
 They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids 
 Amidst the festal- sounding shades 
 
 To some unwearied minstrel dancing ; 
 
 While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, 
 
 Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : 90 
 Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; 
 And he, amidst his frolic play, 
 As if he would the charming air repay, 
 
 Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings. 
 
 O Music ! sphere-descended maid, 95 
 
 Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid ! 
 Why, goddess ! why, to us denied, 
 
 Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ? 
 
16 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 As in that loved Athenian bower 
 
 You learn'd an all-commanding power, 100 
 
 Thy mimic soul, O Nymph endear'd, 
 
 Can well recall what then it heard. 
 
 Where is thy native simple heart 
 
 Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art? 
 
 Arise, as in that elder time, 105 
 
 Warm, energic, chaste, sublime ! 
 
 Thy wonders, in that god-like age, 
 
 Fill thy recording Sister's page ; — 
 
 'T is said, and I believe the tale, 
 
 Thy humblest reed could more prevail, 110 
 
 Had more of strength, diviner rage, 
 
 Than all which charms this laggard age : 
 
 E'en all at once together found, 
 
 Cecilia's mingled world of sound : — 
 
 O bid our vain endeavours cease : 115 
 
 Revive the just designs of Greece : 
 
 Return in all thy simple state ! 
 
 Confirm the tales her sons relate ! 
 
 ODE TO EVENING 
 
 If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song 
 May hope, O pensive Eve, to soothe thine ear 
 
 Like thy own solemn springs, 
 
 Thy springs, and dying gales ; 
 
 O Nymph reserved, — while now the bright-hair'd 
 sun 5 
 
 Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, 
 
 With brede ethereal wove, 
 
 O'erhang his wavy bed ; 
 
 Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat 
 With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, 10 
 
 Or where the beetle winds 
 
 His small but sullen horn, 
 
COLLINS 17 
 
 As oft he rises midst the twilight path, 
 Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum, — 
 
 Now teach me, maid composed, 15 
 
 To breathe some soften'd strain 
 
 "Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, 
 May not unseemly with its stillness suit ; 
 
 As, musing slow, I hail 
 
 Thy genial loved return. 20 
 
 For when thy folding-star arising shows 
 His paly circlet, at his warning lamp 
 
 The fragrant Hours, and Elves 
 
 Who slept in buds the day, 
 
 And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with 
 sedge 25 
 
 And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, 
 
 The pensive Pleasures sweet, 
 
 Prepare thy shadowy car. 
 
 Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene ; 
 
 Or find some ruin midst its dreary dells, 30 
 
 Whose walls more awful nod 
 
 By thy religious gleams. 
 
 Or, if chill blustering winds or driving rain 
 Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut 
 
 That, from the mountain's side, 35 
 
 Views wilds, and swelling floods, 
 
 And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires ; 
 And hears their simple bell ; and marks o'er all 
 
 Thy dewy fingers draw 
 
 The gradual dusky veil. 40 
 
 While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont. 
 And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! 
 
 While Summer loves to sport 
 
 Beneath thy lingering light ; 
 
18 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves ; 45 
 Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air, 
 
 Affrights thy shrinking train 
 
 And rudely rends thy robes ; 
 
 So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, 
 
 Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, 50 
 
 Thy gentlest influence own, 
 
 And love thy favourite name ! 
 
THOMAS GRAY 
 
 1716-1771 
 
 In one of Thomas Gray's letters to his friend Horace 
 Walpole, we find this suggestive passage : " I have at the 
 distance of half a mile, through a green lane, a forest . . . 
 all my own ; at least as good as so, for I spy no living 
 thing but myself. It is a little chaos of mountains and 
 precipices . . . and crags that give the eye as much 
 pleasure as if they were more dangerous. Both vale and 
 hill are covered with most venerable beeches, and other 
 very reverend vegetables, that, like most other ancient 
 people, are always dreaming out their old stories of the 
 winds. At the foot of one of these squats me, I, (jl pen- 
 seroso) and there grows to the trunk for a whole morning. 
 The timorous hare and sportive squirrel gambol around me 
 like Adam in Paradise before he had an Eve ; but I think 
 he did not use to read 'Virgil' as I commonly do here." 
 
 To a student of Gray this letter reveals four significant 
 traits, — love of nature, a melancholy temperament, a de- 
 votion to learning, and a playful sense of humor. This 
 love of nature was more pronounced in Gray than in any 
 of his contemporaries except Thomson ; his melancholy 
 was shared by Collins and Aikenside, but is more pervas- 
 ive than that of either. Gray's devotion to learning we 
 know from the testimony of his friends and from the tone 
 of his letters. These last, together with the delicious 
 playfulness of his lines On a Favourite Cat, likewise re- 
 veal his humorous vein. 
 
 The external facts of Gray's life are simple and few. 
 His father is reported to have been a dissolute man who 
 by his habitual neglect forced his wife to earn her own 
 living as a milliner in London. Financial aid later came 
 from other sources, and she returned to Stoke Pogis. The 
 son, the only one of twelve children to survive infancy, 
 was sent to Eton, only four miles from his home, and 
 later went to Cambridge. 
 
20 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 He won a fellowship in the university but took no 
 degree. Instead he accepted the invitation of his friend 
 Horace Walpole to travel, and together they spent two 
 years on the Continent. 
 
 "When he returned to England Gray took up his resi- 
 dence in Cambridge, and here, except for short intervals of 
 travel and vacation-visits, he spent his life. Three years 
 before his death he was elected Professor of Modern His- 
 tory in the university ; but he delivered no lectures, and 
 it is said that the only function he performed in connec- 
 tion with his professorship was to draw his salary. He 
 died in Cambridge in July, 1771, and was buried at 
 Stoke Pogis in the little churchyard which his Elegy has 
 immortalized. 
 
 By nature Gray was a recluse. His time he spent largely 
 in study, and these studies included music, painting, 
 botany, heraldry, and the literature of various countries. 
 He was a pioneer in the study of the Norse, and by his 
 enthusiasm brought the language and mythology to the 
 favorable notice of England. His admiration for craggy 
 mountain scenery, and his feeling for Gothic grandeur, 
 were innovations in his day. By his praises of these types 
 of beauty he foreshadowed the dawn of that Romanticism 
 which came into full light in the generation which suc- 
 ceeded. 
 
 But Gray's spirit of poetic workmanship remained 
 largely classic. He was an aesthete who took great pains 
 in bringing his verse to a highly finished excellence. His 
 writing of the Elegy extended over a period of seven 
 years. The studied leisure of his verse composition ac- 
 counts for the limited quantity — about fourteen hundred 
 lines only. It is significant, however, that practically all 
 of it has survived. And while the total output is scant, it 
 is of further significance that his influence has tended to 
 exalt and ennoble poetic taste and refinement. But with all 
 this acquired taste, he retained enough of the spirit of 
 democracy to reveal in his great Elegy that trait of sym- 
 pathy and understanding for simple life and simple long- 
 ing that distinguishes great and masterly compositions. 
 
LYRICS BY GRAY 
 
 ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM 
 VICISSITUDE 
 
 Now the golden Morn aloft 
 
 Waves her dew-bespangled wing, 
 With vermeil cheek and whisper soft 
 
 She woos the tardy Spring : 
 Till April starts, and calls around 5 
 
 The sleeping fragrance from the ground, 
 And lightly o'er the living scene 
 Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. 
 
 New-born flocks, in rustic dance, 
 
 Frisking ply their feeble feet ; 10 
 
 Forgetful of their wintry trance 
 
 The birds his presence greet : 
 But chief, the sky-lark warbles high 
 His trembling thrilling ecstasy ; 
 And lessening from the dazzled sight, 15 
 
 Melts into air and liquid light. 
 
 Yesterday the sullen year 
 
 Saw the snowy whirlwind fly ; 
 Mute was the music of the air, 
 
 The herd stood drooping by : 20 
 
 Their raptures now that wildly flow 
 No yesterday nor morrow know ; 
 'Tis Man alone that joy descries 
 With forward and reverted eyes. 
 
 Smiles on past misfortune's brow 25 
 
 Soft reflection's hand can trace, 
 And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw 
 
 A melancholy grace ; 
 While hope prolongs our happier hour, 
 Or deepest shades, that dimly lour 30 
 
22 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 And blacken round our weary way, 
 Gilds with a gleam of distant day. 
 
 Still, where rosy pleasure leads, 
 
 See a kindred grief pursue : 
 Behind the steps that misery treads 35 
 
 Approaching comfort view : 
 The hues of bliss more brightly glow 
 Chastised by sabler tints of woe, 
 And blended form, with artful strife, 
 The strength and harmony of life. 40 
 
 See the wretch that long has tost 
 
 On the thorny bed of pain, 
 At length repair his vigour lost 
 
 And breathe and walk again : 
 The meanest floweret of the vale, 45 
 
 The simplest note that sweUs the gale, 
 The common sun, the air, the skies, 
 To him are opening Paradise. 
 
 ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF 
 GOLD FISHES 
 
 'T was on a lofty vase's side, 
 
 Where China's gayest art had dyed 
 
 The azure flowers that blow, 
 
 Demurest of the tabby kind 
 
 The pensive Selima, reclined, 5 
 
 Gazed on the lake below. 
 
 Her conscious tail her joy declared : 
 
 The fair round face, the snowy beard, 
 
 The velvet of her paws, 
 
 Her coat that with the tortoise vies, 10 
 
 Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes — 
 
 She saw, and purr'd applause. 
 
 Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide 
 Two angel forms were seen to glide, 
 
GRAY 23 
 
 The Genii of the stream : 15 
 
 Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue 
 Through richest purple, to the view 
 Betray 'd a golden gleam. 
 
 The hapless Nymph with wonder saw : 
 
 A whisker first, and then a claw 20 
 
 With many an ardent wish 
 
 She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize — 
 
 What female heart can gold despise ? 
 
 What Cat's averse to fish ? 
 
 Presumptuous maid ! with looks intent 25 
 
 Again she stretch'd, again she bent, 
 
 Nor knew the gulf between — 
 
 Malignant Fate sat by and smiled — 
 
 The slippery verge her feet beguiled ; 
 
 She tumbled headlong in ! 30 
 
 Eight times emerging from the flood 
 
 She mew'd to every watery God 
 
 Some speedy aid to send : — 
 
 No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd, 
 
 Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard — 35 
 
 A favourite has no friend ! 
 
 From hence, ye Beauties ! undeceived 
 
 Know one false step is ne'er retrieved, 
 
 And be with caution bold : 
 
 Not all that tempts your wandering eyes 40 
 
 And heedless hearts, is lawful prize, 
 
 Nor all that glisters, gold ! 
 
 THE BARD 
 I. 1. Strophe 
 
 " Ruin seize thee, ruthless King ! 
 Confusion on thy banners wait ; 
 Tho' fann'd by Conquest' s crimson wing 
 They mock the air with idle state. 
 
24 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail, 5 
 
 Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail 
 
 To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, 
 
 From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears ! " 
 
 — Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride 
 
 Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, 10 
 
 As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side 
 
 He wound with toilsome march his long array : — 
 Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance ; 
 "To arms ! " cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiver- 
 ing lance. 
 
 I. 2. Antistrophe 
 
 On a rock, whose haughty brow 15 
 
 Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, 
 
 Robed in the sable garb of woe 
 With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; 
 (Loose his beard and hoary hair 
 Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air) 20 
 
 And with a master's hand and prophet's fire 
 Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre : 
 
 " Hark, how each giant-oak and desert-cave 
 Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath ! 
 O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave, 25 
 
 Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; 
 Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, 
 To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. 
 
 I. 3. Epode 
 
 " Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, 
 
 That hush'd the stormy main : 30 
 
 Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed : 
 
 Mountains, ye mourn in vain 
 
 Modred, whose magic song 
 Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head. 
 
 On dreary Arvon's shore they lie 35 
 
 Smear'd with gore and ghastly pale : 
 Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail ; 
 
 The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. 
 Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, 
 
 Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, 40 
 
GRAY 25 
 
 Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, 
 Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — 
 
 No more I weep ; They do not sleep ; 
 On yonder cliffs, a griesly band, 
 
 I see them sit ; They linger yet, 45 
 
 Avengers of their native land : 
 
 With me in dreadful harmony they join, 
 
 And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy 
 line. 
 
 II. 1. Strophe 
 
 Weave the warp and weave the woof 
 
 The winding sheet of Edward' 's race : 50 
 
 Give ample room and verge enough 
 
 The characters of hell to trace. 
 Mark the year, and mark the night, 
 When Severn shall re-echo xcith affright 
 The shrieks of death thro'' Berkley's roof that ring, 55 
 Shrieks of an agonizing king ! 
 
 She-wolf of France, with, unrelenting fangs 
 That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate, 
 
 From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs 
 The scourge of heaven! What terrors round him 
 wait ! 60 
 
 Amazement in his van, with /light combined, 
 And sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind. 
 
 II. 2. Antistrophe 
 
 Mighty victor, mighty lord, 
 
 Low on his funeral couch he lies / 
 iVb pitying heart, no eye, afford 65 
 
 A tear to grace his obsequies. 
 Is the sable warrior fled? 
 Thy son is gone. Tie rests among the dead. 
 The swarm that in thy noonAide beam ivere born f 
 — Gone to salute the rising morn. 70 
 
 Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, 
 
 While proudly riding o'er the azure realm 
 In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes : 
 
 Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; 
 
26 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Regardless of the sweeping whirlwinds sway, 75 
 
 That hushed in grim repose expects his evening prey, 
 
 II. 3. Epode 
 
 Fill high the sparkling bowl, 
 The rich repast prepare ; 
 
 Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast : 
 Close by the regal chair 80 
 
 Fell Tliirst and Famine scowl 
 
 A baleful smile upon their baffled guest, 
 Heard ye the din of battle bray, 
 
 Lance to lance, and horse to horse f 
 
 Long years of havock urge their destined course, 85 
 And thro 1 the kindred squadrons mow their way. 
 
 Ye toicers of Julius, London 1 s lasting shame, 
 With many a fold and midnight murder fed, 
 
 Revere his consorts faith, his father's fame, 
 And spare the meek usurper's holy head! 90 
 
 Above, below, the rose of snow, 
 
 Twined with her blushing foe, we spread : 
 The bristled boar in infant-gore 
 
 Wallows beneath the thorny shade. 
 Now, brothers, bending o^er the accursed loom, 95 
 
 Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 
 
 III. 1. Strophe 
 
 " ''Edward, lo ! to sudden fate 
 
 ( Weave we the woof ; The thread is spun ;) 
 Half of thy heart we consecrate. 
 
 ( The web is wove ; The work is done.) 1 100 
 
 — Stay, oh stay ! nor thus forlorn 
 Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn : 
 In yon bright track that fires the western skies 
 They melt, they vanish from my eyes. 
 But oh ! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 105 
 
 Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ? 
 Visions of glory, spare my aching sight, 
 Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul ! 
 No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail : — 
 All hail, ye genuine kings ! Britannia's issue, hail ! 110 
 
GRAY 27 
 
 III. 2. Antisirophe 
 
 " Girt with many a baron bold 
 Sublime their starry fronts they rear ; 
 
 And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old 
 In bearded majesty, appear. 
 
 In the midst a form divine ! 115 
 
 Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line : 
 Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face 
 Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace. 
 What strings symphonious tremble in the air, 
 
 What strains of vocal transport round her play ? 120 
 Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear ; 
 
 They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. 
 Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, 
 Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colour'd wings. 
 
 III. 3. Epode 
 " The verse adorn again 125 
 
 Fierce war, and faithful love, 
 And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest. 
 
 In buskin'd measures move 
 Pale grief, and pleasing pain, 
 
 With horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. 130 
 
 A voice as of the cherub-choir 
 
 Gales from blooming Eden bear, 
 
 And distant warblings lessen on my ear 
 That lost in long futurity expire. 134 
 
 Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud 
 
 Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day ? 
 To-morrow he repairs the golden flood 
 
 And warms the nations with redoubled ray. 
 Enough for me : with joy I see 
 
 The different doom our fates assign : 140 
 
 Be thine despair and sceptred care, 
 
 To triumph and to die are mine." 
 — He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height 
 Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night. 
 
28 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF POESY 
 I. 1. Strophe 
 
 Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake, 
 And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. 
 From Helicon's harmonious springs 
 
 A thousand rills their mazy progress take ; 
 The laughing flowers that round them blow 5 
 
 Drink life and fragrance as they flow. 
 Now the rich stream of music winds along 
 Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, 
 Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign ; 
 Now rolling down the steep amain 10 
 
 Headlong, impetuous, see it pour : 
 The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the roar. 
 
 I. 2. Antistrophe 
 
 Oh ! Sovereign of the willing soul, 
 Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, 
 Enchanting shell ! the sullen Cares 15 
 
 And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. 
 On Thracia's hills the Lord of War 
 Has curb'd the fury of his car 
 And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command. 
 Perching on the sceptred hand 20 
 
 Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king 
 "With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : 
 Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie 
 The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. 
 
 I. 3. Epode 
 
 Thee the voice, the dance, obey 25 
 
 Temper'd to thy warbled lay. 
 O'er Idalia's velvet-green 
 The rosy-crowned Loves are seen 
 On Cytherea's day; 
 
 With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures, 30 
 
 Frisking light in frolic measures ; 
 Now pursuing, now retreating, 
 Now in circling troops they meet : 
 
GRAY 29 
 
 To brisk notes in cadence beating 
 
 Glance their many-twinkling feet. 35 
 
 Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare : 
 
 Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay : 
 With arms sublime that float upon the air 
 
 In gliding state she wins her easy way : 
 O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move 40 
 
 The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love. 
 
 II. 1. Strophe 
 
 Man's feeble race what ills await ! 
 Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, 
 Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, 
 
 And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate ! 45 
 
 The fond complaint, my song, disprove, 
 
 And justify the laws of Jove. 
 
 Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse ? 
 
 Night, and all her sickly dews, 
 
 Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry 50 
 
 He gives to range the dreary sky : 
 
 Till down the eastern cliffs afar 
 
 Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of 
 
 war. 
 
 II. 2. Antistrophe 
 
 In climes beyond the solar road 
 Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, 55 
 The Muse has broke the twilight gloom 
 
 To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. 
 And oft, beneath the odorous shade 
 Of Chili's boundless forests laid, 
 She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat 60 
 
 In loose numbers wildly sweet 
 Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. 
 Her track, where'er the goddess roves, 
 Glory pursue, and generous Shame, 
 Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. 65 
 
 II. 3. Epode 
 Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep, 
 Isles, that crown th' Aegean deep, 
 
30 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Fields that cool Ilissus laves, 
 
 Or where Maeancler's amber waves 
 
 In lingering labyrinths creep, 70 
 
 How do your tuneful echoes languish, 
 
 Mute, but to the voice of anguish ! 
 
 Where each old poetic mountain 
 
 Inspiration breathed around ; 
 Every shade and hallow'd fountain 75 
 
 Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : 
 Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour 
 
 Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. 
 Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power, 
 
 And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. 80 
 
 "When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, 
 They sought, oh Albion ! next, thy sea-encircled coast. 
 
 III. 1. Strophe 
 
 Far from the sun and summer-gale 
 In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid, 
 What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, 85 
 
 To him the mighty Mother did unveil 
 Her awful face : the dauntless child 
 Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled. 
 " This pencil take " (she said), " whose colours clear 
 Richly paint the vernal year : 90 
 
 Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy ! 
 This can unlock the gates of joy ; 
 Of horror that, and thrilling fears, 
 Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears." 
 
 III. 2. Antistrophe 
 
 Nor second He, that rode sublime 95 
 
 Upon the seraph- wings of Extasy 
 The secrets of the abyss to spy : 
 
 He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time : 
 The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze 
 Where angels tremble while they gaze, 100 
 
 He saw ; but blasted with excess of light, 
 Closed his eyes in endless night. 
 Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car 
 
GRAY 31 
 
 Wide o'er the fields of glory bear 
 
 Two coursers of ethereal race, 105 
 
 With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding 
 
 pace. 
 
 III. 3. Epode. 
 
 Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! 
 
 Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, 
 
 Scatters from her pictured urn 
 
 Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. 110 
 
 But ah ! 't is heard no more — 
 
 Oh ! lyre divine, what daring spirit 
 
 Wakes thee now? Tho' he inherit 
 
 Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, 
 
 That the Theban eagle bear, 115 
 
 Sailing with supreme dominion 
 
 Thro' the azure deep of air : 
 Yet oft before his infant eyes would run 
 
 Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray 
 With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun : 120 
 
 Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way 
 Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate : 
 Beneath the Good how far — but far above the Great. 
 
 ODE ON THE SPRING 
 
 Lo ! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours, 
 
 Fair Venus' train, appear, 
 Disclose the long-expecting flowers 
 
 And wake the purple year ! 
 The Attic warbler pours her throat 5 
 
 Responsive to the cuckoo's note, 
 The untaught harmony of Spring : 
 While, whispering pleasure as they fly, 
 Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky 
 
 Their gather'd fragrance fling. 10 
 
 Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch 
 
 A broader, browner shade, 
 Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech 
 
 O'er-canopies the glade, 
 
32 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Beside some water's rushy brink 15 
 
 With rne the Muse shall sit, and think 
 (At ease reclined in rustic state) 
 How vain the ardour of the crowd, 
 How low, how little are the proud, 
 
 How indigent the great ! 20 
 
 Still is the toiling hand of Care ; 
 
 The panting herds repose: 
 Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air 
 
 The busy murmur glows ! 
 The insect-youth are on the wing, 25 
 
 Eager to taste the honied spring 
 And float amid the liquid noon : 
 Some lightly o'er the current skim, 
 Some show their gaily-gilded trim 
 
 Quick-glancing to the sun. 30 
 
 To Contemplation's sober eye 
 
 Such is the race of Man : 
 And they that creep, and they that fly 
 
 Shall end where they began. 
 Alike the Busy and the Gay 35 
 
 But flutter thro' life's little day, 
 In Fortune's varying colours drest : 
 Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance, 
 Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance 
 
 They leave, in dust to rest. 40 
 
 Methinks I hear in accents low 
 
 The sportive kind reply : 
 Poor moralist ! and what art thou ? 
 
 A solitary fly ! 
 Thy joys no glittering female meets, 45 
 
 No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, 
 No painted plumage to display: 
 On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; 
 Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — 
 
 We frolic while 't is May. 50 
 
GRAY 38 
 
 ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD 
 
 1 
 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
 The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, 
 The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
 And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 
 
 2 
 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 5 
 And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 
 Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : 
 
 3 
 
 Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower 
 The moping owl does to the moon complain 10 
 
 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
 Molest her ancient solitary reign. 
 
 4 
 
 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
 Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, 15 
 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 
 
 5 
 The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 
 The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 
 The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 20 
 
 6 
 For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn 
 Or busy housewife ply her evening care : 
 No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
 Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 
 
34 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 7 
 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 25 
 
 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 
 How jocund did they drive their team afield ! 
 How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! 
 
 Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 
 
 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 30 
 
 Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
 
 The short and simple annals of the poor. 
 
 9 
 
 The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
 And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
 Awaits alike th' inevitable hour : — 35 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 
 
 10 
 Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault 
 If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, 
 Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault 
 The peeling anthem swells the note of praise. 40 
 
 11 
 
 Can storied urn or animated bust 
 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
 Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, 
 Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death ? 
 
 12 
 Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 45 
 
 Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; 
 Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, 
 Or waked to extasy the living lyre : 
 
 13 
 
 But knowledge to their, eyes her ample page 
 
 Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll ; 50 
 
GRAY 35 
 
 Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, 
 And froze the genial current of the soul. 
 
 14 
 
 Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 
 The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : 
 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 55 
 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
 
 15 
 
 Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast 
 The little tyrant of his fields withstood, 
 Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, — 
 Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. 60 
 
 16 
 
 Th' applause of listening senates to command, 
 The threats of pain and ruin to despise, 
 To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 
 And read their history in a nation's eyes 
 
 17 
 
 Their lot forbad : nor circumscribed alone 65 
 
 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; 
 Forbad to wade thro' slaughter to a throne, 
 And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; 
 
 18 
 
 The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 
 To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 70 
 
 Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride 
 With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. 
 
 19 
 
 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife 
 Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; 
 Along the cool sequester'd vale of life 75 
 
 They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. 
 
36 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 20 
 Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect 
 Some frail memorial still erected nigh, 
 With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, 
 Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 80 
 
 21 
 
 Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, 
 The place of fame and elegy supply : 
 And many a holy text around she strews, 
 That teach the rustic moralist to die. 
 
 22 
 For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 85 
 
 This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
 Nor cast one longing lingering look behind ? 
 
 23 
 On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 90 
 
 E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
 E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 
 
 24 
 For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, 
 Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; 
 If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 95 
 
 Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate, — 
 
 25 
 Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 
 " Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn 
 Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 
 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn ; 100 
 
 26 
 " There at the foot of yonder nodding beech 
 That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 
 
GRAY 37 
 
 His listless length at noon- tide would he stretch, 
 And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 
 
 27 
 " Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 105 
 Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove ; 
 Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn, 
 Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 
 
 . 28 
 " One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, 
 Along the heath, and near his favourite tree ; 110 
 
 Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, 
 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; 
 
 29 
 " The next with dirges due in sad array 
 Slow through the church-way path we saw him 
 
 borne, — 
 Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay 115 
 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 
 
 THE EPITAPH 
 
 30 
 Here rests his head upon the lap of earth 
 A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown ; 
 Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, 
 And melancholy mark'd him for her own. 120 
 
 31 
 
 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ; 
 
 Heaven did a recompense as largely send : 
 
 He gave to misery (all he had) a tear, 
 
 He gain'd from Heaven ('t was all he wish'd) a friend. 
 
 32 
 
 No farther seek his merits to disclose, 125 
 
 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, 
 (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) 
 The bosom of his Father and his God. 
 
88 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON 
 COLLEGE 
 
 Ye distant spires, ye antique towers 
 
 That crown the watery glade, 
 Where grateful Science still adores 
 
 Her Henry's holy shade ; 
 And ye, that from the stately brow 5 
 
 Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below 
 Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, 
 Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among 
 Wanders the hoary Thames along 
 
 His silver- winding way : 10 
 
 Ah happy hills ! ah pleasing shade ! 
 
 Ah fields beloved in vain ! 
 Where once my careless childhood stray'd, 
 
 A stranger yet to pain ! 
 I feel the gales that from ye blow 15 
 
 A momentary bliss bestow, 
 As waving fresh their gladsome wing 
 My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
 And, redolent of joy and youth, 
 
 To breathe a second spring. 20 
 
 Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen 
 
 Full many a sprightly race 
 Disporting on thy margent green 
 
 The paths of pleasure trace ; 
 Who foremost now delight to cleave 25 
 
 With pliant arm, thy glassy wave ? 
 The captive linnet which enthral ? 
 What idle progeny succeed 
 To chase the rolling circle's speed 
 
 Or urge the flying ball ? 30 
 
 While some on earnest business bent 
 
 Their murmuring labours ply 
 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint 
 
 To sweeten liberty : 
 
GRAY 39 
 
 Some bold adventurers disdain 35 
 
 The limits of their little reign 
 And unknown regions dare descry : 
 Still as they run they look behind, 
 They hear a voice in every wind, 
 And snatch a fearful joy. 40 
 
 Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, 
 
 Less pleasing when possest ; 
 The tear forgot as soon as shed, 
 
 The sunshine of the breast : 
 Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue, 45 
 
 Wild wit, invention ever new, 
 And lively cheer, of vigour born ; 
 The thoughtless day, the easy night, 
 The spirits pure, the slumbers light 
 
 That fly th' approach of morn. 50 
 
 Alas ! regardless of their doom 
 
 The little victims play ; 
 No sense have they of ills to come 
 
 Nor care beyond to-day : 
 Yet see how all around 'em wait 55 
 
 The ministers of human fate 
 And black Misfortune's baleful train ! 
 Ah show them where in ambush stand 
 To seize their prey, the murderous band ! 
 
 Ah, tell them they are men ! 60 
 
 These shall the fury Passions tear, 
 
 The vultures of the mind, 
 Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, 
 
 And Shame that sculks behind ; 
 Or pining Love shall waste their youth, 65 
 Or Jealousy with rankling tooth 
 That inly gnaws the secret heart, 
 And Envy wan, and faded Care, 
 Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, 
 
 And Sorrow's piercing dart. 70 
 
40 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Ambition this shall tempt to rise, 
 
 Then whirl the wretch from high 
 To bitter Scorn a sacrifice 
 
 And grinning Infamy. 
 The stings of Falsehood those shall try 75 
 
 And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye, 
 That mocks the tear it forced to flow ; 
 And keen Remorse with blood defiled, 
 And moody Madness laughing wild 
 Amid severest woe. 80 
 
 Lo, in the vale of years beneath 
 
 A griesly troop are seen, 
 The painful family of Death, 
 
 More hideous than their queen : 
 This racks the joints, this fires the veins, 85 
 That every labouring sinew strains, 
 Those in the deeper vitals rage : 
 Lo ! Poverty, to fill the band, 
 That numbs the soul with icy hand, 
 
 And slow-consuming Age. 90 
 
 To each his sufferings : all are men, 
 
 Condemn'd alike to groan ; 
 The tender for another's pain, 
 
 Th' unfeeling for his own. 
 Yet, ah ! why should they know their fate, 95 
 Since sorrow never comes too late, 
 And happiness too swiftly flies ? 
 Thought would destroy their paradise. 
 No more ; — where ignorance is bliss, 
 
 'T is folly to be wise. 100 
 
 HYMN TO ADVERSITY 
 
 Daughter of Jove, relentless power, 
 Thou tamer of the human breast, 
 
 Whose iron scourge and torturing hour 
 The bad affright, afflict the best ! 
 
GRAY 41 
 
 Bound in thy adamantine chain 5 
 
 The proud are taught to taste of pain, 
 And purple tyrants vainly groan 
 With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. 
 
 When first thy Sire to send on earth 
 
 Virtue, his darling child, design'd, 10 
 
 To thee he gave the heavenly birth 
 
 And bade to form her infant mind. 
 Stern, rugged nurse ! thy rigid lore 
 With patience many a year she bore ; 
 What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, 15 
 
 And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. 
 
 Scared at thy frown terrific, fly 
 
 Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, 
 Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, 
 
 And leave us leisure to be good. 20 
 
 Light they disperse, and with them go 
 The summer friend, the flattering foe ; 
 By vain Prosperity received, 
 To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. 
 
 Wisdom in sable garb array'd 25 
 
 Immersed in rapturous thought profound, 
 
 And Melancholy, silent maid, 
 
 With leaden eye, that loves the ground, 
 
 Still on thy solemn steps attend : 
 
 Warm Charity, the general friend, 30 
 
 With Justice, to herself severe, 
 And Pity dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. 
 
 Oh ! gently on thy suppliant's head 
 
 Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! 
 
 Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, 35 
 
 Nor circled with the vengeful band 
 
 (As by the impious thou art seen) 
 
 With thundering voice, and threatening mien, 
 
 With screaming Horror's funeral cry, 
 Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty ; — 40 
 
42 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear, 
 
 Thy milder influence impart, 
 Thy philosophic train be there 
 
 To soften, not to wound my heart. 
 The generous spark extinct revive, 45 
 
 Teach me to love and to forgive, 
 Exact my own defects to scan, 
 What others are to feel, and know myself a Man. 
 
WILLIAM COWPER 
 
 1731-1800 
 
 William Cowper is known to young readers as the 
 author of that deliriously farcical ballad, — John Giljnn's 
 Ride. Later, when we learn something of the poet's life, 
 we are surprised to discover that this ballad is an exotic, 
 and that instead of being the joyful, humorous man that 
 this poem suggests, the author was for most of his life en- 
 shrouded in a melancholy so intense at times as to deepen 
 into madness. 
 
 His father was an English rector, who married Ann 
 Donne, a young lady of gentle lineage who was related to 
 the poet John Donne. At the rectory of Birkhampstead, in 
 November, 1731, William Cowper was born. His mother, 
 to whom the little lad was most devotedly attached, died 
 six years later. Fifty-three years after her death he voiced 
 this affection in one of the tenderest elegies in our lan- 
 guage, — On the Receipt of My Mother's Picture. 
 
 Had the mother lived, the history of her gifted son 
 might have been different. But the father did not under- 
 stand the son's sensitive temperament, and there was little 
 sympathy between them. The boy was sent to a school 
 near St. Albans, where he suffered extreme torture from 
 the boys who tormented him. In expressing his fear of one 
 of these bullies, Cowper writes : " I had such dread of him, 
 that I dare not lift my eyes to his face. I knew him but 
 .by his shoe-buckle." 
 
 At the age of ten, when Cowper went to the great school 
 at Westminster, his life was a happier one. He joined in 
 such sports as cricket and football, and became an excel- 
 lent student. He remained in the school for eight years, 
 and then, instead of going to the university, he commenced 
 the study of law. But this he found distasteful, and he 
 was therefore glad when his uncle secured for him the 
 promise of a government office. But before Cowper could 
 accept this appointment, he had to pass an examination 
 
44 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 before Parliament. Continual brooding over the fear of this 
 examination was too great a strain, and his nerves gave way. 
 He was, in December, 17G3, committed to an asylum for 
 the insane. 
 
 In this asylum the poet was so carefully and judiciously 
 cared for that he was released after two years. As he had 
 no money, his brother and other relatives contributed to 
 his support and engaged lodgings for him at Huntingdon, 
 on the Ouse, not many miles from Cambridge. It was here, 
 in the autumn of 1765, that he met the Unwins, and from 
 this time his life is intimately associated with this family 
 — more particularly with Mrs. Unwin, for her husband 
 was accidentally killed in the summer of 1767. Before 
 dying Mr. Unwin had expressed the wish that Cowper 
 might still dwell with her. And this he did until a few 
 years before his death in 1800. 
 
 It was necessary for them to move from the house which 
 they were then occupying, and they accordingly went to 
 Olney. Here Cowper's religious enthusiasm was awakened, 
 and the result of this interest was a series of hymns known 
 as the " Olney Hymns." His life after this is the life of 
 a quiet recluse devoted in the midst of his melancholy to 
 deep thinking and literary labor, and stimulated at times 
 to special performance by chance acquaintances. 
 
 One of these acquaintances was Lady Austen, the widow 
 of a baronet, whose home was near Olney. She became in- 
 timate with Cowper and Mrs. Unwin, and the three had 
 very delightful times together in the quiet way that he 
 describes in one of his letters, — " Lady Austen playing 
 on the harpsichord, Mrs. Unwin and himself playing bat- 
 tledore and shuttlecock, and the little dog under the chair 
 howling to admiration." 
 
 To Lady Austen's influence and association with Cow- 
 per we are directly indebted for John Gilpin's Hide, and 
 The Task. To relieve his melancholy one day she told 
 him the story of John Gilpin, and it so possessed his fancy 
 and sense of humor that he lay awake half that night con- 
 vulsed with laughter, and by morning he had composed 
 the ballad essentially as we have it. The Task was the 
 result of a bantering remark. Lady Austen had repeatedly 
 urged him to try blank verse. " I will," he one day an- 
 
COWPER 45 
 
 swered her, " if you will give me a subject." " Oh, you 
 can write on any subject ; write upon this Sofa," she jest- 
 ingly replied. And the result is that long poem which 
 opens, "I sing the Sofa." His excuse is that "the Fair 
 commands the song." 
 
 The Task reveals the main characteristic of Cowper — 
 a power to enter sympathetically into the humbler house- 
 hold activities and feelings and to give these emotions in- 
 timate, deep-felt, and realistic expression. In this he was 
 somewhat hampered, inasmuch as the public taste had not 
 yet escaped the artificial bondage of the age of Pope ; but 
 he was one whose work and silent influence prepared the 
 world for the complete emancipation that came with the 
 more important and more magnificent work of Wordsworth 
 and Coleridge a generation later. And every one who reads 
 Cowper's life and his poetry will gladly join in the elo- 
 quent eulogy which Mrs. Browning voices over his grave : — 
 
 It is a place where poets crowned may feel the heart's decay- 
 ing ; 
 
 It is a place where happy saints may weep amid their pray- 
 ing ; 
 
 Yet let the grief and humbleness as low as silence languish : 
 
 Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she gave her 
 anguish. 
 
 O poets, from a maniac's tongue was poured the deathless 
 singing ! 
 
 O Christians, at your cross of hope a hopeless hand was cling- 
 ing ! 
 
 O men, this man in brotherhood your weary paths beguiling, 
 
 Groaned inly while he taught you peace, and died while ye 
 were smiling ! 
 
 And now, what time ye all may read through dimming tears 
 
 his story, 
 How discord on the music fell and darkness on the glory, 
 And how when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering 
 
 lights departed, 
 He wore no less a loving face because so broken-hearted, 
 
 He shall be strong to sanctify the poet's high vocation, 
 And bow the meekest Christian down in meeker adoration ; 
 
46 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good forsaken, 
 Named softly as the household name of one whom God hath 
 taken. 
 
 With quiet sadness and no gloom T learn to think upon him, 
 With meekness that is gratefulness to God whose heaven hath 
 
 won him, 
 Who suffered once the madness-cloud to His own love to bind 
 
 him, 
 But gently led the blind along where breath and bird could 
 
 find him ; 
 
 And wrought within his shattered brain such quick poetic 
 
 senses 
 As hills have language for, and stars, harmonious influences : 
 The pulse of dew upon the grass kept his within its number, 
 And silent shadows from the trees refreshed him like a slum- 
 ber. 
 
LYRICS BY COWPER 
 
 LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE 
 
 Toll for the Brave ! 
 The brave that are no more ! 
 All sunk beneath the wave 
 Fast by their native shore ! 
 
 Eight hundred of the brave 5 
 
 Whose courage well was tried, 
 Had made the vessel heel 
 And laid her on her side. 
 
 A land-breeze shook the shrouds 
 
 And she was overset ; 10 
 
 Down went the Royal George, 
 
 With all her crew complete. 
 
 Toll for the brave ! 
 
 Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; 
 
 His last sea-fight is fought, 15 
 
 His work of glory done. 
 
 It was not in the battle ; 
 
 No tempest gave the shock ; 
 
 She sprang no fatal leak, 
 
 She ran upon no rock. 20 
 
 His sword was in its sheath, 
 His fingers held the pen, 
 When Kempenfelt went down 
 With twice four hundred men. 
 
 — Weigh the vessel up 25 
 
 Once dreaded by our foes ! 
 And mingle with our cup 
 The tears that England owes. 
 
48 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Her timbers yet are sound, 
 And she may float again 30 
 
 Full charged with England's thunder, 
 And plough the distant main : 
 
 But Kempenfelt is gone, 
 
 His victories are o'er ; 
 
 And he and his eight hundred 35 
 
 Shall plough the wave no more. 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY 
 
 Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade, 
 
 Apt emblem of a virtuous maid — 
 
 Silent and chaste she steals along, 
 
 Far from the world's gay busy throng : 
 
 With gentle yet prevailing force, 5 
 
 Intent upon her destined course ; 
 
 Graceful and useful all she does, 
 
 Blessing and blest where'er she goes ; 
 
 Pure-bosom'd as that watery glass, 
 
 And Heaven reflected in her face. 10 
 
 THE POPLAR FIELD 
 
 The poplars are fell'd ; farewell to the shade 
 And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade ; 
 The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, 
 Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives. 
 
 Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view 5 
 Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew : 
 And now in the grass behold they are laid, 
 And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade ! 
 
 The blackbird has fled to another retreat 9 
 
 Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat ; 
 And the scene where his melody charm'd me before 
 Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. 
 
COWPER 49 
 
 My fugitive years are all hasting away, 
 
 And I must ere long lie as lowly as they, 
 
 With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head, 15 
 
 Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead. 
 
 The change both my heart and my fancy employs ; 
 I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys : 
 Short-lived as we are. yet our pleasures, we see, 
 Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we. 20 
 
 THE SHRUBBERY 
 
 O happy shades ! to me unblest ! 
 
 Friendly to peace, but not to me ! 
 How ill the scene that offers rest, 
 
 And heart that cannot rest, agree ! 
 
 This glassy stream, that spreading pine, 5 
 
 Those alders quivering to the breeze, 
 
 Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine, 
 And please, if anything could please. 
 
 But fix'd unalterable Care 
 
 Foregoes not what she feels within, 10 
 
 Shows the same sadness everywhere, 
 
 And slights the season and the scene. 
 
 For all that pleased in wood or lawn 
 While Peace possess'd these silent bowers, 
 
 Her animating smile withdrawn, 15 
 
 Has lost its beauties and its powers. 
 
 The saint or moralist should tread 
 This moss-grown alley, musing, slow, 
 
 They seek like me the secret shade, 
 But not, like me, to nourish woe ! 20 
 
 Me, fruitful scenes and prospects waste 
 
 Alike admonish not to roam ; 
 These tell me of enjoyments past, 
 
 And those of sorrows yet to come. 
 
50 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 THE SOLITUDE OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK 
 
 I am monarch of all I survey ; 
 My right there is none to dispute ; 
 From the centre all round to the sea 
 I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 
 
 Solitude ! where are the charms 5 
 That sages have seen in thy face '? 
 
 Better dwell in the midst of alarms, 
 Than reign in this horrible place. 
 
 1 am out of humanity's reach, 
 
 I must finish my journey alone, 10 
 
 Never hear the sweet music of speech ; 
 
 I start at the sound of my own. 
 
 The beasts that roam over the plain 
 
 My form with indifference see ; 
 
 They are so unacquainted with man, 15 
 
 Their tameness is shocking to me. 
 
 Society, Friendship, and Love 
 
 Divinely bestow'd upon man, 
 
 Oh, had I the wings of a dove 
 
 How soon would I taste you again ! 20 
 
 My sorrows I then might assuage 
 
 In the ways of religion and truth, 
 
 Might learn from the wisdom of age, 
 
 And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. 
 
 Ye winds that have made me your sport, 25 
 
 Convey to this desolate shore 
 
 Some cordial endearing report 
 
 Of a land I shall visit no more : 
 
 My friends, do they now and then send 
 
 A wish or a thought after me ? 30 
 
 O tell me I yet have a friend, 
 
 Though a friend I am never to see. 
 
 How fleet is a glance of the mind ! 
 Compared with the speed of its flight, 
 
COWPER 51 
 
 The tempest itself lags behind, 35 
 
 And the swift- winged arrows of light. 
 
 When I think of my own native land 
 
 In a moment I seem to be there ; 
 
 But alas ! recollection at hand 
 
 Soon hurries me back to despair. 40 
 
 But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, 
 
 The beast is laid down in his lair ; 
 
 Even here is a season of rest, 
 
 And I to my cabin repair. 
 
 There 's mercy in every place, 45 
 
 And mercy, encouraging thought ! 
 
 Gives even affliction a grace 
 
 And reconciles man to his lot. 
 
 TO MARY UNWIN 
 
 Mary ! I want a lyre with other strings, 
 
 Such aid from Heaven as some have feign'd they 
 
 drew, 
 An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new 
 And undebased by praise of meaner things, 
 That ere through age or woe I shed my wings 5 
 
 I may record thy worth with honour due, 
 In verse as musical as thou art true, 
 And that immortalizes whom it sings : — 
 But thou hast little need. There is a Book 
 By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light, 10 
 On which the eyes of God not rarely look, 
 A chronicle of actions just and bright — 
 There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine ; 
 And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine. 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 The twentieth year is well-nigh past 
 Since first our sky was overcast ; 
 Ah would that this might be the last ! 
 My Mary ! 
 
52 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Thy spirits have a fainter flow, 5 
 
 I see thee daily weaker grow — 
 'T was my distress that brought thee low, 
 My Mary! 
 
 Thy needles, once a shining store, 
 For my sake restless heretofore, 10 
 
 Now rust disused, and shine no more ; 
 My Mary ! 
 
 For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil 
 The same kind office for me still, 
 Thy sight now seconds not thy will, 15 
 
 My Mary! 
 
 But well thou play'dst the housewife's part, 
 And all thy threads with magic art 
 Have wound themselves about this heart, 
 
 My Mary ! 20 
 
 Thy indistinct expressions seem 
 Like language utter'd in a dream ; 
 Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, 
 My Mary ! 
 
 Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, 25 
 
 Are still more lovely in my sight 
 Than golden beams of orient light, 
 My Mary ! 
 
 For could I view nor them nor thee, 
 What sight worth seeing could I see ? 30 
 
 The sun would rise in vain for me, 
 My Mary ! 
 
 Partakers of thy sad decline 
 Thy hands their little force resign ; 
 Yet, gently prest, press gently mine, 35 
 
 My Mary ! 
 
COWPER 53 
 
 Such feebleness of limbs thou prov'st 
 That now at every step thou mov'st 
 Upheld by two ; yet still thou lov'st, 
 
 My Mary ! 40 
 
 And still to love, though prest with ill, 
 In wintry age to feel no chill, 
 With me is to be lovely still, 
 My Mary ! 
 
 But ah ! by constant heed I know 45 
 
 How oft the sadness that I show 
 Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, 
 My Mary ! 
 
 And should my future lot be cast 
 With much resemblance of the past, 50 
 
 Thy worn-out heart will break at last — 
 My Mary ! 
 
 THE CASTAWAY 
 
 Obscurest night involved the sky, 
 
 The Atlantic billows roar'd, 
 When such a destined wretch as I, 
 
 Wash'd headlong from on board, 
 Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, 6 
 
 His floating home for ever left. 
 
 No braver chief could Albion boast 
 
 Than he with whom he went, 
 Nor ever ship left Albion's coast 
 
 With warmer wishes sent. 10 
 
 He loved them both, but both in vain, 
 Nor him beheld, nor her again. 
 
 Not long beneath the whelming brine, 
 
 Expert to swim, he lay ; 
 Nor soon he felt his strength decline, 15 
 
 Or courage die away ; 
 
54 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 But waged with death a lasting strife, 
 Supported by despair of life. 
 
 He shouted : nor his friends had fail'd 
 
 To check the vessel's course, 20 
 
 But so the furious blast prevaiFd, 
 That, pitiless perforce, 
 
 They left their outcast mate behind, 
 
 And scudded still before the wind. 
 
 Some succour yet they could afford ; 25 
 
 And such as storms allow, 
 The cask, the coop, the floated cord, 
 
 Delay 'd not to bestow. 
 But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore, 
 Whate'er they gave, should visit more. 30 
 
 Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he 
 
 Their haste himself condemn, 
 Aware that flight, in such a sea, 
 
 Alone could rescue them ; 
 Yet bitter felt it still to die 35 
 
 Deserted, and his friends so nigh. 
 
 He long survives, who lives an hour 
 
 In ocean, self-upheld ; 
 And so long he, with unspent power, 
 
 His destiny repell'd ; 40 
 
 And ever, as the minutes flew, 
 Entreated help, or cried " Adieu ! " 
 
 At length, his transient respite past, 
 
 His comrades, who before 
 Had heard his voice in every blast, 45 
 
 Could catch the sound no more ; 
 For then, by toil subdued, he drank 
 The stifling wave, and then he sank. 
 
 No poet wept him ; but the page 
 
 Of narrative sincere, 50 
 
COWPER 55 
 
 That tells his name, his worth, his age, 
 
 Is wet with Anson's tear : 
 And tears by bards or heroes shed 
 Alike immortalize the dead. 
 
 I therefore purpose not, or dream, 55 
 
 Descanting on his fate, 
 To give the melancholy theme 
 
 A more enduring date : 
 But misery still delights to trace 
 Its semblance in another's case. 60 
 
 No voice divine the storm allay'd, 
 
 No light propitious shone, 
 When, snatch'd from all effectual aid, 
 
 We perish'd, each alone : 
 But I beneath a rougher sea, 65 
 
 And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he. 
 
ROBERT BURNS 
 
 1759-1796 
 
 The thirty-seven and a half years that intervened be- 
 tween January 25, 1759, — the date of Burns's birth, — 
 and July 21, 1796, — the date of the poet's death, — waa 
 a period full of individual strife and passion. His was a 
 nature ill-fitted to compose and arrange properly the prac- 
 tical affairs of life to an easy and comfortable tenor. The 
 passions which beat tumultuously in his blood likewise 
 beat inconstantly, and were therefore all the time tending 
 to complicate his affairs and swerve his course into turbid 
 currents. 
 
 These facts are all the more significant because the en- 
 vironment into which he Was born, and for the most part 
 lived, was quiet and peaceful. His father's clay-built cot- 
 tage, familiarized for all of us by photographs and souvenir 
 postal-cards, is set in the quiet parish of Ayr in the south- 
 western part of Scotland. 
 
 The lad at the age of six was sent to the neighboring 
 school at Alloway Mill. To one of his teachers here — 
 John Murdock — we are largely indebted ; for it was his 
 influence which aided the development of Robert Burns's 
 finer and more spiritual nature. The boy's interest in 
 poetry was likewise stimulated in these early years by an 
 old woman, Betty Davidson, who lived in the household 
 and was fond of telling ghost stories and reciting songs and 
 ballads. 
 
 After Murdock left Ayrshire the Burns children were 
 taught by their father, William Burnes ; and to this stal- 
 wart farmer and honest toiler we are all likewise indebted ; 
 and his personality will remain forever enshrined in The 
 Cotter's Saturday Night. 
 
 We sometimes make the mistake of imagining that age 
 as a bookless age. While nature and environment were all 
 this while doing valiant service in educating our Scottish 
 poet, we must not forget the influence of books. He was 
 
BURNS 57 
 
 all this while reading texts on geography, astronomy, the- 
 ology. He was learning the important facts from English 
 and Scottish histories and biographies, and was spending 
 many interested hours reading Addison's Spectator, Pope's 
 Homer, the poems of Ramsay and Fergusson, and the plays 
 of Shakespeare. 
 
 When Burns was seventeen, he spent one summer trying 
 to learn mensuration and surveying. He at first made good 
 progress, but when he met a country lass named Peggy 
 Thompson, she seems to have " overset his trigonometry 
 and set him off at a tangent from the sphere of his stud- 
 ies." 
 
 From this time on, until his marriage with Jean Armour 
 — and indeed later — Burns was intermittently seized with 
 some new love passion, which alternately gladdened and 
 saddened his life. His nature was impulsive and inconstant, 
 and he found it impossible to hold strong emotions in con- 
 tinent leash. 
 
 His business ventures varied — except in consistent ill- 
 luck. He entered in 1782 into a partnership with a flax- 
 dresser, but his partner, in the words of Burns, " was a 
 scoundrel of the first water, who made money by the mys- 
 tery of thieving, and to finish the whole, while we were 
 giving a welcoming carousal to the New Year, our shop, 
 by the drunken carelessness of my partner's wife, took fire, 
 and was burned to ashes ; and left me, like a true poet, not 
 worth a sixpense." His other adventures were in farming, 
 at Ayr, at Lochlea, at Mossgiel, and at Ellisland — all 
 neighboring parishes. All these attempts were dismal fail- 
 ures. Finally, in 1789, at the age of thirty, he received 
 an appointment to the Excise at a salary of 50/. a year, 
 and this position he filled until his death in 1796. 
 
 Burns's literary ambitions developed early. In his nine- 
 teenth year he planned a tragedy, but it was never finished. 
 By his twenty-second year he had written Winter, a 
 Dirge, Death of Poor Mailie, John Barleycorn, and sev- 
 eral songs. Other poems were written in rapid succession, 
 and he had won local celebrity as a poet. As he was in 
 sore financial difficulty and as his love-affairs with Jean 
 Armour had turned out unhappily, he decided in 1786 that 
 he would go to Jamaica, where he had promise of a po6i- 
 
58 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 tion as book-keeper. To secure passage money he published 
 in August of that year an edition of 600 copies of his 
 Poems, which were most enthusiastically welcomed. Now, 
 with his profits of 2QL, he could go to the West Indies, 
 and he accordingly engaged passage on the first ship that 
 was to sail. 
 
 Just on the eve of departure, he received a letter from 
 Dr. Blacklock, an Edinburgh critic, who spoke most 
 warmly of the poems, encouraged a second edition, and 
 urged Burns to visit Edinburgh. This invitation Burns 
 accepted, and there he spent the winter of 1786-87 — 
 months that were the crowning event in his social and lit- 
 erary career. His second edition netted him 500/?., and he 
 was entertained by the most famous men of the city, who 
 gladly acknowledged his worth and his genius, and found 
 much pleasurable interest in his society. 
 
 But his intercourse with these men came to an end in 
 the following spring, and Burns returned, after a few weeks 
 of travel, to his Ayrshire home. Later he was married to 
 Jean Armour, moved to Ellisland, and in 1791 to Dum- 
 fries, where he lived until his death. 
 
 The world has long since passed judgment upon the man 
 and the poet. It has forgiven the man ; it reveres the poet. 
 Perhaps to no one of the poets who are dead do we deal 
 out the same full measure of personal affection. Through 
 those eyes which the painter Nasmyth has immortalized 
 for us, there gleams the kindly look that wins our hearts. 
 We catch, too, from each succeeding generation of readers 
 — Scotch and non-Scotch — the reverberating shouts of 
 praise and devotion. We go to his poetry and allow his 
 words to phrase our emotions of courage, of sympathy, of 
 patriotism, and of love. And we know that he who wrote 
 so sincerely and so beautifully of a personal and transient 
 passion has won an affection that is both so universal and 
 so constant that his songs will go reverberating through 
 the long vista of the coming years. 
 
LYRICS BY BURNS 
 
 LAMENT FOR CULLODEN 
 
 The lovely lass o' Inverness, 
 Nae joy nor pleasure can she see ; 
 For e'en and morn she cries, Alas ! 
 And aye the saut tear blins her ee : 
 Drumossie moor — Drumossie day — 5 
 
 A waefu' day it was to me ! 
 For there I lost my father dear, 
 My father dear, and brethren three. 
 
 Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay, 
 
 Their graves are growing green to see : 10 
 
 And by them lies the dearest lad 
 
 That ever blest a woman's ee ! 
 
 Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, 
 
 A bluidy man I trow thou be ; 
 
 For mony a heart thou hast made sair 15 
 
 That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee. 
 
 A FAREWELL 
 
 Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, 
 
 An' fill it in a silver tassie ; 
 That I may drink before I go 
 
 A service to my bonnie lassie : 
 The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith, 5 
 
 Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry, 
 The ship rides by the Berwick -law, 
 
 And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. 
 
 The trumpets sound, the banners fly, 
 The glittering spears are ranked ready ; 10 
 
 The shouts o' war are heard afar, 
 The battle closes thick and bloody ; 
 
60 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 But it 's not the roar o' sea or shore 
 Wad make me langer wish to tarry; 
 
 Nor shout o' war that 's heard afar — 15 
 
 It 's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary. 
 
 THE BANKS O' DOON 
 
 Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon 
 
 How can ye blume sae fair ! 
 How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
 
 And I sae fu' o' care ! 
 
 Thou '11 break my heart, thou bonnie bird 5 
 
 That sings upon the bough ; 
 Thou minds me o' the happy days 
 
 When my fause Luve was true. 
 
 Thou 11 break my heart, thou bonnie bird 
 That sings beside thy mate ; 10 
 
 For sae I sat, and sae I sang, 
 And wist na o' my fate. 
 
 Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon 
 
 To see the woodbine twine, 
 And ilka bird sang o' its love ; 15 
 
 And sae did I o' mine. 
 
 Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 
 
 Frae aff its thorny tree ; 
 And my fause luver staw the rose, 
 
 But left the thorn wi' me. 20 
 
 TO A MOUSE 
 
 On turning her up in her nest, with the plough, November, 1785 
 
 Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, 
 
 what a panic 's in thy breastie ! 
 Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 
 Wi' bickering brattle ! 
 
 1 wad be laith to rin an' chase thee 6 
 Wi' murd'ring pattle ! 
 
BURNS 61 
 
 I 'm truly sorry man's dominion 
 
 Has broken Nature's social union, 
 
 An' justifies that ill opinion 
 
 Which makes thee startle 10 
 
 At me, thy poor earth-born companion, 
 
 An' fellow-mortal ! 
 
 I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve ; 
 
 What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live ! 
 
 A daimen-icker in a thrave 15 
 
 'S a sma' request : 
 
 I '11 get a blessin' wi' the lave, 
 
 And never miss 't ! 
 
 Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! 
 
 Its silly wa's the win's are strewin . 20 
 
 And naething, now, to big a new ane, 
 
 O' foggage green ! 
 
 An' bleak December's winds ensuin' 
 
 Baith snell an' keen ! 
 
 Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste 25 
 
 An' weary winter comin' fast, 
 
 An' cozie here, beneath the blast, 
 
 Thou thought to dwell, 
 
 Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past 
 
 Out thro' thy cell. 30 
 
 That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble 
 
 Has cost thee mony a weary nibble ! 
 
 Now thou 's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, 
 
 But house or hald, 
 
 To thole the winter's sleety dribble 35 
 
 An' cranreuch cauld ! 
 
 But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane 
 
 In proving foresight may be vain : 
 
 The best laid schemes o' mice an' men 
 
 Gang aft a-gley, 40 
 
 An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, 
 
 For promised joy. 
 
62 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Still thou are blest, compared wi' me ! 
 
 The present only toucheth thee : 
 
 But, Och ! I backward cast my e'e 45 
 
 On prospects drear ! 
 
 An' forward, tho' I canna see, 
 
 I guess an' fear ! 
 
 MARY MORISON 
 
 Mary, at thy window be, 
 
 It is the wish'd, the trysted hour ! 
 
 Those smiles and glances let me see 
 
 That make the miser's treasure poor : 
 
 How blithely wad I bide the stoure, 5 
 
 A weary slave frae sun to sun, 
 
 Could I the rich reward secure, 
 
 The lovely Mary Morison. 
 
 Yestreen when to the trembling string 
 
 The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', 10 
 
 To thee my fancy took its wing, — 
 
 1 sat, but neither heard nor saw : 
 Tho' this was fair, and that was braw. 
 And yon the toast of a' the town, 
 
 I sigh'd, and said amang them a', 15 
 
 " Ye are na Mary Morison." 
 
 O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace 
 Wha for thy sake wad gladly dee ? 
 Or canst thou break that heart of his, 
 Whase only faut is loving thee ? 20 
 
 If love for love thou wilt na gie, 
 At least be pity to me shown ; 
 A thought ungentle canna be 
 The thought o' Mary Morison. 
 
BURNS 63 
 
 BONNIE LESLEY 
 
 O saw ye bonnie Lesley 
 
 As she gaed o'er the border ? 
 She 's gane, like Alexander, 
 
 To spread her conquests farther. 
 
 To see her is to love her, 6 
 
 And love but her for ever ; 
 For Nature made her what she is, 
 
 And ne'er made sic anither ! 
 
 Thou art a queen, Fair Lesley, 
 
 Thy subjects we, before thee ; 10 
 
 Thou art divine, Fair Lesley, 
 
 The hearts o' men adore thee. 
 
 The Deil he could na scaith thee, 
 Or aught that wad belang thee ; 
 
 He 'd look into thy bonnie face, 15 
 
 And say " I canna wrang thee ! " 
 
 The Powers aboon will tent thee ; 
 
 Misfortune sha' na steer thee ; 
 Thou 'rt like themselves sae lovely 
 
 That ill they '11 ne'er let near thee. 20 
 
 Return again, Fair Lesley, 
 
 Return to Caledonie ! 
 That we may brag we hae a lass 
 
 There 's nane again sae bonnie. 
 
 MY LUVE 'S LIKE A RED, RED ROSE 
 
 O my Luve 's like a red, red rose 
 That 's newly sprung in June : 
 
 O my Luve 's like the melodie 
 That 's sweetly play'd in tune. 
 
64 SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, 5 
 
 So deep in luve am I : 
 And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
 
 Till a' the seas gang dry : 
 
 Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
 
 And the rocks melt wi' the sun ; 10 
 
 And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
 While the sands o' life shall run. 
 
 And fare thee weel, my only Luve ! 
 
 And fare thee weel awhile ! 
 And I will come again, my Luve, 15 
 
 Tho' it were ten thousand mile. 
 
 HIGHLAND MARY 
 
 Ye banks and braes and streams around 
 
 The castle o' Montgomery, 
 Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, 
 
 Your waters never drumlie ! 
 There simmer first unfauld her robes, 5 
 
 And there the langest tarry ; 
 For there I took the last fareweel 
 
 O' my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, 
 
 How rich the hawthorn's blossom, 10 
 
 As underneath their fragrant shade 
 
 I clasp'd her to my bosom ! 
 The golden hours on angel wings 
 
 Flew o'er me and my dearie ; 
 For dear to me as light and life 16 
 
 Was my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace 
 
 Our parting was fu' tender ; 
 And pledging aft to meet again, 
 
 We tore oursels asunder ; 20 
 
 But, Oh ! fell Death's untimely frost, 
 
 That nipt my flower sae early ! 
 
BURNS 65 
 
 Now green 's the sod, and cauld 's the clay, 
 That wraps ray Highland Mary ! 
 
 O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, 25 
 
 I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ! 
 And closed for aye the sparkling glance 
 
 That dwelt on me sae kindly ; 
 And mouldering now in silent dust 
 
 That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! 30 
 
 But still within my bosom's core 
 
 Shall live my Highland Mary. 
 
 DUNCAN GRAY 
 
 Duncan Gray cam here to woo, 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't ; 
 On blythe Yule night when we were fou, 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't : 
 Maggie coost her head fu' high, 5 
 
 Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, 
 Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh ; 
 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
 
 Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd ; 
 
 Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig; 10 
 
 Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, 
 
 Grat his een baith bleer't and blin\ 
 
 Spak o' lowpin ower a linn ! 
 
 Time and chance are but a tide, 
 
 Slighted love is sair to bide ; 15 
 
 Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, 
 
 For a haughty hizzie dee ? 
 
 She may gae to — France for me ! 
 
 How it comes let doctors tell, 
 
 Meg grew sick — as he grew well ; 20 
 
 Something in her bosom wrings, 
 
 For relief a sigh she brings ; 
 
 And O, her een, they spak sic things ! 
 
SELECTED LYRICS 
 
 Duncan was a lad o' grace ; 
 Maggie's was a piteous case ; 25 
 
 Duncan couldna be her death, 
 Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath ; 
 Now they 're crouse and canty baith : 
 Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! 
 
 JEAN 
 
 Of a' the airts the wind can blaw 
 
 I dearly like the West, 
 For there the bonnie lassie lives, 
 
 The lassie I lo'e best : 
 There wild woods grow, and rivers row, 5 
 
 And mony a hill between ; 
 But day and night my fancy's flight 
 
 Is ever wi' my Jean. 
 
 I see her in the dewy flowers, 
 
 I see her sweet and fair : 10 
 
 I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 
 
 I hear her charm the air : 
 There 's not a bonnie flower that springs 
 
 By fountain, shaw, or green, 
 There 's not a bonnie bird that sings 15 
 
 But minds me o' my Jean. 
 
 O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft 
 
 Amang the leafy trees ; 
 Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale 
 
 Bring hame the laden bees ; 20 
 
 And bring the lassie back to me 
 
 That 's aye sae neat and clean ; 
 Ae smile o' her wad banish care, 
 
 Sae charming is my Jean. 
 
 What sighs and vows amang the knowes 25 
 
 Hae pass'd atween us twa ! 
 How fond to meet, how wae to part 
 
 That night she gaed awa ! 
 
BURNS 67 
 
 The Powers aboon can only ken 
 
 To whom the heart is seen, 30 
 
 That nane can be sae dear to me 
 As my sweet lovely Jean ! 
 
 JOHN ANDERSON 
 
 John Anderson my jo, John, 
 
 When we were first acquent 
 
 Your locks were like the raven, 
 
 Your bonnie brow was brent ; 
 
 But now your brow is bald, John, 5 
 
 Your locks are like the snow ; 
 
 But blessings on your frosty pow, 
 
 John Anderson my jo. 
 
 John Anderson my jo, John, 
 
 We clamb the hill thegither, 10 
 
 And mony a canty day, John, 
 
 We 've had wi' ane anither : 
 
 Now we maun totter down, John, 
 
 But hand in hand we '11 go. 
 
 And sleep thegither at the foot, 15 
 
 John Anderson my jo. 
 
NOTES 
 
 LYRICS BY DRYDEN 
 SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY 
 
 LINE 
 
 Most readers of this poem are familiar with Navjok's 
 picture of St. Cecilia seated at the organ with the angels 
 hovering above. St. Cecilia is supposed to have lived dur- 
 ing the third century. Legend depicts her as a pure and 
 religious maiden, devoted to the art of music. She is also 
 the legendary inventor of the organ. As the patron saint 
 of music, her day — November 22 — was honored by 
 appropriate celebration, and poets were often asked to 
 write verses in her praise. Dryden accordingly wrote the 
 Song for St. Cecilia's Day in 1687, and the Alexander's 
 Feast for the same event ten years later. Pope's Ode on St. 
 Cecilia's Day was written in 1708. 
 
 8 Cold and hot and moist and dry : By the ancients these were 
 considered the four elements which composed the universe. 
 
 10 And Music's power obey: Great creative labors were con- 
 ceived by the ancients as produced to the accompaniment of 
 music. 
 
 17 Jubal: Gen. 4:21. 
 
 ALEXANDER'S FEAST 
 
 Lord Bolingbroke, in reporting a conversation which he 
 had with Dryden, quotes the poet's words concerning this 
 poem: " I have been up all night. My musical friends made 
 me promise to write them an ode for their Feast of St. 
 Cecilia, and I was so struck with the subject which occurred 
 to me that I could not leave it until I had completed it. 
 Here it is, finished at one sitting." 
 2 Philip's warlike son : Alexander, who overthrew the Persians 
 under Darius in 331 B.C. 
 
 9 Thais : not the wife but the favorite of Alexander. After the 
 conquest she is said (on doubtful authority) to have influ- 
 enced Alexander to destory the Persian capital, Persepolis. 
 
 16 Timotheus: a famous bard of the period. It is to be borne 
 in mind that the harpist at the feasts of that time not only 
 played but also sang. Oftentimes the song was extempore; 
 and this, we may safely assume, is Dryden's conception 
 here. 
 
 21 Note Dryden's art in using words whose syllables in their 
 chosen connection we naturally pronounce slowly. The 
 whole effect is that of a leisurely beginning, strongly con- 
 trasting with some of the ensuing moods of passion. 
 
 24 belied: masked. Jove in his association with mortals as- 
 sumed various forms — a swan, a cloud, a shower of gold, or 
 anything he chose. 
 
70 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 26 Olympia: This reference is to Olympias, the mother of 
 Alexander. To aid Alexander in his ambitious projects she 
 would at times assert that his father was not Philip of 
 Macedon, but a supernatural being in the shape of a dragon. 
 Thus Alexander would be more than mortal — a demigod. 
 This story, thus retold at this feast of victory, would 
 naturally arouse great enthusiasm and justify the cry, — 
 a present deity! and induce the victor to assume the god. 
 
 37 seems to shake the spheres: as Jove himself did. Cf. Iliad, 
 i, 528-30. 
 
 He spoke and awful bends his sable brows, 
 Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod, 
 The stamp of fate and sanction of the god: 
 High heaven with trembling the dread signal took 
 And all Olympus to the centre shook. 
 
 — Pope's Translation. 
 
 38 Note that the meter here helps to make apparent the 
 resumption of a calmer tone. 
 
 40 jolly god: Dryden may have in mind the appearance of 
 
 Bacchus as represented in ancient art. 
 42 purple: from the wine. 
 44 give the hautboys breath : blow the oboes. 
 45-51 The tone here is distinctly bacchanalian. 
 52, 53 See note to line 38. 
 
 58, 59 Designate the antecedent of each pronoun here. 
 59 Muse: song. 
 63, 64 Comment on the effect of the repetition? What justifies 
 
 it? 
 68 exposed: perhaps in the radical meaning of cast out, though 
 
 the more modern meaning is applicable. 
 79 Lydian measures: tones that are sweet and soft. Cf. 
 
 Milton's L' Allegro, 1. 136. 
 98 ff . Note the sudden and arousing appeal which the music 
 
 here makes. 
 107 Furies: These spirits, known in Greek mythology as the 
 
 Erinyes or Eumenides, were intent on vengeance. 
 114 To be left unburied was, in the minds of the Greeks, to be 
 
 treated most contemptuously, and therefore deserved mer- 
 ciless vengeance. 
 125 Of course Helen did not personally and directly set fire to 
 
 Troy. Explain Dryden's meaning. 
 
 LYRICS BY COLLINS 
 
 ODE TO SIMPLICITY 
 
 The title to this poem is all the more marked because the 
 age in which Collins lived was an artificial age and the taste 
 a classical taste. It is further to be noted that the style in 
 which this appeal to simplicity is cast is elaborate — espe- 
 cially so when we contrast it with the spontaneous and unaf- 
 fected poetry of Burns and Wordsworth. 
 
NOTES 71 
 
 LINE 
 
 4-6 The meaning of these lines is somewhat involved; the 
 poet thinks of the Nymph Simplicity as the first one who, on 
 the wild mountains, nursed the powers of song in the mind of 
 Fancy (whose mother was Simplicity — or possibly Pleasure) . 
 
 6-12 These lines contrast elaborate robings, such as belong to 
 royalty, with the simple garb of simple maidenhood. 
 
 11 The Attic robe, worn by the Grecian maidens, was marked 
 by its simple folds. 
 
 14 Hybla's thymy shore : Hybla is a mountain near the shores 
 of Sicily. From its abundant thyme and other fragrant 
 flowers the bees made the famous Hybla honey. 
 
 16-19 her whose love-lorn woe, etc.: the nightingale, which 
 frequently soothed the ear of Sophocles. Collins, of course, 
 had the whole of Sophocles' Electra in mind, but he may 
 have remembered particularly the following lines of the 
 heroine: 
 
 But I at least will ne'er 
 Refrain mine eyes from weeping, while I live, 
 Nor yet my voice from wail; 
 Not while I see this day, 
 And yon bright twinkling stars; 
 But like a nightingale 
 Of its young brood bereaved, 
 Before the gates I speak them forth to all. 
 
 — Lines 104-109 of Plumptre's Translation. 
 
 19 Cephisus: a celebrated river near Athens that flows past 
 Mt. Parnassus. The stream was the haunt of the Graces. 
 Collins, of course, is thinking of the former simplicity of 
 Athens. When Freedom died here, Simplicity sought an- 
 other abode. 
 
 22 enamell'd : Perhaps the meaning is, strewn with daisies. 
 
 31-36 As long as the Roman Republic lasted and was domin- 
 ated by genuine patriotism and loyalty, simple poetry 
 thrived. After the Empire was established, it stayed to sing 
 only during the reign of Augustus, lingering with such 
 harpists as Vergil, Horace, and Ovid. With the coming of a 
 more elaborate and a more servile life, Simplicity fled her 
 alter'd land, and neither the olive nor the vine of Italy could 
 entice her back. 
 
 43-48 A poet may have a cultivated taste and great genius, but 
 unless the language is simple the product will lack warmth 
 and inspiration. 
 
 ODE WRITTEN IN 1746 
 
 Possibly Collins had in mind the soldiers who had fallen 
 at Fontenoy in May of 1745, or at Preston Pans four months 
 later. It may be that the poet wished simply to pay a 
 tribute to the honor of patriotic soldiery. 
 
 In its marked preference for personification the poem is 
 characteristic of Collins and his age. To the modern ear 
 this tendency is viewed as artificial — far aloof from the 
 simplicity which the preceding poem so eloquently ad- 
 
72 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 dresses and so heartily commends. Notwithstanding this 
 tone, however, the poem still remains popular because it 
 voices a sincere sympathy in a melodious and faultless 
 verse. 
 
 THE PASSIONS 
 
 This poem, like so many of Collins's, is full of personifica- 
 tion. Music is a maiden whose great charm continuously 
 invites to her presence the various Passions, — Fear, Anger, 
 Despair, Hope, and other abstractions. Once when madness 
 ruled the hour each Passion snatched one of the various in- 
 struments which Music had hung on the myrtles just out- 
 side her cell, and in turn tried his skill. 
 
 17-20 Describe the result when Fear made his trial. 
 
 21-24 Note the clash and the excitement produced by Anger. 
 What sort of vowels are used to produce this effect? What 
 sort of consonants? 
 
 25-28 The changing tones are more marked in Despair's 
 attempt. How does the poet suggest this? 
 
 29-39 How is the characteristic of Hope brought out? 
 
 35 What tone does Echo sound? Why? 
 
 39 Is there anything particularly appropriate in having the 
 interruption made by Revenge? 
 
 41 Why blood-stain'd? 
 
 47 Explain the epithet doubling as applied to the drum. 
 
 50 Pity, you will note, employs no instrument except her own 
 voice. Could the poet have strengthened his effect by giving 
 her an instrument? What could he have given her? 
 
 53 Jealousy's notes are without method — strewn here and 
 there in chaos on account of her varying states. 
 
 58-68 This melodious passage descriptive of Melancholy is 
 most sympathetically conceived and most delicately exe- 
 cuted. The mood is evidently one which is congenial to 
 Collins. 
 
 70-79 This passage is full of beauty and spirit. What com- 
 ment can you make on the selected detail? Is the effect 
 more artistic because of the contrast with the preceding 
 stanza, or is the change of mood too sudden? 
 
 74 Distinguish between a Faun and a Dryad. 
 
 75 Chaste-eyed Queen: Diana. 
 
 86 Tempe's vale: This valley, between Mt. Olympus and Mt. 
 
 Ossa, was the favorite haunt of poets. Its charming beauty 
 
 even won on occasion the honored presence of the gods. 
 89-94 Note the perfect abandon which the spirit of Joy here 
 
 creates. 
 95-118 What contrast does the poet feel between the past and 
 
 the present powers of music? Does this assumption seem 
 
 to you to be true? 
 95 sphere-descended: Music is here conceived as securing its 
 
 powers, in some subtle way, from the melody and harmony 
 
 of the spheres as they moved in their concentric orbits. 
 114 Cecilia: St. Cecilia, the more modern patron saint cele- 
 
NOTES 73 
 
 LINE 
 
 brated by Dryden, Pope, and others. The syntax here is 
 unduly involved: line 114 is in apposition with line 112; 
 line 113 is parenthetical. Compare the entire poem with 
 Dryden's Song for St. Cecilia's Day. 
 
 ODE TO EVENING 
 
 1, 2 The apodosis of this conditional clause is not reached 
 until line 15. Collins's main thought, simply phrased, is 
 this: If anything from shepherd's pipe or song may soothe 
 thy ear, O Evening, teach me to breathe my music so softly 
 as to make it harmonize with thy quiet mood. 
 3, 4 Substitute as for like and supply the ellipsis. 
 
 It is to be noted that Collins's syntax is often involved. 
 His thought is perfectly clear, but at times his emotion is so 
 strong and hurried that it makes him oblivious to absolute 
 grammatical structure and indifferent to the ease of the 
 reader. 
 9-12 Compare this with the second and third stanzas of 
 Gray's Elegy. What comparisons do you note? Do you 
 suppose one poet here indebted to the other? 
 
 14 The phrase borne in heedless hum modifies beetle in 1. 11. 
 pilgrim: The person who chances to be walking in the path. 
 
 28 Mention all the varied agents who aid in preparing this car. 
 On what journey is the car starting? 
 
 29-32 What generates the wish expressed in this stanza? De- 
 scribe the mood of the poet. 
 
 33-40 Note how the tempestuous weather is here made to 
 contribute to the beauty and the effectiveness of the scene. 
 Again, in what mood does the poet view all this? 
 
 41 What is the apodosis of this temporal clause? 
 
 The meter and stanzaic form of this poem is imitated 
 from Horace. The first two lines of each stanza are iambic 
 pentameter; the two concluding lines are iambic trimeter. 
 The rhythm of the whole is so perfect that we scarcely note 
 the lack of rhyme. 
 
 LYRICS BY GRAY 
 
 ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM 
 VICISSITUDE 
 
 Gray and Collins shared with other poets of the eigh- 
 teenth century the tendency to use personification. In this 
 first stanza Morn and Spring and April all appear as con- 
 crete figures. Morn is pictured most definitely — a red- 
 cheeked maiden wooing in soft whispers her belated lover, 
 Spring. 
 9-16 Another tendency of the eighteenth-century poets was 
 to deal with general rather than with specific things. We 
 have in the second stanza an illustration of this in flocks 
 
74 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 and birds. But both Gray and Collins were foreshadowing 
 the Romantic spirit of the following century in more ways 
 than one. Gray, you will note, speaks of the skylark here 
 with something of that particularity that led Shelley to 
 write his Ode to a Skylark and Wordsworth to write The 
 Green Linnet. 
 16-33 In this contrast between man and beast we see empha- 
 sized man's capability to see that out of present misfortune 
 and trial future comfort may emerge. The beast in suffer- 
 ing lacks both this forward-looking vision that sees better 
 things coming and the backward-looking vision that sees 
 the joyous moments that have departed. Cf. Shelley's The 
 Skylark, where he contrasts man's attitude with the joy of 
 the skylark. 
 
 We look before and after, 
 And pine for what is not: 
 Our sincerest laughter 
 With some pain is fraught; 
 Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. 
 
 33-40 Joy is greater because of sorrow. 
 39 form : What part of speech? 
 
 artful strife: Explain the significance of the phrase. 
 
 ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB 
 OF GOLD FISHES 
 
 The incident really happened; the cat belonged to 
 Horace Walpole. 
 
 This poem is a mock-heroic. It is written in the same 
 vein as Pope's The Rape of the Lock — the greatest mock- 
 heroic in literature. Note that the successful treatment of 
 this humorous type demands that the most minor details be 
 as strongly emphasized and as fully elaborated as the most 
 major events in epics. Belinda's dressing in The Rape of the 
 Lock is as important as Galahad's preparation for the search 
 for the Holy Grail. 
 5 Selima: the cat's name. 
 13 Still: ever. 
 16 The Tyrian hue is purple. Cf. 1. 3. 
 
 THE BARD 
 
 The Pindaric Ode, of which The Progress of Poesy and 
 The Bard are examples, takes its name from Pindar, a 
 Greek poet who lived in the fifth century b. c. The regular 
 structural form of the ode consists of strophes, antistrophes, 
 and epodes, which in their origin go back to the ancient 
 Greek festival. While moving up one side of the orchestra 
 the chorus chanted the strophe; while coming down the 
 other side, they chanted the antistrophe; as they stood 
 before the altar, they chanted the ep^jde. The metrical 
 form of these three forms differs, but in meter and rime- 
 
NOTES 75 
 
 LINE 
 
 scheme, strophe corresponds with strophe, antistrophe with 
 antistrophe, epode with epode. Cf. The Progress of Poesy 
 and The Bard, and note the corresponding meters and rime- 
 schemes. 
 
 The student should remember in this connection, how- 
 ever, that most of the odes in the English language are ir- 
 regular, and do not. therefore, correspond to the set form 
 here described. The title is loosely applied to impassioned 
 poems on dignified themes — especially if the form and 
 meter of the stanzas are varied. 
 
 The more famous irregular odes of the eighteenth century 
 are Dryden's Alexander's Feast and St. Cecilia's Day; 
 in the nineteenth century the most noteworthy, Words- 
 worth's Ode on Immortality, Tennyson's Death of the Duke 
 of Wellington, and Lowell's Commemoration Ode. 
 1 ff . Observe that the poet strikes out in medias res — in the 
 midst of things. Edward I, after a vigorous campaign 
 against Wales, is returning from his victory of Snowdon. 
 While passing down the mountain's shaggy side on that 
 spring day of 1283, he is suddenly confronted by one of 
 those black-robed bards who had done so much to keep 
 alive the spirit of Welsh patriotism. In the prophetic 
 harangue which follows, the future defeats of England are 
 passionately narrated. The scene and the figure are pic- 
 turesque in the extreme. The wild crags of the mountain 
 are all about, and the Conway is roaring below. On the rock 
 which overhangs the flood the poet has taken his defiant 
 stand. His sable robe, his haggard eye, his loose gray hair 
 and beard wildly flying about his head — all these combine 
 to lend significance to the old man's prophecy as he sings it 
 forth to the accompaniment of his revengeful lyre. Gray 
 tells us that the figure of the bard is taken from that picture 
 of Raphael which represents God in the vision of Ezekiel. 
 5 hauberk: a long steel-ringed tunic which fitted closely 
 
 around the neck and covered all the body. 
 8 Cambria: Wales. Cambria is the Latin name. 
 
 13, 14 Glo'ster and Mortimer were generals in 1 he royal army . 
 
 18 Poet: For an interesting account of the inf uence of the 
 Welsh bards on the country see Green's Short History of the 
 English People, section I of chapter IV. 
 
 28-33 Hoel, Cadwallo, Urien, and Modred are all names of 
 famous Welsh bards. Llewellyn was the name of the Welsh 
 king, and the lay here may refer to a lay sung in his honor. 
 Possibly there was a bard of this name. 
 
 49 ff . The italicized lines compose the chorus which the bards 
 supposedly sing. The events are all prophetic. 
 
 52 Characters: letters. 
 
 50-56 The prophecy here foretells how King Edward II was, 
 through the disloyalty of his wife Isabella and her lover 
 Mortimer, deposed (1327), shut up in Berkeley Castle, and 
 there murdered. 
 
 57 She-wolf of France is the name the bard gives to Isabella. 
 
76 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 59 From thee be born: Edward II was the son of Edward I and 
 Eleanor of Castile. 
 
 60 In the mind of the bard, this fate is taken as a nemesis for 
 the outrages of Edward I against Wales. 
 
 61, 62 Lowell in his illuminating essay on Gray quotes these 
 two lines in support of his assertion that " any slave of the 
 mine may find the rough gem, but it is the cutting and 
 polishing that reveal its heart of fire." 
 
 "The suggestion (we are informed in the notes) came from Cowper and Old- 
 ham, and the amazement combined with flight sticks fast in prose. But the per- 
 sonification of Sorrow and the fine generalization of Solitude in the last verse 
 which gives an imaginative reach to the whole passage are Gray's own. The 
 owners of what Gray "conveyed" would have found it hard to identify their 
 property and prove title to it after it had once suffered Gray-change by steep- 
 ing in his mind and memory." l 
 
 63 The bard goes forward in his prophecy and tells us of the 
 sorrowful events in the life of Edward III, the grandson of 
 Edward I. For a long time Edward III was prosperous and 
 happy, but he fell into disfavor. He lost Aquitaine, Parlia- 
 ment impeached his favorite lords, his son Edward died in 
 1376, and in the following year the king himself died little 
 mourned. 
 
 67 sable warrior: Black Prince. 
 
 69 Why the interrogation? Supply the ellipsis? 
 
 71-76 Note the figure of the ship, sailing out proud and 
 promising in the morning only to suffer shipwreck in the 
 evening. 
 
 76 bis: The antecedent is whirlwind. 
 
 79 he: The antecedent is Richard, grandson of Edward III, 
 who was deposed in 1399. Read his history to discover if 
 Gray was right in assuming that the deposed king was 
 starved to death. 
 
 83 din of battle bray: the early rumblings of the Wars of the 
 Roses, which extended from 1455 to 1485. 
 
 85 Long years: thirty years. 
 
 87 towers of Julius: Tradition assigned the building of the 
 Tower of London to Julius Ca?sar. 
 
 89 consort's: Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry VI. 
 father's: Henry V. 
 
 90 meek usurper: Gray explains that this refers to the fact that 
 "the line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the 
 crown." 
 
 91-92 Above, below, the rose of snow: When Henry VII be- 
 came king he symbolized his connection with the two houses 
 of York and Lancaster by adopting a royal standard with a 
 red rose beneath and a white rose on top. 
 
 93 bristled boar: This was the symbol of Richard III, who was 
 responsible for the death of his two nephews and many others 
 besides. 
 
 95 accursed loom: the loom which the bards are using in 
 weaving the "winding sheet of Edward's race." 
 1 Lowells Prose Works, vol. vn, p. 41. Houghton Mifflin Company. 
 
NOTES 77 
 
 LINE 
 
 97-99 In this passage the bard alludes to the sudden death of 
 Eleanor, wife of Edward I. 
 
 110 genuine kings: The bard thinks of the Tudor kings as genu- 
 ine because they were partly Welsh and hence were thought 
 to be descendants of King Arthur. 
 
 115 form divine: Queen Elizabeth, the last of the Tudor line. 
 
 121 Taliessin: a Welsh bard of the sixth century. 
 
 125-127 Spenser's Faery Queene is here alluded to. 
 
 128 buskin'd measures : The buskin was the symbol of tragedy. 
 The allusion is to Shakespeare's tragedies. 
 
 131-132 This reference is to Milton and Paradise Lost. 
 
 133 distant warblings: the poets who succeeded Milton. 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF POESY 
 
 1 Aeolian lyre: Mr. Hales in his Longer English Poems warns 
 the reader against confusing this phrase with the Aeolian 
 harp. Gray here forms the adjective from Aeolis, a part of 
 Asia Minor. It was probably here that lyric poetry of the 
 Greeks first found artistic expressions. Aeolian lyre may, 
 therefore, be taken as the equivalent of lyric poetry. 
 3 Helicon's . . . springs: Near Mt. Helicon were two springs 
 — Aganippe and Hippocrene — sacred to the Muses. The 
 grove of the Muses was near by. 
 9 Ceres: the goddess of grain and harvests. 
 
 13-24 The stanza discusses the calming and comforting power 
 of music — especially as this effect is seen on Mars and on 
 Jove. For the thought Gray says he is indebted to the first 
 Pythian ode of Pindar. 
 
 17 Mars was anciently thought to have his seat in Thrace. 
 
 21 feather'd king: The eagle was sacred to Jove. 
 
 27 Idalia: a town in Cyprus. 
 
 29 Cytherea: Venus. 
 
 31-35 What is noteworthy about the meter here employed? 
 Can you cite passages from other poems which produce a 
 similar effect? 
 
 38 sublime: lifted high. 
 
 41 purple light: Gray here shows his indebtedness to the clas- 
 sics. Cf. Vergil, Mn. i, 594: 
 
 lumenque juventae 
 Purpureum. 
 
 42-53 The preceding portion of the poem has shown the influ- 
 ence of poetry on the gods and goddesses ; the poet now shows 
 its influence on men . Gray writes : ' ' To compensate the real 
 and imaginary ills of life, the Muse was given to mankind 
 by the same Providence that sends the Day, by its cheerful 
 presence, to dispel the gloom and terrors of the night." 
 
 54-65 In this passage Gray notes the influence of poetry in 
 certain foreign and barbaric lands. 
 
 55 Where shaggy forms, etc.: Lapland, — as we know from 
 Gray's note. 
 
 63-65 Difficulty in interpreting this line is due to the plural 
 
78 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 form of the verb pursue. The natural prose order would be: 
 Wherein the goddess of poetry roves, glory, generous shame, 
 the unconquerable mind, and Freedom's holy flame pursue 
 her track. This order once perceived, the reason for the 
 plural form of pursue is obvious. 
 
 66-82 This passage follows the course of poetry from Greece 
 through Italy to England. Observe that in Gray's concep- 
 tion poetry vanishes from a nation as soon as the nation be- 
 gins to grow decadent. It will not endure vice or oppression. 
 
 82-106 Gray in this passage pays his willing tribute to his great 
 English predecessors in verse — Shakespeare (Nature's 
 Darling, 1. 84), Milton (11. 95-97), and Dryden (11. 103-106). 
 101 In his second sonnet to Cyriak Skinner, Milton alludes to the 
 fact that his blindness was caused by overplying his eyes in 
 liberty's defense while he was Latin secretary to Cromwell. 
 Gray doubtless knew this, but for poetic reasons makes this 
 blindness due to the excessive light in the vision of Paradise 
 Lost. 
 
 105 Two coursers: an allusion to the heroic couplet which 
 Dryden made popular and which Pope perfected. 
 
 106 cf. Job 39, 19. 
 
 107-123 The first part of this passage continues the eulogy of 
 Dryden commenced in the antistrophe, which precedes. 
 Here he has in mind Dryden's two odes on St. Cecilia. 
 Gray then apologizes for here attempting the Pindaric Ode 
 — the form invented by Pindar. 
 
 115 Theban eagle: He will, however, soar above the fate ex- 
 pected of common men. 
 
 ODE ON THE SPRING 
 
 1 rosy-bosom'd Hours: goddesses, here symbolizing either 
 the days or the seasons. 
 
 4 purple: This is a favorite adjective with Gray. Being a 
 classical student he doubtless used it in a sense synonymous 
 with bright. 
 
 5 Attic warbler: the nightingale. 
 
 8 whispering pleasure as they fly : a participial phrase modi- 
 fying Zephyrs. 
 
 11-20 Gray sees in the simple contemplative life of quiet folk 
 something far superior to the life of the busy, the proud, 
 and the great. The thought finds a fuller development in 
 the famous Elegy. 
 
 23 peopled air: Peopled with what? 
 
 25-30 Who is symbolized by the insect-youth? Comment on 
 other details in the comparison. Do you regard the meta- 
 phor as effective? 
 
 44, 45 An allusion to Gray's bachelorhood. 
 
 ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD 
 
 It would perhaps not be extravagant to say that Gray's 
 Elegy is the most popular poem in the English language, 
 
NOTES 79 
 
 LINE 
 
 though some would claim this honor for Longfellow's Psalm 
 of Life. The latter poem, however, has not received from 
 the learned 'the praises bestowed upon the Elegy, and cer- 
 tainly it is not so frequently quoted. The linking of the two 
 poems in this similar comment, however, helps us to explain 
 the popularity of each, and many of the traits resident in the 
 Elegy are alike resident in The Psalm of Life. 
 
 The thought of the Elegy centres around the complement- 
 ary theme of life and death, subjects upon which all minds 
 fondly linger. Each of these themes is mysterious; each 
 defies solution ; and yet to their discussion we are ever inter- 
 mittently drawn, charmed and defied by their very com- 
 plexity and seeking always some new light. 
 
 In his treatment Gray is didactic, and didacticism of the 
 right sort is comforting in its appeal, for the very reason 
 that it offers real or apparent solution. There is something 
 final, for instance, in that most famous line of the Elegy — 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 
 
 Many other axiomatic truths are voiced by Gray with an 
 intuition and a decision as convincing as a sentence from 
 the liturgy. 
 
 Gray wins us likewise by his democracy. These unknown 
 dead here lying in the isolated churchyard at Stoke Pogis 
 were potentially great — as great, possibly, as were Cromwell, 
 Hampden, or Milton. But they did not chance to live amid 
 circumstances that developed their qualities in such a way 
 as to lead them on to fame. Nor are such an isolation and 
 such a denial wholly to be lamented ; they circumscribed as 
 well the possibilities of their crime. 
 
 A final reason for the popularity of the poem is its per- 
 fected art. Each line is musical, each important thought 
 magnificently — oftentimes inevitably — phrased. Certain 
 passages have become crystallized, but no one calls them 
 trite — there is too much poetic vitality in them for that. 
 They have simplicity, too, but perhaps the simplicity is 
 more apparent than real, for study reveals complexity. But 
 even the careless reader may get so much that he thinks he is 
 getting it all, and therefore is abundantly satisfied. 
 
 A comparison of the following outline with the poem will 
 show the reader that the whole has been carefully precon- 
 ceived. 
 
 THE THEME 
 
 In the souls of many obscure country folk rest possibilities for large 
 accomplishment, and the fact that these persons die unknown makes in 
 the end no real difference. 
 
 OUTLINE 
 
 I. Stanzas 1-4. The Setting. Idealized description of Stoke Pogis. 
 II. Stanzas 4-8. In death these country-folk no longer know 
 
 THEIR JOTS AND DUTIES, but 
 
 III. Stanzas 8-12. Mbn of rank are really no better off. 
 
80 NOTES 
 
 IV. Stanzas 12-17. Their secluded life, not their native powers, 
 
 EXPLAINS THE FACT THAT THEIR VIRTUES REMAINED 
 OBSCURE. 
 
 V. Stanzas 17-20. This seclusion likewise circumscribed their pos- 
 sibilities FOR WRONG-DOING. ■ 
 VI. Stanzas 20-24. Yet even the obscure are here remembered in 
 the homely epitaphs on simple tomb-stones. 
 VII. Stanzas 2-1-end. The nameless rural poet who is writing these 
 
 THOUGHTS FORESEES THE STORY OF HIS OWN DEATH 
 AND HIS OWN EPITAPH. 
 
 LINE 
 
 1 parting: departing. 
 
 2 Why is wind here preferable to winds? 
 
 4-12 Enumerate each detail that here contributes to the sense 
 of evening. What is the relationship of the noise to the 
 silence? 
 
 13 elms and yew-trees are common in churchyards. 
 
 20 lowly bed: Explain. Does it allude to their couch or their 
 grave? 
 
 20-24 This is the most intimate of the domestic details. 
 
 22 ply her evening care: What employment is it likely Gray 
 had in mind? 
 
 26 glebe: Consult the dictionary. 
 
 30 What part of speech is obscure? 
 
 33 How do people now show their boast of heraldry? 
 
 35 Awaits: Many editors print await, but Gray doubtless wrote 
 awaits. Many interpret the awaits by taking hour as the 
 subject. This is unnecessary, as the four items in lines 33 
 and 34 may be thought of as coalescing into one idea — as- 
 sumed superiority. Hour would then be taken as the object 
 of the verb awaits. 
 
 39, 40 The most noteworthy cathedral is of course Westmin- 
 ster, but there are scores of others that may have been in the 
 poet's mind. 
 
 39 fretted: Explain. 
 
 41 storied urn: an urn with an inscription upon it. 
 animated: lifelike. 
 
 42 mansion is used here in its radical sense. Explain. 
 
 43 provoke is also used in its radical sense. 
 
 46 pregnant with celestial fire: richly endowed in mind and 
 spirit. Hence capable of being rulers (1. 47) or poets (1. 48). 
 
 49, 50 They had no opportunity for securing an education. 
 
 50 unroll: Early learning was preserved on scrolls. 
 
 52 genial: life-giving. 
 
 57 Hampden: John Hampden, a cousin of Cromwell. He 
 refused to pay the ship-money demanded by Charles I with- 
 out the consent of Parliament. 
 
 60 Cromwell: Until Carlyle's Life of Cromwell appeared, Crom- 
 well was generally regarded as guilty of his country's blood. 
 
 61-65 Th' applause ... lot forbad. Write this out in simple 
 prose and be sure that your syntax is correct. 
 What is the subject of circumscribed? 
 
 67 wade thro' . . . throne: another allusion to Cromwell. 
 
 69 Their lot made it unnecessary to hide truths of which they 
 were conscious. In contrast with persons who -«);/-•-' 
 
NOTES 81 
 
 LINE 
 
 sake kept certain truths hidden, these country folk freely 
 avowed what they felt. 
 
 70 ingenuous: Find out the meaning of this word and then 
 interpret the line. 
 
 71, 72 It was formerly customary for literary men to be sup- 
 ported by rich patrons. In return for this homage a poet 
 would often be guilty of giving his patron insincere praise. 
 
 73 Upon what is this line dependent? Is it participial? Is it an 
 adverbial phrase after stray? Or would you say it modified 
 wishes? 
 
 81 unletter'd Muse: Explain. 
 
 84 Is this line grammatically correct? 
 
 85, 86 Paraphrased these lines might read : For who would will- 
 ingly allow his life (pleasing anxious being) to be wholly 
 forgotten (become a prey to dumb forgetfulness)? 
 
 90 pious: The word signifies here family devotion rather than 
 religious devotion. 
 
 93 thee: either Gray or — as seems more likely — the im- 
 agined poet who is writing these lines. If it is the latter, 
 Gray unconsciously identifies himself with the youthful 
 poet. See note to 11. 116-128. 
 112 This line has the specific touch of romanticism, rather than 
 the general and indefinite mention of classicism. 
 
 111 Another: What does this modify? 
 
 112 lawn: a field or meadow — not an artificial plot of ground. 
 115 for thou canst read: Nowadays when practically everyone 
 
 can read, this parenthesis attracts rather too much atten- 
 tion to itself. It is perhaps the one line in the poem that 
 seems to call insistently for revision. 
 116-128 The words of the epitaph justify the preferred interpre- 
 tation given in the note to 1. 93. Gray was known to fame if 
 not to fortune. From your knowledge of Gray's life, indi- 
 cate the items that apply and those that do not apply. 
 
 120 melancholy: pensiveness rather than sadness. 
 
 121 Large was his bounty: He gave freely of his spiritual self. 
 124 He gain'd from Heaven ... a friend: He acquired the 
 
 power to commune with Heaven and from this communing 
 received friendly aid. 
 128 bosom: in apposition with abode (1. 126). 
 
 ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE 
 
 While Cambridge was for the most part the residence of 
 Gray, it was Stoke Pogis and the country roundabout that 
 perhaps seemed most like home; for it was this community 
 that furnished him all the domestic life he ever knew — 
 association with his mother and his mother's sister. 
 
 Stoke Pogis is only a short distance from Eton, and Eton 
 is just across the river from Windsor Castle. The scenes 
 here described, then, are not merely the views which a single 
 visit may have inspired; they are views which youthful 
 familiarity had impressed and which the recurring visits of 
 
82 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 later years had pleasurably renewed. Gray was himself an 
 Eton boy who there absorbed the "grateful Science " which 
 the school offered. 
 1 antique towers: The first building was erected in 1441. 
 4 Henry's holy shade: The college was founded by King 
 Henry VI in 1440. In Hall's Chronicles we read: "King 
 Henry the Sixth was of a liberal mind, and especially to 
 such as loved good learning; . . . wherefore he first holpe 
 his young scholars to attain to discipline, and for them he 
 founded a solemn school at Eton, a town next unto Winsor, 
 in the which he hath stationed an honest college of sad 
 priests, with a great number of children, which he there, of 
 his cost, frankly and freely taught the rudimentes and rules 
 of grammar." 
 
 18 weary soul: In Gray's temperament was a deep vein of sad- 
 ness that was continually coming to the surface. In the 
 epitaph which he wrote for his mother he speaks of having 
 had the misfortune to survive her. 
 
 21-50 This is a happy picture of school-boy life, and as James 
 Thorne remarks, " one need not be an Etonian to enjoy the 
 Playing Fields of Eton." 
 
 22 race: generation. 
 
 25-30 To what several sports does the poet here allude? 
 
 51-100 This is another passage which one may cite in proof of 
 Gray's misanthropy. It must be admitted, in spite of 
 a modern dislike for over-indulged personification, that the 
 general effect here is vividly portrayed. 
 
 61 These : this group of boys. 
 
 71 this: this particular boy. 
 
 82 griesly: horrible. 
 
 83 painful family: various diseases. 
 
 84 queen: death herself. 
 
 HYMN TO ADVERSITY 
 
 This hymn is conceived in a loftier ethical tone than the 
 other poems of Gray and makes a more definite appeal to 
 noble and moral action. In its serious personal request for 
 purer living it reminds us of Wordsworth's Ode to Duty. 
 
 The serious tone is effectively deepened by the meter, — 
 particularly the lengthened final line of each stanza. This 
 fortunate choice at once stamps Gray as an artist in the 
 realm of poetry. 
 7 purple tyrants: tyrants clothed in royal purple. 
 30-32 Supply the predicate for Charity and Pity. 
 33 thy suppliant: the poet, himself. Cf. 1. 47. 
 
 35 Gorgon: death-dealing. 
 
 36 vengeful band: the Eumenides or the Furies — stern and 
 inexorable beings, who, in the conception of the ancient 
 Greeks, inflicted vengeance upon wrongdoers. 
 
NOTES 83 
 
 LYRICS BY COWPER 
 LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE 
 
 LINE 
 
 Palgrave's note to this poem reads: " The Royal George, 
 of 108 guns, whilst undergoing a partial careening at Spit- 
 head, was overset about 10 a.m., August 29, 1782. The total 
 loss was believed to be nearly 1000 souls. This little poem 
 might be called one of our trial pieces, in regard to taste. 
 The reader who feels the vigor of description and the force 
 of pathos underlying Cowper's bare and truly Greek sim- 
 plicity of phrase, may assure himself se valde profecisse (that 
 he has made good progress)." 
 14 Kempenfelt: Richard Kempenfelt (1718-1782) was at the 
 time of this catastrophe a rear-admiral under Lord Howe. 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY 
 
 These lines are addressed to Miss Shuttleworth, Mrs. 
 Unwin's sister. The Unwins were friends of Cowper with 
 whom he was on most intimate terms. (See note on the son- 
 net To Mary Unwin.) 
 
 The poem in an easy, agreeable swing, suggestive of the 
 movement of the stream, pays a graceful token of reserved 
 admiration and affection. 
 
 THE POPLAR FIELD 
 
 The poplars here lamented were at Lavenden Mill, near 
 Olney. Mr. William Benham, in the Globe Edition of 
 Cowper, tells us that trees have since grown up from the old 
 roots, as the poet in 1. 16 forecasts. 
 
 The bit of moralizing with which the poem closes was 
 natural to a writer of Cowper's cast of mind. His tempera- 
 ment was religious and contemplative. 
 
 THE SHRUBBERY 
 
 In most editions there is printed under the title the 
 phrase, — Written in a Time of Affliction. The afflic- 
 tion referred to is the poet's second attack of insanity. 
 
 The shrubbery described was at Weston. Unfortunately 
 it was, through a mistaken order of its owner, destroyed. 
 
 Few of Cowper's poems arouse more sympathy in the mind 
 of the reader. We feel the trembling emotion of the poet as 
 vividly as we see the alders quivering in the breeze. The 
 despondency is somehow deepened, rather than relieved, by 
 the joyous notes in the landscape. 
 
 THE SOLITUDE OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK 
 
 Alexander Selkirk, a Scottish sailor, was born in 1676, and 
 died in 1723. He is said to have gone to sea after a quarrel 
 
84 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 with his family, and most of his life after this was spent in 
 buccaneering exploits in the South Seas. His eccentricities 
 may be surmised from the fact that he asked his comrades 
 to put him off the ship and leave him on the island Juan 
 Fernandez. But if Cowper's analysis of the exile's mind is 
 correct the solitude finally grew most irksome. He is the 
 supposed original of Defoe's Robinson, Crusoe. 
 28 Of a land, etc.: He did, however, return home, but is said 
 to have developed after eight or nine months an intense 
 longing to go back to his lonely island, and finally left home 
 and died on shipboard. 
 
 TO MARY UNWIN 
 
 The Unwins play an important part in Cowper's life. In 
 November, 1765, soon after Cowper had become ac- 
 quainted with them, he was, at his earnest request, ad- 
 mitted as a lodger in their house in Huntingdon. In June, 
 1767, Mr. Unwin died, and when Mrs. Unwin a few months 
 later took a house at Olney, Cowper joined her there. The 
 intense religious life into which Cowper plunged brought on 
 an attack of insanity, and during this malady he was 
 tenderly cared for by Mrs. Unwin and other friends. There 
 is said to have been a marriage engagement entered into 
 before this, but Cowper's condition afterward made mar- 
 riage impossible. His sincere feeling for her finds most 
 tender record in this sonnet. At the time this tribute was 
 written — May, 1793 — Mrs. Unwin had grown quite old 
 and wellnigh helpless. 
 
 TO THE SAME 
 
 This poem was written in the autumn of 1793 — a few 
 months after the preceding and about two years before the 
 poet left the house at Weston, where he and Mrs. Unwin 
 had lived so many years. She, in the mean time, had grown 
 more childish and exacting. In one of the poet's letters he 
 tells his correspondent that Mrs. Unwin is at that moment 
 sitting in the same room and that she breaks out at times 
 into a senseless laugh, and at other times mumbles inco- 
 herently to herself. She would allow him to do little work, 
 and whenever he read she insisted that he should read aloud 
 to her. The only way he could perform any literary labor 
 was to arise early before she was astir. Yet with all these 
 annoyances Cowper continued to hold her in deep affection, 
 all the while dimly conscious that her mental condition was 
 hurrying him to final insanity. But he remembered that it 
 was his distress that brought her low. 
 
 The poem is full of passionate regret, tempered with a 
 warm appreciation for the association of the past. 
 
NOTES 85 
 
 THE CASTAWAY 
 
 LINE 
 
 The Castaway, written in March, 1799, was the last 
 poem which Covvper wrote. He was deeply in the thralls of 
 that terrible melancholia which saddened his later years ; 
 and the tragic story of this castaway, which he had read 
 in Lord George Anson's Voyage Round the World, had im- 
 pressed him so deeply that he easily gave it poetic expres- 
 sion, lit with the gloomy fancy of grim realism. Cowper's 
 interest in the story, we may readily believe, was deepened 
 by the symbolism he created. The castaway's fate was his 
 own fate, only he was struggling vainly in the sea of des- 
 pondency. No divine voice was whispering comfort, no 
 prophetic light was shining — inexorably he was weltering 
 in a rougher sea and being whelmed in a deeper gulf. 
 
 LYRICS BY BURNS 
 
 LAMENT FOR CULLODEN 
 
 It is likely that Collins's Ode Written in 1746 may have 
 been inspired by the same historical events as this poem. 
 The Scottish clansmen in 1745 joined with Prince Charles 
 Edward — "the Young Pretender" — in his contest 
 against George II for the English throne. He won a battle 
 at Preston Pans, near Edinburgh, and then invaded Eng- 
 land; but he was soon forced to retreat into Scotland, 
 where he met final defeat the next year at Culloden, near 
 Inverness. It was this campaign which inspired those Jacob- 
 ite songs, — Who '11 be King but Charlie? and Over the water 
 to Charlie. 
 
 1 Inverness: The famous castle of Inverness — accepted by 
 Shakespeare as the scene of King Duncan's assassination by 
 Macbeth — was destroyed in this campaign. 
 
 5 Drumossie is another name for Culloden. 
 13 cruel lord: The reference is probably to the Duke of Cum- 
 berland who commanded the Royalists. 
 
 A FAREWELL 
 
 The first four lines of this poem were part of an old Scot- 
 tish song, but the rest is by Burns. The geographical allu- 
 sions are to places near Edinburgh. The dominating inter- 
 est is love — he wishes to tarry longer, not that he may 
 listen to the roar of the sea or the shouts of war, but that he 
 may longer be with his " bonnie Mary." 
 
 THE BANKS O' DOON 
 
 There is a longer version of this poem, commencing "Ye 
 banks and braes o' bonnie Doon." The version here printed 
 was sent to Mr. Ballantine, an intimate friend, in 1787. 
 
86 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 Burns writes that it is being prepared for sending "while 
 here I sit sad and solitary, by the side of a fire in a little 
 country inn, and drying my wet clothes." The theme is a 
 common one — the joyous mood of nature contrasting with 
 the sorrowful mood of the writer. 
 
 TO A MOUSE 
 
 Burns's brother Gilbert writes that this poem was com- 
 posed while the author was holding the plow. John Blane, 
 a peasant lad, was at the time riding one of the horses as 
 plow-boy. In later years he recalled the incident and said 
 that he had started after the mouse to kill it, but Burns 
 called him back and restrained him. The master stood 
 thoughtfully at the plow for a little time and then went on 
 with his work. Not many days later Burns read his poem 
 to Blane. 
 
 With this poem we should compare the companion poem, 
 To a Mountain Daisy. How are they alike? How are they 
 different? 
 
 4 bickering brattle : hasty and noisy scamper. 
 
 6 pattle: a paddle carried by a plowman to remove the dirt 
 that sticks to the mold-board. 
 
 14 maun: must. 
 
 15 A daimen-icker in a thrave: an occasional ear of corn in a 
 sheaf. 
 
 17 lave: remainder. 
 
 20 silly wa's: weak, frail walls. 
 
 21 big: build. 
 
 22 foggage: a second growth of grass. 
 24 snell: sharp. 
 
 29 coulter: that portion of the plow that cuts the soil. 
 31 stibble: stubble. 
 
 34 But: without. 
 
 35 thole: endure. 
 
 36 cranreuch: frost. 
 
 37 no thy lane: not alone. 
 
 40 Gang aft a-gley : go often awry. 
 
 The stanzaic form of this poem is interesting. The last 
 two lines of each stanza repeat the metrical form of the two 
 preceding lines and make what is called the "wheel." The 
 scheme is of French origin. 
 
 MARY MORISON 
 
 Little is positively known of Mary Morison. As Burns 
 in a letter to Mr. Thompson, his publisher, wrote of. this 
 song as one of his juvenile works, it may perhaps be as- 
 sumed that she was one Mary Morison who lived at 
 Mauchline and died on June 29, 1791, as is duly recorded on 
 a stone in the Mauchline churchyard. Mr. C. S. Dougal in 
 his interesting book, The Burns Country, makes out an in- 
 
NOTES 87 
 
 LINE 
 
 teresting case for one Ellison Begbie as the original of Mary 
 Morison. The author, however, does not explain the change 
 of name. 
 
 Though the passion of the poem is undoubtedly sincere, it 
 must also have been ephemeral, for we hear so little about 
 her in the poems and in the letters. 
 2 trysted hour: appointed hour for meeting. 
 5 stoure: dust storm. 
 13 braw: smart and attractive. 
 
 B.ONNIE LESLEY 
 
 The "bonnie Lesley " of this poem was Miss Lesley 
 Bailey whose father lived in Ayrshire. He and his two daugh- 
 ters, before starting on a visit to England, called on Burns, 
 and on their leaving, Burns accompanied them for fifteen 
 miles on horseback. On his return homeward he composed 
 these lines. 
 13 scaith: harm. 
 
 17 tent: take care of. 
 
 18 steer: stir, molest. 
 
 O MY LUVE'S LIKE A RED, RED ROSE 
 
 This song was not wholly original with Burns ; its found- 
 ation was a brief poem composed by one Lieutenant Hinches, 
 as a farewell to his sweetheart. A comparison of the two 
 poems will reveal the superior lilting measure of Burns's 
 song. 
 
 The avowal of constancy so passionately phrased here 
 was not one of Burns's virtues. The easy abandon with 
 which he turned from one love to another was responsible 
 alike for much sorrow and much joy in his life. 
 
 HIGHLAND MARY 
 
 In the Burns Monument at Alloway there are preserved 
 two Bibles which are said to be the gifts which Burns and 
 Mary Campbell exchanged one Sunday, May 14, 1786, — ■ 
 that romantic day when they stood on separate banks of a 
 small stream and with clasped hands and earnest vows 
 promised undying fealty to each other. In his letter which 
 accompanied this poem that he was sending to his publisher, 
 he says his " Highland Lassie " was " a warm-hearted, 
 charming young creature as ever blessed a man with a gen- 
 erous love. After a pretty long tract of the most ardent 
 reciprocal attachment we met by appointment on the second 
 Sunday of May, in a sequestered spot by the banks of the 
 Ayr, where we spent the day in taking farewell, before she 
 should embark for the West Highlands, to arrange matters 
 for our projected change of life. At the close of the autumn 
 following she crossed the sea to meet me at Greenock, 
 
88 NOTES 
 
 LINE 
 
 where she had scarce landed, when she was seized with a 
 malignant fever, which hurried my dear girl to the grave in 
 a few days, before I could even hear of her illness." In none 
 of the songs has Burns woven more of beauty, pathos, and 
 tenderness. The reader is surprised, on examination, to note 
 the absence of rime. 
 
 2 castle o' Montgomery: On the site of the paternal castle the 
 Montgomeries have built a stately house in the woods 
 through which the Fail flows to join the Ayr. 
 
 4 drumlie: muddy. 
 9 birk: birch. 
 
 DUNCAN GRAY 
 
 Burns in sending this poem to his publisher commented 
 upon its absence from sentiment, and added, ''The ludicrous 
 is its ruling feature." This observation is of course no dis- 
 paragement to the poem. While we admire such sentiment 
 as the poet reveals in such a poem as Highland Mary, we 
 find thorough delight in his humorous poems, such as this 
 and Tarn o' Shanter. 
 
 3 fou: full of liquor. 
 
 5 coost: cast, threw. 
 
 6 asklent: aslant, askance; unco: uncommonly; skeigh: 
 offish. 
 
 7 gart: made; abeigh: aside. 
 9 fleech'd: begged. 
 
 12 Grat: next; bleert and blin': bleared and blind. 
 
 13 lowpin ower a linn: leaping over a waterfall. 
 
 14 but a tide: changeable as a tide. 
 
 15 sair to bide: loath to endure. 
 
 17 hizzie : huzzie — a term of reproach. 
 
 27 smoor'd: smothered. 
 
 28 crouse and canty: jolly and happy. 
 
 JEAN 
 
 This poem is addressed to Jean Armour, who after troub- 
 lous delays and vexations, due in part to Mr. Armour, 
 finally became in 1788 the wife of Robert Burns. There has 
 been much said and written against her, and the poet's 
 affection for her has been questioned, but any one who 
 studies the matter will be impressed with many noble traits 
 in her character, notwithstanding her waywardness and her 
 lack of depth. In estimating her worth one must remember 
 that to be the wife of a man of Burns's temperament and 
 behavior was to have one's nature sorely tried. 
 
 1 airts: directions. 
 
 2 like the West: At the time Burns wrote this song he was 
 living near Dumfries and Jean was in Ayrshire — to the 
 west. 
 
 14 shaw: wood. 
 
 25 knowes: low hills. 
 
NOTES 89 
 
 JOHN ANDERSON 
 
 LINE 
 
 This is an example among many of Burns's revision of an 
 old song with a stanza beginning: 
 
 John Anderson, my Jo, John, 
 When first that ye began, etc. 
 
 The merry chord of the old song is here tempered to a 
 more pensive strain, and thus more character and more 
 suggestiveness are added to the theme. 
 1 jo: sweetheart or lover — a term of familiar affection. 
 4 brent: smooth; unwrinkled. 
 7 pow: head. 
 11 canty: happy. 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LIKES AND 
 AUTHORS 
 
 Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake (Gray), 28. 
 
 Daughter of Jove, relentless power (Gray), 40. 
 Duncan Gray cam here to woo (Burns), 65. 
 
 From harmony, from heavenly harmony (Dryden), 3. 
 
 Go fetch to me a pint o' wine (Burns), 59. 
 
 How sleep the brave, who sink to rest (Collins), 12. 
 
 I am monarch of all I survey (Cowper), 50. 
 
 If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song (Collins), 16. 
 
 John Anderson my jo, John (Burns), 67. 
 
 Lo ! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours (Gray), 31. 
 
 Mary ! I want a lyre with other strings (Cowper), 51. 
 
 Now the golden Morn aloft (Gray), 21. 
 
 O happy shades ! to me unblest (Cowper), 49. 
 
 O Mary, at thy window be (Burns), 62. 
 
 O my Luve's like a red, red rose (Burns), 63. 
 
 O saw ye bonnie Lesley (Burns), 63. 
 
 O Thou, by Nature taught (Collins). 11. 
 
 Obscurest night involved the sky (Cowper), 53. 
 
 Of a' the airts the wind can blaw (Burns), 66. 
 
 Ruin seize thee, ruthless King (Gray), 23. 
 
 Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade (Cowper), 48. 
 
 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day (Gray), 33. 
 
 The lovely lass o' Inverness (Burns), 59. 
 
 The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade (Cowper), 48. 
 
 The twentieth year is well-nigh past (Cowper), 51. 
 
 Toll for the Brave (Cowper), 47. 
 
 'T was at the royal feast for Persia won (Dryden), 5. 
 
 'T was on a lofty vase's side (Gray), 22. 
 
 Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie (Burns), 60. 
 When Music, heavenly maid, was young (Collins), 13. 
 
 Ye banks and braes and streams around (Burns), 64. 
 Ye distant spires, ye antique lowers (Gray), 38. 
 Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon (Burns), 60. 
 
MAR IS 191? 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 
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