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ungovernable horse. Now he rode poem is not equal to the former pro Bucephalus with a curb. The rhythduction of the same author, but the spirit mical impulse alone retained its oriof panegyric is more agreeable than that

ginal force and fire. He said that to of satire, and I love the man for his lines

go on with Madoc was almost necesto his own friends ; there is an imitation of Otium Divos, very eminently beauti

sary to his happiness, and that he ful. Merry has been satirised too much,

had rather leave off eating than poetand praised too much. ...

izing. But he was no longer in a I am in hopes that the absurd fashion

condition to think for himself only. of wearing powder has received its death.

London he knew to be the scene of blow; the scarcity we are threatened enterprize. He told Mr. Bedford, with (and of which we have as yet expe 'I want to be there; I want to feel rienced only a very slight earnest) renders myself settled.' It was a struggle it now highly criminal. I am glad you between the prudential and imaginaare without it.

tive feelings. He hated cities of God bless you !

every kind and degree, and preferred ROBERT SOUTHEY.

a corner of Stonehenge to the sunny When the day was fixed for the side of Park Lane. He never apvoyage, Southey named it for that of

proached London without feeling his his own marriage ; and on the 14th heart sink within him; its atmoof November, 1795, he was united to sphere oppressed him, and all its Edith Fricker at Bristol, in Radclift associations were painful. He was, Church. They parted at the doors, moreover, essentially and unchangeand Mrs. Southey wore her wedding ably unsocial. He playfully declared ring round her neck, and retained that God never intended that he her maiden name until the marriage should make himself agreeable to become known. Never,' he said, anybody; and that if a window could

did man stand at the altar with such have been opened in his breast, he strange feelings as I did.' One of should have immediately put up the his motives was highly honour shutter. A snail popping into the able to him. He wished to pro shell when he was approached, or a tect the lady of his affections from hedgehog rolling himself up in his the mortification of receiving assist. bristles if only looked at, were the ance from one who was not bound emblems by which he chose to into her by a religious sanction. Dur. dicate his own temperament. ing his absence his wife remained as With all these hindrances to Lona parlour boarder with the sisters of don he came, a student of the law. Mr. Cottle.

In the beginning of 1797 he paid his He returned to England in May fees, and was a member of Gray's 1796. Publishing news was not en Inn. His up-hill path was smoothed couraging. Joan had caused no sen by the generosity of his friend Mr. sation in the Row. Cadell sold Wynn, who fulfilled an Oxford proonly three copies. But in-door life mise by allowing him an annuity of was pleasanter. He took lodgings at 1601. His spirits rose. ' Happiness Bristol, and busied himself in the is a flower that will blossom anypreparation of Letters from Spain where,' and he expected to be happy and Portugal. Time had mellowed even in London.' He gives a glimpse down his opinions. The enthusiasm of his doings to his friend the Bristol which had, as he expressed it, so printer :lately fevered his whole character,

To Joseph Cottle. was rapidly subsiding into a calm

London, Feb. 1797. strength and devotion of intellect. My dear friend, -I am now entered His wishes were bounded by the on a new way of life, which will lead me circle of his friends, and the most to independence. You know that I magnificent object of his ambition neither lightly undertake any scheme, was a little room to arrange his books

nor lightly abandon what I have underin, He had discovered a secret which

taken. I am happy because I have no so many thousands never find, that

wants, and because the independence I

labour to obtain, and of attaining which happiness dwells within doors and not without, like a Vestal watching

my expectations can hardly be disapthe fire of the Penates.' He com

pointed, will leave me nothing to wish.

I am indebted to you, Cottle, for the pared his youthfuller passions to an comforts of my latter time.

In my

present situation I feel a pleasure in say but it did not haunt us with any ing thus much.

grotesque remembrance. His talkAs to my literary pursuits, after some for we kept to windward of Repubconsideration I have resolved to postpone

licans, rights of women, and suchevery other till I have concluded Madoc.

like trumpery

was exceedingly This must be the greatest of all my works. The structure is complete in my

pleasant, with a seasoning of dry mind; and my mind is likewise stored

humour and sarcasm, frosty but with appropriate images. Should I de.

kindly. The most striking and relay it these images may become fainter,

markable portrait we have ever seen and perhaps age does not improve the

from a modern pencil, was a head poet.

of Godwin in Pickersgill's studio. Thank God! Edith comes on Monday It was the old man himself looking next. I say, thank God! for I have through a frame. never, since my return, been absent from Edith by his side, and taking her so long before, and sincerely hope Blackstone and Madoc together, the and intend never to be so again. On

poet managed to jog on with small Tuesday we shall be settled; and on

discomfort, vamping up an occasional Wednesday my legal studies begin in the

translation for the booksellers, and morning, and I shall begin with Madoc in the evening. Of this it is needless to

looking forward to a country trip in caution you to say nothing, as I must

the summer and autumn. A bathinghave the character of a lawyer; and, place on the Hampshire coast was though I can and will unite the two

his desire. He loved the sea and its pursuits, no one would credit the possi scenery; to lie along its sands; to bility of the union. In two years the catch its morning, mid-day, and poem shall be finished, and the many evening appearances for poetry. Peryears it must lie by will afford ample haps no poet has produced more extime for correction. Mary has been in

quisite marine views; and we doubt the Oracle ; also some of my sonnets in

if the English 'Parnassus' can excel the Telegraph, with outrageous com

the description of Ladurlad, in Kemendation. I have declined being a member of a Literary Club which meets

hama, advancing into the sea, which weekly, and of which I had been elected

opens before his footsteps, and makes a member. Surely a man does not do

a roof of crystal over his head :his duty who leaves his wife to evenings With steady tread he held his way of solitude, and I feel duty and happiness Adown the sloping shore ; to be inseparable. I am happier at The dark green waves with emerald hue home than any other society can possibly

Imbue the beams of day, make me.

And on the wrinkled sand below,
God bless you !

Rolling their mazy net-work to and fro,
Yours siricerely,

Light shadows shift and play.

Along the Hampshire coast he had The literary people whom he met admirable opportunities of studying did not impress him with favourable sea-appearances. The ocean prospect sentiments. The countenance of every is softened and variegated by the lion exhibited some unpleasant trait. sylvan. He was particularly struck by the This New Forest (he wrote) is very 'noble eyes and most abominable lively ; I should like to have a house in nose of the late Mr. Godwin. The it and dispeople the rest, like William latter feature of that gentleman he the Conqueror. Of all land objects a never saw without longing to cut it forest is the finest. The feelings that off.' He also met Gilbert Wakefield,

fill me when I lie under one tree and with 'a most critic-like voice, as if

contemplate another in all the majesty of he had snarled himself hoarse.' In

years, are neither to be defined nor exthat respect he must have offered a

pressed, and these indefinable and inex

pressible feelings are those of the highest strange contrast to Godwin, whose

delight. They pass over the mind like speech was delightfully soft and sil

the clouds of the summer evening-too very. We remember him, in our fine and too fleeting for memory to youth, at the Monday suppers of detain. John Martin the painter. A notice He succeeded, after some trouble able man, truly, with his white hair, and walking to and fro, in finding broad expanse of forehead, and large lodgings near Christchurch. His mosolemn grey eyes.

The nose was ther came to him from Bath, with more massive than is usually worn, his brother Thomas, a midshipman

in the navy, and just then released from a French prison at Brest. The season, the country, and his friends, all helped to endear the holyday. • The only drawbacks were his detested legal studies, and the idea of returning to London.'

The unequal contest between Poetry and Law was not waged long. Blackstone and Coke, with that Littleton to whom for so many years he has been a sort of rough-rider, retreated before a gathering rank-andfile of literary enterprizes. He abandoned his London residence for a small house at Westbury, a village near Bristol, and spoke of this season as among the happiest of his life. One of the pleasantest walks in England led him to young Humphry Davy, in the bloom of manhood and intellect, who repaid the recitation of passages from Madloc, with the exhibition of some new chemical experiment. He called his house Martin Hall, in honour of the flourishing colonies of that bird which surrounded and built in it. It was old, but affording delicious prospects, with an abundant garden and incomparable currant puddings. And here, in a Kamtschatkan winter, December 14, 1798, enveloped in a great-coat, formidable and · hirsute,' in the twentyfifth year of his age, and under a fixed, though not pleasing conviction, that his heart was affected, the first volume ends its story of Robert Southey.

thoroughly to his own satisfaction. His first poems were also going to press for a third edition.

In the summer of 1799 he enjoyed a short ramble along the northern coast of Devonshire; and we are tempted to extract one sketch, as the most agreeable specimen of his style which these volumes have hitherto presented to us. Gilpin would have delighted in it, and even Price, the Picturesque man,' have seen in it something to praise :

My walk to Ilfracombe led me through Lynmouth, the finest spot, except Cintra and the Arrabida, that I ever saw. Two rivers join at Lynmouth. You probably know the hill streams of Devonshire, each of these flows down a coombe, rolling down over huge stones like a long waterfall; immediately at their junction they enter the sea, and the rivers and the sea make but one sound of uproar. Of these coombes the one is richiy wooded ; the other runs between two high, bare, stony hills. From the hill between the two is a prospect most magnificent; on either hand, the coombes and the river before the little village. The beautiful little village, which I am assured by one who is familiar with Switzerland, resem. bles a Swiss village,--this alone would constitute a view beautiful enough to repay the weariness of a long journey; but, to complete it, there is the blue and boundless sea, for the faint and feeble line of the Welsh coast is only to be seen on the right hand if the day be perfectly clear. Ascending from Lynmouth up a road of serpentining perpendicularity you reach a lane, which by a slight descent leads to the Valley of Stones,-a spot which, as one of the gratest wonders, indeed, in the West of England, would attract many visitors if the roads were passable by carriages. Imagine a narrow vale between two ridges of hills somewhat steep : the southern hill turfed ; the vale which runs from east to west covered with huge stones and fragments of stones among the fern that fills it ; the northern ridge completely bare, and excoriated of all turf and all soil, the very bones and skeleton of the earth, rock reclining upon rock, stone piled upon stone, a huge and terrific mass. A palace of the Preadamite kings, a city of the Anakim, must have appeared so shapeless, and yet so like the ruins of what had been shaped after the waters of the flood subsided. I ascended with some toil the highest point; two large stones inclining on each other formed a rude portal on the summit. Here I sat down. A little level platform, about two yards long, lay before me, and then

The second volume opens with a picture of the poet in full activity, play plots niaturing in his head, but none ripe.' They were of all kinds,-classical, European, and domestic. All this time his health was shattered.

I thought (he wrote) I was like a Scotch fir, and could grow anywhere ; but I am sadly altered, and my nerves are in a vile state. I am almost ashamed of my own feelings, but they depend not upon volition. These things throw a fog over the prospect of life. * * * You know not the alteration I feel. I could once have slept with the Seven Sleepers without a miracle ; now the least sound wakes me, and with alarm.

These were painful confessions, but he struggled on to keep his terms at Gray's Inn. A pleasanter episode in his life was the growth of Madoc,

p. 22, 3.

the eye immediately fell upon the sea, as quickly as possible. Southey was far, very far below. I never felt the very willing to obey the summons. sublimity of solitude before.-Vol. ü.

His uncle possessed an excellent

library, and a pleasant brook ran But the sweet breezes of Devon before his door. Several of the shire wafted small vigour to the poet's letters from Portugal are poet. Soon after his return, a ner printed in this volume, and are very vous fever laid him on his bed in a entertaining. One remark upon the state of deplorable weakness. In national appearance is worthy of search of medical help, he again Tacitus or Macchiavelli :visited Bristol, a city which he after I meet the galley-slaves sometimes, wards commended, in the Life of and have looked at them with a phyWesley, as one of the most ancient, siognomic eye to see if they differed from most beautiful, and most interesting

the rest of the people. It appeared to in England. Nor is the surrounding

me that they had been found out, the

others had not. scenery less remarkable, with its elm-shadowed fields, and prospect

Lisbon is chiefly supplied from bounding sea.' In the poetry of gardens scattered along the Valley Southey and Coleridge we find charm of Chellas,- a delicious spot, with ing sketches of the walks and land its orange- trees, vine - embowered scapes :

walks, broad-leafed figs, corn-fields

and olives, hedges of rose and woodThe bare bleak mountain speckled thin

bine, and all the luscious fruitage of with sheep ;

the Hesperides. Cintra was even Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the

lovelier. Most readers have long ago sunny fields; And river, now with bushy rocks o'er

wandered among its green and cool. browed,

ing shades, and eaten its delicious Now winding bright and full, with naked grapes, in the narrative of Mr. Beckbanks ;

ford. A stranger, softer, dreamier And seats and lawns, the Abbey and the region, never swam into the halfwood,

shut eye of Collins or Thomson. And cots, and hamlets, and faint city It was the


home of Indolence : spire ;

A listless climate made, where, sooth to The Channel there, the islands and white sails,

say, Dim coasts, and cloud-like hills.

No living wight could work, ne cared

even for play. Mr. Bowles traced his earliest as How the hours glided past, in sociations of poetry with picturesque riding donkeys which the rider was scenery, to that charming Brockley too lazy to beat, in picking oranges Combe, from whence the eye takes and figs, in drinking Colares winein a long reach of the Severn, woods, the flower of claret and port distilled villages, and the glimmering hill and interfused—and in a voluptuous outline of Wales. A very different siesta of two hours! The days had person, Robert Hall, was almost no cloud, and purple evenings glimequally enthusiastic.

Were you

mered and fainted into such balmy in Bristol ?' he asked Dr. and visionary moonlight, as Claude Gregory. There is scenery worth might have felt, or Mariana have looking upon, and worth thinking of.' seen on the old tapestry in the

At this time, however, scenery Moated Grange. shone very dimly upon Southey. But the poet did not yield to His letters give distressing glimpses Capua. In the enchanted garden of of his sufferings. “I start from sleep, Circe he heard the voice of Minerva. as if death had seized me.

He worked. Thalaba was finished, sensible of every pulsation, and com the Indian story was begun, and pelled to attend to the motion of my Madoc rose in broader outline on heart till that attention disturbs it.' the inward eye. A short residence A change of climate seeming to offer in Wales was required to give the the likeliest remedy, his thoughts true tone to the Cambrian hero, and reverted to bis uncle at Lisbon. That the author anxiously contemplated affectionate friend did not fail him. it. He returned to England with He cordially invited his sick relative improved health. Southern sunshine to try the southern air, and to come had done much for him, but the


I am

casting off the burden of Law did the road to political distinction, they more. The ghost of Blackstone was were to be disappointed. The Chanlaid, and the poet could look the cellor, having nothing for his secreEpic Muse in the face.

tary to do, proposed to him the eduWhile searching about for a rest cation of his son, as a sort of employing-place where he might receive her ment of spare time. The secretary visits, in the quiet and peace that declined the offer, and lost his salary she loves, he was fortunately directed with his pupil. Southey could not to that mountain-home, which was have been ignorant of the value of to be his abode for the longest that pecuniary independence, which period of his life, the birth-place of he was almost rashly casting away. all his children (save one), and the In one of his letters he speaks of his place of his final rest.' It happened early struggles, with something of the at that period to be occupied by sadness and reality that lend such Coleridge, who thus pleasantly de power to the Journal of Crabbe:scribes its character and charms:

When Joan of Arc was in the press I Our house stands on a low hill, the had as many legitimate causes for unwhole front of which is one field and an

happiness as any man need have,-unenormous garden, nine-tenths of which is

certainty for the future and immediate a nursery-garden. Behind the house is

want, in the literal and plain meaning of an orchard, and a small wood on a steep the word. I often walked the streets at slope, at the foot of which flows the river dinner-time for want of a dinner, when Greta, which winds round and catches the I had not eighteen-pence for the ordievening lights in the front of the house.

nary, nor bread and cheese at my lodgIn front, we have a giant's camp -- an ings. But do not suppose that I thought encamped army of tent-like mountains"; of my dinner when I was walking. My which, by an inverted arch, gives a view head was full of what I was composing : of another vale. On our right, the lovely when I lay down at night, I was planning vale and the wedge-shaped lake of Bas my poem ; and when I rose up in the senthwaite ; and on our left Derwent.

morning, the poem was the first thought water, Lodore full in view, and the fan to which I was awake. . The scanty profits tastic mountains of Borrodale. Behind of that poem I was then anticipating in us the massy Skiddaw, smooth, green, my lodging-house bills for tea, bread, and high, with two chasms and a tent-like butter, and those little &c.'s which ridge in the larger. A fairer scene you amount to a formidable sum when a man have not seen in all your wanderings. has no resourses.-P. 208. Vol. ii. p. 147.

After relinquishing his secretarySouthey did not immediately ap ship he took up his abode at Bristol, preciate the enthusiasm of his friend. covered his tables with folios, and He sighed for the Mondego and the laboured for immortality and Long, Tagus, for the great Mouchique and man. Poetry had been almost laid Cintra. But his studies of the pic- aside; he found that tugging at the turesque were suddenly interrupted historical oar was more likely to by the most promising invitation he bring him into port; and his chief had hitherto received. His kind pro attention was turned to finding beds, tector and associate, Mr. Wynn, had chairs, and a table for a house—when obtained for him the appointment of he could get one.

Not that the private secretary to the Irish Chan Muse was utterly forgotten. To cellor of Exchequer, with a salary assist the destitute relations of Chatof 3501. He accordingly sailed for terton, he busied himself in preparing Dublin, but remained there only a an edition of his poems for the press, short time, and spent the remainder which appeared at the close of 1802, of the year in London. His official and yielded more than 3001. to the duties were not burdensome; and benevolent design of the editor. He frequent holydays interspersed plea had no intention of settling himself sant intervals of literary leisure. at Bristol. Keswick, with the Ghost Meanwhile Thalaba moved wly, of old Skiddaw lowering over it, had but he introduced the writer to many attractions in his eye. But to Holland House. In the beginning him — a green-house plant, and of the following year he lost his mo pining for the sun — its cold, rainy ther, and with her the last friend of climate, was a strong objection. He his infancy and childhood. If his did not know where to choose. Now admirers hoped that he was now on he thought of green Richmond, with

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