And, sooth to say, her pupils ranged around, And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground. Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth, Ne pompous title did debauch her ear; Goody, good woman, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth, Or dame, the sole additions she did hear; Yet these she challenged, these she held right dear; Ne would esteem him act as mought behove, But there was eke a mind which did that title love. One ancient hen she took delight to feed, Where no vain flower disclosed a gaudy streak, But herbs for use and physic, not a few, Of gray renown, within those borders grew: Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve, Uphung their useless lyres-small heart had they to sing. In elbow-chair (like that of Scottish stem, Right well she knew each temper to descry, Lo! now with state she utters her command; From 'A Pastoral Ballad '—1743. Arbusta humilesque myricæ.-VIRG. [Though lowly shrubs and trees that shade the plain.-DRYDEN.] ABSENCE. Ye shepherds, so cheerful and gay, Nor talk of the change that ye find; I have left my dear Phyllis behind. Now I know what it is to have strove And to leave her we love and admire. I have bade my dear Phyllis farewell. Since Phyllis vouchsafed me a look, When forced the fair nymph to forego, My path I could hardly discern; The pilgrim that journeys all day Is happy nor heard to repine. HOPE. My banks they are furnished with bees, Such health do my fountains bestow; And my solace wherever I go. Not a pine in my grove is there seen, But a sweetbriar entwines it around. I prized every hour that went by were This stanza, and the four lines beginning: greatly admired by Johnson, who said: If any mind denies its sympathy to them, it has no acquaintance with love or nature.' One would think she might like to retire To the bower I have laboured to rear; Not a shrub that I heard her admire, But I hasted and planted it there. O how sudden the jessamine strove With the lilac to render it gay! Already it calls for my love To prune the wild branches away. From the plains, from the woodlands, and groves, What strains of wild melody flow; How the nightingales warble their loves, From thickets of roses that blow ! And when her bright form shall appear, I have found out a gift for my fair,. I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me that plunder forbear, She will say, 'twas a barbarous deed. For he ne'er could be true, she averred. Who could rob a poor bird of his young; And I loved her the more when I heard Such tenderness fall from her tongue.. SOLICITUDE. For when Paridel tries in the dance And his crook is bestudded around; And his pipe-O my Phy lis, beware Of a magic there is in the sound. "Tis his with mock passion to glow, 'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold 'How her face is as bright as the snow, And her bosom, be sure, is as cold. How the nightingales labour the strain, With the notes of his charmer to vie; How they vary their accents in vain, Repine at her triumphs and die.' . . . DISAPPOINTMENT. Ye shepherds, give ear to my lay, She was fair, and my passion begun; Perhaps I was void of all thought: By a swain more engaging than me. It banishes wisdom the while; And the lip of the nymph we admire Seems for ever adorned with a smile. ... Song-Jemmy Come listen to my mournful tale, Ye tender hearts and lovers dear; Dawson.* Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh, Nor will you blush to shed a tear. * Captain James Dawson, the amiable and unfortunate subject of these stanzas, was one of the eight officers belonging to the Manchester regiment of volunteers, in the ser And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, Young Dawson was a gallant youth, One tender maid she loved him dear, But curse on party's hateful strife, O had he never seen that day! Their colours and their sash he wore, How pale was then his true love's cheek, ear? For never yet did Alpine snows So pale or yet so chill appear. With faltering voice she weeping said: "Yet might sweet mercy find a place, 'The gracious prince that gave him life Should learn to lisp the giver's name. 'But though, dear youth, thou shouldst be dragged To yonder ignominious tree, O then her mourning-coach w`s called, She followed him, prepared to view Distorted was that blooming face, Which she had fondly loved so long; And stifled was that tuneful breath, Which in her praise had sweetly sung : And severed was that beauteous neck, And mangled was that beauteous breast And ravished was that constant heart, Amid those unrelenting flames She bore this constant heart to see; But when 'twas mouldered into dust, Now, now,' she cried, 'I follow thee. 'My death, my death alone can shew The pure and lasting love I bore: Accept, O Heaven! of woes like ours, And let us, let us weep no more.' The dismal scene was o'er and past, The lover's mournful hearse retired; Though justice ever must prevail, vice of the Young Chevalier, who were hanged, drawn, and quartered, on Kennington Common in 1746. The incident occurred as described in the ballad. A pardon was expected, and Dawson was to have been married the same day. The young lady followed him to the scaffold. She got near enough,' as stated in a letter written at the time. to see the fire kindled which was to consume that heart which she knew was so much devoted to her, and all the other dreadful preparations for his fate. without being guilty of any of those extravagances which her friends had apprehended. But when all was over, and that she found he was no more, she drew her head back into the coach. and crying out: My dear, I follow thee-I follow thee! Sweet Jesus, receive both our souls together." fell on the neck of her companion, and expired the very moment she was peaking.' Written at an Inn at Henley. To thee, fair Freedom, I retire 'Tis here with boundless power I reign, I fly from pomp, I fly from plate, Freedom I love, and form I hate, Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, DAVID MALLET. DAVID MALLET, author of some beautiful ballad stanzas, and some florid unimpassioned poems in blank verse, was a successful but unprincipled literary adventurer. He praised and courted Pope while living, and, after experiencing his kindness, traduced his memory when dead. He earned a disgraceful pension by contributing to the death of a brave naval officer, Admiral Byng, who fell a victim to the clamour of faction; and by various other acts of his life, he evinced that self-aggrandisement was his only steady and ruling passion. When Johnson, therefore, states that Mallet was the only Scot whom Scotchmen did not commend, he pays a compliment to the virtue and integrity of the natives of Scotland. The original name of the poet was Malloch. When the clan Macgregor was abolished by an act of the privy-council in 1603, and subsequently by acts of parliament, some of the clansmen took this name of Malloch, of which two Gaelic etymologies have been given. One derives it from Mala, a brow or eyebrow, and another from Mallaich, the cursed or accursed. Mallet's father is said to have kept an inn at Crieff, in Perthshire; but a recent editor of the poet,* upon grounds not merely plausible but very probable, believes him to have been the son of parents of a less humble condition of life-a family of Mallochs settled upon the farm of Dunruchan, near Muthill, Perthshire, the head of which family was one of three on the great estates of Perth who rode on saddles, that being a dignity not permitted or too costly for others. The Dunruchan Mallochs were concerned in the rebellions of 1715 and 1745, and sunk to poverty. David is first found in the situation of janitor of the High School of Edinburgh-a menial office rarely given to one so young as Mallet, who was then not more than fifteen or sixteen. He held the office for half a year, his full salary being ten pounds Scots, or 16s. 8d. This was in 1718. He then studied for a time under Professor Ker of Aberdeen, to whose kindness he was much indebted, and he was afterwards received, though without salary, as tutor in the family of Mr. Home of Dreghorn, near Edinburgh. He * Ballads and Songs by David Mallet. Edited by Dr. Dinsdale, 1857. |