Short-lived possession! but the record fair,
That memory keeps of all thy kindness there,
Still outlives many a storm that has effaced
A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,
That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid;
Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,
The biscuit, or confectionary plum;

The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed

By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed ;—
All this, and more endearing still than all,
Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall,
Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks,
That humour interposed too often makes ;-
All this still legible in memory's page,
And still to be so to my latest age,
Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay
Such honours to thee as my numbers may;
Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,

Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.
Could time, his flight reversed, restore the hours,
When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers,
The violet, the pink, and jessamine,

I pricked them into paper with a pin,

(And thou wast happier than myself the while,
Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile,)
Could those few pleasant days again appear,
Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?
I would not trust my heart-the dear delight
Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might-
But no-what here we call our life is such,
So little to be loved, and thou so much,
That I should ill requite thee to constrain
Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.

Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast
(The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed)
Shoots into port at some well-havened isle,
Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile,
There sits quiescent on the floods, that show
Her beauteous form reflected clear below,
While airs impregnated with incense play
Around her, fanning light her streamers gay;—

So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore
"Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,"
And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide
Of life, long since, has anchored by thy side.
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
Always from port withheld, always distrest-
Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tost,
Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost,
And day by day some current's thwarting force
Sets me more distant from a prosperous course.
But oh! the thought, that thou art safe, and he!
That thought is joy, arrive2 what may to me.
My boast is not that I deduce my birth
From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth;
But higher far my proud pretensions rise-
The son of parents past into the skies.
And now, farewell-time unrevoked has run
His wonted course, yet what I wished is done.
By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,
I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again;
To have renewed the joys that once were mine,
Without the sin of violating thine;

And, while the wings of fancy still are free,
And I can view this mimic show of thee,
Time has but half succeeded in his theft-
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.

Cowper.

1

ODE

ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE.

YE3 distant spires! ye antique towers!
That crown the watery glade,
Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade;

Where tempests, &c.-This line is taken-Cowper himself tell us in a note -from a poem by Dr. Garth.

2 Arrive-a Gallicism, from the French arriver, to happen.

3

Ye, &c.-The first fourteen lines form a sort of complicated vocative case, the grammatical construction remaining incomplete until we reach the line 'I feel the gales, &c."

4 Henry's holy shade-Henry VI founded Eton College, in 1441. shade," on account of the saintliness of character attributed to him.

"Holy

And ye,1 that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights the expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along

His silver-winding3 way ;—

Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
Ah fields beloved in vain!

Where once my careless childhood strayed,
A stranger yet to pain!

I feel the gales that from you blow
A momentary bliss bestow,

. As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weary soul they seem to soothe,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring.

Say, father Thames !6 for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race,
Disporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace,
Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant arm thy glassy wave?

The captive linnet 7 which enthral ?
What idle progeny succeed

1 Ye-i. e. ye towers of Windsor Castle.

2 Whose turf, &c.-These nouns pair with those in the previous line, thus:— the turf of whose lawn, the shade of whose grove, the flowers of whose mead. In a similar style Shakspere writes:

"The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword."

3 Silver-winding-literally winding like silver, which would be absurd. The word means, shining like silver as it winds along.

In vain-to no purpose, since he was obliged to leave them.

5 Redolent-from the Latin redolens, emitting a smell-smelling sweetly. The word is here used metaphorically, and means in connection with "of joy and youth," fraught with the influences of, &c. A beautiful expression. 6 Father Thames-Dr. Johnson pettishly says that "this supplication is useless and puerile. Father Thames has no better means of knowing than himself." The great critic, however, in his own "Rasselas," makes one of the characters thus address the Nile:-" Great father of waters! tell me, &c."

The captive, &c.--Some think this expression tautologous, but it may perhaps be thus explained:-Who imprison the captive (or captured) linnet? i. e. who catch and cage the linnet? A somewhat similar idiom is pointed out in note 5, p. 106.

To chase the rolling circle's speed,
Or urge the flying ball?

While some, on earnest business bent,
Their murmuring labours ply,

'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty,

Some bold adventurers disdain

The limits of their little reign,

And unknown regions dare descry:
Still as they run they look behind,
They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.1

Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possest;
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast;
Theirs buxom2 health of rosy hue,
Wild wit, invention ever new,

And lively cheer, of vigour born;
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly the approach of morn.

Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play!
No sense have they of ills to come,
No care beyond to-day:

Yet see how all around them wait

The ministers3 of human fate,

And black Misfortune's baleful train!

Ah, show them where in ambush stand,
To seize their prey, the murderous band!
Ah! tell them, they are men.

Snatch a fearful joy-A happy combination of words. A fearful joy!

2 Buxom-in Old English, boughsome; i. e. easily bent or bowed to one's willpliant, easily moved, elastic, agile, merry.

3

Minister-from the Latin minister, an attendant-an official servant. "The ministers of human fate" are the dangers of human life, appointed by the supreme power, who is here, somewhat heathenishly, called fate.

Ah! tell them, &c.-The conception of the grim ministers of fate-the murderous band—awaiting in ambush the approach of their heedless victim, is very striking, whatever opinion may be formed of the view of life which it suggests.

These shall the fury Passions tear,2
The vultures of the mind,
Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,

And Shame that skulks behind;
Or pining Love shall waste their youth;
Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the secret heart;
And Envy wan, and faded Care,
Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,
And Sorrow's piercing dart.3

Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter Scorn a sacrifice
And grinning Infamy.

The stings of Falsehood those shall try,
And hard Unkindness' altered eye,

That mocks the tear it forced to flow,
And keen Remorse, with blood defiled,
And moody Madness,+ laughing wild
Amid severest woe.

Lo! in the vale of years beneath
A grisly troop are seen,-

The painful family of Death,5

More hideous than their queen :

6

This racks the joints, this fires the veins,

That every labouring sinew strains,

1 These-some of these-in contrast with "this" and "those" in the next stanza.

2 Fury passions-This stanza presents, in a short compass, a graphic sketch of the passions-those "vultures of the mind." They are mostly characterised by their effects, as "pallid Fear," i. e. fear that makes pale; "faded Care,' i. e. care that makes the cheek fade, &c.

3 Sorrow's piercing dart-An instance of anti-climax, or bathos. A climax is an ascending series of thoughts or illustrations, rising in interest from one step to another. An anti-climax, on the contrary, is a descending series. In the sorrow" is tame after the bold personification of

present case,

"Grim-visaged comfortless despair."

See also note 5, p. 63.

4 Moody Madness, &c.-In contrast with the close of the last stanza, this may be characterised as a very striking climax.

5 Family of Death-diseases.

6 Queen-There is a fault here in making Death feminine; and it is believed that no other such instance occurs in our language.