Tracts relative to the late Disputes between Great Britain and North America. Magna est veritas, et prevalebit. London: Printed by Rickaby, for the Editor, and to be had at Bell's British Library in the Strand. M DCC LXXXV. Sm. 8vo, pp. 182. Crashaw's poetry had been long neglected, and was fast sinking into oblivion, when his merits were again brought into public notice by the present judicious selection of some of his more valuable poems, published by Mr. Peregrine Phillips, who in an Address to the Reader prefixed, claims the merit of first rescuing Crashaw's memory from oblivion, and of calling public attention to them. His zeal however in behalf of his subject, has led him in this address to make some violent and rather injudicious attacks on several of our English poets, whom he accuses of having borrowed from his works without any acknowledgment. He particularly accuses Pope, in his "Epitaph on Elijah Fenton," not only of having adopted the thoughts, but in some places the very words of Crashaw's "Epitaph on Mr. Ashton;" Milton, of having borrowed from the Sospetto D'Herode; Young, Gray and other poets, of doing the same. These charges have been discussed at greater length than they perhaps deserved, and completely set at rest in the Biogr. Brit. by Mr. Hayley, who has well remarked that "if Pope borrowed any thing from Crashaw in this article, it was only as the sun borrows from the earth; when drawing from thence a mere vapour, he makes it the delight of every eye, by giving it all the tender and gorgeous colouring of heaven." The editor of this selection in his "Address to the Reader" calls himself a moderate Protestant, and therefore has carefully omitted whatever relates to theological controversy, which has made the present volume comparatively small. He gives the account of Crashaw from the Fasti Oxon. of Wood, vol. ii. p. 4; also extracts from that in Kippis's Biogr. Brit., and from Pope's Epistolary Correspondence with H. Cromwell, Esq. in 1710. Among the poems selected are "The Weeper," "Hymn on the Nativity," "Sospetto D'Herode," several of the epitaphs, "Music's Duell," "Wishes to his supposed Mistress," "In Praise of Lessius," "Dies Iræ," "On the Death of Mr. Herrys and Mr. Ashton ;" and at the end are seven of the Latin poems. Jolley's copy. Half bound, in Red Morocco. CROMPTON, (HUGH.) - Poems by Hugh Crompton, the Son of Bacchus, and God-son of Apollo. Being a fardle of Fancies, or a medley of Musick, strood in four Ounces of the Oyl of Epigrams. Aut prodesse volunt, aut delectare Poetæ. London, Printed by C. C. for Tho. Alsop, at the two Sugarloaves over against St. Antholin's Church at the lower end of Watling-street. 1657. Sm. 8vo, pp. 128. The exceedingly rare little volume of poems about to be noticed, of which not more than two copies have occurred for public sale, is dedicated to the author's "well affected, and no lesse respected Friend and Kinsman Colonell Tho. Crompton." It is divided into two unequal parts, the first, extending through the greater portion of the volume, to p. 110, contains sixty-seven poems, chiefly of an amatory description: the second, embracing only ten pages, consists of twenty-one epigrams. The poetry, which is of a miscellaneous kind, is not of an elevated character, so that a short specimen or two, selected from each part, will be sufficient. 11. The Check. Down, ye aspiring thoughts, where would ye mount? Review your weaknesse, span your selves again, I am but dust and ashes; - O refrain This frailty, and self-flattery, and see I'm but a pondrous clod, and cannot rise Above the stage of earth, each thought that flies Above his fellowes, deals with pride, not wit: 35. The true beauty. Tempt not my thoughts with powder'd hair, With Sattin, or with Lawn. This cannot make a Lady fair Whose honour lies at pawn. Look not so high though fortune please And bridle of thy worth; Thy beautie's blur'd, thy fame destroy'd, Thy honour's strangled in thy pride. "Tis she that's fair, and only she, Whose minde does not advance That glories not in chance. Such is my Claria, she that holds Or flocks, did never rest. She whose ambitious smoke doth smother, Aspiring not above another. She whose own merits might transport Is humbly pleas'd my flames to court, With me she'l laugh, with me she'l sing, Humility. But she would be opprest. Therefore my Claria, only thou Must rule my soul and fortunes now. I' th' petty fourm this Lady sits, Sim. Sim sayes he's highly blest, because he looks Upon abundance of religious Books. 'Tis true he does so; yet he keeps his sin; He looks upon them, but ne're looks within. Winstanley, in his Lives of the Poets, who lived not long after Crompton, says that he was a gentleman born, and well educated, but his father leaving him with small means, he betook himself to some genteel employment, whatever it was, for his support, which however failing him, he became an author from necessity. It would appear from his other work noticed hereafter, that he at first wrote for his own mere amusement, and intended his labours for waste paper, till his necessities compelled him to act otherwise. Crompton is supposed, but we know not on what authority, to have been a member of the Lancashire family of his name. Winstanley states that after the publication of his poems, he went into Ireland, and continued there for some time, but whether his death took place in that kingdom or no, appears to have been uncertain. Granger also reports that "he was a gentleman well educated, though but of small fortune," and that "his necessities obliged him to turn author." See Granger's Biog. Hist., vol. iv. p. 41, and Winstanley's Lives of the Poets, p. 191. These poems have been described by Mr. Park in Restituta, vol. iii. p. 167, but are not noticed either by Ellis or Campbell. There was a copy in Bindley's sale, pt. i. No. 1192, which sold for 11. 118.; and the same copy afterwards sold at Rice's ditto, No. 634, for 51. 58. Another copy was in Caldecot's collection, No. 301, which sold for 4l. 58. The present copy, which is presumed to be the only other one known, and by far the best, is the one from Mr. Skegg's library, No. 462, and sold for 91. 58. It is illustrated with a beautiful pen-and-ink drawing of the author, ætat. suæ 18. There was no copy in the Bibl. Ang. Poet., nor in the Heber, Bridgewater, Malone, or Douce collections. Collation Title A 2; Sig. A, four leaves; B to I 4, in eights; pp. 128, the first leaf blank. Bound by C. Smith. In Russia, gilt leaves. CROMPTON, (HUGH.) - Pierides, or the Muses Mount. By Hugh Crompton Gent. London, Printed by J. G. for Charles Webb, at the Golden Boars-head in Saint Pauls Church-yard. Sm. 8vo, pp. 158. Another very rare miscellany by the same writer. The dedication "To the Right Honourable Mary Dutchess of Richmond and Lenox," &c., is followed by a short epistle "To the Reader," in which he states his reasons, after having intended "his Muses for waste paper," for "resuming the Quill, that idleness might not sway;" and says of his Muse to the Reader: For want of a better labour in my ramble, I gathered this Sallad from Parnassus, and washt it in Helicon. But thou must find Oyl and Vinegar, and Sugar it with thy good conceit if thou pleasest. Errors thou shalt have many, it may please the 3 Y VOL. II. PART. II. better, since the time glories in them. Yet if thou pinch me hard, I have learned to cry Peccavi. Enter, and peradventure it will please, if not, the remedy is removed. The work consists of one hundred and ten miscellaneous poems, written in various metres, of which the following may be taken as average examples of Crompton's poetry: The Encomium. Reach me a golden pen that writes Such curious raptures as the Court affords ; Such dainty language as delights Ladies saluted by their sprightly Lords: Such as may paint the feature of Adonis, Or tell a blind man how serene the Sun is. Oh! 'tis my dear, the subject now Wherein to sport my sporting Muse incites me, And 'tis the splendour of her brow, Whose fair reflexes on my Muse inlights me. Bright Star of Majesty, methinks I see The Gods and Angels strive to worship thee. So sweet a lip, so pure a cheek, Such graces seated in her christall eye, As Paris might in Helen seek; Such food in Juno Jove did ne're enjoy : Tongues must be silent, phrases are too light, Textor can teach us no such Epithet. Therefore I must content my passion, That now is grown so furious and so proud, Not with my pen, but speculation: And this must be too through some velvet cloud: For if I see her clear whom I adore, Her charms will blind me, I shall see no more. The Soliloquy. I have no riches, neither know I where the mines of silver grow; The golden age I cannot find Yet there is plenty in my mind. 'Tis wealth I crave, 'tis wealth that I require; What shall I do in such a case? I am accounted mean and base: |