Mild, as the vernal show'r, his words prevail, And aid the moral precept of his tale: His wond'ring hearers learn, and ever keep These first ideas of the restless deep; And, as the opening mind a circuit tries, Present felicities in value rise. Increasing pleasures every hour they find, The warmth more precious, and the shelter kind; Warmth that long reigning bids the eyelids close, As through the blood its balmy influence goes, When the cheer'd heart forgets fatigues and cares, And drowsiness alone dominion bears.

Sweet then the ploughman's slumbers, hale and young, When the last topic dies upon his tongue; Sweet then the bliss his transient dreams inspire, Till chilblains wake him, or the snapping fire:

He starts, and ever thoughtful of his team, Along the glitt'ring snow a feeble gleam Shoots from his lantern, as he yawning goes To add fresh comforts to their night's repose; Diffusing fragrance as their food he moves And pats the jolly sides of those he loves. Thus full replenish'd, perfect ease possest, From night till morn alternate food and rest, No rightful cheer withheld, no sleep debar'd, Their each day's labour brings its sure reward. Yet when from plough or lumb'ring cart set free, They taste awhile the sweets of liberty: E'en sober Dobbin lifts his clumsy heels And kicks, disdainful of the dirty wheels; But soon, his frolic ended, yields again To trudge the road, and wear the clinking chain.

Short-sighted DOBBIN!... thou canst only see The trivial hardships that encompass thee: Thy chains were freedom, and thy toils repose, Could the poor post-horse tell thee all his woes; Shew thee his bleeding shoulders, and unfold The dreadful anguish he endures for gold: Hir'd at each call of business, lust, or rage, That prompt the trav'eller on from stage to stage. Still on his strength depends their boasted speed; For them his limbs grow weak, his bare ribs bleed; And though he groaning quickens at command, Their extra shilling in the rider's hand Becomes his bitter scourge:... 'tis he must feel The double efforts of the lash and steel; Till when, up hill, the destin'd inn he gains, And trembling under complicated pains, Prone from his nostrils, darting on the ground, His breath emitted floats in clouds around: Drops chase each other down his chest and sides, And spatter'd mud his native colour hides: Thro' his swoln veins the boiling torrent flows, And every nerve a separate torture knows. His harness loos'd, he welcomes eager-eyed The pail's full draught that quivers by his side; And joys to see the well-known stable door, As the starv'd mariner the friendly shore.

Ah, well for him if here his suff'rings ceas'd, And ample hours of rest his pains appeas'd! But rous'd again, and sternly bade to rise, And shake refreshing slumber from his eyes, Ere his exhausted spirits can return, Or through his frame reviving ardour burn, Come forth he must, tho' limping, maim'd, and sore; He hears the whip; the chaise is at the door:... The collar tightens, and again he feels His half-heal'd wounds inflam'd; again the wheels With tiresome sameness in his ears resound, O'er blinding dust, or miles of flinty ground. Thus nightly robb'd, and injur'd day by day, His piece-meal murd'rers wear his life away.

What say'st thou, Dobbin? what though hounds await With open jaws the moment of thy fate, No better fate attends his public race; His life is misery, and his end disgrace. Then freely bear thy burden to the mill; Obey but one short law,... thy driver's will. Affection, to thy memory ever true, Shall boast of mighty loads that Dobbin drew; And back to childhood shall the mind with pride Recount thy gentleness in many a ride To pond, or field, or village fair, when thou Held'st high thy braided mane and comely brow; And oft the Tale shall rise to homely fame Upon thy gen'rous spirit and thy name.

Though faithful to a proverb, we regard The midnight chieftain of the farmer's yard, Beneath whose guardianship all hearts rejoice, Woke by the echo of his hollow voice; Yet as the Hound may fault'ring quit the pack, Snuff the foul scent, and hasten yelping back; And e'en the docile Pointer know disgrace, Thwarting the gen'ral instinct of his race; E'en so the MASTIFF, or the meaner Cur, At times will from the path of duty err, (A pattern of fidelity by day; By night a murderer, lurking for his prey); And round the pastures or the fold will creep, And, coward-like, attack the peaceful sheep: Alone the wanton mischief he pursues, Alone in reeking blood his jaws imbrues; Chasing amain his fright'ned victims round, Till death in wild confusion strews the ground; Then wearied out, to kennel sneaks away, And licks his guilty paws till break of day.

The deed discover'd, and the news once spread, Vengeance hangs o'er the unknown culprit's head: And careful Shepherds extra hours bestow In patient watchings for the common foe; A foe most dreaded now, when rest and peace Should wait the season of the flock's increase.

In part these nightly terrors to dispel, GILES, ere he sleeps, his little Flock must tell. From the fire-side with many a shrug he hies, Glad if the full-orb'd Moon salute his eyes, And through the unbroken stillness of the night Shed on his path her beams of cheering light. With saunt'ring step he climbs the distant stile, Whilst all around him wears a placid smile; There views the white-rob'd clouds in clusters driv'n, And all the glorious pageantry of heav'n. Low, on the utmost bound'ry of the sight, The rising vapours catch the silver light; Thence Fancy measures, as they parting fly, Which first will throw its shadow on the eye, Passing the source of light; and thence away, Succeeded quick by brighter still than they. For yet above these wafted clouds are seen (In a remoter sky, still more serene,) Others, detach'd in ranges through the air, Spotless as snow, and countless as they're fair; Scatter'd immensely wide from east to west, The beauteous 'semblance of a Flock at rest. These, to the raptur'd mind, aloud proclaim Their MIGHTY SHEPHERD'S everlasting Name.

Whilst thus the loit'rer's utmost stretch of soul Climbs the still clouds, or passes those that roll, And loos'd Imagination soaring goes High o'er his home, and all his little woes, TIME glides away; neglected Duty calls: At once from plains of light to earth he falls, And down a narrow lane, well known by day, With all his speed pursues his sounding way, In thought still half absorb'd, and chill'd with cold; When, lo! an object frightful to behold; A grisly SPECTRE, cloth'd in silver-gray, Around whose feet the waving shadows play, Stands in his path!... He stops, and not a breath Heaves from his heart, that sinks almost to death. Loud the owl halloos o'er his head unseen; All else is silent, dismally serene: Some prompt ejaculation, whisper'd low, Yet bears him up against the threat'ning foe; And thus poor Giles, though half inclin'd to fly, Mutters his doubts, and strains his stedfast eye. ''Tis not my crimes thou com'st here to reprove; 'No murders stain my soul, no perjur'd love: 'If thou'rt indeed what here thou seem'st to be, 'Thy dreadful mission cannot reach to me. 'By parents taught still to mistrust mine eyes, 'Still to approach each object of surprise 'Lest Fancy's formful visions should deceive 'In moon-light paths, or glooms of falling eve, 'This then's the moment when my heart should try 'To scan thy motionless deformity; 'But oh, the fearful task! yet well I know 'An aged ash, with many a spreading bough, '(Beneath whose leaves I've found a Summer's bow'r, 'Beneath whose trunk I've weather'd many a show'r,) 'Stands singly down this solitary way, 'But far beyond where now my footsteps stay. 'Tis true, thus far I've come with heedless haste; 'No reck'ning kept, no passing objects trac'd:... 'And can I then have reach'd that very tree? 'Or is its reverend form assum'd by thee?' The happy thought alleviates his pain: He creeps another step; then stops again; Till slowly, as his noiseless feet draw near, Its perfect lineaments at once appear; Its crown of shiv'ring ivy whispering peace, And its white bark that fronts the moon's pale face. Now, whilst his blood mounts upward, now he knows The solid gain that from conviction flows; And strengthen'd Confidence shall hence fulfill (With conscious Innocence more valued still) The dreariest task that winter nights can bring, By church-yard dark, or grove, or fairy ring; Still buoying up the timid mind of youth, Till loit'ring Reason hoists the scale of Truth. With these blest guardians Giles his course pursues, Till numbering his heavy-sided ewes, Surrounding stillness tranquilize his breast, And shape the dreams that wait his hours of rest.

As when retreating tempests we behold, Whose skirts at length the azure sky unfold, And full of murmurings and mingled wrath, Slowly unshroud the smiling face of earth, Bringing the bosom joy: so WINTER flies!... And see the Source of Life and Light uprise! A height'ning arch o'er southern hills he bends; Warm on the cheek the slanting beam descends, And gives the reeking mead a brighter hue, And draws the modest primrose bud to view. Yet frosts succeed, and winds impetuous rush, And hail-storms rattle thro' the budding bush; And night-fall'n LAMBS require the shepherd's care, And teeming EWES, that still their burdens bear; Beneath whose sides tomorrow's dawn may see The milk-white strangers bow the trembling knee; At whose first birth the pow'rful instinct's seen That fills with champions the daisied green: For ewes that stood aloof with fearful eye, With stamping foot now men and dogs defy, And obstinately faithful to their young, Guard their first steps to join the bleating throng.

But casualties and death from damps and cold Will still attend the well-conducted fold: Her tender offspring dead, the dam aloud Calls, and runs wild amidst the unconscious crowd: And orphan'd sucklings raise the piteous cry; No wool to warm them, no defenders nigh. And must her streaming milk then flow in vain? Must unregarded innocence complain? No;... ere this strong solicitude subside, Maternal fondness may be fresh apply'd, And the adopted stripling still may find A parent most assiduously kind. For this he's doom'd awhile disguis'd to range, (For fraud or force must work the wish'd-for change;) For this his predecessor's skin he wears, Till cheated into tenderness and cares, The unsuspecting dam, contented grown, Cherish and guard the fondling as her own.

Thus all by turns to fair perfection rise; Thus twins are parted to increase their size: Thus instinct yields as interest points the way, Till the bright flock, augmenting every day, On sunny hills and vales of springing flow'rs With ceaseless clamour greet the vernal hours.

The humbler Shepherd here with joy beholds The approv'd economy of crowded folds, And, in his small contracted round of cares, Adjusts the practice of each hint he hears: For Boys with emulation learn to glow, And boast their pastures, and their healthful show Of well-grown Lambs, the glory of the Spring; And field to field in competition bring.

E'en GILES, for all his cares and watchings past, And all his contests with the wintry blast, Claims a full share of that sweet praise bestow'd By gazing neighbours, when along the road, Or village green, his curly-coated throng Suspends the chorus of the spinner's song; When Admiration's unaffected grace Lisps from the tongue, and beams in every face: Delightful moments!... Sunshine, Health, and Joy, Play round, and cheer the elevated Boy! 'Another SPRING!' his heart exulting cries; 'Another YEAR! with promis'd blessings rise!... 'ETERNAL POWER! from whom those blessings flow, 'Teach me still more to wonder, more to know: 'Seed-time and Harvest let me see again; 'Wander the leaf-strewn wood, frozen plain: 'Let the first Flower, corn-waving Field, Plain, Tree, 'Here round my home, still lift my soul to THEE; 'And let me ever, midst thy bounties, raise 'An humble note of thankfulness and praise!'—

APRIL 22, 1798.



NOTES

A fav'rite morsel with the Rook, &c. P. 9, l. 104.

In these verses, which have much of picturesque, there is a severe charge against Rooks and Crows, as very formidable depredators; and their destruction, as such, seems to be recommended. Such was the prevalent opinion some years back. It is less general now: and I am sure the humanity of the Author, and his benevolence to Animals in general, will dispose him to rejoice in whatever plea can be offered in stay of execution of this sentence. And yet more so, if it shall appear that ROOKS, at least, deserve not only mercy, but protection and encouragement from the Farmer.

I shall quote a passage from BEWICK'S interesting HISTORY of BIRDS: the narrative part of which is often as full of information as the embellishments cut in wood are beautiful.... It is this.

Speaking of Birds of the PIE-KIND in general, he says "Birds of this kind [Footnote: P. 63] are found in every part of the known world, from Greenland to the Cape of Good Hope. In many respects they may be said to be of singular benefit to mankind: principally by destroying great quantities of noxious insects, worms, and reptiles. ROOKS, in particular, are fond of the erucae of the hedge-chaffer, or chesnut brown beetle: for which they search with indefatigable pains. These insects," he adds in a note, "appear in hot weather in formidable numbers: disrobing the fields and trees of their verdure, blossoms, and fruit; spreading desolation and destruction wherever they go.... They appeared in great numbers in IRELAND during a hot summer, and committed great ravages. In the year 1747 whole meadows and corn-fields were destroyed by them in SUFFOLK. The decrease of Rookeries in that County was thought to be the occasion of it. The many Rookeries with us is in some measure the reason why we have so few of these destructive animals."[Footnote: Wallis's History of Northumberland.]

"Rooks," he subjoins, "are often accus'd of feeding on the corn just after it has been sown, and various contrivances have been made both to kill and frighten them away; but, in our estimation, the advantages deriv'd from the destruction which they make among grubs, earth-worms, and noxious insects of various kinds, will greatly overpay the injury done to the future harvest by the small quantity of corn they may destroy in searching after their favourite food." [Footnote: Mr. Bewick does not seem to have been quite aware that much of this mischief, as I have been informed by a sensible neighboring Farmer and Tenant, is done in the grub-state of the chaffer by biting through the roots of grass, &c. A latent, and imperceptibly, but rapidly spreading mischief, against which the rooks and birds of similar instinct are, in a manner, the sole protection. C. L.]

"In general they are sagacious, active, and faithful to each other. They live in pairs; and their mutual attachment is constant. They are a clamorous race: mostly build in trees, and form a kind of society in which there appears something like a regular government. A Centinel watches for the general safety, and gives notice on the appearance of danger."

Under the Title, "ROOKS," (p. 71) Mr. BEWICK repeats his observations on the useful property of this Bird.

I confess myself solicitous for their safety and kind treatment. We have two which were lam'd by being blown down in a storm (a calamity which destroys great numbers almost every spring). One of them is perfectly domesticated. The other is yet more remarkable; since although enjoying his natural liberty completely, he recognizes, even in his flights at a distance from the house, his adoptive home, his human friends, and early protectors.

The ROOK is certainly a very beautiful and very sensible Bird; very confiding, and very much attach'd. It will give me a pleasure, in which I doubt not that the Author of this delightful Poem will partake, if any thing here said shall avail them with the Farmer; and especially with the SUFFOLK FARMER.

C. L.



Destroys life's intercourse; the social plan. P. 46, l. 341.

"Allowing for the imperfect state of sublunary happiness, which is comparative at best, there are not, perhaps, many nations existing whose situation is so desirable; where the means of subsistence are so easy, and the wants of the people so few. The evident distinction of ranks, which subsists at Otaheite, does not so materially affect the felicity of the nation as we might have supposed. The simplicity of their whole life contributes to soften the appearance of distinctions, and to reduce them to a level. Where the climate and the custom of the country do not absolutely require a perfec: garment; where it is easy at every step to gather as many plants as form not only a decent, but likewise a customary covering; and where all the necessaries of life are within the reach of every individual, at the expence of a trifling labour; ambition and envy must in a great measure be unknown. It is true, the highest classes of people possess some dainty articles, such as pork, fish, fowl, and cloth, almost exclusively; but the desire of indulging the appetite in a few trifling luxuries can at most render individuals, and not whole nations, unhappy. Absolute want occasions the miseries of the lower class in some civiliz'd states, and is the result of the unbounded voluptuousness of their superiors. At Otaheite there is not, in general, that disparity between the highest and the meanest man, that subsists in England between a reputable tradesman and a labourer. The affection of the Otaheitans for their chiefs, which they never fail'd to express upon all occasions, gave us great reason to suppose that they consider themselves as one family, and respect their eldest borm in the persons of their chiefs. The lowest man in the nation speaks as freely with his king as with his equal, and has the pleasure of seeing him as often as he likes. The king, at times, amuses himself with the occupations of his subjects; and not yet deprav'd by false notions of empty state, he often paddles his own canoe, without considering such an employment derogatory to his dignity. How long such an happy equality may last is uncertain: and how much the introduction of foreign luxuries may hasten its dissolution cannot be too frequently repeated to Europeans. If the knowledge of a few individuals can only be acquired at such a price as the happiness of nations, it were better for the discoverers and the discovered that the South Sea had still remain'd unknown to Europe and its restless inhabitants."

REFLECTIONS ON OTAHEITE: Cook's second Voyage.



APPENDIX

When the FIRST EDITION of this POEM appear'd in March last, I intimated a design of accompanying it with some CEITICAL REMARKS. With that design various Engagements have since greatly interfer'd. From one of the most laborious and constant of those, that of the office of a Justice of the Peace for the County of Suffolk, I am now discharg'd. Why those who are in power have done this, they have not explain'd: and it being an office from which any one who holds it is removable at pleasure, they are not call'd to explain. Had it been for Crime or Misconduct as a Magistrate, of course Trial and Conviction should have preceded my Removal. As it is, I feel, as I have publicly declar'd, no shame in the removal. I have held an office honorable because extensively useful; because unprofitable and burthensome to the individual; because independently and conscientiously exercis'd, with a devotion, such as it requir'd, of my time, my thoughts, and my best faculties, daily to its discharge. My Collegues,—and they are and have been, during a course of seventeen years, those of them who now act, and those who are dead or absent, men with whom to have acted was indeed satisfactory and pleasant,—my late Collegues part with me, and I with them, regrettingly. Our reciprocal Esteem is not lessen'd by this abruption of our official intercourse. And as every man who feels what Society is, ought to determine to be serviceable to the Public, my removal from this office neither weakens the determination, nor probably will be found to have impair'd the means of effecting it. I am therefore well content;—as I ought to be. I sought not the office. I have never sought any. It solicited my acceptance; unask'd and unexpected. I owe my appointment to the Duke of GRAFTON, very soon after I came to reside in this County. He was then Lord Lieutenant. I have not yielded that appointment to disgust; though there were those who were not sparing in their endeavours to disgust me with it: I have not relinquished it to suit my convenience; though in times like these an office of no little expence, and which shut me out from sources of professional emolument, was to me certainly not convenient: I have not consulted my ease or health by a voluntary retirement. I am remov'd, I am superseded, I am struck out from an office of incredible and hourly increasing anxiety. Circumstances like this are not new. They have repeatedly taken place in relation to very high offices; and the Public remembers men to whom they have happen'd whose internal dignity and worth is above any official dignity. Had I felt that I merited to be remov'd, I should not have thought myself a fit Editor of the FARMER'S BOY; a Poem which breathes every where modest independence, benevolence, innocence, and virtue. As it is, I think myself no way less fit than ever for any laudable and becoming employ. And I have accordingly announc'd my intention of resuming my profession as a BARRISTER. In the mean time, the leisure which has thus been thrown to me may properly and usefully be devoted to the Remarks which I had before meditated; and for which I had in some measure pledg'd myself to the PUBLIC.

The FIRST of these will naturally be that which relates to the manner and circumstances of the Composition. There is such proof in it of Genius disregarding difficulty, and of powers of retention and arrangement, that it will be believ'd I could not overpass it: and that it would have been stated at the first if it had been then in my power to state it.

I now lay it before the Public in the words of Mr. SWAN: who in a Letter address'd to me in The Ladies Museum of this Month, after congratulating me on my "successful efforts," (and with such a Production to propose to public Attention how could they be unsuccessful?) "in rescuing from oblivion a Poem, which for the harmony of its numbers, the beauty of its imagery, originality of thought, elegance and chasteness of diction, (every circumstance consider'd,) stands unrivall'd in the Annals of English Literature, and will descend to Posterity with increasing celebrity," states the motive on which he writes: (a motive well meriting a Letter and a public statement:) "to throw light upon the manner of the composition of the Farmer's Boy; which appears to him (and most justly) no inconsiderable addition to the well-earn'd laurels of the Author."

For the pleasure of the view which it includes of the character and manners of Mr. BLOOMFIELD, I shall, with the Author of this interesting Letter, go beyond the mere fact; and give his narration of the cause and manner of the Discovery, as well at the Discovery itself.

Mr. SWAN thus expresses himself:

"From the pleasure I receiv'd in reading the FARMER'S BOY, and from some strange coincidences in the early part of Mr. Bloomfield's life with my own, I was naturally enough anxious to become acquainted with the Author. For this purpose I obtain'd his address, and found him ... the modest, the unambitious person you describe; wondering at the praise and admiration with which his Poem has been receiv'd; whose utmost ambition was to have presented a fair copy to his aged Mother, as a pledge of filial affection, and a picture of his juvenile avocations. So unexpected was the fame of his production, that the whole of his good fortune appears to him as a dream."—'I had no more idea,' says he, 'to be sent for by the Duke of Grafton, and be so kindly and generously treated, than of the hour I shall die.'

"I gave him," Mr. SWAN continues, "my card of address, an invitation to my house, and a sincere profession of friendship; if, among his numerous admirers, and noble and royal patrons, the latter was worthy of acceptance."

"Last Sunday afternoon [Footnote: The Letter is dated 12 July, 1800.] I was highly pleas'd with his company, and gratified and entertain'd with his conversation.—Sir, he is all ... nay, more than you have describ'd."

"Among other subjects of conversation respecting the Farmer's Boy, I wish'd to be inform'd of his manner of composition. I enquir'd, as he compos'd it in a garret, amid the bustle and noise of six or seven fellow workmen, whether he us'd a slate; or wrote it on paper with a pencil, or pen and ink. But what was my surprize when told that he had us'd neither.—My business, during the greatest part of my life having led me into the line of litterary pursuits, and made me acquainted with litterary men, I am, consequently, pretty well inform'd of the methods us'd by authors for the retention of their productions. We are told, if my recollection is just, that Milton took his Daughters as his amanuenses; that Savage, when his poverty precluded him the conveniency of pen, ink, and paper, us'd to study in the streets, and go into shops to record the productions of his fertile genius; that Pope, when on visits at Lord Bolingbroke's, us'd to ring up the servants at any hour in the night for pen and ink, to write any thought that struck his lively and wakeful imagination; that Dr. Blacklock, though blind, had the happy faculty of writing down, in a very legible hand, the chaste and elegant productions of his Muse."

"With these and many other methods of composition we are acquainted; but that of a great part of the Farmer's Boy stands, in my opinion, first on the List of Litterary [Footnote: I have ventur'd to restore litterary to that mode of spelling, with the double t, which the Analogy of our language seems to require. L.] Phaenomena.—Sir, Mr. Bloomfield, either from the contracted state of his pecuniary resources to purchase Paper, or from other reasons, compos'd the latter part of his Autumn and the whole of his Winter in his head, without committing one line to paper.—This cannot fail to surprize the Litterary World: who are well acquainted with the treacherousness of memory, and how soon the most happy ideas, for want of sufficient quickness in noting down, are lost in the rapidity of thought."

"But this is not all.—He went still a step farther.—He not only compos'd and committed that part of the work to his retentive memory, but he corrected it all in his head. And, as he said, when it was thus prepar'd,... I had nothing to do but to write it down."

"By this new and wonderful mode of composition he studied and completed his Farmer's Boy in a garret; among six or seven workmen, without their ever suspecting any thing of the matter."

"Sir, this to me was both new and wonderful: and induc'd me rather to communicate the information to you through the medium of the Press than by writing; that it may meet the eye of many, who will be equally struck and pleas'd with the novelty of the idea as myself."

I have on this part of the subject, only, after quoting thus much at present from the Letter of Mr. SWAN, to add, that I entirely agree with him, I believe, as to the force, clearness, and comprehensiveness of intellect manifested by this experiment, and its success.

I now pass to part of what has been fully and excellently said by Dr. DRAKE of HADLEIGH, while investigating the merits of this astonishing Rural Poem.

In a Letter from HADLEIGH [Footnote: 9 March, 1800.] Dr. DRAKE had given me this distinct and vivid representation of his general idea of the Poem.

"I have read THE FARMER'S BOY with a mixture of astonishment and delight. There is a pathetic simplicity in his sentiments and descriptions that does honour to his head and heart."

"His copies from Nature are truly original and faithful, and are touched with the hand of a Master.... His versification occasionally displays an energy and harmony which might decorate even the pages of a DARWIN."

"The general characteristics of his Style, however, are sweetness and ease. In short, I have no hesitation in declaring, that I think it, as a Rural and descriptive Poem, superior to any production since the days of THOMSON."

"It wants no reference to its Author's uneducated poverty to render its excellence the more striking; they are such as would confer durable Fame on the first and most polish'd Poet in the Kingdom."

I shall now take the liberty of extracting part of the CRITIQUE which Dr. DRAKE, agreeably to his intimation to me, has made of the FARMER'S BOY in his LITTERARY HOURS.[Footnote: Vol. II, Ess. xxxix, p. 444.]

"From the pleasing duty of describing such a 'character' (meaning the personal character of Mr. BLOOMFIELD) let us now turn our attention to the species of composition of which his Poem is so perfect a specimen. It has been observ'd in my sixteenth number that PASTORAL POETRY in this country, with very few exceptions, has exhibited a tame and servile adherence to classical imagery and costume; at the same time totally overlooking that profusion of picturesque beauty, and that originality of manner and peculiarity of employment, which our climate and our rustics every where present."

"A few Authors were mention'd in that Essay as having judiciously deviated from the customary plan: to these may now be added the name of Boomfield; the Farmers Boy, though not assuming the form of an Eclogue, being peculiarly and exclusively, throughout, a pastoral Composition; not like the Poem of Thomson, taking a wide excursion through all the phenomena of the Seasons, but nearly limited to the rural occupation and business of the fields, the dairy, and the farm yard."

"As with these employments, however, the vicissitudes of the Year are immediately and necessarily connected, Mr. Bloomfield has, with propriety, divided his Poem into Four Books, affixing to those Books the Titles of the Seasons."

"Such indeed are the merits of this Work, that in true pastoral imagery and simplicity I do not think any production can be put in competition with it since the days of Theocritus." [Footnote: I have heard that the opinion of no less a Judge than Dr. WATSON, Bishop of LLANDAFF, is by no means short of the encomium implied in this comparison, high and ample as it is. L.]

"To that charming simplicity which particularizes the Grecian, are added the individuality, [Footnote: Much of these qualities indeed is certainly in Theocritus also. L.] fidelity, and boldness of description, which render Thomson so interesting to the lovers of Nature."

"GESNER possesses the most engaging sentiment, and the most refin'd simplicity of manners; but he wants that rustic wildness and naivete in delineation characteristic of the Sicilian, and of the composition before us."

"WARNER and DRAYTON have much to recommend them: but they are very unequal; and are devoid of the sweet and pensive morality which pervade almost every page of the Farmers Boy; nor can they establish any pretensions to that fecundity in painting the oeconomy of rural life, which this Poem, drawn from actual experience, so richly displays."

"It is astonishing indeed what various and striking circumstances, peculiar to the occupation of the British Farmer, and which are adapted to all the purposes of the pastoral Muse, had escaped our Poets, previous to the publication of Mr. Bloomfield's Work."

"Those who are partial to the Country;—and where is the man of Genius who feels not a delight approaching to ecstasy from the contemplation of its scenery, and the happiness which its cultivation diffuses?—those who have paid attention to the process of husbandry, and who view its occurrences with interest; who are at the same time alive to all the minutiae of the animal and vegetable creation; who mark

'How Nature paints for colours, how the Bee Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet,'

will derive from the study of this Poem a gratification the most permanent and pure."

Though I have thus largely extracted I cannot omit transferring hither the ANALYSIS of the Poem, as given by Dr. Drake.

"The first Book, intitled Spring, opens with an appropriate invocation. A transition is then made to the artless character of Giles, the Farmer's Boy; after which the scene near Euston in Suffolk is describ'd, and an amiable portrait of Mr. Austin, immediately follows.

"Seed-time, harrowing, the devastation of the rooks,[Footnote: I will not say much: but I was glad to see since the second Edition of this Poem the cause of the Rooks had again been advocated, in the Newcastle Chronicle. L.] wood-scenery, the melody of birds, cows milking, and the operations of the dairy, occupy the chief part of this Season: which is clos'd by a beautiful Personification of the Spring and her attendants, and an admirable delineation of the sportive pleasures of the young Lambs."

"The second Book, or Summer, commences with a characteristic sketch of the prudent yet benevolent Farmer. The genial influence of the rain is then welcom'd; to which succeeds a most delicious picture of a green and woody covert with all its insect tribe. The ascension of the sky-lark, the peaceful repose of Giles, a view of the ripening harvest, with some moral reflections on Nature and her great Creator, are introduc'd: follow'd by animated descriptions of reaping, gleaning, the honest exultation of the Farmer, the beauty of the Country Girl, and the wholesome refreshment of the field. Animals teazed by insects, the cruelty of docking horses, the insolence of the gander, the apathy of the swine, are drawn in a striking manner: and the Book concludes with masterly pictures of a twilight repose, a midnight storm of thunder and lightning, and views of the ancient and present mode of celebrating Harvest-home."

"The third Book, Autumn, is introduc'd with a delineation of forest scenery, and pigs fattening on fallen acorns. Sketches of wild ducks and their haunts, of hogs settling to repose in a wood, and of wheat sowing, succeed. The sound of village bells suggests a most pleasing digression: of which the church and its pastor, the rustic amusements of a Sunday, the Village Maids, and a most pathetic description of a distracted Female, are the prominent features. Returning to rural business, Giles is drawn guarding the rising wheat from birds:—his little hut, with his preparation for the reception of his playmates, their treachery and his disappointment, are conceiv'd and colour'd in an exquisite style. Fox-hunting, the Fox-hound's epitaph, the long autumnal evenings, a description of domestic fowl, and a welcome to the snowy nights of Winter, form the concluding topics of this Season."

"The fourth Book, under the appellation of Winter, is usher'd in by some humane injunctions for the treatment of storm-pinch'd cattle. The frozen turnips are broken for them: and the cowyard at night is describ'd. The conviviality of a Christmas evening, and the conversation round the fire, with the admonitions from the Master's chair, are depicted in a manner truly pleasing. The Sea Boy and the Farmers Boy are contrasted with much effect: and the ploughman feeding his horses at night, with the comparison between the cart-horse and post-horse, have great merit. The mastiff turn'd sheep-biter is next delineated; succeeded by a description of a moon-light night, and the appearance of a spectre."

"The counting of the Sheep in the fold, and the adopted Lambs, are beautiful paintings: and with the Triumph of GILES on the conclusion of the Year, and his Address to the DEITY, the Book and Poem close."

"Such are the Materials of which THE FARMER'S BOY is constructed. Several of the topics, it will be perceiv'd, are new to Poetry; and of those which are in their title familiar to the readers of our descriptive Bards, it will be found that the imagery and adjunctive circumstances are original, and the effort of a mind practis'd in the rare art of selecting and combining the most striking and picturesque features of an object."

Dr. Drake after this well accounts for the poetic singularity that the Poetry of Thomson should have past through a mind so enthusiastically enamor'd of it, without impairing the originality of its character, when exercis'd on a subject so much leading to imitation. This he explains, and justly, by the vivid impressions on a most sensible and powerful imagination in his earliest youth, anterior to the study of any Poet.

Dr. Drake expresses his astonishment at the VERSIFICATION and DICTION of this Poem. And says most truly, "I am well aware that smooth and flowing lines are of easy purchase, and the property of almost every poetaster of the day: but the versification of Mr. Bloomfield is of another character; it displays beauties of the most positive kind, and those witcheries of expression which are only to be acquir'd by the united efforts of Genius and Study."

"The general characteristics of his versification are facility and sweetness; that ease which is, in fact, the result of unremitted labour, and one of the most valuable acquisitions of litterature. It displays occasionally likewise a vigour and a brilliancy of polish that might endure comparison with the high-wrought texture of the Muse of DARWIN. From the nature of his subject, however, this splendid mode of decoration could be us'd but with a sparing hand: and it is not one of his least merits that his diction and harmony should so admirably correspond with the scene which he has chosen."

"To excel," Dr. DRAKE continues, "in rural IMAGERY, it is necessary that the Poet should diligently study Nature for himself; and not peruse her as is but too common, 'through the spectacles of Books' [Footnote: The happy illustration of DRYDEN in his admirable character of SHAKESPERE.] He should trace her in all her windings, in her deepest recesses, in all her varied forms. It was thus that LUCRETIUS and VIRGIL, that THOMSON and COWPER were enabled to unfold their scenery with such distinctness and truth: and on this plan, while wandering through his native fields, attentive to 'each rural sight, each rural sound,' has Mr. BLOOMFIELD built his charming Poem."

"It is a Work which proves how inexhaustible the features of the World we inhabit: how from objects which the mass of mankind is daily accustom'd to pass with indifference and neglect. GENIUS can still produce pictures the most fascinating, and of the most interesting tendency. For it is not to imagery alone, though such as here depicted might ensure the meed of Fame, that the Farmer's Boy will owe its value with us and with posterity. A Morality the most pathetic and pure, the feelings of a heart alive to all the tenderest duties of humanity and religion, consecrate its glowing landscapes, and shed an interest over them, a spirit of devotion, that calm and rational delight which the goodness and greatness of the Creator ought ever to inspire."

Dr. DRAKE confirms, by copious and very judicious Extracts from the various parts of the Poem, as they offer themselves to critical selection, in accompanying the Farmer's Boy through the Circle of his year, the Judgment which he has form'd with so much ability, taste, and feeling, and has to agreeably express'd, of the Merits of our ENGLISH GEORGIC. And he speaks in his third and last Essay on it thus:

"From the review we have now taken of THE FARMER'S BOY, it will be evident, I think, that owing to its harmony and sweetness of versification, its benevolence of sentiment, and originality of imagery, it is entitled to rank very high in the class of descriptive and pastoral Poetry."

He concludes with an highly animated and feeling anticipation of that public attention to the Poem and to its Author, merited in every view, and which already has manifested itself in such an extent.

I understand there is a Paper on "The Farmer's Boy" in a Work lately publish'd by Dr. ANDERSON; and assuredly from its subject well entitled to attention, as well as from the abilities and public spirit of its Editor;—AGRICULTURAL RECREATIONS. Where indeed with more appropriate Honor could such a Poem be notic'd?

In the Critical Remarks I intended I find myself so much agreeing in sentiment with Dr. Drake that I shall attempt little more than merely to offer some few observations. One of these relates to the coincidences of thought and manner in the Farmer's Boy with other writings. These, as would previously be expected from what has been said, are extremely few indeed. And almost all that are particularly of moment in appreciating the poetical excellences of the Work are most truly coincidences, and cannot be otherwise consider'd.

For the first of these which I shall mention I am indebted to WILLIAM SMITH, Esq. of BURY, who had largely his share of Public Admiration, when he sustain'd for many years with great skill and judgment, and great natural advantages, almost every character of our Drama which had been eminently favor'd by either Muse; and who now enjoys retirement with honor and merited esteem.

He mention'd to me in conversation, and since by Letter, a passage very closely resembling one in the IDYLLIA of AUSONIUS. It is this in Spring.

Like the torn flower the fair assemblage fly. Ah, fallen Rose! sad emblem of their doom; Frail as thyself, they perish while they bloom! I.v. 388-40.

The passage to which Mr. Smith referr'd me is this. (It is not in my Edition of Ausonius; but he sent me a Copy.)

"Conquerimur, Natura, brevis quod Gratia florum est; Ostentara oculis illico dona rapis. Quam longa una dies aetas tarn longa rosarum, Ques pubescentes juncta senecta pressit."

ID. xiv.

I am favor'd with a Translation made by Mr. SMITH in his very early days. And hope that as a brother Etonian he allows me to quote it.

Nature, we grieve that thou giv'st flowers so gay, Then snatchest Gifts thou shew'st so swift away. A Day's a Rose's Life.—How quickly meet, Sweet Flower, thy Blossom and thy Winding sheet!

In the Procession of SPRING there is a fine series of allegorical Images.

Advancing SPRING profusely spreads abroad Flowers of kinds, with sweetest fragrance stor'd: Where she treads LOVE gladdens every plain; Delight on tip-toe beats her lucid train; Sweet Hope with conscious brow before her flies, Anticipating wealth from summer skies.

I. v. 271—6.

Compare now this of LUCRETIUS.

It VER et VENUS et Veneris praenuntius ante Prunatus graditur Zephyrus vestigia propter. FLORA quibus mater praespergens, ante viai Cuncta coloribus egregiis et odoribus opplet.

DE NAT. RES. L. V. v. 736-9. Ed. Brindley 1749.

There SPRING, and VENUS, and her Harbinger, Near to her moves the winged Zephyrus, For whom maternal FLORA strews the way With Flowers of every charming scent and hue.

Or in the very words of BLOOMFIELD,

Flowers of all hues with sweetest fragrance stor'd.

Hope here occupies the place of Zephyrus. DELIGHT on tip-toe supporting the lucid train of Spring,—the image and attitude so full of life and beauty,—is our Poet's own. And what Poet, what Painter, would not have been proud of it?

In another passage,

The splendid raiment of the Spring peeps forth Her universal Green—

This of Lucretius will be found to have much similitude:

Camposque per omnes Florida fulserunt viridami prata colore.

782, 3.

O'er every plain The flowery meadows beam with verdant hue.

And that exceedingly fine verse,

All Nature feels her venorating sway,

calls to mind the ever-memorable exordium of the Roman Poet.

If we admire the imitative force of this line in the epic majesty of Virgilian numbers,

Quadrupedante putrem sonitu qualit ungula campum:

Shakes the resounding hoof the trembling plain:

shall we not admire the imitative harmony of this; attun'd certainly with not less felicity to the sweetness of the pastoral reed,

The green turf trembling as they bound along.

The pause on the first syllable of the verse has been an admir'd beauty in Homer and Milton.

[Greek: Nux ech d'espchsen enchos.] II.

And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delay'd to strike. P.L.

We have this beauty,—coinciding with the best examples, though underiv'd from them,—in a cadence of most pathetic softness.

Joys which the gay companions of her prime Sip, as they drift along the stream of time.

III. v. 169, 70.

The beautiful Description of the Swine and Pigs feeding on fallen Acorns reminds me of a most picturesque one, not now at hand, in GILPIN on Forest Scenery.

The turn of this thought,

Say not, I'll come and cheer thy gloomy cell.

III. v. 241, &c.

I believe is from Scripture. Prov. iii. 28. And so I think certainly is that,

'Till Folly's wages, wounds and thorns, they reap.

III. 37.

But the most remarkable of all, and where I had no expectation of finding a similitude, is in near the close of the Winter.

Far yet above these wafted clouds are seen (In a remoter sky yet more serene) Others, detach'd in ranges through the air, Spotless as snow, and countless as they're fair; Scatter'd immensely wide from east to west, The beauteous semblance of a Flock at rest.

IV. 255—60.

In HERCULES the LION-SLAYER there is this passage:

........ Tad epaeluthe piona maela, Ech soianaes anionia mei aulia ie saechsie, Ayiar epeiia soes, mala muriai, akkai ep allais Erchomenai phainonth, osei NEPHE HYDATOENTA 'Hossat' en thrano eisi elaunomena prolepose Aee Noloioio ziae ae Thraekos Boreao. Ton meni thlis arithmos en aeeri ginei ionion, Oui anusis lisa gar ie meia proloioi chulindei Is anemth, iade i alla chorusselai authis ep allois Toss aiei melopisthe zoon epi zthcholi aeei. Pan dar eneplaesthae pedion, pasaile cheleuthai, Aaeidos erchomenaes.

HAERAKL. LEONTOPH.

Idyll. Theocrito adscriptum. Brunckii Analect. I. 360.

........ On came the comely sheep, From feed returning to their pens and fold. And these the Kine, in multitudes, succeed; One on the other rising to the eye; As watery CLOUDS which in the Heavens are seen, Driven by the south or Thracian Boreas, And, numberless, along the sky they glide: Nor cease; so many doth the powerful Blast Speed foremost, and so many, fleece on fleece, Successive rise, reflecting varied light So still the herds of Kine successive drew A far extended line: and fill'd the plain, And all the pathways, with the coming troop.

* * * * *

I may possibly enlarge these Remarks in a future Edition. At present I am happy to be stopt here, by so good a cause as the urgency of the Publishers to complete a Third Edition; they informing me that the second is entirely out of print. But it is pleasant to see these Coincidences with CLASSIC POETS of other days and Nations in a CLASSIC of our own, of the best School:

"The fields his study, Nature was his book."

C.L.

TROSTON, 22 Aug. 1800.

THE END.