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Then with envenom'd jaws the vital blood My anxious mind; or sometimes mournful verse Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave Indite, and sing of graves and myrtle shades, Their bulky carcases triumphant drags. Or desp’rate lady near a purling stream,

So pass my days: but when nocturnal shades Or lover pendent on a willow tree. This world envelop, and th' inclement air Mean-while I labour with eternal drought, 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;


But if a slumber haply does invade Mè, lonely sitting, nor the glimm’ring light My weary limbs; my fancy's still awake Of makeweight candle, nor the joyous talk Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream Of loving friend, delights: distress’d, forlorn, Tipples imaginary pots of ale, Amidst the horrors of the tedious night,

In vain : awake I find the settled thirst Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse.


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 geschützt. Seine schwächsten Leistungen dagegen sind seine biblischen Gemälde.

The Hermit.

So when a smooth expanse receives imprest Far in a wild, unknown to public view,

Calm Nature's image on its watery breast, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew;

Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow, The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, And skies beneath with answering colours glow: His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well:

But if a stone the gentle sea divide, Remote from man, with God he pass'd his days Swift ruffling circles curl on every side Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. And glimmering fragments of a broken sun, A life so sacred, such serene repose,

Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder run. Seem'd heaven itself, till one suggestion rose

To clear this doubt, to know the world by That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey ;

sight, This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway: To find if books, or swains, report it right, His hopes no more a certain prospect boast, (For yet by swains alone the world he knew, And all the tenor of his soul lost.

Whose feet came wandering o'er the nightly dew) He quits his cell; the pilgrim-staff he bore, So seem'd the sire, when far upon the road, And fix'd the scallop in his hat before;

The shining spoil his wily partner show'd. Then with the sun a rising journey went, He stopp'd with silence, walk'd with trembling Sedate to think, and watching each event.

heart, The morn was wasted in the pathless grass And much he wish’d, but durst not ask to part: And long and lonesome was the wild to pass; Murmuring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard But when the southern sun had warm'd the day, That generous actions meet a base reward. A youth came posting o'er a crossing way; While thus they pass, the sun his glory His raiment decent, his complexion fair,

shrouds, And soft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair. The changing skies hang out their sable clouds; Then near approaching, “Father, hail!” he cried; A sound in air presag'd approaching rain, And “Hail, my son!” the reverend sire replied; And beasts to covert scud across the plain. Words follow'd words, from question answer Warn'd by the signs, the wandering pair retreat,


To seek for shelter at a neighbouring seat. And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road; 'Twas built with turrets on a rising ground, Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part, And strong, and large, and unimprov'd around; While in their age they differ, join in heart. Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe, Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound, Unkind and griping, caus’d a desert there. Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around.

As near the miser's heavy doors they drew, Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew; Came onward, mantled o'er with sober grey ; The nimble lightning mix'd with showers began, Nature in silence bid the world repose;

And o'er their heads loud rolling thunders ran. When near the road a stately palace rose: Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain, There by the moon through ranks of trees they Driv'n by the wind, and batter'd by the rain.


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);


Slow creeking turns the door with jealous care, It chanc'd the noble master of the dome

And half he welcomes in the shivering pair: Still made his house the wandering stranger's One frugal fagot lights the naked walls,


And nature's fervour through their limbs recalls: Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wine, Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease. (Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine; The pair arrive: the livery'd servants wait; And when the tempest first appear'd to cease, Their lord receives them at the pompous gate. A ready warning bid them part in peace. The table groans with costly piles of food, With still remark the pondering hermit view'd, And all is more than hospitably good.

In one so rich, a life so poor and rude; Then, led to rest, the day's long toil they drown, “And why should such," within himself he Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down.

cried, At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, “Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside?” Along the wide canals the zephyrs play: But what new marks of wonder soon take place, Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, In every settling feature of his face, And shake the neighbouring wood to banish When from his vest the young companion bore


That cup, the generous landlord own'd before, Up rise the guests, obedient to the call; And paid profusely with the precious bowl An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall; The stinted kindness of this churlish soul! Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd,

But now the clouds in airy tumult fly; Which the kind master forc'd the guests to taste. The sun emerging opes an azure sky; Then pleas'd and thankful, from the porch A fresher green the smelling leaves display,

And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day: And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe: The weather courts them from the poor retreat, His cup was vanish'd; for in secret guise And the glad master bolts the wary gate. The younger guest purloin'd the glittering prize. While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom As one who spies a serpent in his way,

wrought Glistening and basking in the summer ray, With all the traval of uncertain thought; Disorder'd stops to shun the danger near,

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:


Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes,

they go;

Wide at his back their gradual plumes display.
The form ethereal burst upon his sight,
And moves in all the majesty of light.
Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion

Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do
Surprise in secret chains his words suspends,
And in a calm his settling temper ends.
But silence here the beauteous angel broke
(The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke.)
"Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice un-

In sweet memorial rise before the throne: These charms success in our bright region find, And force an angel down, to calm thy mind; For this, commission'd, I forsook the sky; Nay, cease to kneel thy fellow-servant I. "Then know the truth of government divine, And let these scruples be no longer thine. "The Maker justly claims that world he made, In this the right of Providence is laid; Its sacred majesty through all depends On using second means to work his ends. 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, The power exerts his attributes on high, Your actions uses, nor controls your will, And bids the doubting sons of men be still. "What strange events can strike with more surprise,

Lost and confounded with the various shows.
Now night's dim shades again involve the

Again the wanderers want a place to lic;
Again they search, and find a lodging nigh,
The soil improv'd around, the mansion neat,
And neither poorly low, nor idly great:

It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind,
Content, and not to praise, but virtue kind.

Hither the walkers turn with weary feet,
Then bless the mansion, and the master greet:
Their greeting fair bestow'd with modest guise,
The courteous master hears, and thus replies:
"Without a vain, without a grudging heart,
To him who gives us all I yield a part;
From him you come, for him accept it here
A frank and sober, more than costly cheer."
He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread,
Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed,
When the grave household round his hall repair.
Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with

At length the world, renew'd by calm repose,
Was strong for toil, the dappled morn arose;
Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept
Near the clos'd cradle where an infant slept,
And writh'd his neck: the landlord's little pride,
O strange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and


Horror of horrors! what! his only son?
How look'd our hermit when the fact was done!
Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part,
And breathe blue fire, could more assault his

Confus'd and struck with silence at the deed,
He flies, but trembling, fails to fly with speed.
His steps the youth pursues; the country lay
Perplex'd with roads, a servant show'd the way:
A river cross'd the path; the passage o'er
Was nice to find; the servant trod before;
Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied,
And deep the waves beneath the bending glide.
The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin,
Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in;
Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head,
Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead.
Wild sparkling rage inflames the father's

He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries,
"Detested wretch!" But scarce his speech

When the strange partner seem'd no longer man :
His youthful face grew more serenely sweet;
His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet;
Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair;
Celestial odours breathe through purpled air;
And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day,

Than those which lately struck thy wondering
Yet, taught by these, confess th' Almighty just,
And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!

"The great vain man, who far'd on costly food,
Whose life was too luxurious to be good;
Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine,
And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of

Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost,
And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.
"The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted


Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wandering poor;
With him I left the cup, to teach his mind
That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind
Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl,
And feels compassion touch his grateful soul.
Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead,
With heaping coals of fire upon its head;
In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow,
And loose from dross the silver runs below.

"Long had our pious friend in virtue trod,
But now the child half-wean'd his heart from
(Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain,
And measur'd back his steps to earth again.
To what excesses had his dotage run?

But God to save the father, took the son.

Song. To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, (And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow,)

When thy beauty appears The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust,

In its graces and airs, Now owns in tears the punishment was just.

All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky, "But now had all his fortune felt a wrack,

At distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears, Had that false servant sped in safety back;

So strangely you dazzle my eye!
This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal,
And what a fund of charity would fail!
Thus Heaven instructs thy mind : this trial o'er, But when without art
Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more.” Your kind thoughts you impart,

On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew, When your love runs in blushes through every The sage stood wondering as the seraph flew.

vein; Thus look’a Elisha when, to mount on high, When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in His master took the chariot of the sky;

your heart, The fiery pomp ascending left to view;

Then I know you're a woman again.
The prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too.
The bending hermit here a prayer begun,

“There's a passion and pride “Lord! as in heaven, on earth thy will be done."

"In our sex (she replied) Then gladly turning sought his ancient place,

“And thus (might I gratify both) I would do And pass'd a life of piety and peace.

"Still an angel appear to each lover beside, “But still be a woman to you."


Edward Young ward im Juni 1681 zu Upham bei Winchester geboren, wo sein Vater, der ganz dieselben Namen führte, als Geistlicher lebte. Er erhielt seine Bildung auf der hohen Schule zu Winchester und studirte dann zu Oxford, wo er 1719 Doctor der Rechte wurde. Hierauf lebte er eine Zeitlang als Erzieher des Lord Burleigh im Hause des Grafen von Exeter und ging dann nach London, wo er sich mit poetischen Arbeiten beschäftigte und um einen Sitz im Unterhause bewarb, aber nicht gewählt wurde. So erreichte er sein funfzigstes Jahr und trat nun in den geistlichen Stand über. Georg II. machte ihn zu seinem Hofcaplan ; ein Bisthum auf das er sicher rechnete, ward ihm aber nicht zu Theil. Häusliche Leiden trübten den Rest seines Lebens, waren jedoch die Quelle seiner berühmtesten Dichtung, der Nachtgedanken, dem er nur noch ein grösseres Gedicht, Resignation betitelt, folgen liess. Er starb im April 1765.

Youngs sämmtliche Werke erschienen zuerst London 1757 in 4. und öfterer; eine sehr gute Ausgabe derselben ist die von 1760 (London 6 Bde. in 8.). Sie enthalten ausser den Nachtgedanken und der Resignation noch sieben Satyren auf die Ruhmsucht, mehrere Tragödien, lyrische Poesieen u. A. m. Ausser den Night Thoughts hat sich seine Tragödie Revenge am Längsten im Andenken erhalten.

Gedankenfülle und Tiefe, Reichthum der Anschauung von Welt und Leben, Kraft und Herrschaft über Sprache und Form sind die vorzüglichsten Eigenschaften dieses bedeutenden Dichters, welche am Wirksamsten und Glänzendsten in seinen Nachtgedanken hervortreten; aber er ist nicht immer frei von Gesuchtheit und Künsteln, von Einseitigkeit und Unverständlichkeit. Seine Zeit und die nächstfolgende haben ihn überschätzt, was vorzüglich aus dem Gegensatz sich entwickelte, den seine poetischen Klagen zu der damals vorwaltenden leichtern Auffassung und Behandlung des Lebens bildeten. Seine Poesie ist trotz allen ihren grossen Vorzügen doch nur ein Gemisch von wirklich dichterischen Elementen, abstracten in das Gebiet der Philosophie gehörenden Reflectionen und rhetorischem Schmuck. Die meiste Anlage hatte er unbedingt für die Satyre.

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Wake all to reason;

- let her reign alone; from the Complaint; or Night Thoughts. Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth

Of Nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire, Procrastination is the thief of time;

As I have done; and shall inquire no more. Year after year it steals, till all are fled, In Nature's channel, thus the questions run: And to the mercies of a moment leaves

“What am I? and from whence? I nothing The vast concerns of an eternal scene.

know If not so frequent, would not this be strange ? But that I am; and, since I am, conclude That 'tis so frequent, this is stranger still. Something eternal: had there e'er been nought,

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears Nought still had been; eternal there must be. The palm, “That all men are about to live,” But what eternal ? Why not human race? For ever on the brink of being born.

And Adam's ancestors without an end ? All pay themselves the compliment to think That's hard to be conceiv’d, since every link They one day shall not drivel: and their pride Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail. On this reversion takes up ready praise; Can every part depend, and not the whole ? At least, their own; their future selves applaud: Yet grant it true; new difficulties rise; How excellent that life they ne'er will lead ! I'm still quite out at sea; nor see the shore. Time lodg’d in their own hands in folly's vails; Whence Earth, and these bright orbs ? EterThat lodg'd in fate's, to wisdom they consign;

pal too? The thing they can't but purpose, they post-Grant matter was eternal; still these orbs


Would want some other father; much design 'Tis not in folly, not to scorn a fool;

Is seen in all their motions, all their makes; And scarce in human wisdom, to do more. Design implies intelligence, and art; All promise is poor dilatory man,

That can't be from themselves -- or man: that art And that through every stage; when young, Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow?


And nothing greater yet allow'd than man. In full content we, sometimes, nobly rest, Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain, Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish, Shot through vast masses of enormous weight ? As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume At thirty man suspects himself a fool;

Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly? Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ;

Has matter innate motion ? then each atom, At fifty chides his infamous delay,

Asserting its indisputable right Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;

To dance, would form an universe of dust: In all the magnanimity of thought

Has matter none? Then whence these glorious Resolves; and re-solves; then dies the same.

forms And why? Because he thinks himself inn- And boundless flights, from shapeless, and re

mortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves; Has matter more than motion ? has it thought, Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Judgment, and genius ? is it deeply learn'd Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden In mathematics ? Has it fram'd such laws,


Which but to guess, a Newton made immortal ? But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, If so, how each sage atom laughs at me, Soon close; where, past the shaft, no trace is Who think a clod inferior to a man!


If art, to form ; and counsel, to conduct; Retire; the world shut out; thy thoughts call And that with greater far than human skill,


Resides not in each block; a Godhead reigns. Imagination's airy wing repress;

Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud, Lock up thy senses ;

let no passion stir; To damp our brainless ardours; and abate

pos'd ?

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