166 AMERICAN POETRY. And dimm'd by falling tears, A spirit seems to rise, That shows the friend of other years Is mirror'd in our eyes. But sorrow, grief, and care, Had dimm'd his setting star; And we think with tears of those that were, To smile on those that are. Yet though the grassy mound Sits lightly on his head, We'll pledge, in solemn silence round, THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD! The sparkling juice now pour, With fond and liberal hand; Oh! raise the laughing rim once more Up, every soul that hears, Hurrah! with three times three; Then fill the wine-cup high, The sparkling liquor pour; For we will care and grief defy, They ne'er shall plague us more. And ere the snowy foam From off the wine departs, The precious draught shall find a home, Shepherd. Very gude-excellent-beautifu'! I thocht a ae time it was gaun to be ower lang-and aiblins it micht be sae—at least for a sang-unner ither circumstances—but here -noo-wi' your vice an' herp, it was ower sune ower-and here's to the health o' your freen, Robert Folkstone Williams -and may he be here to sing't himsel some nicht. Ken ye onything about American Poetry, Mr North? North. Not so much as I could wish. Would all the living best American bards send me over copies of their works! should do them justice. I respect-nay I admire that people, James; though perhaps they don't know it. Yet I know less of their Poetry than their Politics, and of them not much— Tickler. How Jonathan Jeremy-Diddlers our Ministries! "Have you got such a thing as a half-crown about you?" And B flat, obedient to A sharp, shells out the ready rhino from his own impoverished exchequer into that of his "Transatlantic brother," overflowing with dollars. Shepherd. But the little you do ken o' their poetry, let's hear't. North. I have lately looked over-in three volumes-Specimens of American Poetry, with Critical and Biographical Notices, and have met with many most interesting little poems, and passages of poems. The editor has been desirous of showing what had been achieved under the inspiration of the American Muses before the days of Irving and Cooper, Pierpont and Percival, and thinks, rightly, that the lays of the Pilgrim Fathers of New England, the poets of the Western World, are as likely to bear some characteristic traits of national or individual character, as those of the Minnesingers and Trouveurs—or the "Gongorism of the Castilian rhymesters of old." Shepherd. Gongorism.' What's that? North. Accordingly, he goes as far back as 1612, and gives us à pretty long poem, called "Contemplations" by Anne Bradstreet, daughter of one Governor of Massachusetts Colony, and wife of another, who seems to have been a fine spirit. Shepherd. Was she, sir? North. She is said to have been "" a woman honoured and esteemed, where she lived, for her gracious demeanour, her eminent parts, her pious conversation, her virtuous disposition, her exact diligence in her place, and discreet managing of her family occasions; and more so, these poems are the fruits but of some few hours curtailed from her sleep, and other refreshments." Shepherd. Then Anne Bradstreet, sir, was a fine spirit! Just like a' our ain poetesses-in England and Scotland— married or no married yet—and och! och! och! hoo unlike to her and them the literary limmers o' France, rougin and leerin on their spinnle-shanked lovers, that maun hae loathed the sicht and the smell o' them, starin and stinkin their way to the grave! 1 Louis de Gongora, a Spanish poet, born 1561, was the founder of a school of fantastical rhymsters, called Gongorists. 168 Tickler. James ! HER CONTEMPLATIONS. North. The celebrated Cotton Mather Shepherd. Ay, I ken about him-born about fifty years after that date—the great mover in the mysterious matter o' the Salem witchcraft.1 North. He says that "her poems, eleven times printed, have afforded a plentiful entertainment unto the ingenious, and a monument for her memory beyond the stateliest marbles." And the learned and excellent Norton of Ipswich Shepherd. I kenna him North. her sex." -calls her "The mirror of her age, and glory of Shepherd. Recolleck ye ony verses o' her contemplations? North. Anne is walking in her contemplations through a wood, and she saith “While musing thus, with contemplation fed, The sweet-tongued Philomel perch'd o'er my head, And wish'd me wings with her a while to take my flight. 666 ""O Merry Bird!' said I, 'that fears no snares, Feels no sad thought, nor cruciating cares To gain more good, or shun what might thee harm ; Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water clear, Remind'st not what is past, nor what's to come dost fear. The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent, So each one tunes his pretty instrument, And warbling out the old, begins anew; And thus they pass their youth in summer season, Then follow thee into a better region, Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion!"" 1 Cotton Mather, D.D., was born at Boston in 1663, and died in 1728. He wrote An Ecclesiastical History of England, and The Wonders of the Invisible World, or the Trials of Witches. Shepherd. Oh man, but they're bonny, incorrect, sweet, simple lines thae-and after sic a life as Anne Bradstreet led, can there be ony doubt that she is in heaven? North. In my mind none. Nearly a hundred years after the birth—and nearly forty after the death of Anne Bradstreet-was born in Boston, Jane Colman, daughter of a clergyman, who was a school companion of Cotton Mather. At eleven, she used to correspond with her worthy father in verse-on entering her nineteenth year, she married a Mr Turel of Medford Shepherd. Hoo can ye remember names in that wonnerfu' way, sir? And yet you say ye hae nae memory? You forget naething. North.and died, James, in 1735, at the age of twentyseven, "having faithfully fulfilled those duties which shed the brightest lustre on woman's name-the duties of the friend, the daughter, the mother, and the wife." Shepherd. Hae ye ony o' her verses by heart, sir? North. The following flows plaintively "From hearts oppress'd with grief, did they require Come now, they cry, regale us with a song- Thou once wert blest with peace, and loved of God; Thy fruitful fields by thorns and woods disgraced. 170 JANE COLMAN'S FATHER. Let Edom's sons thy just displeasure know, Shepherd. I daursay, gin I could get the soun' o' our ain mournfu' auld version out o' ma heart, that I sud like the lines unco weel-she maun hae been a gentle cretur. North. I mentioned, James, that she and her father used to correspond Shepherd. After her marriage? North. Before and after-and in one of his letters-which I think must have been addressed to her before-before living with her husband at Medford-alluding to her having, in her paraphrase, said "No helper in the waste and barren ground, her father writes to her thus-Strange, is it not, that part of his letter should be read at a Noctes! Shepherd. I think I see him mendin his pen in his study at Boston, New England, America, ae forenoon about Twal o'clock, on the 21st January o' 1731-preceesely a hunder years! North. The affectionate father says, "This serious melancholy Psalm is well turned by you in most parts of it, considering your years and advantages for such a performance. You speak of a single withered willow which they hung their harps on; but Euphrates was covered with willows along the banks of it, so that it has been called the river of willows. I hope, my dear, your lyre will not be hung on such a sorrowful shrub. Go on in sacred songs, and we'll hang it on the stately cedars of Lebanon, or let the pleasant elm before the door where you are suffice for you." Shepherd. The pious pride o' paternal affection! North. Jane Colman, during her eight years of wedded life, was no doubt happy—and in a calm spirit of happiness must have indited the soft, sweet, and simple close of an imitation of Horace. Shepherd. O' Horace! Could she read Latin? |