Such is that heart :-But while the Muse
Thy theme, O Richardson, pursues,

Her feebler spirits faint:

She cannot reach, and would not wrong,
That subject for an Angel's song,

The Hero, and the Saint.

His early turn to moralize, on the slightest occasion, will appear from the following Verses, which he wrote at the age of eighteen ; and in which those, who love to trace the rise and progress of genius, will, I think, be pleased to remark the very promising seeds of those peculiar powers, which unfolded themselves in the richest maturity at a distant period, and rendered that beautiful and sublime Poem, The Task, the most instructive and interesting of modern compositions.

VERSES ON FINDING THE HEEL OF A SHOE,

WRITTEN AT BATH, IN 1748.

Fortune! I thank thee: gentle Goddess! thanks!
Not that my Muse, tho' bashful, shall deny,

She would have thank'd thee rather, hadst thou cast

A treasure in her way; for neither meed

Of early breakfast to dispell the fumes,
And bowel-racking pains of emptiness,.
Nor noon-tide feast, nor evening's cool repast
Hopes she from this-presumptuous, tho' perhaps
The Cobler, leather-carving artist! might.

Nathless

Nathless she thanks thee, and accepts thy boon,
Whatever, not as erst the fabled Cock,

Vain-glorious fool! unknowing what he found,
Spurn'd the rich gem, thou gav'st him. Wherefore ah!
Why not on me that favour, (worthier sure!)
Conferr'dst thou, Goddess! Thou art blind, thou sayʼst:
Enough!-Thy blindness shall excuse the deed.

Nor does my Muse no benefit exhale
From this thy scant indulgence!—even here
Hints, worthy sage philosophy, are found;
Illustrious hints to moralize my song!
This pond'rous Heel of perforated hide
Compact, with pegs indented, many a row,
Haply, (for such its massy form bespeaks)
The weighty tread of some rude peasant clown
Upbore: on this supported off, he stretch'd,
With uncouth strides, along the furrow'd glebe,
Flatt'ning the stubborn clod, 'till cruel time,
(What will not cruel time?) on a wry step,
Sever'd the strict cohesion; when, alas!
He, who could erst, with even, equal pace,
Pursue his destin'd way with symmetry,
And some proportion form'd, now, on one side,
Curtail'd and maim'd, the sport of vagrant boys,
Cursing his frail supporter, treacherous prop!
With toilsome steps, and difficult, moves on.
Thus fares it oft with other, than the feet
Of humble villager—the statesman thus,

Up

Up the steep road, where proud ambition leads,
Aspiring first, uninterrupted winds

His prosp'rous way; nor fears miscarriage foul,
While policy prevails, and friends prove true :
But that support soon failing, by him left,
On whom he most depended, basely left,
Betray'd, deserted, from his airy height
Head-long he falls; and thro' the rest of life,
Drags the dull load of disappointment on.

Of a youth, who, in a scene like Bath, could produce such a meditation, it might fairly be expected, that he would

"In riper life, exempt from public haunt,

Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing."

These few words of Shakespear have often appeared to me as an absolute portrait of Cowper, in those quiet and chearful days, when he exercised, and enjoyed, his rare poetical powers in privacy, at the pleasant village of Weston. But before we contemplate the poetical Recluse in that scene, it is the duty of his Biographer to relate some painful incidents, that led him, by extraordinary steps, to his favourite retreat.

Though extreme diffidence, and a tendency to despond, seemed

early

early to preclude Cowper from the expectation of climbing to the splendid summit of the profession he had chosen; yet, by the interest of his family, he had prospects of emolument, in a line of public life, that appeared better suited to the modesty of his nature, and to his modorate ambition.

In his thirty-first year, he was nominated to the offices of Reading Clerk, and Clerk of the private Committees in the House of Lords. A situation the more desirable, as such an establishment might enable him to marry early in life; a measure, to which he was doubly disposed by judgement and inclination. But the peculiarities of his wonderful mind rendered him unable to support the ordinary duties of his new office; for the idea of reading in public proved a source of torture to his tender, and apprehensive, spirit. An expedient was devised to promote his interest, without wounding his feelings. Resigning his situation of Reading Clerk, he was appointed Clerk of the Journals in the same House of Parliament, with a hope, that his personal appearance, in that assembly, might not be required; but a parliamentary dispute made it necessary for him to appear at the Bar of the House of Lords, to entitle himself publickly to the office.

Speaking of this important incident in a sketch, which he once formed himself, of passages in his early life, he expresses, what he endured at that time, in these remarkable words:

66

They,

" whose

whose spirits are formed like mine, to whom a public exhibition "of themselves is mortal poison, may have some idea of the horrors of

my situation-others can have none."

His terrors on this occasion arose to such an astonishing height, that they utterly overwhelmed his reason:—for although he had endeavoured to prepare himself for his public duty, by attending closely at the office, for several months, to examine the parliamentary journals, his application was rendered useless by that excess of diffidence, which made him conceive, that, whatever knowledge he might previously acquire, it would all forsake him at the Bar of the House. This distressing apprehension encreased to such a degree, as the time for his appearance approached, that when the day, so anxiously dreaded, arrived, he was unable to make the experiment. The very friends, who called on him for the purpose of attending him to the House of Lords, acquiesced in the cruel necessity of his relinquishing the prospect of a station so severely formidable to a frame of such singular sensibility.

The conflict between the wishes of just affectionate ambition, and the terrors of diffidence, so entirely overwhelmed his health and faculties, that after two learned and benevolent divines (Mr. John Cowper, his brother, and the celebrated Mr. Martin Madan, his first cousin) had vainly endeavoured to establish a lasting tranquility in his mind, by friendly and religious conversation,

VOL. I.

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