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That glare of life which often blinds the wise. And yet still more on piety itself.
Our dying friends are pioneers, tor smooth A soul commerce with her God is heaven;
Our rugged pass to death; to breath those bars Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life;
Of terror and abhorrence Nature throws

The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart.
Cross our obstructed way; and, thus to make A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;
Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm. A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd;
Each friend by fate snatch'd from us, is a plume A Deity belov’d, is joy matur'd.
Pluck'd from the wing of human vanity, Each branch of piety delight inspires;
Which makes us stoop from our aërial heights, Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,
And dampt with omen of our own decease, O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides;
On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd, Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,
Just skim earth's surface, ere we break it up, That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still;
O'er putrid earth to scratch a little dust, Prayer ardent opens heaven, lets down a stream
And save the world a nuisance. Smitten friends Of glory on the consecrated hour
Are angels sent on errands full of love;

Of man, in audience with the Deity. For us they languish, and for us they die: Who worships the great God, that instant joins And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain? The first in heaven, and sets his foot on hell. Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hovering shades Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light, Which wait the revolution in our hearts? And sacred silence whispering truths divine, Shall we disdain their silent, soft address; And truths divine, converting pain to peace, Their posthumous advice, and pious prayer ? My song the midnight raven has outwing'd, Senseless, as herds that graze their hallow'd And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes,

graves;

Beyond the flaming limits of the world, Tread under foot their agonies and groans; Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight Frustrate their anguish, and destroy their deaths? Of fancy, when our hearts remain below?

"Is virtue, then, and piety the same?” Virtue abounds in flatteries and foes; No; piety is more; 'tis virtue's source; 'Tis pride to praise her; penance to perform. Mother of every worth, as that of joy.

To more than words, to more than worth of Men of the world this doctrine ill digest:

tongue They smile at piety; yet boast aloud

Lorenzo! rise, at this auspicious hour; Good-will to men; nor know they strive to part An hour, when Heaven's most intimate with What nature joins; and thus confute themselves.

man; With piety begins all good on earth;

When, like a falling star, the ray divine 'Tis the first-born of rationality.

Glides swift into the bosom of the just; Conscience, her first law broken, wounded lies; And just are all, determin'd to reclaim; Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good;

Which sets that title high within thy reach. A feign'd affection bounds her utmost power. Awake, then: thy Philander calls : awake! Some we can't love, but for the Almighty's sake; Thou, who shalt wake, when the creation sleeps : A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man; When, like a taper, all these suns expire; Some sinister intent taints all he does;

When Time, like him of Gaza in his wrath, And, in his kindest actions, he's unkind. Plucking the pillars that support the world, On piety, humanity is built;

In Nature's ample ruins lies entomb'd; And on humanity, much happiness;

And midnight, universal midnight! reigns.

Tick ell.

Thomas Tickell, Sohn eines Geistlichen ward 1686 zu Bridekirk in Cumberland geboren, studirte in Oxford und ward durch Addison's Vermittelung, dessen vertrauter Freund er war, Unter-Staatssecretair, später aber Secretair der Lords Justices of Ireland, ein Amt, das er bis zu seinem 1740 erfolgten Tode bekleidete.

Seine Schriften erschienen zuerst gesammelt unter dem Titel Miscellaneous Works, London 1753, 3 Bde. in 12.; seine Poesieen finden sich auch im 26. Bande der Johnson'schen, im 73. der Bell'schen und im 8. der Anderson'schen Sammlung. Natürliches Gefühl und Wärme sind ihm eigen, und weisen ihm daher einen höheren Rang an, als ihn die vielen Convenienzpoeten seiner Zeit verdienen. Am Gelungensten sind seine Balladen und seine Elegie auf Addison's Tod. Als Prosaist zeigte er sich correct und geistreich in seinen Beiträgen zum Spectator, an welcher Zeitschrift er lebhaften Antheil nahm.

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Oft at this grave, the constant hind

And plighted maid are seen;
With garlands gay, and true-love knots,

They deck the sacred green:

But, swain forsworn, whoe'er thou art,

This hallow'd spot forbear;
Remember Colin's dreadful fate,

And fear to meet him there.

R a m s a y.

Allan Ramsay, der erste schottische Dichter, dessen in dem Dialect seiner Heimath geschriebene Poesieen, besonders sein Schäferspiel: The Gentle Shepherd sich über ganz Grossbritannien verbreiteten und klassische Geltung erlangten, ward 1686 im Kirchspiel von Crawford Moor in Lanarkshire, wo sein Vater als Bergmann lebte, geboren, kam zu einem Perrückenmacher in die Lehre und liess sich später als Buchhändler in Edinburg nieder, wo er die erste Leihbibliothek für Schottland gründete. Nachdem er mehrere altschottische Gedichte, welche selten geworden, herausgegeben, trat er 1721 mit eigenen Poesieen auf, denen 1726 sein Gentle Shepherd folgte, der ihm grossen und allgemeinen Ruhm erwarb. Er starb 1758.

Ramsay's übrige Gedichte sind ziemlich vergessen, sein Schäferspiel aber, sowie seine beiden Sammlungen altschottischer Balladen, The Tea-table Miscellany und The Evergreen, in welchen sich auch manches Lied von ihm befindet, welches das Volk sich zu eigen machte, werden sich erhalten, so lange es Freunde schottischer Muse giebt. Anmuth, Natürlichkeit, warmes Gefühl und Leichtigkeit der Behandlung zeichnen ihn aus. Der Inhalt des Schäferspiels ist einfach: die Handlung trägt sich in den Pentland Hügeln bei Edinburg zu und behandelt die Liebe eines Schäfers Patie und einer Schäferin Peggy. Der Erstere ist der Sohn eines Verbannten, welcher mit Gut und Geld beladen zurückkommt, ihn erkennt und von ihm verlangt, eine Vornehmere zur Frau zu wählen. Der junge Mann kann sich nicht dazu entschliessen; es offenbart sich aber zuletzt, dass seine Geliebte ein Findling, auch von gutem Herkommen ist, und nun endet Alles in Frieden und Freude.

Select Passages from:

Peggy.

The scented meadows birds and healthy The Gentle Shepherd.

breeze, For aught I ken, may mair than Peggy please. Peggy.

Patie.
O Patie, let me gang, I mauna stay;
We're baith cry'd hame, and Jenny she's away. Ye wrang me sair, to doubt my being kind;

In speaking sae, ye ca’ me dull and blind,
Patie.

Gif I could fancy aught's sae sweet or fair
I'm laith to part sae soon; now we're alane, As my sweet Meg, or worthy of my care.
And Roger he's away wi' Jenny gane;

Thy breath is sweeter than the sweetest brier, They're as content, for aught I hear or see, Thy cheek and breast the finest flow'rs appear: To be alane themselves, I judge, as we. Thy words excel the maist delightfu' notes Here, where primroses thickest paint the green, That warble through the merle or mavis' throats: Hard by this little burnie let us lean :

With thee I tent nae flowers that busk the field, Hark! how the lav'rocks chant aboon our heads, Or ripest berries that our mountains yield: How saft the westlin winds sough through the The sweetest fruits that hing upon the tree

reeds!

Ar far inferior to a kiss of thee.

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Peggy.

Patie. But Patrick for some wicked and may fleech, Jenny sings saft the "Broom of Cowden knows,” And lambs should tremble when the foxes preach. And Rosie lilts the “Milking of the ews; I darena stay; ye joker, let me gang; There's nane, like Nancy, “Jenny Nettles” sings: Anither lass may gar ye change your sang;

At turns in “Maggy Lawder,” Marion dings: Your thoughts may fit, and I may thole the But when my Peggy sings wi' sweeter skill

wrang

The “Boatman” or the “Lass of Patie's Mill,”

It is a thousand times mair sweet to me;
Patie.

Tho' they sing weel, they canna sing like thee.
Sooner a mother shall her fondness drap,
And wrang the bairn sits smiling on her lap:
The sun shall change, the moon to change shall
cease,

Patie. The gaits to clim, the sheep to yield the fleece, Wert thou a giglet gawky like the lave, Ere ought by me be either said or done, That little better than our nowt behave, Shall skaith our love; I swear by a'aboon. At naught they'll ferly, senseless tales believe,

Be blyth for silly hechts, for trifles grieve – Peggy.

Sic ne'er cou'd win my heart, that kenna how Then keep your aith but mony lads will

swear,

Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true : And be mansworn to twa in half a year:

But thou in better sense, without a flaw, Now I believe ye like me wonder weel;

As in thy beauty, far excels them a'. But if a fairer face your heart shou'd steal,

Continue kind, and a' my care shall be, Your Meg, forsaken, bootless might relate

How to contrive what pleasing is for thee.
How she was dauted anes by faithless Pate.

Peggy.
Patie.

Agreed; but harken, yon's auld aunty's cry,

I ken they'll wonder what can make us stay. I'm sure I canna change, ye needna fear, Tho' we're but young, I've loo'd you mony a

Patie.
year:

And let them ferly
I mind it weel, when thou cou'dst hardly gang, or five score good anes wadna be amiss;

now a kindly kiss, Or lisp out words, I choos’d ye frae the thrang

And syne we'll sing the sang wi' tunefu' glee, Of a' the bairns, and led thee by the hand,

That I made up last owk on you and me.
Aft to the tanry know or rashy strand;
Thou smiling by my side,
I took delight

Peggy.
To pou the rashes green wi’ root's sae white,

Sing first, syne claim your hyre
Of which, as weel as my young fancy cou'd,
For thee I plet the flow'ry belt and snood.

*

Peggy.

Patie.
When first thou gade wi' shepherds to the hill,
And I to milk the ews first try'd my skill,

My Peggy, why in tears ?

Smile as ye wont, allow nae room for fears : To bear the leglen was nae toil to me, When at the bught at ev'n I met wi' thee.

Tho' I'm nae mair a shepherd, yet I'm thine

Peggy.
Patie.

I dare not think sae high - I now repine
When corns grew yellow, and the hether-bells

At the unhappy chance that made not me
Bloom'd bonny on the muir and rising fells, A gentle match, or still a herd kept thee.
Nae birns, or briers, or whins, e'er troubled me, Wha can, withouten pain, see frae the coast,
Gif I cou'd find blae berries ripe for thee. The ship that bears his a' like to be lost?

Like to be carried by some rever's hand
Peggy.

Far frae his wishes to some distant land.
When thou didst wrestle, run, or putt the stane,

Patie. And wan the day, my heart was flightering fain: At a' these sports thou still gave joy to me; Ne'er quarrel fate, whilst it wi' me remains For nane can wrestle, run, or putt wi' thee. To raise thee ups or still attend these plains.

1

My father has forbid our loves, I own:
But love's superior to a parent's frown:

Patie.
I falsehood hate: come kiss thy cares away:

Sure heaven approves

and be assur'd of me, I ken to love as weel as to obey.

I'll ne'er gang back o' what I've sworn to thee: Sir William's generous; leave the task to me

And time, tho' time maun interpose a while, To mak strict duty and true love agree.

And I maun leave my Peggy and this isle, Peggy

Yet time, nor distance, nor the fairest face,

If there's a fairer, e'er shall fill thy place. Speak on! speak ever thus, and still my grief; i'd hate my rising fortune should it move But short I dare to hope the fond relief;

The fair foundation of our faithfu' love. New thoughts a gentler face will soon inspire,

If at my feet were crowns and sceptres laid, That wi' nice airs swims round in silk attire; Then I! poor me! wi' sighs may ban my fate, For thee I'd soon leave these inferior things

To bribe my soul frae thee, delightfu' maid, When the young laird's nae mair my heartsome

To sic as hae the patience to be kings.
Pate.

Wherefore that tear? believe, and calm thy mind.
Nae mair again to hear sweet tales exprest,
By the blyth shepherd that excell'd the rest.
Nae mair be envied by the tattling gang,
When Patie kiss'd me, when I danc'd or sang;
Nae mair, alake! we'll on the meadow play, I greet for joy, to hear my words sae kind;
And rin half breathless round the rucks of hay, When hopes were sunk, and nought but mirk
As aft times I hae fled from thee right fain,

despair, And fawn on purpose that I might be tane: Made me think life was little worth my care: Nae mair around the foggy know I'll creep My heart was like to burst; but now I see To watch and stare upon thee, while asleep. Thy gen'rous thoughts will save thy love for me: But hear my vow -'twill help to give me ease, Wi' patience then, I'll wait each wheeling year, May sudden death, or deadly sair disease Hope time away, till thou wi' joy appear; And warst of ills attend my wretched life! And all the while I'll study gentler charms If e'er to ane but you I be a wife.

To make me fitter for my trav'ler's arms.

Peggy.

P o p e.

Alexander Pope, der Sohn eines Linnenhändlers, welcher genau denselben Namen führte, ward am 22. Mai 1688 zu London geboren. Verwachsen und kränklich ward er auf dem Lande erzogen, da sein Vater katholischer Confession, nach dem Falle der Stuarts London gänzlich verliess. Der junge Pope war meist sein eigener Lehrer und zeichnete sich bereits so früh durch seine poetischen Leistungen aus, dass er schon einen bedeutenden dichterischen Ruf hatte, ehe er noch sein fünfundzwanzigstes Jahr überschritten. Er lebte nur poetischen Beschäftigungen und namentlich trug ihm seine Uebersetzung des Homer so viel ein, dass er sich in vollkommener Unabhängigkeit befand und sich ein Landhaus in Twickenham erstand, wo er den Rest seiner Tage grösstentheils zubrachte. Er starb am 30. Mai 1744.

Der Tod überraschte Pope bei der Herausgabe seiner sämmtlichen Werke, welche von Dr. Warburton besorgt wurde. Die erste Auflage erschien London 1751. 9 Bde in 8., und ward später vielfach wiederholt unter den Bemühungen Anderer wie z. B. Warton, Ruffhead u. s. w. Die beste Edition ist die von W. Lesle Bowles, London 1806. An poetischen Schriften enthalten sie Hirtengedichte (Pastorals), didactische Gedichte (Essay on Criticism, Essay on Man), ein komisches Epos the Rape of the Lock, ein satyrisches Gedicht the Dunciad, Oden, Heroiden (unter denen Heloisens Brief an Abälard, die berühmteste), kleinere lyrische Gedichte, Satyren, Allegorieen, Uebersetzungen u. A. m.

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