The friendship of Addison has shed a reflected light on some of his contemporaries, and it elevated them, in their own day, to considerable importance. Amongst these was THOMAS TICKELL (16861740), born at Bridekirk, near Carlisle, son of a clergyman, and educated at Queen's College, Oxford. He was a writer in the 'Spectator' and 'Guardian;' and when Addison went to Ireland as secretary to Lord Sunderland, Tickell accompanied him, and was employed in public business. He published a translation of the first book of the Iliad' at the same time with Pope. Addison and the Whigs pronounced it to be the best, while the Tories ranged under the banner of Pope. The circumstance led to a breach of the friendship betwixt Addison and Pope, which was never healed. Addison continued, his patronage, and when made Secretary of State in 1717, he appointed his friend under-secretary. He also left him the charge of publishing his works, and on his death-bed recommended him to Secretary Craggs. Tickell prefixed to the collected works of Addison an elegy on his deceased friend, which is justly considered one of the most pathetic and sublime poems in the language. In 1722, Tickell published a poem, chiefly allegorical, entitled Kensington Gardens; and being in 1724 appointed secretary to the lords-justices of Ireland, he seems to have abandoned the Muses. He died at Bath in 1740, but was buried at Glasneven, near Dublin, where he had long resided. The monumental tablet in Glasneven Church to the memory of Tickell records that his highest honour was that of having been the friend of Addison.' His elegy, and his beautiful ballad of 'Colin and Lucy,' would have served, however, to per petuate his name, while even his opponent Pope admitted that he was an honest man.' ་ From the Lines 'To the Earl of Warwick, on the Death of Mr. Addison.' Can I forget the dismal night that gave By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead, Through breathing statues, then unheeded things, Through rows of warriors, and through walks of kings! Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone, In what new region, to the just assigned, What new employments please th' unbodied mind? Of heaven's decrees, where wondering angels gaze? And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart: Or, roused by fancy, meets my waking eyes. If business calls, or crowded courts invite, Th' unblemished statesman seems to strike my sight; I meet his soul which breathes in Cato there; If pensive to the rural shades I rove, His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove; There taught us how to live; and-oh! too high Of Leinster, famed for maidens fair, Till luckless love and pining care Her coral lips and damask cheeks, Oh! have you seen a lily pale When beating rains descend? So drooped the slow-consuming maid, By Lucy warned, of flattering swains Three times all in the dead of night Too well the love-lorn maiden knew 'I hear a voice you cannot hear, 'By a false heart and broken vows Was I to blame because his bride 'Ah, Colin! give not her thy vows, Nor thou, fond maid! receive his kiss "To-morrow in the church to wed, But know, fond maid! and know, false man! The bridegroom blithe to meet He in his wedding trim so gay, She in her winding-sheet. Then what were perjured thoughts? How were these nuptials kept? Colin's The bridesmen flocked round Lucy dead, Confusion, shame, remorse, despair, The damps of death bedewed his brow; When stretched before her rival's corpse Then to his Lucy's new-made grave Oft at this grave the constant hind But, swain forsworn! whoe'er thou art, From the vain bride-ah! bride no Remember Colin's dreadful fate, more! The varying crimson fled And fear to meet him there. Tickell occasionally tried satire, and the following piece shews a stronger and bolder hand than the bulk of his verses. It was written to ridicule the Jacobite Earl of Mar and his rash enterprise in 1715-16 in favour of the Chevalier. An Imitation of the Prophecy of Nereus-From Horace, Book iii. Ode 25. As Mar his round one morning took- And his new brethren of the blade, With bristled hair and visage blighted, The grisly sage in thought profound come On Scottish pads shall amble home; And checkered plaid become their prey- 'In vain the hungry mountaineers Come forth in all their warlike gearsThe shield, the pistol, dirk, and dagger, Macleans, Mackenzies, and Macgregors? 'Douglas, who draws his lineage down From thanes and peers of high renown, Fiery and young, and uncontrolled, With knights and squires and barons bold His noble household band-advances Lodged in his deep intrenchments lies; Is this thy haughty promise paid With Highland sceptre in his hand, AMBROSE PHILIPS. Among the poets of the day whom Addison's friendship and Pope's enmity raised to temporary importance, was AMBROSE PHILIPS (16711749). He was a native of Shropshire, and educated at St. John's College, Cambridge. He made his appearance as a poet in the same year and in the same volume as Pope-the 'Pastorals' of Philips being the first poem, and the 'Pastorals' of Pope, the last in Tonson's Miscellany' for 1709. They had been printed the year previous. Tickell injudiciously praised Philip's Pastorals as the finest in the language, and Pope resented this unjust depreciation of his own poetry by an ironical paper in the 'Guardian,' calculated to make Philips appear ridiculous. Pretending to criticise the rival Pastorals,' and compare them, Pope gives the preference to Philips, but quotes all his worst passages as his best, and places by the side of them his own finest lines, which he says want rusticity and deviate into downright poetry. Philips felt the satire keenly, and even vowed to take personal vengeance on his adversary, by whipping him with a rod, which he hung up for the purpose in Button's Coffee-house. Pope-faithful to the maxim that a man never forgives another whom he has injured-continued to pursue Philips with his hatred and satire to the close of his life. The pastoral poet had the good sense not to enter the lists with his formidable assailant, and his character and talents soon procured him public employment. In 1715, he was appointed paymaster of the Lottery; he afterwards was selected by Archbishop Boulter, primate of Ireland, as his secretary, and sat for the county of Armagh in the Irish parliament. In 1734, he was made registrar of the Prerogative Court. From these appointments, Philips was able to purchase an annuity of £400 per annum, with which he hoped, as Johnson says, ' to pass some years of life (in England) in plenty and tranquility; but his hope deceived him; he was struck with a palsy, and died, June 18, 1749.' The Pastorals' of Philips are certainly poor productions; but he was an elegant versifier, and Goldsmith has eulogised the opening of his 'Epistle to the Earl of Dorset' as incomparably fine.' A fragment of Sappho, translated by Philips, is a poetical gem so brilliant, that it is thought Addison must have assisted in its composition: |