Pensive and sad, his drooping muse betrays The Roman genius in its last decays. The youthful poet's praise of his great master is confined to his translations, works which a modern eulogist would scarcely select as the peculiar glory of Dryden. Addison also contributed an Essay on Virgil's Georgics, prefixed to Dryden's translation. His remarks are brief, but finely and clearly written. At the same time, he translated the fourth Georgic, and it was published in Dryden's Miscellany, issued in 1693, with a warm commendation from the aged poet on the most ingenious Mr Addison of Oxford.' Next year he ventured on a bolder flight-An Account of the Greatest English Poets, addressed to Mr H. S. (supposed to be the famous Dr Sacheverell), April 3, 1694. This Account is a poem of about 150 lines, containing sketches of Chaucer, Spenser, Cowley, Milton, Waller, &c. We subjoin the lines on the author of the Faery Queen, though, if we are to believe Spence, Addison had not then read the poet he ventured to criticise: Old Spenser next, warm'd with poetic rage, This subdued and frigid character of Spenser shows that Addison wanted both the fire and the fancy of the poet. His next production is equally tame and commonplace, but the theme was more congenial to his style: it is A Poem to His Majesty, Presented to the Lord Keeper. Lord Somers, then the keeper of the great seal, was gratified by this compliment, and became one of the steadiest patrons of Addison. In 1699, he procured for him a pension of £300 a-year, to enable him to make a tour in Italy. The government patronage was never better bestowed. The poet entered upon his travels, and resided abroad two years, writing from thence a poetical Letter from Italy to Charles Lord Halifax, 1701. This is the most elegant and animated of all his poetical productions. The classic ruins of Rome, the heavenly figures' of Raphael, the river Tiber, and streams immortalised in song,' and all the golden groves and flowery meadows of Italy, seem, as Pope has remarked, to have raised his fancy, and brightened his expressions.' There was also, as Goldsmith observed, a strain of political thinking in the Letter, that was then new to our poetry. He returned to England in 1702. The death of King William deprived him of his pension, and appeared to crush his hopes and expectations; but being afterwards engaged to celebrate in verse the battle of Blenheim, Addison so gratified the lordtreasurer, Godolphin, by his 'gazette in rhyme,' that he was appointed a commissioner of appeals. He was next made under secretary of state, and went to Ireland as secretary to the Marquis of Wharton, lord-lieutenant. The queen also made him keeper of the records of Ireland. Previous to this (in 1707), Addison had brought out his opera of Rosamond, which was not successful on the stage. The story of fair Rosamond would seem well adapted for my [From the Letter from Italy.] The redd'ning orange, and the swelling grain: * O liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright, Nor at the coarseness of our heaven repine, Though o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine: 'Tis liberty that crowns Britannia's isle, And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile. Ode. How are thy servants blest, O Lord! How sure is their defence! Eternal wisdom is their guide, Their help Omnipotence. In foreign realms, and lands remote, Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt, 1 Malone states that this was the first time the phrase classic ground, since so common, was ever used. It was ridiculed by some contemporaries as very quaint and affected. Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil, Think, O my soul! devoutly think, Confusion dwelt on every face, When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs, Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord! My soul took hold on thee. For though in dreadful whirls we hung I knew thou wert not slow to hear, The storm was laid, the winds retir'd, The sea that roar'd at thy command, In midst of dangers, fears, and death, My life, if thou preserv'st my life, Ode. The spacious firmament on high, Soon as the evening shades prevail, What, though in solemn silence, all *The earliest composition that I recollect taking any pleasure in was the Vision of Mirza, and a hymn of Addison's, beginning, "How are thy servants blest, O Lord!" I particularly remember one half-stanza, which was music to my boyish ear: "For though in dreadful whirls we hung Burns-Letter to Dr Moore. |