Philips.

John Philips, Sohn des Archidiakonus Stephen Philips, ward 1676 zu Brampton in Oxfordshire geboren. Er studirte in Oxford und wollte sich dann den Naturwissenschaften widmen; das Glück jedoch welches sein erstes Gedicht, the splendid shilling, von dem wir unten ein Bruchstück mittheilen, sogleich bei dessen Erscheinen machte, bewog ihn diesen Vorsatz aufzugeben und sich nur mit Poesie zu beschäftigen. Er schrieb noch ein Gedicht auf die Schlacht von Blendheim und ein didactisches Poem Cider. Ob ein Gedicht Cerealia, das ihm zugeschrieben wird auch wirklich von ihm herrühre, ist unentschieden geblieben. Er starb schon 1708 an der Schwindsucht zu Hereford, wo er auch begraben wurde, doch erhielt er ein Denkmal in der Westminster-Abtei.

Als didactischer Dichter ist Philips ausgezeichnet; er verbindet mit Eleganz, Correctheit und Adel der Diction, reiches Wissen, warmes Gefühl und eine anmuthig verschönernde Phantasie. Seine Poesieen erschienen zuerst gesammelt, London 1715 und dann öfter, auch finden sie sich im 21. Bande der Johnson'schen, im 66. Bande der Bell'schen und im 6. Bande der Anderson'schen Sammlung.

The splendid Shilling.

Happy the man who, void of cares and strife,
In silken or in leathern purse retains
A Splendid Shilling! he nor hears with pain
New oysters cry'd, nor sighs for cheerful ale;
But with his friends, when nightly mists arise,
To Juniper's Magpie, or Town-Hall, repairs,
Where, mindful of the nymph whose wanton eye
Transfix'd his soul and kindled amorous flames,
Cloe or Phillis, he each circling glass

Thro' sudden fear; a chilly sweat bedews
My shudd'ring limbs, and (wonderful to tell!),
My tongue forgets her faculty of speech;
So horrible he seems! His faded brow,
Intrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard,
And spreading band, admir'd by modern saints,
Disastrous acts forebode: in his right hand
Long scrolls of paper solemnly he waves,
With characters and figures dire inscrib'd,
Grievous to mortal eyes; (ye Gods! avert
Such plagues from righteous men!) Behind him
stalks

Wished her health, and joy and equal love;
Mean-while he smokes and laughs at merry tale Another monster, not unlike himself,
Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint:

Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar call'd

But I, whom griping penury surrounds

A Catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods
With force incredible and magic charms
First have endu'd: if he his ample palm
Should haply on ill-fated shoulder lay
Of debtor, straight his body, to the touch
Obsequious, (as whilom knights were wont)
To some enchanted castle is convey'd,
Where gates impregnable and coercive chains
In durance strict detain him, till, in form
Of money, Pallas sets the captive free.

And hunger, sure attendant upon want,
With scanty offals and small acid tiff
(Wretched repast!) my meagre corpse sustain:
Then solitary walk, or doze at home
In garret vile, and with a warming puff
Regale chill'd fingers; or from tube as black
As winter chimney, or well-polish'd jet
Exhale mundungus, ill perfuming scent!
Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size,
Smokes Cambro-Briton (vers'd in pedigree
Sprung from Cadwallador and Arthur, kings
Full famous in romantic tale) when he
O'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff
Upon a cargo of fam'd Cestrian cheese
High over-shadowing rides, with a design
To vend his wares, or at th' Arvonian mart
Or Maridunum, or the ancient town
Yclep'd Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream
Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil!

Beware, ye Debtors! when ye walk beware!
Be circumspect; oft' with insidious ken
This caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft'
Lies perdue in a nook or gloomy cave,
Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch
With his unhallowed touch. So, (poets sing,)
Grimalkin, to domestic vermin sworn
An everlasting foe, with watchful eye
Lies nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap,
Protending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice

Whence flow nectareous wines that well may vie Sure ruin; so her disembowell'd web
With Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern.

Thus while my joyless minutes tedious flow,
With looks demure, and silent pace, a Dun,
Horrible monster! hated by gods and men
To my aerial citadel ascends;

With vocal heel thrice thund'ring at my gate
With hideous accent thrice he calls. I know
The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound.
What should I do, or whither turn? Amaz'd
Confounded, to the dark recess I fly

Of woodhole: straight my bristling hairs erect

Arachne, in a hall or kitchen, spreads
Obvious to vagrant flies: she secret stands
Within her woven cell; the humming prey,
Regardless of their fate, rush on the toils
Inextricable, nor will aught avail
Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue
The wasp insidious and the buzzing drone,
And butterfly, proud of expanded wings
Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares,
Useless resistance make: with eager strides
She tow'ring flies to her expected spoils,

Then with envenom'd jaws the vital blood
Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave

My anxious mind; or sometimes mournful verse
Indite, and sing of graves and myrtle shades,
Or desp'rate lady near a purling stream,

Mean-while I labour with eternal drought,

Their bulky carcases triumphant drags.

So pass my days: but when nocturnal shades Or lover pendent on a willow tree.

This world envelop, and th' inclement air

Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts

And restless wish, and rave; my parched throat

With pleasant wines and crackling blaze of Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose;

wood,

Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimm'ring light
Of makeweight candle, nor the joyous talk
Of loving friend, delights: distress'd, forlorn,
Amidst the horrors of the tedious night,
Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts

But if a slumber haply does invade
My weary limbs; my fancy's still awake
Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream
Tipples imaginary pots of ale,
In vain: awake I find the settled thirst
Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse.

Parne 1 1.

Thomas Parnell wurde 1679 in Dublin geboren, erhielt seine wissenschaftliche Bildung auf dem Trinity-College seiner Vaterstadt; trat dann in den geistlichen Stand und bekleidete nach einander mehrere Aemter, doch hielt er sich vorzugsweise in London auf, wo ihn der Umgang mit Pope, Swift, Gay, u. A. besonders anzog. Nachdem er seine politische Meinung gewechselt, jedoch ohne eines günstigen Erfolges sich rühmen zu können und seine Gattin verloren, ergab er sich dem Trunke, der seinen Tod beschleunigte, Er starb 1717 zu Chester auf der Reise nach Irland.

Parnell's Gedichte sind von Pope, London 1721 in 8. und von Goldsmith, London 1770 in 8. herausgegeben worden; ein Bändchen hinterlassener Poesieen erschienen 1758 zu Dublin. Bei Johnson finden sich seine Gedichte im 44., bei Bell im 67. und 78., bei Anderson im 7. Bde. Er war besonders glücklich in Liedern, Balladen und Erzählungen, durch anmuthig schaffende Phantasie, Eleganz und Correctheit, und sein unten mitgetheilter Hermit, wird noch jetzt von den Engländern sehr geschätzt. Seine schwächsten Leistungen dagegen sind seine biblischen Gemälde.

The Hermit.

Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a reverend hermit grew;
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well:
Remote from man, with God he pass'd his days
Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.

A life so sacred, such serene repose,
Seem'd heaven itself, till one suggestion rose
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey;
This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway:
His hopes no more a certain prospect boast,
And all the tenor of his soul is lost.

So when a smooth expanse receives imprest
Calm Nature's image on its watery breast,
Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow,
And skies beneath with answering colours glow:
But if a stone the gentle sea divide,
Swift ruffling circles curl on every side
And glimmering fragments of a broken sun,
Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder run.
To clear this doubt, to know the world by
sight,
To find if books, or swains, report it right,
(For yet by swains alone the world he knew,
Whose feet came wandering o'er the nightly dew)
He quits his cell; the pilgrim-staff he bore,
And fix'd the scallop in his hat before;
Then with the sun a rising journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each event.
The morn was wasted in the pathless grass
And long and lonesome was the wild to pass;
But when the southern sun had warm'd the day,
A youth came posting o'er a crossing way;
His raiment decent, his complexion fair,
And soft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair.
Then near approaching, "Father, hail!" he cried;
And "Hail, my son!" the reverend sire replied;
Words follow'd words, from question answer
flow'd,

And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road;
Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,
While in their age they differ, join in heart.
Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound,
Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around.

So seem'd the sire, when far upon the road,
The shining spoil his wily partner show'd.
He stopp'd with silence, walk'd with trembling

heart,

And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part:
Murmuring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard
That generous actions meet a base reward.

While thus they pass, the sun his glory
shrouds,

The changing skies hang out their sable clouds;
A sound in air presag'd approaching rain,
And beasts to covert scud across the plain.
Warn'd by the signs, the wandering pair retreat,
To seek for shelter at a neighbouring seat.
'Twas built with turrets on a rising ground,
And strong, and large, and unimprov'd around;
Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe,
Unkind and griping, caus'd a desert there.

As near the miser's heavy doors they drew,
Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew;
The nimble lightning mix'd with showers began,
And o'er their heads loud rolling thunders ran.
Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain,

Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day
Came onward, mantled o'er with sober grey;
Nature in silence bid the world repose;
When near the road a stately palace rose:
There by the moon through ranks of trees they Driv'n by the wind, and batter'd by the rain.

pass,

Slow creeking turns the door with jealous care,
And half he welcomes in the shivering pair:
One frugal fagot lights the naked walls,
And nature's fervour through their limbs recalls:
Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wine,
(Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine;
And when the tempest first appear'd to cease,
A ready warning bid them part in peace.

At length some pity warm'd the master's breast, Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of ('Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest); grass. It chanc'd the noble master of the dome Still made his house the wandering stranger's home: Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease. The pair arrive: the livery'd servants wait; Their lord receives them at the pompous gate. The table groans with costly piles of food, And all is more than hospitably good. Then, led to rest, the day's long toil they drown, Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down.

At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day,
Along the wide canals the zephyrs play:
Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep,
And shake the neighbouring wood to banish

sleep.

Up rise the guests, obedient to the call;
An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall;
Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd,
Which the kind master forc'd the guests to taste.
Then pleas'd and thankful, from the porch
they go;
And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe:
His cup was vanish'd; for in secret guise
The younger guest purloin'd the glittering prize.

As one who spies a serpent in his way,
Glistening and basking in the summer ray,
Disorder'd stops to shun the danger near,

With still remark the pondering hermit view'd, In one so rich, a life so poor and rude; "And why should such," within himself he

cried,

"Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside?"
But what new marks of wonder soon take place,
In every settling feature of his face,

When from his vest the young companion bore
That cup, the generous landlord own'd before,
And paid profusely with the precious bowl
The stinted kindness of this churlish soul!

But now the clouds in airy tumult fly;
The sun emerging opes an azure sky;
A fresher green the smelling leaves display,
And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day:
The weather courts them from the poor retreat,
And the glad master bolts the wary gate.

While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom
wrought
With all the traval of uncertain thought;
His partner's acts without their cause appear,

Then walks with faintness on, and looks with 'Twas there a vice, and seem'd a madness here:

fear;

Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes,

Lost and confounded with the various shows.
Wide at his back their gradual plumes display.
Now night's dim shades again involve the The form ethereal burst upon his sight,