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A Ballad.-From 'What d' ye Call It ?! 'Twas when the seas were roaring Should you some coast be laid on With hollow blasts of wind,
Where gold and diamonds grow, A damsel lay deploring,
You'd find a richer maiden,
But none that loves you so.
How can they say that nature
Has nothing made in vain; That trembled o'er the brook.
Why, then, beneath the water,
Should hideous rocks remain ? "Twelve months are gone and over, No eyes the rocks discover And nine long tedious days;
That lurk beneath the deep, Why didst thou, venturous lover,
To wreck the wandering lover,
And leave the maid to weep.'
All melancholy lying,
Thus wailed she for her dear; To that within my breast ?
Repaid each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear.
His floating corpse she spied,
Then, like a lily drooping, To losing of my dear?
She bowed her head, and died.
THOMAS TICKELL. The friendship of Addison has shed a reflected light on some of his contemporaries, and it elevated theni, in their own day, to considerable importance. Amongst these was THOMAS TICKELL (16861740), born at Bridekirk, near Carlisle, son of a clergyman, and educated at Queen's College, Oxford. He was a writer in the ‘Spectator' and 'Guardian ;' and when Addison went to Ireland as secretary to Lord Sunderland, Tickell accompanied him, and was employed in public business. He published a translation of the first book of the “Iliad' at the same time with Pope. Addison and the Whigs pronounced it to be the best, while the Tories ranged under the banner of Pope. The circumstance led to a breach of the friendship betwixt Addison and Pope, which was never healed. Addison continued his patronage, and when made Secretary of State in 1717, he appointed his friend under-secretary. He also left him the charge of publishing his works, and on his death-bed recommended him to Secretary Craggs. Tickell prefixed to the collected works of Addison an elegy on his deceased friend, which is justly considered one of the most pathetic and sublime poems in the language. In 1722, Tickell published a poem, chiefly allegorical, entitled Kensington Gardens;' and being in 1724 appointed secretary to the lords-justices of Ireland, he seems to have abandoned the Muses. He died at Bath in 1740, but was buried at Glasneven, near Dublin, where he had long resided. The monumental tablet in Glasneven Church to the memory of Tickell records that bis highest honour was that of having been the friend of Addison. His elegy, and his beautiful ballad of Colin and Lucy,' would have served, however, to per
petuate his name, while even his opponent Pope admitted that he
Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone,
In what new region, to the just assigned,
And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart:
That awful form, which, so the heavens decree,
Thou hill whose brow the antique structures grace,
Colin and Lucy.-A Ballad.
Which says I must not stay;
I see a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away.
In early youth I die.
Was thrice as rich as I ?
Ah, Colin! give not her thy vows, When beating rains descend ?
Vows due to me alone; So drooped the slow-consuming
Nor thou, fond maid ! receive his kiss Her life now near its end.
Nor think him all thy own.
By Lucy warned, of flattering swains
Take heed, ye easy fair !
Ye perjured swains! beware.
A bell was heard to ring,
The raven flapped his wing.
The solemn boding sound,
The virgins weeping round:
"To-morrow in the church to wed,
Impatient both prepare ;
I in my winding-sheet.'
The bridegroom blithe to meet
When stretched before her rival's corpse He in his wedding trim so gay,
She saw her husband dead. She in her winding-sheet.
Then to his Lucy's new-made grave Then what were perjured Colin's Conveyed by trembling swains, thoughts?
One mould with her, beneath one sod, How were these nuptials kept ?
For ever he remains.
Oft at this grave the constant hind
And plighted maid are seen ; Confusion, shame, remorse, despair, With garlands gay and true-love knots At once his bosom swell;
They deck the sacred green.
But, swain forsworn! whoe'er thou art,
This hallowed spot forbear; From the vain bride-ah! bride no Remember Colin's dreadful fate, more !
And fear to meet him there. The varying crimson fled
Tickell occasionally tried satire, and the following piece shews & stronger and bolder hand than the bulk of his verses. It was written to ridicule the Jacobite Earl of Mar and his rash enterprise in 1715-16 in favour of the Chevalier.
thy high-born "host of
Wall-eyed, bare hand visage blighted. 'n
An Imitation of the Prophecy of Nereus—From Horace, Book üi.
Ode 25. As Mar his round one morning took- In which they daily wont to swagger, Whom some call earl, and some call And oft have sallied out to pillage duke
The hen-roosts of some peaceful village; And his new brethren of the blade,
Or, while their neighbors were asleep. Shivering with fear and frost, surveyed, Have carried off a Lowland sheep. On Perth's bleak hills he chanced to spy What boots thy high-bornhost of An aged wizard six foot high, With bristled hair and visage' blighted, Macleans, Mackenzies, and Macgregors ? Wall-eyed, bare haunched, and second- Inflamed with bagpipe and with brandy, sighted.
In vain thy lads around thee bandy. The grisly sage in thought profound Doth not bold Sutherland the trusty, Beheld the chief with back so round, With heart so true, and voice so rustyThen rolled his eyeballs to and fro
A loyal soul!-thy troops affright O'er his paternal hills of snow,
While hoarsely he demands the fight? And into these tremendous speeches Dost thou not generous Islay dread, Brake forth the prophet without breeches: The bravest hand, the wisest head; Into what ills, betrayed by thee
Undaunted dost thou hear th' alarms This ancient kingdom do I see !
Of hoary Athole sheathed in arms? Her realms unpeopled and forlorn
Douglas, who draws his lineage down Wae's me! that ever thou wert born! From thanes and peers of high renown, Proud English loons-our clans o'er- Fiery and young, and uncontrolled, come
With knights and squires and barons On Scottish pads shall amble home;
boldI see them dressed in bonnet blue
His noble household band--advances The spoils of thy rebellious crew
And on his milk-white courser prances. I see the target cast away,
Thee Forfar to the combat dares, And checkered plaid become their prey- Grown swarthy in Iberian wars, The checkered plaid to make a gown And Monro kindled into rage, For many a lass in London town.
Sourly defies thee to engage; 'In vain the hungry mountaineers He'll rout thy foot, though ne'er so many, Come forth in all their warlike gears And horse to boot-if thou hadst any! The shield, the pistol, dirk, and dagger, “But see, Argyle, with watchful eyes,
Lodged in his deep intrenchments lies;
• Is this thy baughty promise paid
With Highland sceptre in his hand,
"'Tis so decreed, for George shall reign,
AMBROSE PHILIPS. Among the poets of the day whom Addison's friendship and Pope's enmity raised to temporary importance, was AMBROSE PHILIPS (16711749). He was a native of Shropshire, and educated at St. John's College, Cambridge. He made his appearance as a poet in the same year and in the same volume as Pope—the Pastorals' of Philips being the first poem, and the ‘Pastorals' of Pope, the last in Tonson's Miscellany' for 1709. They had been printed the year previous. Tickell injudiciously praised Philip's Pastorals as the finest in the language, and Pope resented this unjust depreciation of his own poetry by an ironical paper in the ‘Guardian, calculated to make Philips appear ridiculous. Pretending to criticise the rival ‘Pastorals,' and compare them, Pope gives the preference to Philips, but quotes all his worst passages as his best, and places by the side of them his own finest lines, which he says want rusticity and deviate into downright poetry. Philips felt the satire keenly, and even vowed to take personal vengeance on his adversary, by whipping him with a rod, which he hung up for the purpose in Button's Coffee-house. Pope—faithful to the maxim that a man never forgives another whom he has injured-continued to pursue Philips with his hatred and satire to the close of his life. The pastoral poet had the good sense not to enter the lists with his formidable assailant, and his character and talents soon procured bim public employment. In 1715, he was appointed paymaster of the Lottery; he afterwards was selected by Archbishop Boulter, primate of Ireland, as bis secretary, and sat for the county of Armagh in the Irish parliament. In 1734, he was made registrar of the Prerogative Court. From these appointments, Phil. ips was able to purchase an annuity of £400 per annum, with which he hoped, as Johnson says, ' to pass some years of life in England) in plenty and tranquility ; but his hope deceived him; he was struck with a palsy, and died, June 18, 1749. The ‘Pastorals' of Philips are certainly poor productions; but he was an elegant versifier, and Goldsmith has eulogised the opening of his 'Epistle to the Earl of Dorset' as “incomparably fine. A fragment of Sappho, translated by Philips, is a poetical gem so brilliant, that it is thought Addison must have assisted in its composition: