THE SECOND HALF OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
1. +Prose-Writers.+-- The four greatest prose-writers of the latter half
of the eighteenth century are +Johnson+, +Goldsmith+, +Burke+, and
+Gibbon+. Dr Johnson was the most prominent literary figure in London at
this period; and filled in his own time much the same position that
Carlyle lately held in literary circles. He wrote on many subjects-- but
chiefly on literature and morals; and hence he was called “The Great
Moralist.” Goldsmith stands out clearly as the writer of the most
pleasant and easy prose; his pen was ready for any subject; and it has
been said of him with perfect truth, that he touched nothing that he did
not adorn. Burke was the most eloquent writer of his time, and by far
the greatest political thinker that England has ever produced. He is
known by an essay he wrote when a very young man-- on “The Sublime and
Beautiful”; but it is to his speeches and political writings that we
must look for his noblest thoughts and most eloquent language. Gibbon is
one of the greatest historians and most powerful writers the world has
ever seen.
2. SAMUEL JOHNSON (+1709-1784+), the great essayist and lexicographer,
was born at Lichfield in the year 1709. His father was a bookseller; and
it was in his father’s shop that Johnson acquired his habit of
omnivorous reading, or rather devouring of books. The mistress of the
dame’s school, to which he first went, declared him to be the best
scholar she ever had. After a few years at the free grammar-school of
Lichfield, and one year at Stourbridge, he went to Pembroke College,
Oxford, at the age of nineteen. Here he did not confine himself to the
studies of the place, but indulged in a wide range of miscellaneous
reading. He was too poor to take a degree, and accordingly left Oxford
without graduating. After acting for some time as a bookseller’s hack,
he married a Mrs Porter of Birmingham-- a widow with £800. With this
money he opened a boarding-school, or “academy” as he called it; but he
had never more than three scholars-- the most famous of whom was the
celebrated player, David Garrick. In 1737 he went up to London, and for
the next quarter of a century struggled for a living by the aid of his
pen. During the first ten years of his London life he wrote chiefly for
the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine.’ In 1738 his +London+-- a poem in heroic
metre-- appeared. In 1747 he began his famous +Dictionary+; it was
completed in 1755; and the University of Oxford conferred on him the
honorary degree of M.A. In 1749 he wrote another poem-- also in heroic
metre-- the ‘Vanity of Human Wishes.’ In 1750 he had begun the
periodical that raised his fame to its full height-- a periodical to
which he gave the name of +The Rambler+. It appeared twice a-week; and
Dr Johnson wrote every article in it for two years. In 1759 he published
the short novel called +Rasselas+: it was written to defray the expenses
of his mother’s funeral; and he wrote it “in the evenings of a week.”
The year 1762 saw him with a pension from the Government of £300 a-year;
and henceforth he was free from heavy hack-work and literary drudgery,
and could give himself up to the largest enjoyment of that for which he
cared most-- social conversation. He was the best talker of his time;
and he knew everybody worth knowing-- Burke, Goldsmith, Gibbon, the
great painter Sir Joshua Reynolds, and many other able men. In 1764 he
founded the “Literary Club,” which still exists and meets in London.
Oddly enough, although a prolific writer, it is to another person-- to
Mr James Boswell, who first met him in 1763-- that he owes his greatest
and most lasting fame. A much larger number of persons read +Boswell’s
Life of Johnson+-- one of the most entertaining books in all
literature-- than Johnson’s own works. Between the years 1779 and 1781
appeared his last and ablest work, +The Lives of the Poets+, which were
written as prefaces to a collective edition of the English Poets,
published by several London booksellers. He died in 1784.
3. Johnson’s earlier style was full of Latin words; his later style is
more purely English than most of the journalistic writing of the present
day. His Rambler is full of “long-tailed words in _osity_ and _ation_;”
but his ‘Lives of the Poets’ is written in manly, vigorous, and
idiomatic English. In verse, he occupies a place between Pope and
Goldsmith, and is one of the masters in the “didactic school” of English
poetry. His rhythm and periods are swelling and sonorous; and here and
there he equals Pope in the terseness and condensation of his language.
The following is a fair specimen:--
“Of all the griefs that harass the distressed,
Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest;
Fate never wounds more deep the generous heart,
Than when a blockhead’s insult points the dart.”
4. OLIVER GOLDSMITH (+1728-1774+), poet, essayist, historian, and
dramatist, was born at Pallas, in the county of Longford, Ireland, in
the year 1728. His father was an Irish clergyman, careless,
good-hearted, and the original of the famous Dr Primrose, in +The Vicar
of Wakefield+. He was also the original of the “village preacher” in
+The Deserted Village+.
“A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a-year.”
Oliver was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but he left it with no
fixed aim. He thought of law, and set off for London, but spent all his
money in Dublin. He thought of medicine, and resided two years in
Edinburgh. He started for Leyden, in Holland, to continue what he called
his medical studies; but he had a thirst to see the world-- and so, with
a guinea in his pocket, one shirt, and a flute, he set out on his
travels through the continent of Europe. At length, on the 1st of
February 1756, he landed at Dover, after an absence of two years,
without a farthing in his pocket. London reached, he tried many ways of
making a living, as assistant to an apothecary, physician, reader for
the press, usher in a school, writer in journals. His first work was ‘An
Inquiry into the State of Polite Learning in Europe,’ in 1759; but it
appeared without his name. From that date he wrote books of all kinds,
poems, and plays. He died in his chambers in Brick Court, Temple,
London, in 1774.
5. Goldsmith’s best poems are +The Traveller+ and +The Deserted
Village+,-- both written in the Popian couplet. His best play is +She
Stoops to Conquer+. His best prose work is +The Vicar of Wakefield+,
“the first genuine novel of domestic life.” He also wrote histories of
England, of Rome, of Animated Nature. All this was done as professional,
nay, almost as hack work; but always in a very pleasant, lively, and
readable style. Ease, grace, charm, naturalness, pleasant rhythm, purity
of diction-- these were the chief characteristics of his writings.
“Almost to all things could he turn his hand”-- poem, essay, play,
story, history, natural science. Even when satirical, he was
good-natured; and his +Retaliation+ is the friendliest and pleasantest
of satires. In his poetry, his words seem artless, but are indeed
delicately chosen with that consummate art which conceals and effaces
itself: where he seems most simple and easy, there he has taken most
pains and given most labour.
6. EDMUND BURKE (+1730-1797+) was born at Dublin in the year 1730. He
was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; and in 1747 was entered of the
Middle Temple, with the purpose of reading for the Bar. In 1766 he was
so fortunate as to enter Parliament as member for Wendover, in
Buckinghamshire; and he sat in the House of Commons for nearly thirty
years. While in Parliament, he worked hard to obtain justice for the
colonists of North America, and to avert the separation of them from the
mother country; and also to secure good government for India. At the
close of his life, it was his intention to take his seat in the House of
Peers as Earl Beaconsfield-- the title afterwards assumed by
Mr Disraeli; but the death of his son, and only child-- for whom the
honour was really meant and wished-- quite broke his heart, and he never
carried out his purpose. He died at Beaconsfield in the year 1797. The
lines of Goldsmith on Burke, in his poem of “Retaliation,” are well
known:--
“Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such
We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much;
Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind,
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind;
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,
And thought of convincing while they thought of dining.”
7. Burke’s most famous writings are +Thoughts on the Cause of the
present Discontents+, published in 1773; +Reflections on the Trench
Revolution+ (1790); and the +Letters on a Regicide Peace+ (1797). His
“Thoughts” is perhaps the best of his works in point of style; his
“Reflections,” are full of passages of the highest and most noble
eloquence. Burke has been described by a great critic as “the supreme
writer of the century;” and Macaulay says, that “in richness of
imagination, he is superior to every orator ancient and modern.” In the
power of expressing thought in the strongest, fullest, and most vivid
manner, he must be classed with Shakespeare and Bacon-- and with these
writers when at their best. He indulges in repetitions; but the
repetitions are never monotonous; they serve to place the subject in
every possible point of view, and to enable us to see all sides of it.
He possessed an enormous vocabulary, and had the fullest power over it;
“never was a man under whose hands language was more plastic and
ductile.” He is very fond of metaphor, and is described by an able
critic as “the greatest master of metaphor that the world has ever
seen.”
8. EDWARD GIBBON (+1737-1794+), the second great prose-writer of the
second half of the eighteenth century, was born at Putney, London, in
1737. His father was a wealthy landowner. Young Gibbon was a very sickly
child-- the only survivor of a delicate family of seven; he was left to
pass his time as he pleased, and for the most part to educate himself.
But he had the run of several good libraries; and he was an eager and
never satiated reader. He was sent to Oxford at the early age of
fifteen; and so full was his knowledge in some directions, and so
defective in others, that he went there, he tells us himself, “with a
stock of knowledge that might have puzzled a doctor, and a degree of
ignorance of which a schoolboy would have been ashamed.” He was very
fond of disputation while at Oxford; and the Dons of the University were
astonished to see the pathetic “thin little figure, with a large head,
disputing and arguing with the greatest ability.” In the course of his
reading, he lighted on some French and English books that convinced him
for the time of the truth of the Roman Catholic faith; he openly
professed his change of belief; and this obliged him to leave the
University. His father sent him to Lausanne, and placed him under the
care of a Swiss clergyman there, whose arguments were at length
successful in bringing him back to a belief in Protestantism. On his
return to England in 1758, he lived in his father’s house in Hampshire;
read largely, as usual; but also joined the Hampshire militia as captain
of a company, and the exercises and manœuvres of his regiment gave him
an insight into military matters which was afterwards useful to him when
he came to write history. He published his first work in 1761. It was an
essay on the study of literature, and was written in French. In 1770 his
father died; he came into a fortune, entered Parliament, where he sat
for eight years, but never spoke; and, in 1776, he began his history of
the +Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire+. This, by far the greatest of
his works, was not completed till 1787, and was published in 1788, on
his fifty-first birthday. His account of the completion of the work-- it
was finished at Lausanne, where he had lived for six years-- is full of
beauty: “It was on the day, or rather night, of June 27, 1787, between
the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last
page in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took
several turns in a covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of
the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky
was serene. The silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters,
and all nature was silent. I will not describe the first emotion of joy
on the recovery of my freedom, and perhaps the establishment of my fame.
But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my
mind by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and
agreeable companion, and that, whatever might be the future fate of my
history, the life of the historian must be short and precarious.” Gibbon
died in 1794, about one year before the birth of another great
historian, Grote, the author of the ‘History of Greece.’
9. Gibbon’s book is one of the great historical works of the world. It
covers a space of about thirteen centuries, from the reign of Trajan
(98), to the fall of the Eastern Empire in 1453; and the amount of
reading and study required to write it, must have been almost beyond the
power of our conceiving. The skill in arranging and disposing the
enormous mass of matter in his history is also unparalleled. His style
is said by a critic to be “copious, splendid, elegantly rounded,
distinguished by supreme artificial skill.” It is remarkable for the
proportion of Latin words employed. While some parts of our translation
of the Bible contain as much as 96 per cent of pure English words,
Gibbon has only 58 per cent: the rest, or 42 per cent, are words of
Latin origin. In fact, of all our great English writers, Gibbon stands
lowest in his use of pure English words; and the two writers who come
nearest him in this respect are Johnson and Swift. The great Greek
scholar, Professor Porson, said of Gibbon’s style, that “there could not
be a better exercise for a schoolboy than to turn a page of it into
English.”
10. +Poets.+-- The chief poets of the latter half of the eighteenth
century belong to a new world, and show very little trace in their
writings of eighteenth-century culture, ideas, or prejudices. Most of
the best poets who were born in this half of the eighteenth century and
began to write in it-- such as Crabbe and Wordsworth-- are true
denizens, in the character of their minds and feelings, of the
nineteenth. The greatest poets of the period are +Cowper+, +Crabbe+, and
+Burns+; and along with these may be mentioned as little inferior,
+Chatterton+ and +Blake+, two of the most original poets that have
appeared in any literature.
11. WILLIAM COWPER (+1731-1800+), one of the truest, purest, and
sweetest of English poets, was born at Great Berkhampstead, in
Hertfordshire, in 1731. His father, Dr Cowper, who was a nephew of Lord
Chancellor Cowper, was rector of the parish, and chaplain to George II.
Young Cowper was educated at Westminster School; and “the great
proconsul of India,” Warren Hastings, was one of his schoolfellows.
After leaving Westminster, he was entered of the Middle Temple, and was
also articled to a solicitor. At the age of thirty-one he was appointed
one of the Clerks to the House of Lords; but he was so terribly nervous
and timid, that he threw up the appointment. He was next appointed Clerk
of the Journals-- a post which even the shyest man might hold; but, when
he found that he would have to appear at the bar of the House of Lords,
he went home and attempted to commit suicide. When at school, he had
been terribly and persistently bullied; and, about this time, his mind
had been somewhat affected by a disappointment in love. The form of his
insanity was melancholia; and he had several long and severe attacks of
the same disease in the after-course of his life. He had to be placed in
the keeping of a physician; and it was only after fifteen months’
seclusion that he was able to face the world. Giving up all idea of
professional or of public life, he went to live at Huntingdon with the
Unwins; and, after the death of Mr Unwin, he removed with Mrs Unwin to
Olney, in Buckinghamshire. Here, in 1773, another attack of melancholia
came upon him. In 1779, Cowper joined with Mr Newton, the curate of the
parish, in publishing the +Olney Hymns+, of which he wrote sixty-eight.
But it was not till he was past fifty years of age that he betook
himself seriously to the writing of poetry. His first volume, which
contained +Table-Talk+, +Conversation+, +Retirement+, and other poems in
heroic metre, appeared in 1782. His second volume, which included +The
Task+ and +John Gilpin+, was published in 1785. His translation of the
+Iliad+ and +Odyssey+ of Homer-- a translation into blank verse, which
he wrote at the regular rate of forty lines a-day-- was published in
1791. Mrs Unwin now had a shock of paralysis; Cowper himself was again
seized with mental illness; and from 1791 till his death in 1800, his
condition was one of extreme misery, depression, and despair. He thought
himself an outcast from the mercy of God. “I seem to myself,” he wrote
to a friend, “to be scrambling always in the dark, among rocks and
precipices, without a guide, but with an enemy ever at my heels,
prepared to push me headlong.” The cloud never lifted; gloom and
dejection enshrouded all his later years; a pension of £300 a-year from
George III. brought him no pleasure; and he died insane, at East
Dereham, in Norfolk, in the year 1800. In the poem of +The Castaway+ he
compares himself to a drowning sailor:--
“No voice divine the storm allayed,
No light propitious shone,
When, far from all effectual aid,
We perished-- each alone--
But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelmed in blacker gulfs than he.”
12. His greatest work is +The Task+; and the best poem in it is probably
“The Winter Evening.” His best-known poem is +John Gilpin+, which, like
“The Task,” he wrote at the request of his friend, Lady Austen. His most
powerful poem is +The Castaway+. He always writes in clear, crisp,
pleasant, and manly English. He himself says, in a letter to a friend:
“Perspicuity is always more than half the battle... A meaning that does
not stare you in the face is as bad as no meaning;” and this direction
he himself always carried out. Cowper’s poems mark a new era in poetry;
his style is new, and his ideas are new. He is no follower of Pope;
Southey compared Pope and Cowper as “formal gardens in comparison with
woodland scenery.” He is always original, always true-- true to his own
feeling, and true to the object he is describing. “My descriptions,” he
writes of “The Task,” “are all from nature; not one of them
second-handed. My delineations of the heart are from my own experience.”
Everywhere in his poems we find a genuine love of nature; humour and
pathos in his description of persons; and a purity and honesty of style
that have never been surpassed. Many of his well-put lines have passed
into our common stock of everyday quotations. Such are--
“God made the country, and man made the town.”
“Variety’s the very spice of life
That gives it all its flavour.”
“The heart
May give a useful lesson to the head,
And Learning wiser grow without his books.”
“Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passed away.”
13. GEORGE CRABBE (+1754-1832+), the poet of the poor, was born at
Aldborough, in Suffolk, on Christmas Eve of the year 1754. He stands
thus midway between Goldsmith and Wordsworth-- midway between the old
and the new school of poetry. His father was salt-master-- or collector
of salt duties-- at the little seaport. After being taught a little at
several schools, it was agreed that George should be made a surgeon. He
was accordingly apprenticed; but he was fonder of writing verses than of
attending cases. His memory for poetry was astonishing; he had begun to
write verses at the age of fourteen; and he filled the drawers of the
surgery with his poetical attempts. After a time he set up for himself
in practice at Aldborough; but most of his patients were poor people and
poor relations, who paid him neither for his physic nor his advice. In
1779 he resolved “to go to London and venture all.” Accordingly, he took
a berth on board of a sailing-packet, carrying with him a little money
and a number of manuscript poems. But nothing succeeded with him; he was
reduced to his last eightpence. In this strait, he wrote to the great
statesman, Edmund Burke; and, while the answer was coming, he walked all
night up and down Westminster Bridge. Burke took him in to his own house
and found a publisher for his poems.
14. In 1781 +The Library+ appeared; and in the same year Crabbe entered
the Church. In 1783 he published +The Village+-- a poem which Dr Johnson
revised for him. This work won for him an established reputation; but,
for twenty-four years after, Crabbe gave himself up entirely to the care
of his parish, and published only one poem-- +The Newspaper+. In 1807
appeared +The Parish Register+; in 1810, +The Borough+; in 1812, +Tales
in Verse+; and, in 1819, his last poetical work, +Tales of the Hall+.
From this time, till his death in 1832-- thirteen years after-- he
produced no other poem. Personally, he was one of the noblest and
kindest of men; he was known as “the gentleman with the sour name and
the sweet countenance;” and he spent most of his income on the wants of
others.
15. Crabbe’s poetical work forms a prominent landmark in English
literature. His style is the style of the eighteenth century-- with a
strong admixture of his own; his way of thinking, and the objects he
selects for description, belong to the nineteenth. While Pope depicted
“the town,” politics, and abstract moralities, Crabbe describes the
country and the country poor, social matters, real life-- the lowest and
poorest life, and more especially, the intense misery of the village
population of his time in the eastern counties--
“the wild amphibious race
With sullen woe displayed in every face.”
He does not paint the lot of the poor with the rose-coloured tints used
by Goldsmith; he boldly denies the existence of such a village as
Auburn; he groups such places with Eden, and says--
“Auburn and Eden can be found no more;”
he shows the gloomy, hard, despairing side of English country life. He
has been called a “Pope in worsted stockings,” and “the Hogarth, of
song.” Byron describes him as
“Nature’s sternest painter, yet the best.”
Now and then his style is flat, and even coarse; but there is everywhere
a genuine power of strong and bold painting. He is also an excellent
master of easy dialogue.
All of his poems are written in the Popian couplet of two ten-syllabled
lines.
16. ROBERT BURNS (+1759-1796+), the greatest poet of Scotland, was born
in Ayrshire, two miles from the town of Ayr, in 1759. The only education
he received from his father was the schooling of a few months; but the
family were fond of reading, and Robert was the most enthusiastic reader
of them all. Every spare moment he could find-- and they were not many--
he gave to reading; he sat at meals “with a book in one hand and a spoon
in the other;” and in this way he read most of the great English poets
and prose-writers. This was an excellent education-- one a great deal
better than most people receive; and some of our greatest men have had
no better. But, up to the age of sixteen, he had to toil on his father’s
farm from early morning till late at night. In the intervals of his work
he contrived, by dint of thrift and industry, to learn French,
mathematics, and a little Latin. On the death of his father, he took a
small farm, but did not succeed. He was on the point of embarking for
Jamaica, where a post had been found for him, when the news of the
successful sale of a small volume of his poems reached him; and he at
once changed his mind, and gave up all idea of emigrating. His friends
obtained for him a post as exciseman, in which his duty was to gauge the
quantity and quality of ardent spirits-- a post full of dangers to a man
of his excitable and emotional temperament. He went a great deal into
what was called society, formed the acquaintance of many boon
companions, acquired habits of intemperance that he could not shake off,
and died at Dumfries in 1796, in his thirty-seventh year.
17. His best poems are lyrical, and he is himself one of the foremost
lyrical poets in the world. His songs have probably been more sung, and
in more parts of the globe, than the songs of any other writer that ever
lived. They are of every kind-- songs of love, war, mirth, sorrow,
labour, and social gatherings. Professor Craik says: “One characteristic
that belongs to whatever Burns has written is that, of its kind and in
its own way, it is a perfect production. His poetry is, throughout, real
emotion melodiously uttered, instinct with passion, but not less so with
power of thought,-- full of light as well as of fire.” Most of his poems
are written in the North-English, or Lowland-Scottish, dialect. The most
elevated of his poems is +The Vision+, in which he relates how the
Scottish Muse found him at the plough, and crowned him with a wreath of
holly. One of his longest, as well as finest poems, is +The Cottar’s
Saturday Night+, which is written in the Spenserian stanza. Perhaps his
most pathetic poem is that entitled +To Mary in Heaven+. It is of a
singular eloquence, elevation, and sweetness. The first verse runs
thus--
“Thou lingering star, with lessening ray,
That lov’st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher’st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See’st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast?”
He is, as his latest critic says, “the poet of homely human nature;” and
his genius shows the beautiful elements in this homeliness; and that
what is homely need not therefore be dull and prosaic.
18. THOMAS CHATTERTON and WILLIAM BLAKE are two minor poets, of whom
little is known and less said, but whose work is of the most poetical
and genuine kind. --Chatterton was born at Bristol in the year 1752. He
was the son of a schoolmaster, who died before he was born. He was
educated at Colston’s Blue-Coat School in Bristol; and, while at school,
read his way steadily through every book in three circulating libraries.
He began to write verses at the age of fifteen, and in two years had
produced a large number of poems-- some of them of the highest value. In
1770, he came up to London, with something under five pounds in his
pocket, and his mind made up to try his fortune as a literary man,
resolved, though he was only a boy of seventeen, to live by literature
or to die. Accordingly, he set to work and wrote every kind of
productions-- poems, essays, stories, political articles, songs for
public singers; and all the time he was half starving. A loaf of bread
lasted him a week; and it was “bought stale to make it last longer.” He
had made a friend of the Lord Mayor, Beckford; but before he had time to
hold out a hand to the struggling boy, Beckford died. The struggle
became harder and harder-- more and more hopeless; his neighbours
offered a little help-- a small coin or a meal-- he rejected all; and at
length, on the evening of the 24th August 1770, he went up to his
garret, locked himself in, tore up all his manuscripts, took poison, and
died. He was only seventeen.
19. Wordsworth and Coleridge spoke with awe of his genius; Keats
dedicated one of his poems to his memory; and Coleridge copied some of
his rhythms. One of his best poems is the +Minstrel’s Roundelay+--
“O sing unto my roundelay,
O drop the briny tear with me,
Dance no more on holy-day,
Like a running river be.
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
“Black his hair as the winter night,
White his skin as the summer snow,
Red his face as the morning light,
Cold he lies in the grave below.
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.”
20. WILLIAM BLAKE (+1757-1827+), one of the most original poets that
ever lived, was born in London in the year 1757. He was brought up as an
engraver; worked steadily at his business, and did a great deal of
beautiful work in that capacity. He in fact illustrated his own poems--
each page being set in a fantastic design of his own invention, which he
himself engraved. He was also his own printer and publisher. The first
volume of his poems was published in 1783; the +Songs of Innocence+,
probably his best, appeared in 1787. He died in Fountain Court, Strand,
London, in the year 1827.
21. His latest critic says of Blake: “His detachment from the ordinary
currents of practical thought left to his mind an unspoiled and
delightful simplicity which has perhaps never been matched in English
poetry.” Simplicity-- the perfect simplicity of a child-- beautiful
simplicity-- simple and childlike beauty,-- such is the chief note of
the poetry of Blake. “Where he is successful, his work has the fresh
perfume and perfect grace of a flower.” The most remarkable point about
Blake is that, while living in an age when the poetry of Pope-- and that
alone-- was everywhere paramount, his poems show not the smallest trace
of Pope’s influence, but are absolutely original. His work, in fact,
seems to be the first bright streak of the golden dawn that heralded the
approach of the full and splendid daylight of the poetry of Wordsworth
and Coleridge, of Shelley and Byron. His best-known poems are those from
the ‘Songs of Innocence’-- such as +Piping down the valleys wild+; +The
Lamb+; +The Tiger+, and others. Perhaps the most remarkable element in
Blake’s poetry is the sweetness and naturalness of the rhythm. It seems
careless, but it is always beautiful; it grows, it is not made; it is
like a wild field-flower thrown up by Nature in a pleasant green field.
Such are the rhythms in the poem entitled +Night+:--
“The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
“Farewell, green fields and happy grove,
Where flocks have ta’en delight;
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
The feet of angels bright:
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
On each sleeping bosom.”