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FIVE NAMES WORTHY OF DISTINCTION.

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generation of our own times, if we measure both the amount and merit and variety of the poetry which has been produced within the last thirty or forty years, this age, in the annals of English poetry, is surpassed only by the golden age of Queen Elizabeth, with which, indeed, it may not inappropriately be compared.

The list of successful poets in our times is, in truth, a registry which contrasts finely with the poverty of several former periods; and, on approaching what may be called our contemporaries' poetry, I have found a necessity of making some selection from a numerous company of poets who would all be entitled to consideration in a more extended course. I have, therefore, chosen five names as worthy of chief distinction, hoping to be able occasionally to present some incidental notices of those to whom more space would, under other circumstances, be due. The choice names-chosen not without reflection, and with regard to their eminence and their influence —are the names of Scott, Coleridge, Southey, Byron, and Wordsworth. The ranks of the poets of the nineteenth century have been already thinned by death. Of the five names just repeated but two survive, and only one in the unimpaired possession of his genius. That one has witnessed the passing away of his brother bards, in quick succession too, within the last few years,- -a speedy action of death, not lost upon the thoughtful imagination of the survivor:

"Like clouds which rake the mountain summit,

Or waves that own no curbing hand,
How fast has brother followed brother
From sunshine to the sunless land!

"Yet I, whose lids from infant slumbers
Were earlier raised, remain to hear
A timid voice, that asks, in whispers,

Who next will drop and disappear?"

Byron, and Scott, and Coleridge, and Crabbe, and the Ettrick Shepherd, as he is called, to escape the unpoetic name of James Hogg,-and Mrs. Hemans, each having filled a space in the literature of this century, are in their graves. The survivors, not a few in number, are for the most part mute in song as the dead; but, to appreciate the extent of living poetic power, it is only necessary to recall the names of Rogers, and Campbell, and Moore, and Milman, and Southey, and Wordsworth, to say nothing of some others of good repute.

It is a noticeable fact that among the poets of our days the one who first gained an honourable award of reputation, the first and oldest of them all, is still among the living, "a worthy and a prosperous gentleman," the poet Samuel Rogers. He came into public notice as the author of the "Pleasures of Memory," which appeared during the last century; and he is now living in cheerful and esteemed old age, after a life of purity and affluent elegance, on the verge of eighty years. He stands truly the patriarch of the poets of the nineteenth century; and, as such, honour should first be done to him before I pass on to the chief subjects of this and the succeeding lectures.

Rogers's first poem was produced at a time most propitious to the acquisition of a general popularity. It was a period of poetical dearth. The career of Burns as well as of Cowper were wellnigh over when this poem

ROGERS'S "ITALY."

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upon the pleasurable emotions of memory was cordially and widely welcomed to supply a void in the public mind.

It was on a theme of universal interest and of ready comprehension, and abounding in a succession of pleasing pictures, rather than presenting any lofty efforts of imagination; and, therefore, it is not surprising that it should have won, under such circumstances, a widespread favour. At the present day, or even somewhat later than the publication of the "Pleasures of Memory," I do not think it could have secured so favourable a reception. There has since been so much of the stronger inspiration that the avenue to a poetic reputation is by no means so open to entrance. Indeed, this is shown by the state of popular opinion respecting some of Rogers's later poems. His "Italy," for example, seems to me to show a far more vigorous and cultivated imagination,— to be, in a word, a greatly superior poem to his first poem; but Rogers's name became first known as the Poet of Memory, and as such will it be preserved. Passages of genuine poetry are scattered through his "Italy," giving it a higher value than is perhaps recognised. It is a descriptive poem, finely enriched, as descriptive poetry should be, with moral associations, in the present case arising chiefly from historical and biographical allusions. The interesting visit of the young Milton, a tra veller in Italy, to the aged Galileo, is thus introduced and fitly touched :—

"Nearer we hail

Thy sunny slope, Arcetri, sung of old
For its green wine,-dearer to me, to most,
As dwelt on by that great astronomer,

Seven years a prisoner at the city-gate,
Let in but in his grave-clothes. Sacred be
His cottage; (justly was it called the jewel!)
Sacred the vineyard where, while yet his sight
Glimmered, at blush of dawn he dressed his vines,"
Chanting aloud, in gaiety of heart,

Some verse of Ariosto. There, unseen,
In manly beauty, Milton stood before him,
Gazing with reverent awe,-Milton his guest,
Just then come forth, all life and enterprise;
He in his old age and extremity,
Blind, at noonday exploring with his staff;
His eyes upturned as to the golden sun,
His eyeballs idly rolling. Little then
Did Galileo think whom he bade welcome;
That in his hand he held the hand of one

Who could requite him,-who would spread his name
O'er lands and seas,-great as himself, nay, greater:
Milton as little that in him he saw,

As in a glass, what he himself should be,
Destined so soon to fall on evil days

And evil tongues,-so soon, alas! to live

In darkness, and with dangers compassed round
And solitude."

[There is a break in the manuscript here, which I have found it impossible to repair. Diligent search has been made for the missing matter, but without success.-ED.]

In the last lecture I had occasion to make some remarks on the subject of lyrical poetry, and its demand for a highly-musical versification and a variety of rhythm. The remarks were connected with the higher department of lyrical composition, the Ode, but now lead me to mention slightly the numerous contributions of a living poet to another department of lyrical poetry. No English writer, that I am aware of, has produced so many

MOORE'S SONGS.

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songs as Moore. Familiar, too, by musical accompauiments, they have gained a wide popularity by the alliance of many a sweet voice that has sung them. But, as a matter of poetry and not of music, a good song is an exceedingly rare production. In the whole extent of English poetry the number is quite small. Moore, prolific song-writer as he has been, has written much fewer of decided merit than would be supposed, considering the success they have had. When you come, for instance, to read over his "Irish Melodies," you find too much elaboration, too much of art,- strains of overwrought and artificially-stimulated fancy. They want the simplicity, the natural impulse and emotion, the bird-like utterance, which characterize the song of the true lyrical poet. The musical accompaniments of Moore's songs have served not only to give them their due effect, but also to conceal their faults. This is perceived when they are simply read. But, at the same time, the poet's merit is considerable in the variety of his versification, and many of his songs display his skill in developing the compass of English metres. The following stanzas are much simpler in style than Moore's usual strain, and a more peculiar measure than he often uses. With something of his bright fancy, they are not devoid of a pleasing plaintiveness :

"Bright be thy dreams! May all thy weeping

Turn into smiles while thou art sleeping!

Those by sea or death removed,

Friends who in thy spring-time knew thee,
All thou'st ever prized or loved,

In dreams come smiling to thee!

There may the child whose love lay deepest,
Dearest of all, come while thou sleepest;

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