« 前へ次へ »
Who can describe the hopeless, silent pang
That speaks no more to the fond meeting eye
Too faithful heart! thou never canst retrieve
Patience, consoling majil, may yet be thine-
Psyche, Canto VI.
HAGAR IN THE DESERT.
Injured, bopeless, faint and weary,
Sail, indignant, and forlorn,
Hagar leads the child of scorn.
Painted in that tearless eye,
Langnish unrelieved, and die?
Perishing with thirst he lies;
Piteous as for aid he cries.
Wild she rushes from the sight;
Can she see her soul's delight?
Cast upon the burning ground,
Mercy have thy sorrows found.
Comes thy great distress to cheer;
See, divine relief is near.
Wherefore vainly dost thou mourn?
From thy dream of woe awake thee,
To thy rescued child return.
Sparkling mid those fruitful trees!
Smile for thee green bowers of ease. " In the hour of sore affliction
God hath seen and pitied thee;
Thou henceforth his care shalt be. “ Be no more by doubts distressed,
Mother of a mighty race!
Thou hast found a resting-place.”
Thou, poor soul, all desolate,
Found thee, in thy abject state :
Mid the desert of the world ;
From thy cherished pleasures hurled :
Calls thee from thy sorrow vain ;
Bless the salutary pain.
Lo! the well of life be shows;
Bids thee find thy true repose.
Open to thy hopes secure;
Or an heavenly kingdom sure.
How withered, perished seems the form
Of yon obscure, unsightly root! Yet from the blight of wintry storm
It hides secure the precious fruit. The careless eye can find no grace,
No beauty in the scaly folds, Nor see within the dark embrace
What latent loveliness it holds.
Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales,
The lily wraps her silver vest,
Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast.
The undelighting, slighted thing;
In silence let it wait the spring.
In gloom upon the barren earth,
Uninjured lies the future birth!
Hope's patient smile shall wondering view;
As her soft tears the spot bedew.
The sun, the shower indeed shall come;
And nature bid her blossoms bloom.
Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed,
Unveil thy charms, and perfume shed;
Unsullied from their darksome grave-
In the mild breeze unsettered wave,
So Faith shall seek the lowly dust
Where bumble Sorrow loves to lie,
And watch with patient, cheerful eye;
And bear her own degraded doom,
Eternal Spring! shall burst the gloom.
ON RECEIVING A BRANCH OF MEZEREON WIIICII FLOWERED
Odors of Spring, my sense ye charm
With fragrance premature;
poem was the last ever composed by the author, who expired at the place where it was written, after six years of protracied malady, on the 241h of March, 1810, in the thirty-seventh year of her age. Her fears of death
And, mid these days of dark alarm,
Almost to hope allure.
To tell of brighter hours,
Her sunny gales and showers.
The powers of life restore;
Shall see her charms no more.
Beloved friends, adieu!
Could I resign but you.
That rends my soul from life,
Through each convulsive strise,
of terror and regret,
Clings close and closer yet.
Thus mortally opprest?
And bid thy terrors rest!
Thine heavenly being trust!
Still shuddering clings to dust.
With love's own patient care,
Still pour the fervent prayer :
No more, nor voice my ear,
And shed the pitying tear,
My grateful thoughts perceive,
My last sad claim receive!
Forget alone her faults;
were entirely removed before she quilted this scene of trial and suffering; and her spirii departed to a better state of existence, confiding with heavenly joy in the acceptance and love of her Redeemer.
RICHARD CUMBERLAND, 1722–1811.
RICHARD CUMBERLAND, a celebrated dramatic and miscellaneous writer, was born under the roof of his maternal grandfather, the celebrated Dr. Richard Bentley,' on the 29th of February, 1722. After the usual preparatory studies, he was admitted into Trinity College, Cambridge, where he graduated with distinguished honor in 1750. Soon after this, while pursuing his studies at the university, he received an invitation from Lord Halifax 10 become his private and confidential secretary. Accordingly he proceeded to London, where he published his first offering to the press-a churchyard Elegy, in imitation of Gray's. It made but little impression. “The public,” he observes, “were very little interested in it, and Dodsley as little profited.” Soon after this, he published his first legitimate drama, “The Ba. nishment of Cicero;" but it was not adapted for the stage, and it afterwards appeared as a dramatic poem.
In 1759, he married Elizabeth, the only daughter of George Ridge, Esq., of Kilminston, and through the influence of his patron, Lord Halifax, was appointed crown agent for Nova Scotia ; and in the next year, when that nobleman, on the accession of George III., was made lord- lieutenant of Ireland, Cumberland accompanied him as secretary. He now began to write with assiduity for the stage, and produced a variety of plays, of which the most successful was the comedy of “The West Indian," and thus he became known to the literary and distinguished society of the day. The character of him by Goldsmith, in his “ Retaliation," is one of the finest compliments ever paid by one author to another.2
In 1780, Cumberland was sent on a confidential mission to the courts of Madrid and Lisbon, to induce them to enter into separate treaties of peace with England. But he failed to accomplish the object of his mission, and returned in 1781, having contracted, in the public service, a debt of five thousand pounds, which Lord North's ministry meanly and unjustly refused 10 pay. He was compelled, therefore, to sell all his paternal estate, and retire to private life. He fixed his residence at Tunbridge Wells, and there poured forth a variety of dramas, essays, and other works: among which were “Anecdotes of Eminent Painters in Spain;" a poem in eight books entitled “Calvary, or the Death of Christ,” and another called the “Exo.
See “Compendium of English Literature,'' p: 429.
? Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts,
THE TERENCE OF ENGLAND, THE MENDER OF HEARTS;