to speak more truly, with an unfavorable one. Judging by the pain it causes, I conclude that it is of the caustic kind, and may, therefore, be sovereign in cases where the eyelids are ulcerated: but mine is a dry inflammation, which it has always increased as often as I have used it. I used it again, after having long since resolved to use it no more, that I might not seem, even to myself, to slight your kindness, but with no better effect than in every former instance. You are very candid in crediting so readily the excuse I make for not having yet revised your MSS., and as kind in allowing me still longer time. I refer you for a more particular account of the circumstances that make all literary pursuits at present impracticable to me, to the young gentleman who delivers this into your hands.* He is perfectly master of the subject, having just left me after having spent a fortnight with us. You asked me a long time since a question concerning the Olney Hymns, which I do not remember that I have ever answered. Those marked C. are mine, one excepted, which though it bears that mark, was written by Mr. Newton. I have not the collection at present and therefore cannot tell you which it is. You must extend your charity still a little farther, and excuse a short answer to your two obliging letters. I do everything with my pen in a hurry, but will not conclude without entreating you to make my thanks and best compliments to the lady, who was so good as to trouble herself for my sake to write a character of the medicine. I remain, my dear sir, Sincerely yours, W. C. Your request does me honor. Johnson will have orders in a few days to send a copy of the edition just published. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. My dear Brother,-Now I know that you are safe, I treat you, as you see, with a philosophical indifference, not acknowledging your kind and immediate answer to anxious inquiries, till it suits my own convenience. I have learned, however, from my late solicitude, that not only you, but yours, interest me to a degree, that, should anything happen to either of you, would be very inconsistent with my peace. Sometimes I thought that you were extremely ill, and once or twice, that you were dead. As often some tragedy reached my ear concerning little Tom. "Oh, vana mentes hominum?" How liable are we to a thousand impositions, and how indebted to honest * Mr. Rose. Mrs. Haden, formerly governess to the daughters of ord Eardley. The fifth edition of Cowper's Poems. old Time, who never fails to undeceive us Whatever you had in prospect, you acted kindly by me not to make me partaker of your expectations; for I have a spirit, if not so sanguine as yours, yet that would have waited for your coming with anxious impatience, and have been dismally mortified by the disappointment. Had you come, and come without notice too, you would not have surprised us more, than (as the matter was managed) we were surprised at the arrival of your picture. It reached us in the evening, after the shutters were closed, at a time when a chaise might actually have brought you with out giving us the least previous intimation Then it was, that Samuel, with his cheerfu countenance, appeared at the study door, and with a voice as cheerful as his looks, exclaimed, “Mr. Hayley is come, madam!" We both started, and in the same moment cried, "Mr. Hayley come! And where is he?" The next moment corrected our mistake, and finding Mary's voice grow suddenly tren.ulous, I turned and saw her weeping. I do nothing, notwithstanding all your exhortations: my idleness is proof against them all, or to speak more truly, my difficulties are so. Something indeed I do. I play at push-pin with Homer every morning before breakfast, fingering and polishing, as Paris did his armor. I have lately had a letter from Dublin on that subject, which has pleased me. W. C TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. My dearest Hayley,-I truly sympathize with you under your weight of sorrow for the loss of our good Samaritan.* But be not broken-hearted, my friend! Remember the loss of those we love is the condition on which we live ourselves; and that he who chooses his friends wisely from among the excellent of the earth, has a sure ground to hope concerning them when they die, that a merciful God has made them far happier than they could be here, and that we shall join them soon again. This is solid comfort, could we but avail ourselves of it; but I confess the difficulty of doing so. Sorrow is like the deaf adder, "that hears not the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely ;" and I feel so much myself for the death of Austen, that my own chief consolation is, that I had never seen him. Live yourself, I beseech you, for I have seen so much of you that I can by no means spare you, and I will live as long as it shall please God to permit. I know you set some value on me, therefore let that promise comfort * Dr. Austen, who is here alluded to, was not less dis tinguished for his humane and benevolent qualities. than for his professional skill and eminence. you, and give us not reason to say, like Da-be time for the conquest of vehement and vid's servant-" We know that it would have long-rooted prejudice; but, without much pleased thee more if all we had died, than self-partiality, I believe, that the conquest this one, for whom thou art inconsolable." will be made; and am certain that I should You have still Romney, and Carwardine, be of the same opinion, were the work and Guy, and me, my poor Mary, and I know another man's. I shall soon have finished not how many beside; as many, I suppose, the Odyssey, and when I have, will send the as ever had an opportunity of spending a corrected copy of both to Johnson. day with you. He who has the most friends Adieu ! W. C. must necessarily lose the most, and he whose friends are numerous as yours may the better spare a part of them. It is a changing, transient scene: yet a little while, and this poor dream of life will be over with all of us. The living, and they who live unhappy, they are indeed subjects of sorrow. Adieu! my beloved friend, Ever yours, W. C. TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ.* Jan. 31, 1793. Io Paan. My dearest Johnny,-Even as you foretold, so it came to pass. On Tuesday I received your letter, and on Tuesday came the pheasants; for which I am indebted in many thanks, as well as Mrs. Unwin, both to your kindness and to your kind friend Mr. Cope man. In Copeman's ear this truth let Echo tell,- Our friends the Courtenays have never dined with us since their marriage, because we have never asked them; and we have never asked them, because poor Mrs. Unwin is not so equal to the task of providing for and entertaining company as before this last illness. But this is no objection to the arrival here of a bustard; rather it is a cause for which we shall be particularly glad to see the monster. It will be a handsome present to them. So let the bustard come, as the Lord Mayor of London said of the hare, when he was hunting-let her come, a' God's name: I am not afraid of her. Adieu, my dear cousin and caterer. My eyes are terribly bad; else, I had much more to say to you. Ever affectionately yours, W. C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. In this last revisal of my work (the Homer) I have made a number of small improvements, and am now more convinced than ever, having exercised a cooler judgment upon it than before I could, that the trar-lation will make its way. There mus * Private correspondence. TO LADY HESKETH. Weston, Feb. 10, 1793. My pens are all split, and my ink-glass is dry; In vain has it been, that I have made several attempts to write, since I came from Sussex; unless more comfortable days arrive than I have confidence to look for, there is an end of all writing with me. I have no spirits: when Rose came, I was obliged to prepare for his coming by a nightly dose of laudanum-twelve drops suffice; but without them, I am devoured by melancholy. A-propos of the Rose! His wife in her political notions is the exact counterpart of yourself-loyal in the extreme. Therefore, if you find her thus inclined, when you be come acquainted with her, you must not place her resemblance of yourself to the account of her admiration of you, for she is your likeness ready made. In fact, we are all of one mind about government matters, and notwithstanding your opinion, the Rose is himself a Whig, and I am a Whig, and you, my dear, are a Tory, and all the Tories now-a-days call all the Whigs republicans. How the deuce you came to be a Tory is best known to yourself: you have to answer for this novelty to the shades of your ancestors, who were always Whigs ever since we had any. Adieu. W. C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. Weston, Feb. 17, 1793. My dear Friend,-I have read the critique of my work in the Analytical Review, and am happy to have fallen into the hands of a critic, rigorous enough indeed, but a scholar, and a man of sense, and who does not deliberately intend me mischief. I am better pleased indeed that he censures some things than I should have been with unmixed commendation, for his censure (to use the new diplomatic term) will accredit his praises. In his particular remarks he is for the most part right, and I shall be the better for thein; but in his general ones I think he as serts too largely, and more than he cond prove. With respect to inversions in pr ticular, I know that they do not abound Once they did, and I had Milton's example for it, not disapproved by Addison. But on 's remonstrance against them, I expunged the most, and in my new edition shall have fewer stil!. I know that they give dignity, and am sorry to part with them; but, to parody an old proverb, he who lives in the year ninety-three, must do as in the year ninety-three is done by others. The same remark I have to make on his censure of inharmonious lines. I know them to be much fewer than he asserts, and not more in number than I accounted indispensably necessary to a due variation of cadence. I nave, however, now, in conformity with modern taste, (over much delicate in my mind,) given to a far greater number of them a flow as smooth as oil. A few I retain, and will, in compliment to my own judgment. He thinks me too faithful to compound epithets in the introductory lines, and I know his reason. He fears lest the English reader should blame Homer, whom he idolizes, though hardly more than I, for such constant repetition. But them I shall not alter. They are necessary to a just rep-cover at the ends of it either head or tail, or resentation of the original. In the affair of any distinction of parts. I carried it into Outis,* I shall throw him flat on his back by the house, when the air of a warm room an unanswerable argument, which I shall dried and killed it presently. give in a note, and with which I am furnished by Mrs. Unwin. So much for hypercriticism, which has run away with all my - I paper. This critic, by the way is, know him by infallible indications. W.C W. C. TO THE REV. MR. HURDIS. My dear Sir,-My eyes, which have long been inflamed, will hardly serve for Homer, and oblige me to make all my letters short. You have obliged me much, by sending me so speedily the remainder of your notes. 1 have begun with them again, and find them, as before, very much to the purpose. More to the purpose they could not have been, had you been poetry professor already. I rejoice sincerely in the prospect you have of that office, which, whatever may be your own thoughts of the matter, I am sure you will fill with great sufficiency. Would that my interest and power to serve you were greater! One string to my bow I have, and one only, which shall not be idle for want of my exertions. I thank you likewise for your very entertaining notices and remarks in the natural way. The hurry in which I write would not suffer me to send you many in return, had I many to send, but only two or three present themselves. Frogs will feed on worms. I saw a frog gathering into his gullet an earth-worm as A name given to Ulysses. † Maty. long as himself; it cost him time and labor but at last he succeeded. Mrs. Unwin and I, crossing a brook, saw from the foot-bridge somewhat at the bottom of the water which had the appearance of a flower. Observing it attentively, we found that it consisted of a circular assemblage of minnows; their heads all met in a centre, and their tails, diverging at equal distances, and being elevated above their heads, gave them the appearance of a flower half blown. One was longer than the rest, and as often as a straggler came in sight, he quitted his place to pursue him, and having driven him away, he returned to it again, and no other minnow offering to take it in his absence. This we saw him do several times. The object that had attached them all was a dead minnow, which they seemed to be devouring. After a very rainy day, I saw on one of the flower borders what seemed a long hair, but it had a waving, twining motion. Considering more nearly, I found it alive, and endued with spontaneity, but could not dis TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Feb. 24, 1793. Your letter (so full of kindness and so exactly in unison with my own feelings for you) should have had, as it deserved to have, an earlier answer, had I not been perpetually tortured with inflamed eyes, which are a sad hindrance to me in everything. But, to make amends, if I do not send you an early answer, I send you at least a speedy one, being obliged to write as fast as my pen can trot, that I may shorten the time of poring upon paper as much as possible. Homer too has been another hindrance, for always when I can see, which is only about two hours every morning, and not at all by candle-light, I devote myself to him, being in haste to send him a second time to the press, that nothing may stand in the way of Milton. By the way, where are my dear Tom's remarks, which I long to have, and must have soon, or they will come too late? Oh, you rogue! what would you give to have such a dream about Milton as I had about a week since? I dreamed that, being in a house in the city, and with much company, looking towards the lower end of the room from the upper end of it, I descried a figure which I immediately knew to be Mil. ton's. He was very gravely but very neatly attired in the fashion of his day, and had a countenance which filled me with those feel ings that an affectionate child has for a beloved father, such, for instance, as Tom has for you. My first thought was wonder, where he could have been concealed so many years; my second, a transport of joy to find him still alive; my third, another transport to find myself in his company; and my fourth, a resolution to accost him. I did so, and he received me with a complacence in which I saw equal sweetness and dignity. I spoke of his Paradise Lost as every man must who is worthy to speak of it at all, and told him a long story of the manner in which it affected me when I first discovered it, being at that time a school-boy. He answered me by a smile, and a gentle inclination of his head. He then grasped my hand affectionately, and with a smile that charmed me, said, "Well, you for your part will do well also;" at last, recollecting his great age (for I understood him to be two hundred years old) I feared that I might fatigue him by too much talking. I took my leave, and he took his with an air of the most perfect good-breeding. His person, his features, his manner, were all so perfectly characteristic, that I am persuaded an apparition of him could not represent him more completely. This may be said to have been one of the dreams of Pindus, may it not?* How truly I rejoice that you have recovered Guy! That man won my heart the moment I saw him: give my love to him, and tell him I am truly glad he is alive again. There is much sweetness in those lines from the sonneteer of Avon, and not a little in dear Tom's: an earnest, I trust, of good things to come! With Mary's kind love, I must now conclude myself, My dear brother, ever yours, LIPPUS. TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. My dear Friend,-Since I received your last I have been much indisposed, very blind, * Whether this is a poetical or real dream of Cowper's we presume not to decide. It bears so strong a resemblance to Milton's vision of the Bishop of Winchester, (the celebrated Dr. Andrews,) as to suggest the probability of having been borrowed from that source. The passage is to be found in Milton's beautiful Latin elegy on the death of that prelate, and is thus translated by Cowper: "While I that splendor, and the mingled shade Then night retired, and, chas'd by dawning day, The visionary bliss pass'd all away: I mourn'd my banish'd sleep with fond concern: Frequent to ine in-y drea.as like this return." and very busy. But I have not suffered al these evils at one and the same time. While the winter lasted I was miserable with a fe ver on my spirits; when the spring began to approach I was seized with an inflammation in my eyes, and ever since I have been able to use them, have been employed in giving more last touches to Homer, who is on the point of going to press again. Though you are Tory, I believe, and I am Whig, our sentiments concerning the madcaps of France are much the same. They are a terrible race, and I have a horror both of them and their principles.* Tacitus is certainly living now, and the quotations you sent me can be nothing but extracts from some letters of his to yourself. Yours, most sincerely, W. C. We have already mentioned the interest excited in Cowper's mind by a son of Hayley's, a youth of not more than twelve years of age, and of most promising talents. At Cowper's request he addressed to him the subjoined letter, containing criticisms on his Homer, which do honor to his taste and The poet's reply may also be regarded as a proof of his kind condescension and amiable sweetness of temper. acuteness. TO WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. Eartham, March 4, 1793. Honored King of Bards,-Since you deign to demand the observations of an humble and inexperienced servant of yours, on a work of ever ready to serve you with all his might), one who is so much his superior (as he is sire you not to censure me for my unskilful behold what you demand! But let me deand perhaps (as they will undoubtedly appear to you) ridiculous observations; but be so kind as to receive them as a mark of respectful affection from Your obedient servant, Book. I. I. I. I. II. Line. .6 184 I cannot reconcile myself to these 195 expressions, "Ah cloth'd with impudence," &c., and Shameless wolf," and Face of flint." "Dishonor'd foul." is. in my opinion, an uncleanly expression. "Reel'd." I think makes it appear as if Olympus was drunk. 749 "Kindler of the fires of Heaven " I think makes Jupiter appear too much like a lamplighter. These lines are, in my opinion, below the elevated genius of Mr. Cowper. 196 508 661 317 to 319 XVIII. 300 This appears to me to be rather Irish, since in line 300 you say, "No one sat," and in line 304 Polydamus rose." "C * Louis XVI.. the unhappy King of France, had re cently perished on the scaffold, Jan. 21, 1793. TO MR. THOMAS HAYLEY. Weston, March 14, 1793. My dear little Critic,-I thank you heartily for your observations, on which I set a higher value, because they have instructed me as much, and have entertained me more, than all the other strictures of our public judges in these matters. Perhaps I am not much more pleased with shameless wolf, &c., than you. But what is to be done, my little man? Coarse as the expressions are, they are no more than equivalent to those of Homer. The invective of the ancients was never tempered with good manners, as your papa can tell you; and my business, you know, is not to be more polite than my author, but to represent him as closely as I can. Dishonor'd foul I have wiped away, for the reason you give, which is a very just one, and the present reading is this, fig for all critics but you! The blockhead. could not find it. It shall stand thus:First spake Polydamus— Homer was more upon his guard than to commit such a blunder, for he says, αρχ ̓ ἀγυρεύειν. And now, my dear little censor, once more accept my thanks. I only regret that your strictures are so few, being just and sensible as they are. Tell your papa that he shall hear from me soon. Accept mine, and my dear invalid's affectionate remembrances. Ever yours, W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. My dear Hayley,-I am so busy every morning before breakfast (my only opportu nity), strutting and stalking in Homeric stilts, that you ought to account it an instance of marvellous grace and favor, that I condescend to write even to you. Sometimes I am seriously almost crazed with the multiplicity of the matters before me, and the little or no time that I have for them; and sometimes I repose myself, after the fatigue of that dis traction, on the pillow of despair; a pillow which has often served me in the time of need, and is become, by frequent use, if not very comfortable, at least convenient. So reposed, I laugh at the world, and say, "Yes, you may gape and expect both Homer and Milton from me, but I'll be hanged if ever you get them." In Homer you must know I am advanced as far as the fifteenth book of the Iliad, leav ing nothing behind me that can reasonably offend the most fastidious: and I design him soon as possible, for a reason wi ch any poet for public appearance in his new dress as my guess, if he will but thrust his hand into his pocket. vitation to Weston, and yet you invite me to You forbid me to tantalize you with an inEartham! No! no! there is no such haprambled at all, I was under promise to all piness in store for me at present. Had I my dear mother's kindred to go to Norfolk, and they are dying to see me; but I have told them that die they must, for I cannot go; and ergo, as you will perceive, can go nowhere else. Thanks for Mazarin's epitaph!* It is full * We have not been able to discover this epitaph, nor does it appear that it was ever translated by Cowper. Cardinal Mazarin was minister of state to Louis XIII.. and during the minority of Louis XIV. The last mo mers of this great statesman are too edifying not to be recorded. To the ecclesiastic (Joly) who attended him, he said, "I am not satisfied with my state; I wish to feel a more profound sorrow for ny sins. I am a great sin |