THE following Eclogues, I believe, bear no resemblance to any poems in our language. This species of composition has become popular in Germany, and I was induced to attempt it by what was told me of the German Idylls by my friend Mr. William Taylor of Norwich. So far, therefore, these pieces may be deemed imitations, though I am not acquainted with the German language at present, and have never seen any translations or specimens in this kind. With bad Eclogues I am sufficiently acquainted, from Tityrus and Corydon down to our English Strephons and Thirsisses. No kind of poetry can boast of more illustrious names, or is more distinguished by the servile dulness of imitated nonsense. Pastoral writers, "more silly than their sheep," have, like their sheep, gone on in the same track one after another. Gay struck into a new path. His eclogues were the only ones which interested me when I was a boy, and did not know they were burlesque. The subject would furnish matter for an essay, but this is not the place for it. 1799. I. THE OLD MANSION-HOUSE. STRANGER. OLD friend! why you seem bent on parish duty, Breaking the highway stones,.. and 't is a task Somewhat too hard methinks for age like yours! OLD MAN. Why yes! for one with such a weight of years The beautifying of this mansion here, When my late Lady's father, the old Squire, STRANGER. Why then you have outlasted All his improvements, for you see they 're making Great alterations here. OLD MAN. Aye.. great indeed! And if my poor old Lady could rise up God rest her soul ! 't would grieve her to behold STRANGER. They've set about it In right good earnest. All the front is gone; Here's to be turf, they tell me, and a road Round to the door. There were some yew trees too Stood in the court... OLD MAN. Aye, Master! fine old trees! Lord bless us! I have heard my father say ... STRANGER. I could as soon But 't will be lighter and more chearful now; Waving in the wind: And when the autumn comes |