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THE FARMER'S BOY;
A RURAL POEM.
By ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.
"A SHEPHERD'S BOY ... HE SEEKS NO BETTER NAME."
The Third Edition
LONDON:
Printed for Vernor and Hood, Poultry
and sold by T.C. Rickman, 7, Upper Mary-Le-Bone-Street;
Ingram, and Dingle, Bury; Booth, Norwich; Hill, Edinburgh;
Archer, and Dugdale, Dublin.
MDCCC
A sonnet has come to my hands, the production,--and nearly the first
poetical Production,--of a very young Lady. I have not the Author's
consent to publish it: and there is no time to ask it. But I cannot omit
adding such a flower to the Wreath of Glory of my Friend. I have therefore
ventured to publish it without waiting permission; with one or two slight
alterations.
C. L.
25 Aug. 1800.
TO THE AUTHOR OF
THE FARMER'S BOY.
I.
_If wealth, if honour, at command were mine,
And every boast Ambition could desire,
The pompous Gifts, sweet Bard, I would resign
For the aft Music of thy tuneful Lyre,_
II.
_Which speaks the soul awake to every charm
That Nature open'd from thy humble cot:
Speaks powers chill Indigence could not disarm;
Proof to Humanity's severest lot._
III.
_Thou Friend to Nature, and of Man the Friend;
Of every generous and benignant cause;
The accents of thy glowing worth, unfeign'd,
Live in the cadence of each feeling pause.
Here thought, alternate, in the noble Plan
Admires the POET, and reveres the Man._
25 Aug. 1800.
PREFACE
Having the satisfaction of introducing to the Public this very pleasing
and characteristic POEM, the FARMER'S BOY, I think it will be agreeable to
preface it with a short Account of the manner in which it came into my
hands: and, which will be much more interesting to every Reader, a little
History of the Author, which has been communicated to me by his Brother,
and which I shall very nearly transcribe as it lies before me.
In _November_ last year [Footnote: This was written in 1799.] I receiv'd a
MS. which I was requested to read, and to give my opinion of it. It had
before been shewn to some persons in _London_: whose indifference toward
it may probably be explain'd when it is consider'd that it came to their
hands under no circumstances of adventitious recommendation. With some a
person must be rich, or titled, or fashionable as a literary name, or at
least fashionable in some respect, good or bad, before any thing which he
can offer will be thought worthy of notice.
I had been a little accustom'd to the effect of prejudices: and I was
determin'd to judge, in the only just and reasonable way, of the Work, by
the Work itself.
At first I confess, seeing it divided into the four Seasons, I had to
encounter a prepossession not very advantageous to any writer: that the
Author was treading in a path already so admirably trod by THOMSON; and
might be adding one more to an attempt already so often, but so
injudiciously and unhappily made, of transmuting that noble Poem from
Blank Verse into Rhime; ... from its own pure native Gold into an alloyed
Metal of incomparably less splendor, permanence, and worth.
I had soon, however, the pleasure of finding myself reliev'd from that
apprehension: and of discovering, that, although the delineation of RURAL
SCENERY naturally branches itself into these divisions, there was little
else except the General Qualities of a musical ear, flowing numbers,
Feeling, Piety, poetic Imagery and Animation, a taste for the picturesque,
a true sense of the natural and pathetic, force of thought, and liveliness
of imagination, which were in common between Thomson and this Author. And
these are qualities which whoever has the eye, the heart, the awakened and
surrounding intellect, and the diviner sense of the Poet, which alone can
deserve the name, must possess.
But, with these general Characters of true Poetry, "_The Farmer's Boy_"
has, as I have said, a character of its own. It is discriminated as much
as the circumstances and habits, and situation, and ideas consequently
associated, which are so widely diverse in the two Authors, could make it
different. Simplicity, sweetness, a natural tenderness, that _molle atque
facetum_ which HORACE celebrates in the Eclogues of VIRGIL, will be found
to belong to it.
I intend some farther and more particular CRITICAL REMARKS on this
charming Performance. But I now pass to the Account of the Author himself,
as given me by his Brother:... a Man to whom also I was entirely a
stranger:... but whose Candor, good Sense, and brotherly Affection, appear
in this Narrative; and of the justness of whose Understanding, and the
Goodness of his Heart, I have had many Proofs, in consequence of a
correspondence with him on different occasions which have since arisen,
when this had made me acquainted with him, and interested me in his
behalf.
In writing to me, Mr. GEORGE BLOOMFIELD, who is a Shoemaker also, as his
Brother, and lives at BURY, thus expresses himself.
"As I spent five years with the Author, from the time he was thirteen
years and a half old [Footnote: This by farther recollection has since
been discover'd and stated by Mr. G. and Mr. R. BLOOMFIELD not to be quite
exact. See p. viii. C. L.] till he was turned of eighteen, the most
interesting time of life (I mean the time that instruction is acquir'd, if
acquir'd at all), I think I am able to give a better account of him than
any one can, or than he can of himself: for his Modesty would not let him
speak of his Temper, Disposition, or Morals."
"ROBERT was the younger Child of GEORGE BLOOMFIELD, a _Taylor_, at
HONINGTON. [Footnote: This Village is between _Euston_ and _Troston_, and
about eight miles N E. of _Bury_. L.] His Father died when he was an
infant under a year old. [Footnote: Our Author was born, as his Mother has
obligingly informed me, 3 _Dec_. 1766. L.] His Mother [Footnote:
ELIZABETH, Daughter of ROBERT MANBY. Vide Note at the end of this
Preface.] was a Schoolmistress, and instructed her own Children with the
others. He thus learn'd to read as soon as he learn'd to speak."
"Though the Mother was left a Widow with six small Children, yet with the
help of Friends she manag'd to give each of them a little schooling."
"ROBERT was accordingly sent to Mr. RODWELL, [Footnote: This respectable
Man is senior Clerk to the Magistrates of the Hundred of BLACKBOURN, in
which Honington is situated, and has conducted himself with great
propriety in this and other public employments. L.] of Ixworth, to be
improved in _Writing_: but he did not go to that School more than two or
three months, nor was ever sent to any other; his Mother again marrying
when ROBERT was about seven years old."
"By her second Husband, JOHN GLOVER, she had another Family."
"When _Robert_ was not above _eleven_ years old, the late Mr. W. AUSTIN,
of SAPISTON, [Footnote: This little Village adjoins to HONINGTON. L.] took
him. And though it is customary for Farmers to pay such Boys only 1s. 6d.
per week, yet he generously took him into the house. This reliev'd his
Mother of any other expence than only of finding him a few things to wear:
and this was more than she well knew how to do."
"She wrote therefore," Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD continues, "to me and my Brother
NAT (then in London), to assist her; mentioning that he, ROBERT, was so
small of his age that Mr. AUSTIN said he was not likely to be able to get
his living by hard labour."
Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD on this inform'd his Mother that, if she would let him
take the Boy with him, he would take him, and teach him to make shoes: and
NAT promis'd to clothe him. The Mother, upon this offer, took coach and
came to LONDON, to Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD, with the Boy: for she said, she
never should have been happy if she had not put him herself into his
hands.
"She charg'd me," he adds, "_as I valued a Mothers Blessing, to watch over
him, to set good Examples for him, and never to forget that he had lost
his Father_." I religiously confine myself to Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD'S own
words; and think I should wrong all the parties concern'd if in mentioning
this pathetic and successful Admonition, I were to use any other. He came
from Mr. AUSTIN'S 29 _June_ 1781. [Footnote: This date of his coming to
Town is added by Mr. BLOOMFIELD himself since the first Edition.]
Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD then lived at Mr. _Simm's_, No. 7, _Pitcher's-court,
Bell-alley, Coleman-street_. "It is customary," he continues, "in such
houses as are let to poor people in _London_, to have light Garrets fit
for Mechanics to work in. In the Garret, where we had two turn-up Beds,
and five of us worked, I received little ROBERT."
"As we were all single Men, Lodgers at a Shilling per week each, oar beds
were coarse, and all things far from being clean and snug, like what
_Robert_ had left at SAPISTON. _Robert_ was our man, to fetch all things
to hand. At Noon he fetch'd our Dinners from the Cook's Shop: and any one
of our fellow workmen that wanted to have any thing fetched in, would send
him, and assist in his work and teach him, for a recompense for his
trouble."
"Every day when the Boy from the Public-house came for the pewter pots,
and to hear what Porter was wanted, he always brought the yesterday's
_Newspaper_. [Footnote: There was then, neither as a resource for the
exigencies of finance, nor as a Principle of supposed Policy, that unhappy
Check which prevails now on the circulation of _Newspapers_, and other
means of _popular_ Information. L.] The _reading_ of the Paper we had been
us'd to take by turns; but after _Robert_ came, he mostly read for us,...
because his time was of least value."
"He frequently met with words that he was unacquainted with: of this he
often complain'd. I one day happen'd at a Book-stall to see a small
Dictionary, which had been very ill us'd. I bought it for him for 4d. By
the help of this he in little time could read and comprehend the long and
beautiful speeches of BURKE, FOX, or NORTH.
"One Sunday, after an whole day's stroll in the country, we by accident
went into a dissenting _Meeting-house_ in the _Old Jewry_, where a
Gentleman was lecturing. This Man fill'd _Robert_ with astonishment. The
House was amazingly crowded with the most genteel people; and though we
were forc'd to stand still in the aisle, and were much press'd, yet
_Robert_ always quicken'd his steps to get into the Town on a Sunday
evening soon enough to attend this Lecture.
"The Preacher lived somewhere at the West End of the Town ... his name was
FAWCET. His language," says Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD, "was just such as the
_Rambler_ is written in; his Action like a person acting a Tragedy; his
Discourse rational, and free from the Cant of Methodism.
"Of him _Robert_ learn'd to accent what he call'd _hard_ words; and
otherwise improv'd himself; and gain'd the most enlarg'd notions of
PROVIDENCE.
"He went sometimes with me to a _Debating Society_
[Footnote: It is another of the Constitutional Refinements of these times
to have fetter'd, and as to every valuable purpose, silenc'd, these
Debating Societies. They were at least, to say the lowest of them, far
better amusements than drunkenness, gambling, or fighting. They were no
useless Schools to some of our very celebrated Speakers at the Bar and in
Parliament: and, what is of infinitely more importance, they contributed
to the diffusion of Political Knowledge and Public Sentiment. L.]
at _Coachmaker's-hall_, but not often; and a few times to _Covent-garden
Theatre_. These are all the opportunities he ever had to learn from Public
Speakers. As to _Books_, he had to wade through two or three Folios: an
_History of England, British Traveller_, and a _Geography_. But he always
read them as a task, or to oblige us who bought them. And as they came in
sixpenny numbers weekly, he had about as many hours to read as other boys
spend in play."
"I at that time," proceeds his Brother, "read the _London Magazine_; and
in that work about two sheets were set apart for a _Review ... Robert_
seem'd always eager to read this Review. Here he could see what the
Literary Men were doing, and learn how to judge of the merits of the Works
that came out. And I observ'd that he always looked at the _Poet's
Corner_. And one day he repeated a _Song_ which he compos'd to an old
tune. I was much surpris'd that a boy of sixteen [Footnote: He was
probably 17; as appears on the statement from the Author himself. See N.
to p. xvii.] should make so smooth verses: so I persuaded him to try
whether the Editor of our Paper would give them a place in _Poet's
Corner_. And he succeeded, and they were printed. And as I forget his
other early productions, I shall copy this."
THE MILK-MAID, ON THE FIRST OF MAY.
Hail, MAY! lovely MAY! how replenish'd my pails!
The young Dawn overspreads the East streak'd with gold!
My glad heart beats time to the laugh of the Vales,
And COLIN'S voice rings through the woods from the fold.
The Wood to the Mountain submissively bends,
Whose blue misty summits first glow with the sun!
See thence a gay train by the wild rill descends
To join the glad sports:... hark! the tumult's begun.
Be cloudless, ye skies!... Be my Colin but there,
Not the dew-spangled bents on the wide level Dale,
Nor Morning's first blush can more lovely appear
Than his looks, since my wishes I could not conceal.
Swift down the mad dance, while blest health prompts to move,
We'll count joys to come, and exchange Vows of truth;
And haply when Age cools the transports of Love,
Decry, like good folks, the vain pleasures of youth.
No, no; the remembrance shall ever be dear!
At no time LOVE with INNOCENCE ceases to charm:
It is transport in Youth ... and it smiles through the tear,
When they feel, in their children, its first soft alarm.
The Writer of this Preface doubts whether he has been successful in adding
the last Stanza to this beautiful and simply expressive song. But he
imagin'd that some thought of this kind was in the mind of the Author: and
he was willing to endeavour to express it. The Breast which has felt Love,
justly shrinks from the idea of its total extinction, as from annihilation
itself. And there is even an high social and moral use in that order of
Providence which exalts Sensations into tender and benign Passions; those
Passions into habitual Affections yet more tender; and raises from those
Affections _Virtues_ the most permanent, the most necessary and
beneficent, and the most endearing: thus expanding the sentiment into all
the Charities of domestic and social Life.
"I remember," says Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD, continuing his Narrative, "a little
piece which he called the Sailor's Return: [Footnote: It is much to be
wished that this may be discovered. L.] in which he tried to describe the
feelings of an honest _Tar_, who, after a long absence, saw his dear
native Village first rising into view. This too obtain'd a place in the
Poet's Corner."
"And as he was so young," his brother proceeds, "it shews some Genius in
him, and some Industry, to have acquir'd so much knowledge of the use of
words in so little time. Indeed at this time myself and my fellow workmen
in the Garret began to get instructions from him, though not more than
sixteen years old." [Footnote: What simple magnanimity and benevolence in
this Remark. L.]
"About this time there came a Man to lodge at our Lodgings that was
troubled with fits. ROBERT was so much hurt to see this poor creature
drawn into such frightful forms, and to hear his horrid screams, that I
was forced to leave the Lodging. We went to _Blue Hart-court, Bell-alley_.
In our new Garret we found a singular character, _James Kay_, a native of
_Dundee_. He was a middle-aged man, of a good understanding, and yet a
furious _Calvinist_. He had many Books, ... and some which he did not
value: such as the SEASONS, PARADISE LOST, and some _Novels_. These Books
he lent to ROBERT; who spent all his leisure hours in reading the
_Seasons_, which he was now capable of reading. I never heard him give so
much praise to any Book as to that."
"I think it was in the year 1784 that the Question came to be decided
between the _journeymen Shoemakers_; whether those who had learn'd without
serving an _Apprenticeship_ could follow the Trade."
[Footnote: That is _as journeymen_: for there was no question that they
could not as _Masters_ on their _own_ account. That a person may work as a
_journeyman_ without having served an apprenticeship, had already been
determined, T. 9. G. 3. _Beach v. Turner_. Burr. Mansf. 2449. A person
also who has not served an Apprenticeship may be a partner, contributing
money, or advice and attention to the accounts and general concerns of the
Trade, provided that he does not actually exercise the Trade, and that the
acting partner has served. Vide _Reynolds_ v. _Chase_, M. 30. G. 2. Burr.
Mansf. 2. 1 Burn. J.P. Apprent. § 12. L.]
"The Man by whom _Robert_ and I were employ'd, Mr. Chamberlayne, of
_Cheapside_, took an active part against the lawful journeymen; and even
went so far as to pay off every man that worked for him that had joined
their Clubs. This so exasperated the men, that their acting Committee soon
looked for _unlawful men_ (as they called them) among _Chamberlayne's_
workmen."
They found out little _Robert_, and threatened to prosecute _Chamlerlayne_
for employing him, and to prosecute his Brother, Mr. _G. Bloomfield_, for
teaching him. Chamberlayne requested of the Brother to go on and bring it
to a Trial; for that he would defend it; and that neither _George_ nor
_Robert_ should be hurt.
In the mean time _George_ was much insulted for having refus'd to join
upon this occasion those who call'd themselves, exclusively, the _Lawful
Crafts_. _George_, who says he was never famed for patience, (it is not
indeed so much as might be sometimes wish'd, very often the lot of strong
and acute minds to possess largely of this virtue,) took his pen, and
address'd a Letter to one of the most active of their Committee-men (a man
of very bad character). In this, after stating that he took _Robert_ at
his Mother's request, he made free as well with the private character of
this man as with the views of the Committee. "This," says _George_, "was
very foolish; for it made things worse: but I felt too much to refrain."
What connects this episodical circumstance with the character of our
Author follows in his brother's words.
"_Robert_ naturally fond of Peace, and fearful for my personal safety,
begg'd to be suffer'd to retire from the storm."
"He came home; and Mr. AUSTIN kindly bade him take his house for his home
till he could return to me. And here, with his mind glowing with the fine
Descriptions of rural scenery which he found in THOMSON'S SEASONS, he
again retrac'd the very fields where first he began to think. Here, free
from the smoke,[Footnote: But one word is altered in this Description;
which reminds one of the
_Omitte mirari beatae
Fumum et opes_ Strepitumque Romae. L.]
the noise, the contention of the city, he imbibed that Love of rural
Simplicity and rural Innocence, which fitted him, in a great degree, to be
the writer of such a thing as the _Farmer's Boy_."
"Here he liv'd two Months:... at length, as the dispute in the trade
still remain'd undecided, Mr. DUDBRIDGE offer'd to take _Robert_
Apprentice, to secure him, at all events, from any consequences of the
Litigation."
He was bound by Mr. _Ingram_, of _Bell-alley_, to Mr. _John Dudbridge_.
His Brother _George_ paid five shillings for _Robert_, by way of form, as
a premium. Dudbridge was their Landlord, and a _Freeman_ of the _City_ of
_London_. He acted most honourably, and took no advantage of the power
which the Indentures gave him. _George Bloomfield_ staid with _Robert_
till he found he could work as expertly as his self.
Mr. GEORGE BLOOMFIELD adds, "When I left London he was turned of eighteen;
[Footnote: This should seem to require correction by setting the Age
forward according to the Dates above stated. C.L.] and much of my
happiness since has arisen from a constant correspondence which I have
held with him."
"After I left him, he studied _Music_, and was a good player on the
_Violin_."
"But as my Brother _Nat_ had married a _Woolwich_ woman, it happen'd that
_Robert_ took a fancy to MARY-ANNE CHURCH, a comely young woman of that
town, whose Father is a boat-builder in the Government yard there. He
married 12th Dec. 1790."[Footnote: This Date from the Author. C.L.] "Soon
after he married, _Robert_ told me, in a Letter, that 'he had sold his
Fiddle and got a Wife.' Like most poor men, he got a wife first, and had
to get household-stuff afterward. It took him some years to get out of
ready furnished Lodgings. At length, by hard working, &c. he acquired a
Bed of his own, and hired the room up one pair of stairs at 14,
_Bell-alley, Coleman-street_. The Landlord kindly gave him leave to sit
and work in the light _Garret_, two pair of stairs higher."
"In _this_ Garret, amid six or seven other workmen, his active Mind
employ'd itself in composing _the Farmer's Boy_."
"In my correspondence I have seen several _poetical_ effusions of his; all
of them of a good moral tendency; but which he very likely would think do
him little credit: on that account I have not preserv'd them."
"ROBERT is a _Ladies Shoemaker_, and works for DAVIES, _Lombard-street_.
He is of a slender make; of about 5 F. 4 I. high; very _dark_
complexion.... His MOTHER, who is a very religions member of the _Church
of England_, took all the pains she could in his infancy to make him
pious: and as his Reason expanded, his love of God and Man increas'd with
it. I never knew his fellow for mildness of temper and Goodness of
Disposition. And since I left him, universally is he prais'd by those who
know him best, for the best of Husbands, an indulgent Father, and quiet
Neighbour. He is between thirty-three and four years old,[Footnote:
Corrected from the above Date, p. vi, to his present Age, May 1800. C. L.]
and has three Children;" two Daughters and a Son.[Footnote: Added from the
information of Mr. R. BLOOMFIELD. _Hannah_, born 25 _Oct_. 1791. _Mary
Anne_, 6 _Sept_. 1793. _Charles_, 15 _Sept_. 1798.]
Mr. GEORGE BLOOMFIELD concludes this clear, affectionate, and interesting
Narrative, by a very kind Address to the Writer of this Preface. But,
pleas'd as I am with the good opinion of a Man like him, I must not take
praise to myself for not having neglected or suppress'd such a Work when
it came into my hands. And I have no farther merit than that of seeing
what it was impossible for an unprejudiced Mind not to see, and of doing
what it was impossible not to do.
But I join with him cordially in his prayer, "that GOD, _the Giver of
thought_, may, as mental light spreads, raise up many who will turn a
listening ear, and will not despise
"_The short and simple annals of the Poor_."
Very few words will complete what remains to be added.
Struck with the Work, but not less struck with the remark, which is become
a proverb, of the Roman Satirist, that "_it is not easy_
[Footnote:
Haud facile emergunt quorum virtutibus obstat
Res angusta domi.]
for those to emerge to notice whose circumstances obscure the observation
of their Merits," I sent it to a Friend,[Footnote: This Friend, THOMAS
HILL, Esq. I hope will forgive my mentioning him without asking his
consent.] whom I knew to be above these prejudices: and who has deserv'd,
and is deserving, well of the public, in many other instances, by his
attention to Literature and the elegant Arts. He immediately express'd an
high satisfaction in it; and communicated it to the Publishers. They
adopted it upon terms honorable to themselves, and satisfactory to the
Author, and to me in his behalf. They have publish'd it in a manner which
speaks abundantly for itself; both as to the typographical accuracy and
beauty, and the good taste and execution of the Ornaments in Wood.
My part has been this, and it has been a very pleasing one: to revise the
MS. making occasionally corrections with respect to Orthography, and
sometimes in the grammatical construction. The corrections, in point of
Grammar, reduce themselves almost wholly to a circumstance of provincial
usage, which even well educated persons in _Suffolk_ and _Norfolk_ do not
wholly avoid; and which may be said, as to general custom, to have become
in these Counties almost an established Dialect:... that of adopting the
plural for the singular termination of verbs, so as to exclude the _s_.
But not a line is added or substantially alter'd through the whole poem. I
have requested the MS. to be preserv'd for the satisfaction of those who
may wish to be satisfied on this head.
The _Proofs_ have gone through my hands. It has been printed slowly:
because most carefully: as it deserv'd to be printed.
I have no doubt of its Reception with the Public: I have none of its going
down to Posterity with honor; which is not always the Fate of productions
which are popular in their day.
Thus much I know:... that the Author, with a spirit amiable at all times,
and which would have been rever'd by Antiquity, seems far less interested
concerning any Fame or Advantage he may derive from it to himself, than in
the pleasure of giving a printed Copy of it, as a tribute of duty and
affection, to his MOTHER; in whose pleasure, if it succeeds, his filial
heart places the gratification of which it is most desirous. It is much to
be a POET, such as he will be found:... it is more to be such a MAN.
CAPEL LOFFT.
TROSTON, n. BURY, SUFFOLK.
12 Dec. 1799.
ELIZABETH MANBY, the Mother of the Author of this POEM, was sister to
the wife of Mr. WILLIAM AUSTIN. I had written to Mr. GEORGE BLOOMFIELD to
request the name, before Marriage, of his Mother. This gain'd me an
Answer, which I have great pleasure in adding.
"The late Mr. AUSTIN'S wife was a Manby (my Mother's sister). And it may
seem strange that, in the FARMER'S BOY, _Giles_ no where calls him
_Uncle_, but _Master_.... The treatment that my Brother _Robert_
experienced from Mr. _Austin_ did not differ in any respect from the
treatment that all the Servant Boys experienc'd who lived with him. Mr.
_Austin_ was Father of fourteen Children by my Aunt (he never had any
other wife). He left a decent provision for the five Children that
surviv'd him: so that it could not be expected he should have any thing to
give to poor Relations. And I don't see a possibility of making a
difference between GILES and the Boys that were not related to
Mr._Austin_: for he treated all his Servants exactly as he did his Sons.
They all work'd hard; all liv'd well. The DUKE had not a better Man Tenant
to him than the late Mr. _Austin_. I saw numbers of the Husbandmen in
tears when he was buried. He was beloved by all who knew him. But I
imagine _Robert_ thought that when he was speaking of Benevolence that was
universal, he had no occasion to mention the accidental circumstance of
his being related to the Good Man of whom he sung."
SUPPLEMENT
I have mention'd in the Preface "THE SAILOR'S RETURN", from an intimation
by Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD. From the Author himself, Mr. ROBERT BLOOMFIELD, I am
oblig'd with what part he can recollect of this SONG, which I was desirous
to recover. It was written shortly after the PEACE with AMERICA and
FRANCE. Probably some time in the _Spring_ of 1784. The Author thinks the
Title of it was "THE SOLDIER'S RETURN," and that it was occasion'd by the
arrival of some Regiments of British Soldiers from remote parts of the
Globe.
He says, "I have endeavour'd to bring it back to my mind: but can only
remember the following; which is not the beginning nor the finish."
Round LYBIA'S south point, where from toils so late freed,
Sweet Hope cheer'd my soul as we clear'd the rough sea;
I strove midst the Tars to improve the ship's speed;
Nor thought I of aught but ANNA and THEE.
Here comes the dear Girl! comes with kind arms extended
To welcome me!... limbs numb'd with age fain would move.
My cheek feels the offspring of rapture warm blended,
With answering drops:... this the meed of chaste Love!
Rouse the Fire--
* * * * *
I think every Reader will be of opinion that it is indeed desirable the
whole Song, of which this is a Fragment, should be recover'd. It will
probably be found (according to the recollection of the Author) either in
the _General Advertiser, Gazetteer_, or _Courant_. From these specimens,
and some I have since had the pleasure to see in MS. Mr. BLOOMFIELD
appears fully to possess the simple, yet elegant, pathetic, and animated
flow of Composition, the sweetness of Diction, Thought, and Numbers, which
the SONG or BALLAD in their best character require.
I now quote a little Fragment in _blank verse_ from the same Letter: with
a slight correction in a place or two where the distribution or mechanism
of the lines was not exact.
SUBJECT. _An Harvest Scene: describing Gleaners return'd from the Field_.
--Welcome the Cot's
Warm walls!... thrice welcome Rest, by toil endear'd;
Each hard bed softening, healing every care.
Sleep on, ye gentle souls ...
Unapprehensive of the midnight thief!
Or if bereft of all with pain acquir'd,
Your fall, with theirs compar'd who sink from affluence,
With hands unus'd to toil, and minds unus'd
To bend, how little felt! how soon repair'd!
The ear of the Author seems as sweetly attun'd to verse without as with
Rhime: though his less practice has given him proportionally less
exactness.
It reminds one of the simple, tender, and flowing melody of the blank
verse of ROWE: or of some of the affecting passages in the _Paradise
Regain'd_ of MILTON.
Sweetness, pastoral Content, the innocent and benevolent heart "_with a
little pleas'd,_" breathe indeed through the Poems, and in the manners and
conversation, of the Author of THE FARMER'S BOY.
When the _Spirit_ of CHRISTIANITY declares "_blessed are the meek,_" every
heart which considers what meekness is, feels the truth of that
blessedness. It may smooth the way, and prevent impediments, which a
different temper raises to temporal felicity: it certainly assures that
Heaven which is _within_: and is a pledge and anticipation of the Heaven
hereafter.
It is pleasing to think on a remark of Mr. GEO. BLOOMFIELD concerning his
Brother when he first went to LONDON. "I have him in my mind's eye a
little Boy; not bigger than Boys generally are at twelve years old. When I
met him and his Mother at the Inn, [Footnote: In Bishopsgate-street.] he
strutted before us, dress'd just as he came from keeping Sheep, Hogs,
&c.... his shoes fill'd full of stumps in the heels. He looking about him,
slip'd up ... his nails were unus'd to a flat pavement. I remember viewing
him as he scamper'd up ... how small he was. Little thought, that little
fatherless Boy would be one day known and esteem'd by the most learned,
the most respected, the wisest and the best men of the Kingdom."
The brotherly overflowing of the heart in this passage I felt when I read
the Letter (dated 27 _March_ last), and cannot deny to others the pleasure
of feeling it.
And those who have shewn themselves the FRIENDS of the FARMER'S BOY must
excuse me if I mention some of them whose liberal and zealous attention
had excited those feelings in the heart of his Brother, and have fill'd
his with sentiments of thankfulness. The Duke of GRAFTON has every way
shewn himself attentive to the Genius, the Worth, of Mr. BLOOMFIELD. He
has essentially added to his comforts. His R. H. the Duke of YORK, by
Capt. BUNBURY, has made a liberal present, as an acknowledgment of the
pleasure receiv'd from the perusal of his excellent Poem. This attention
of his R. H. liberal and amiable in itself, has been the cause of like
liberality in others. It suggested to Dr. DRAKE, and other Gentlemen at
HADLEIGH, the idea of a local subscription of a Guinea each in that Town
and Neighbourhood. This has been carried into effect by himself and eleven
other Friends, who may be said in this instance to sustain, in a manner,
the honorable function of a kind of LITERARY JURY. The Names who have
given this testimony of their high esteem to the character of Mr.
BLOOMFIELD, and of the pleasure they have received from the perusal of his
Poem, are:
THOMAS SHERLOCKE GOOCH, Esq.
Major POCKLINGTON,
Dr. GIBBONS, M.D.
The Rev. J. PLAMPIN,
The Rev. T. KNOTTESFORD,
The Rev. R. PRITCHETT,
ABRAHAM REEVE, Esq.
GEO. ARCHER, Esq.
J. MILLS, Esq.
Mrs. TRAIL,
Mrs. LEAKE,
NATHAN DRAKE, M.D.
I have transcribed the names in the order in which they were transmitted
to me. With a large proportion of those who have thus stood forth the
Friends of Genius and Worth I have the pleasure of being acquainted. It
gives me much satisfaction to mention this notice: welcome to the Author
as a Gift; and far more so as a testimony of good opinion unexpectedly
offer'd. Several instances of similar attention to the disproportion
between the circumstances of the Author and the excellence of his poetical
Talents and moral Qualities have spontaneously manifested themselves from
different quarters. Those, as the separate act of individuals, I have not
particularized otherwise than by this general acknowledgment: though many
such have been mention'd to me by the Author. This, as a collective act, I
hope I may be allow'd the gratification of thus noticing.
Sir CHARLES BUNBURY has warmly expressed his approbation of the Poem; as
not only excellent for a Farmer's Boy, but such as would do honour to any
person, whatever his education: and he also has much contributed to make
it early and advantageously known. Mr. GREEN of IPSWICH has spoken of it
as a charming composition: reflecting, in a very natural and vivid manner,
the series of interesting images which touch'd the sensibility of a young,
an artless, but a most intelligent observer of Nature; plac'd in a
situation highly favourable to observation, though in fact not often
productive of it. That Originality in such a subject is invaluable: and
that this Poem appears to him (I know few men so qualified to judge on
such a point) throughout original. And literary characters who have earnt
to themselves much of true Praise by their own Productions, Mr. DYER and
Dr. DRAKE of HADLEIGH, have given full and appropriate encomium to the
excellence both in Plan and Execution, of this admirable RURAL PORM. My
Friend Mr. BLACK of _Woodbridge_, has notic'd it in a very pleasing and
characteristic Letter address'd to me in verse. I believe I shall not be
just to the FARMER's BOY if I omit to notice that the Taste and Genius of
Mrs. OPIE, born to do honour to every department of the Fine Arts, have
given her an high sentiment of its merits. And a LADY at BURY, whom I wish
I were permitted to name, has most truly characteriz'd it by remarking,
that "the descriptions of Country scenes, occupations, customs, and
manners, are as natural as possible: and that the justness, virtue, and
tenderness of the sentiments are to be equally admired." Were I to name
all the Friends and Admirers of the POEM and of the simple and amiable
manners and character of the AUTHOR, I should name, I believe, nearly
every person in this Island whom I respect, esteem, and admire.
It would be highly gratifying to me could I now transcribe those
testimonies to which I have generally referr'd:... but I abstain here
from this: and the rather, as I believe Mr. DYER will probably soon
express, in a Publication of his own, his sentiments on this Work; and as
Dr. DRAKE, I know, has been so struck with it as to intend to appropriate
to an investigation of its peculiar merit the concluding part of an
enlarg'd Edition of his LITERARY HOURS.[Footnote: This has been since
excellently perform'd by him. See the APPENDIX.]
The mention already made of the FARMER'S BOY in the NEW LONDON REVIEW and
in the MONTHLY MIRROR I have seen with pleasure. I rejoice in that Fame
which is just to living Merit, and waits not for the Tomb to present the
tardy and then unvalued Wreath: I rejoice in the sense express'd not only
of his Genius, but of his pure, benevolent, amiable Virtue, his
affectionate Veneration to the DEITY, and his good Will to all....
Obscurity and Adversity have not broken; Fame and Prosperity, I am
persuaded, will not corrupt him.
I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of mentioning that, after an absence
of twelve years, the Author of the Farmer's Boy has revisited his native
Plains. That he has seen his Mother in health and spirits: seen her with a
joy to both which even his own most expressive and pathetic language would
imperfectly describe.... Seen other near, affectionate, and belov'd
Relatives: review'd, with the feelings of a truly poetic and benevolent
Mind, the haunts of his youth; the Woods and Vales, the Cot, the Field and
the Tree, which even recollected after so many years and at a distance,
had awaken'd in such a manner the energies of his Heart and Intellect, and
had inspir'd strains which will never cease to be repeated with pleasure
and admiration. That he has been receiv'd at BURY with an emulous desire
of his society; and certainly with the greatest reason. I rejoice that I
at length have been made personally acquainted with him: that I have seen
him here, and at his Mother's, and at Bury: that I have discours'd with
him; that we have made our rural walks together: that I have heard him
read some of those Poems which are not yet printed; but which when they
shall be so, will support fully and extend the Fame he has acquir'd.
Though I have spent, occasionally, much of my life among persons worthy of
Admiration and of Esteem, I can recollect few days so interesting and so
valuable to me as these.
C.L.
TROSTON, 25 May, 1800.
What I have said in prose, p. ix of this Preface, is charmingly expressed
in the language of the Muses by Mr. COLLIER, in his Miscellaneous Poems
lately publish'd.
O where on earth can he a pleasure find
Whose heart th' extatic sweets of Love has known,
When in the jarring chaos of his mind
The gentle God no longer holds his throne!
ON REVISITING THE PLACE OF MY NATIVITY.
Though Winter's frowns had damp'd the beaming eye,
Through Twelve successive Summers heav'd the sigh,
The unaccomplish'd wish was still the same;
Till May in new and sudden glories came!
My heart was rous'd; and Fancy on the wing,
Thus heard the language of enchanting Spring:--
'Come to thy native groves and fruitful fields!
Thou know'st the fragrance that the wild-flow'r yields;
Inhale the Breeze that bends the purple bud,
And plays along the margin of the Wood.
I've cloth'd them all; the very Woods where thou
In infancy learn'd'st praise from every bough.
Would'st thou behold again the vernal day?
My reign is short;--this instant come away:
Ere Philomel shall silent meet the morn;
She hails the green, but not the rip'ning corn.
Come, ere the pastures lose their yellow flow'rs:
Come now; with heart as jocund as the hours.'
Who could resist the call?--that, Giles had done,
Nor heard the Birds, nor seen the rising Sun;
Had not Benevolence, with cheering ray,
And Greatness stoop'd, indulgent to display
Praise which does surely not to Giles belong,
But to the objects that inspir'd his song.
Immediate pleasure from those praises flow'd:
Remoter bliss within his bosom glow'd!
Now tasted all:--for I have heard and seen
The long-remember'd voice, the church, the green;--
And oft by Friendship's gentle hand been led
Where many an hospitable board was spread.
These would I name,... but each, and all can feel
What the full heart would willingly reveal:
Nor needs be told; that at each season's birth,
Still the enamell'd, or the scorching Earth
Gave, as each morn or weary night would come,
Ideal sweetness to my distant home:--
Ideal now no more;--for, to my view
Spring's promise rose, how admirably true!!
The early chorus of the cheerful Grove,
Gave point to Gratitude; and fire to Love.
O Memory! shield me from the World's poor strife;
And give those scenes thine everlasting life!
ROB. BLOOMFIELD.
LONDON, MAY 30, 1800.
SPRING.
ARGUMENT.
_Invocation, &c. Seed time. Harrowing. Morning walks. Milking. The Dairy.
Suffolk Cheese. Spring coming forth. Sheep fond of changing. Lambs at
play. The Butcher, &c._
[Illustration]
SPRING
I.
O come, blest Spirit! whatsoe'er thou art,
Thou rushing warmth that hover'st round my heart,
Sweet inmate, hail! thou source of sterling joy,
That poverty itself cannot destroy,
Be thou my Muse; and faithful still to me,
Retrace the paths of wild obscurity.
No deeds of arms my humble lines rehearse,
No _Alpine_ wonders thunder through my verse,
The roaring cataract, the snow-topt hill,
Inspiring awe, till breath itself stands still:
Nature's sublimer scenes ne'er charm'd mine eyes,
Nor Science led me through the boundless skies;
From meaner objects far my raptures flow:
O point these raptures! bid my bosom glow!
And lead my soul to ecstasies of praise
For all the blessings of my infant days!
Bear me through regions where gay Fancy dwells;
But mould to Truth's fair form what Memory tells.
Live, trifling incidents, and grace my song,
That to the humblest menial belong:
To him whose drudgery unheeded goes,
His joys unreckon'd as his cares or woes;
Though joys and cares in every path are sown,
And youthful minds have feelings of their own,
Quick springing sorrows, transient as the dew,
Delights from trifles, trifles ever, new.
'Twas thus with GILES: meek, fatherless, and poor:
Labour his portion, but he felt no more;
No stripes, no tyranny his steps pursu'd;
His life was constant, cheerful, servitude:
Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look,
The fields his study, Nature was his book;
And, as revolving SEASONS chang'd the scene
From heat to cold, tempestuous to serene,
Though every change still varied his employ,
Yet each new duty brought its share of joy.
Where noble GRAFTON spreads his rich domains,
Round _Euston's_ water'd vale, and sloping plains,
Where woods and groves in solemn grandeur rise,
Where the kite brooding unmolested flies;
The woodcock and the painted pheasant race,
And sculking foxes, destin'd for the chace;
There Giles, untaught and unrepining, stray'd
Thro' every copse, and grove, and winding glade;
There his first thoughts to Nature's charms inclin'd,
That stamps devotion on th' inquiring mind.
A little farm his generous Master till'd,
Who with peculiar grace his station fill'd;
By deeds of hospitality endear'd,
Serv'd from affection, for his worth rever'd;
A happy offspring blest his plenteous board,
His fields were fruitful, and his harm well stor'd,
And fourscore ewes he fed, a sturdy team,
And lowing kine that grazed beside the stream:
Unceasing industry he kept in view;
And never lack'd a job for Giles to do.
FLED now the sullen murmurs of the North,
The splendid raiment of the SPRING peeps forth;
Her universal green, and the clear sky,
Delight still more and more the gazing eye.
Wide o'er the fields, in rising moisture strong,
Shoots up the simple flower, or creeps along
The mellow'd soil; imbibing fairer hues
Or sweets from frequent showers and evening dews;
That summon from its shed the slumb'ring ploughs,
While health impregnates every breeze that blows.
No wheels support the diving pointed share;
No groaning ox is doom'd to labour there;
No helpmates teach the docile steed his road;
(Alike unknown the plow-boy and the goad;)
But, unassisted through each toilsome day,
With smiling brow the plowman cleaves his way,
Draws his fresh parallels, and wid'ning still,
Treads slow the heavy dale, or climbs the hill:
Strong on the wing his busy followers play,
Where writhing earth-worms meet th' unwelcome day;
Till all is chang'd, and hill and level down
Assume a livery of sober brown:
Again disturb'd, when Giles with wearying strides
From ridge to ridge the ponderous harrow guides;
His heels deep sinking every step he goes,
Till dirt usurp the empire of his shoes.
Welcome green headland! firm beneath his feet;
Welcome the friendly bank's refreshing seat;
There, warm with toil, his panting horses browse
Their shelt'ring canopy of pendent boughs;
Till rest, delicious, chase each transient pain,
And new-born vigour swell in every vein.
Hour after hour, and day to day succeeds;
Till every clod and deep-drawn furrow spreads
To crumbling mould; a level surface clear,
And strew'd with corn to crown the rising year;
And o'er the whole Giles once transverse again,
In earth's moist bosom buries up the grain.
The work is done; no more to man is given;
The grateful farmer trusts the rest to Heaven.
Yet oft with anxious heart he looks around,
And marks the first green blade that breaks the ground;
[Illustration: a gate]
In fancy sees his trembling oats uprun,
His tufted barley yellow with the sun;
Sees clouds propitious shed their timely store,
And all his harvest gather'd round his door.
But still unsafe the big swoln grain below,
A fav'rite morsel with the Rook and Crow;
From field to field the flock increasing goes;
To level crops most formidable foes:
Their danger well the wary plunderers know,
And place a watch on some conspicuous bough;
Yet oft the sculking gunner by surprise
Will scatter death amongst them as they rise.
These, hung in triumph round the spacious field,
At best will but a short-lived terror yield:
Nor guards of property; (not penal law,
But harmless riflemen of rags and straw);
Familiariz'd to these, they boldly rove,
Nor heed such centinels that never move.
Let then your birds lie prostrate on the earth,
In dying posture, and with wings stretch'd forth;
Shift them at eve or morn from place to place,
And death shall terrify the pilfering race;
In the mid air, while circling round and round,
They call their lifeless comrades from the ground;
With quick'ning wing, and notes of loud alarm,
Warn the whole flock to shun the' impending harm.
This task had _Giles_, in fields remote from home:
Oft has he wish'd the rosy morn to come.
Yet never fam'd was he nor foremost found
To break the seal of sleep; his sleep was sound:
But when at day-break summon'd from his bed,
Light as the lark that carol'd o'er his head,
His sandy way deep-worn by hasty showers,
O'er-arch'd with oaks that form'd fantastic bow'rs,
Waving aloft their tow'ring branches proud,
In borrow'd tinges from the eastern cloud,
(Whence inspiration, pure as ever flow'd,
And genuine transport in his bosom glow'd)
His own shrill matin join'd the various notes
Of Nature's music, from a thousand throats:
The blackbird strove with emulation sweet,
And Echo answer'd from her close retreat;
The sporting white-throat on some twig's end borne,
Pour'd hymns to freedom and the rising morn;
Stopt in her song perchance the starting thrush
Shook a white shower from the black-thorn bush,
Where dew-drops thick as early blossoms hung,
And trembled as the minstrel sweetly sung.
Across his path, in either grove to hide,
The timid rabbit scouted by his side;
Or bold cock-pheasant stalk'd along the road,
Whose gold and purple tints alternate glow'd.
But groves no farther fenc'd the devious way;
A wide-extended heath before him lay,
Where on the grass the stagnant shower had run,
And shone a mirror to the rising sun,
(Thus doubly seen) lighting a distant wood,
Giving new life to each expanding bud;
Effacing quick the dewy foot-marks found,
Where prowling Reynard trod his nightly round;
To shun whose thefts 'twas Giles's evening care,
His feather'd victims to suspend in air,
High on the bough that nodded o'er his head,
And thus each morn to strew the field with dead.