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And there, sure as fate, came the knock of That laughs and tumbles, like a conscious

thing, Then the lanthorn, the laugh, and the For joy of all its future travelling. “ Well, how d'ye do ?”

The lizard circuits them ; and his grave will Then your palm tow'rds the fire, and your The frog, with reckoning leap, enjoys apart, face turned to me,

Till now and then the woodcock frights his And shawls and great-coats being—where

heart they should be,

With brushing down to dip his dainty bill. And due " never saw's" being paid to the How beautifully he describes the weather,

Hampstead clouds of heaven. We cherished our knees, and sat sipping And lo, there issued from beside the trees, together,

Through the blue air, a most delicious sight, And leaving the world to the fogs and the A troop of clouds, rich, separate, three parts fighters,

white, Discussed the pretensions of all sorts of As beautiful as pigeons that one sees writers.

Round a glad homestead reeling at their ease, There is too much reason to believe, But large, and slowly; and what made the that this everlasting tea-drinking was sight the chief cause of Leigh Hunt's death. Such as I say, was not that piled white, The truth is, that he had for many

Nor their more rosy backs, nor forward press years been sipping imitation-tea, a

Like sails, nor yet their surfy massiveness pleasant but deleterious preparation

Light in it's plenitude, like racks of snow. more pernicious by far than the very

These are singing clouds, and ought worst port; and there can be little to be introduced on the stage. doubt, that if he had drunk about a

As they stooped them near, bottle of black-strap in the fortnight, How the smooth silver clouds, lasping with

Lo, I could hear and forsworn thin potations altogether, he might have been alive, and Make a bland music to the fawning air, perhaps writing a sonnet at this very Filling with such a roundly-slipping tune moment.

The hollow of the great attentive noon,

That the tall sky seemed touched ; and all II. His love of the Country.

the trees Mr Hunt informs us, that of all the Thrilled with the coming harmonies ; poets of the present day he was the And the fair waters looked as if they lay fondest of rural scenes.

Their cheek against the sound, and so went O Spirit, O muse of mine,

But it is needless to enter at greater Frank, and quick-dimpled to all social glee, length into Mr Hunt's “ love of the And yet most sylvan of the earnest Nine, Who on the fountain-shedding hill,

country,” for it all hangs on one great Leaning about among the clumpy bays

principle-every grove has its nymph, Look at the clear Apollo while he plays;

and that is enough for the author of Take me, now, now, and let me stand the story of Rimini. On some such lovely land,

You finer people of the earth, Where I may feel me, as I please,

Nymphs of all names, and woodland Geni. In dells among the trees, Or on some outward slope, with ruffling hair, I see you, here and there, among the trees, Be level with the air ;

Shrouded in noon-day respite of your mirth : For a new smiling sense has shot down This hum in air, which the still ear perceives, through me,

Is your unquarrelling voice among the leaves; And from the clouds, like stars, bright eyes And now I find, whose are the laughs and are beckoning to me.

stirrings Having got into this situation, Mr That make the delicate birds dart so in Hunt did not long for his wonted cup

whisks and whirrings. of tea, but for “ poetic women"

It is much to be regretted, that the “. To have their fill of pipes and leafy play. deceased bard's rural life was so limiting."

ed and local. - He had no other notion What vast ideas of tobacco does “ fill of that sublime expression, “sub Dio,” of pipes” awaken! and what a game than merely “out of doors.” One alat romps is signified by “ leafy play- ways thinks of Leigh Hunt, on his ing!” after this violent exertion the rural excursions to and from Hamppoet and his nymphs lie down to sleep. stead, in a great-coat or spencer, clogs There lie they, lulled by little whiffling tones

over his shoes, and with an umbrella Of rills among the stones,

in his hand. He is always talking of Or by the rounder murmur, glib and flush, lanes, and styles, and hedgerows, and Of the escaping gush,

clumps of trees, and cows with large Vol. VI.

K

kissed away.

uses,

gave he.

pects blue,

meet

udders. He is the most suburban of from the Iliad, on which Pope and poets. He died, as might have been Cowper had wrought in vain. prophesied, within a few hours saunter Thrice did great Hector drag him by the feet of the spot where he was born, and Backward, and loudly shouted to the Trowithout having been once beyond the

jans; well-fenced meadows of his micro- And thricedid the Ajaces, springy-strength’d,

Thrust him away; yet still he kept the cosm. Suppose for a moment, Leigh Hunt at sea—or on the summit of Sure of his strength; and now and then

ground, Mount Blanc ! It is impossible. No.

rushed on Hampstead was the only place for him. Into the thick, and now and then stood still, .“ With farmy fields in front and sloping Shouting great shouts; and not an inch

green.' Only hear how he revels in the morn

When Iris invites Achilles to go to ing before breakfast, when out on an

the rescue of the body of Patrocles, the adventurous constitutional stroll.

son of Thetis replies to her, as if he Then northward what a range, - with heath

were speaking to our old friend Mr and pond,

Rees, in Paternoster-row, with a MS Nature's own ground; woods that let man- for publication in his pocket. sions through,

“ But how am I to go into the press ?”. And cottaged vales with pillowy fields be- In another place, Funt makes Hoyond,

mer call a fountain “ clear and crisp,And clump of darkening pines, and pros- which had he ever done, Apollo would And that clear path through all, where daily is something to us quite shocking in

have shot him instantly dead. . There Cool cheeks, and brilliant eyes, and morn

the idea of Hunt translating Homerelastic feet.

and his executors have much to anMr Hunt is the only poet who has

swer for in having made the fact pubconsidered the external world simply

lic. as the “ country,” in contradiction to

The following description, though the town--fields in place of squares, very conceited and passionless, seems lanes'vice streets, and trees as lieuten- to us the best thing the late Mr Hunt ants of houses. That fine line of ever did “ in the poetical line.” But Campbell's,

instead of breathing " of the fine ima“ And look on nature with a poet's eye,”

gination of the Greeks,” it is nothing must, to be applicable to him, be

more than a copy in words of a pic

ture in oil. Mr Hunt used to be a changed into, “ Look on the country with a cockney's great lounger in picture-dealer's shops,

and was a sad bore among the artists, It is true, that on one occasion Mr-who must feel much relieved by his Hunt (see a former quotation) talks of death. Whenever you meet with a having gone up in a balloon--but there vivid image in his verses, you are sure is something Cockneyish even in that that it is taken from a picture. He is object with all its beauty--and one speaking of Polyphemus descending thinks of the Aeronaut after his flight, by night, returning to town in a post-chaise, To walk in his anguish about the green with the shrivelled globe bundled on places, the roof.

And see where his mistress lay dreaming of

Acis. III. His love of the fine imagination I fancy him now, coming just where she

sleeps ; of the Greeks.

He parts the close hawthorns, and hushes, A man who could ask Jupiter if his

and creeps; tea was sweetened to his mind, must The moon slips from under the dark clouds, have a truly Greekish imagination of and throws his own no doubt-and pray, where A light, through the leaves, on her smildid Mr Hunt find that Hebe was a

ing repose. married lady with six children? What There, there she lies, bowerd ;-a slope for does that great orthographist, Lindley One branch, like a hand, reaches over her

her bed ; Murray, think of spelling Apollo with a finalr, which Mr Hunt is in duty Half naked, half shrinking, with side-swel. bound to do when he pronounces him ling grace, Apollar? But Mr Hunt used to read A crook's 'twixt her bosom, and crosses her Homer, and to translate choice passages face,

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The crook of her shepherd; and close to her pius, and ever and anon coquetting lips

with himself in the magic mirror.. Lies thc Pan-pipe he blows, which in sleep- No doubt, he rung the bell for the la

ing she sips ; The giant's knees totter, with passions di- dies, and the children, and the ser

vants, and probably sent out for his

When Ah, how can he bear it! Ah! what could favourite “ washerwoman.' be worse !

he dressed for dinner, did the ivy He's ready to cry out, for anguish of heart : wreath still continue to deck his regal And tears himself off, lest she wake with a temples ? Did he sip tea in it? Play

a rubber at whist? And finally, did So much for our deceased friend's he go to bed in it-and, if so, did he

love of sociality, the country, and shroud its glories in a night-cap, or the fine imagination of the Greeks.”- did he lay his head on the pillow like May we add a few specimens of Bacchus by the side of Ariadne? All

these little interesting circumstantialiIV. His love of himself. ties are, no doubt, mentioned in his He gets Mrs L. H. to model a bust autobiography. of him, and during the operation, he

But one sonnet-two sonnets to talks of becoming

John Keats, do not suffice and we “ Worthier of Apollo's bough."

have a third " on the same.” What is to be thought of a man

It is a lofty feeling, yet a kind, writing a triumphal sonnet on his own

Thus to be topped with leaves ; to have a bust, and publishing it—and what Of honour-shaded thought-an influence if that man be, at the best, but a small

As from great nature's fingers, and be poetaster and newsmonger. Then fol

twined lows a sonnet to John Keats,

With her old, sacred, verdurous ivy-bind, 'Tis well you think me truly one of those . As though she hallowed with that sylvan Whose sense discerns the loveliness of

fence, things, &c.

A head that bows to her benevolence, And then again comes another son

Midst pomp of fancied trumpets in the

wind! 1!! net on receiving a crown of ivy from

'Tis what's within us crowned. the same.”

There is a pair of blockheads for A crown of ivy! I submit my head To the young hand that gives it-young, 'tis you! John Keats had no more right

to dress up Leigh Hunt in this absurd true, But with a right, for 'tis a poet's too.

fashion, than he had to tar and feather How pleasant the leaves feel!! and how him-and we do not doubt, that if they spread

Leigh Hunt had ever had the misforWith their broad angles, like a nodding tune to have been tarred and feathered, shed

he would have written a sonnet on his Over both eyes !! and how complete and plumification, and described himself as

à Bird of Paradise. As on my hand I lean, to feel them strew

From John Keats the transition is My sense with freshness, Fancy's rustling not difficult to John Hamilton Reybed!

nolds--for he too had written lines on This sonnet presents to us a very the story of Rimini-though by nalaughable picture, which, spite of Mr ture fit for far other occupation-and Hunt's decease, we hope there can be accordingly Mr Hunt returns him no great harm in enjoying. Mr John sonnet for sonnet. In it, Mr ReyKeats was, we believe, at this time, a nolds, clever man as he is, is made to young apothecary, and if, instead of look very like a ninny. crowning poor Mr Hunt with ivy, he

TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS, had clapped a blister upon his head, he On his Lines upon the Story of Rimini. would have acted in a way more suit. Reynolds, whose Muse, from out thy gentle able to his profession. Such an opportu

embraces, nity, probably never occurred again. Holding a little crisp and dewy fwwer, Well-behold the Cockney-strutting Where many fine-eyed Friendships and glad

Came to me in my close-entwined bower, about the room, for we hope there was

Graces, no “out of doors” exposure, with his Parting the boughs, have looked in with ivy-crown, dressing gown, yellow like faces, breeches, and red slippers--followed, And thanked the song which had sufficient in all his movements by young Escula

power

new,

With Phæbus to bring back a warmer hour, • The force of nature could no farther go And turn his southern eye to our green To make one Fool, she joined the other places.

two." But the most insane of all the Idol- Two more sonnets follow on the ators is at hand, in the shape of a cer- same subject, and Mr Hunt, we are tain Doctor, whose name, lest it should told, a short time before his death, injure his practice, we shall not men- had the lock of Milton's hair put into tion, and who (upon his knees, we a broach, in the figure of a naked Eve, presume,) makes an offering to the and wore it, and the Mother of Man. Idol of Cockaigne OP A LOCK OF Mil- kind, on the frill of his shirt. TON'S HAIR !!!!

This fashion of firing off sonnets at

each other was prevalent in the mes Το M. D.

tropolis a short time since among the On his giving me a Lock of Milton's Hair. bardlings, and was even more annoying I felt my spirit leap, and look at thee

than the detonating balls. We have Through my changed colour with glad heard them cracking off in the lobbies

grateful stare. When after shewing us this glorious hair,

of the Theatres, and several exploded Thou didst turn short, and bending plea- close to our ear one morning in Sir santly

John Leicester's gallery. Like other With gracious hand gav'st the great lock TO nuisances of the kind, they are now

laughed down; and, indeed, after An honouring gift indeed! which I will Leigh Hunt's death, who was at the

top of the fashion, it dwindled quite About me, while I breathe this strenuous

away, though sometimes even yet a air, That nursed his Apollonian tresses free.

stray sonneteer is to be found can

tering along on his velocipede. See what it is to be a favourite of In our next we hope to publish Apollo ! Apothecaries and physicians “ Luctus” on the death of Mr Hunt, flock in upon you from every side. by Webb, Keats, and Co.-and also a And well might it be said of funeral oration, by Mr Hazlitt, We

M. D., in reference to Keats ourselves intend to write his epitaph. and Reynolds,

Z.

ME!!

wear

DECORATIONS OF EDINBURGH,

MR EDITOR, I HAVE read with some sorrow, and store the old ; let us make works which more shame, your correspondent's pro- exercise the memory in recollections posal to adorn Edinburgh with a of Athens or Rome, rather than Greek Temple. Is he serious? or does aspire after an hazardous reputation he write it as a satire upon Scottish for originality. So thought the pru. invention ? and is it true, that no dent-the calculating-the painstakliving man is capable of conceiving a ing people of America, and what have suitable structure to commemorate the they done, and what are they daily glories of Scotland ? That your cor- doing? Your correspondent knows respondent shews good taste in ad- this-you cannot climb an eminence miring the Parthenon, who would in the United States but you see deny_but he is unwise in recommend- Spartas, Thebes's, and Athens's on ing its restoration by his countrymen. all sides, hills abound with classic The use to be made of ancient works, names here is Ethos there is Athos, of the majestic remains of Grecian Parnassus is near, and beyond it arises greatness, is not to transfer them in mount Pelion, the very

have the gross into marble or stone, to carry climbed is the “ Calícolone on the them off, pillar and rafter, like the Simio's side.” fabled church of Loretto,-but to con- “ And what was Goose Creek once, is Tyber template and admire them, to elevate the mind and kindle a fire which may Now all this is harmless enough, excite an emulation of their glories. but what does it shewmall but an oriBut your correspondent thinks the ginal spirit. In the same taste people sun of Scottish invention has sunk or may—and many people do baptize has never risen : therefore, says he, let their children. I have seen Lucius us not seek to create the new, but re- Junius OʻFlanagan, which is a so

hill you

now.”

66

norous and well sounding name come great man-General Washington in pared to others ; -what do you think the costume of Cincinnatus. Our proof Mr Augustus Stokes, Cicero Cramp, vincial ballad-maker had better taste Phidius Bubb, and Mr Michael An- when he censured the statue of our gelo Tailor. Something in the same Dutch King William. 'John Highstyle your correspondent recommends, landman in Glasgow sings --who, quoth he, has equalled the Par- " And there she saw a meikle man thenon? Let us go build one. Nobody Riding on a horse has equalled the Iliad--why does Wal. And oh she pe a poor man, ter Scott squander his golden time on And no hae many claes ! nameless knights on feudal barba- The brogues pe a' worn off hers feet, rians-let" him” render Homer into

And she see a' her taes !” his native tongue, and earn the im On all sides we see monuments of our mortality which awaits imitation and want of an original taste, and ancient forsakesinvention. Remember your cor- works pressed into modern service. respondent does not say, “come let us go Your correspondent forgets the lines look at the Parthenon, contemplate its of the poet, simple beauty, then conceive something “ Each author was to him well known, in the same lofty spirit to adorn our Yet what he wrote was all his own." native city.” No, he says, imagine Let none suppose I mean to censure not you are capable of conceiving any these ancient and immortal works of thing excellent, your minds are im- Greece--that I do not feel their expotent of any exalted exertion, where cellence or the honour and the glory you cannot lead, you should limp af- they confer. They are noble efforts of ter.-" Then by all means rear the human genius, nor do I withhold my Parthenon in Scottish stone-what applause from the massive and solid have you to do with originality.” structures of the Egyptians a people There are too many buildings in Edin- who consulted duration more than disburgh already which remind one of play. But all those works illustrate other people's productions-it is not my the men and the time, and their restowish to increase the number.

ration in Scotland will recal the deYour correspondent, however, tries parted glory of Greece and Egypt, and to sooth the insulted genius of his show the Scotch to be miserable cocountry, by assuring us that we have pyists of fine marble in coarse stone. more than one architect equal to the Let us not look at Scotland and her task of executing a new Parthenon. heroes and sages through Greek specWhy, what has an architect to do when tacles-let us make something such as thestructure is commenced and the plan Phidias might have done had he been completed? Does he digthe foundations a Scotchman. There is abundance of or hew the stones-or bed them in mor- genius extant for lofty undertakings. tar by the line and the level ? or comes We are by no means deficient in nåhe to clap the mason on the back and tive works of an original spirit-look cry, well done.” Conception, the at the noble reliques of Saxon and Gógreat test of genius, is taken out of thic architecture; they want the simour hands—the illustrious Greeks have plicity, and perhaps the solidity, of the supplied us with that. Execution is Greek temples; but they are decidedly the next—this is pioneers' work. The original--they reflect no other people master spirit has measured out the —they remind us not of Greece or task, and his legion of lesser spirits Egypt-and they have a solemn granfulfil it.

deur, and richness, and variety, which It is the taste of men like your cor- do honour to the inventor. What respondent which has filled our church- does your correspondent say to this ?es with monuments of British heroes, perhaps he calls it “ the entangled lasages, and bards, in the garb of Greece byrinth of blue-eyed barbarians.” Adand Rome—that has given Samuel miring the Gothic as I do, I mean not Johnson a Roman toga and sandals, to recommend it-I mentioned it to and an antique shield and helmet to show that originality was not a hopeLord Chatham-that has sent Cap- less matter-that excellence was to be tain Burgess stark naked with a sword found elsewhere, and of later invention. in his hand to gain the weather gage The Greek has a nobler exterior than and break the French line, and the Gothic, is perhaps less expensive clothed and this is the error too of a in execution, and at all events more

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