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Wake on their pipes of jointed reed: while near
The careful shepherd's frequent-falling strokes
Fix on the fallow lea his hurdled fold.

Such rural life! so calm, it little yields
Of interesting act, to swell the page
Of history or song; yet much the soul
Its sweet simplicity delights, and oft

From noise of busy towns, to fields and groves,
The Muse's sons have fled to find repose.
Fam'd Walton '7, erst, the ingenious fisher swain,
Oft our fair haunts explor'd; upon Lee's shore,
Beneath some green tree oft his angle laid,
His sport suspending to admire their charms.
He, who in verse his country's story told 18, [scene,
Here dwelt awhile; perchance here sketch'd the
Where his fair Argentile, from crowded courts
For pride self-banish'd, in sequester'd shades
Sojourn'd disguis'd, and met the slighted youth

17 Isaac Walton, author of The Complete Angler, an ingenious biographer, and no despicable poet. The scene of his Anglers' Dialogues is the vale of Lee, between Tottenham and Ware; it seems to have been a place he much frequented: he particularly mentions Amwell Hill.

Who long had sought her love-the gentle bard
Sleeps here, by Fame forgotten; (fickle Fame
Too oft forgets her fav'rites!) By his side
Sleeps gentle Hassal '9, who with tenderest care
Here watch'd his village charge; in nuptial bonds
Their hands oft join'd; oft heard, and oft reliev'd
Their little wants; oft heard, and oft compos'd,
Sole arbiter, their little broils; oft urg'd
Their flight from folly and from vice; and oft
Dropp'd on their graves the tear, to early worth
Or ancient friendship due. In dangerous days,
When Death's fell fury, pale-ey'd Pestilence,
Glar'd horrour round, his duty he discharg'd
Unterrified, unhurt; and here, at length,
Clos'd his calm inoffensive useful life
In venerable age: her life with him
His faithful consort clos'd; on Earth's cold breast
Both sunk to rest together.On the turf,
Whence Time's rude grasp has torn their rustic

tombs,

I strew fresh flowers, and make a moment's pause
Of solemn thought; then seek th' adjacent spot,
From which, through these broad lindens' verdant
The steeple's Gothic wall and window dim [arch,
In perspective appear; then homeward turn
By where the Muse, enamour'd of our shades,
Deigns still her fav'ring presence; where my friend,
The British Tasso, oft from busy scenes
To rural calm and letter'd ease retires.

As some fond lover leaves his fav'rite nymph,
Oft looking back, and ling'ring in her view,
So now reluctant this retreat I leave,
Look after look indulging; on the right,
Up to yon airy battlement's broad top

Jut like the pendent gardens, fam'd of old,
Beside Euphrates' bank; then, on the left,

18 William Warner, author of Albion's England, an historical poem; an episode of which, entitled Argentile and Curan, has been frequently reprinted, and is much admired by the lovers of old English poetry. The ingenious Dr. Percy, who has inserted this piece in his collection, observes, that "though Warner's name is so seldom mentioned, his contemporaries ranked him on a level with Spenser, and called them the Homer and Vir-Half veil'd with trees, that, from th' acclivious steep gil of their age;" that "Warner was said to have been a Warwickshire man, and to have been educated at Magdalen Hall; that, in the latter part of his life, he was retained in the service of Henry Cary, lord Hunsdon, to whom he dedicates his poem; but that more of his history is not known." Mrs. Cooper, in her Muses' Library, after highly applauding his poetry, adds, "What were the circumstances and accidents of his life, we have hardly light enough to conjecture; any more than, by his dedication, it appears he was in the service of the lord Hunsdon, and acknowledges very gratefully, both father and son, for his patrons and benefactors."-By the following extract from the parish register of Amwell, it may be reasonably concluded, that Warner resided for some time at that village; and, as his profession of an attorney is particularly mentioned, it is pretty evident that, whatever dependence he might have on lord Hunsdon, it could not be in the capacity of a menialgistered by his son Edmund Hassal, as follows: servant. Though Warner's merit, as a poet, may have been too highly rated, it was really not inconsiderable; his Argentile and Curan has many beauties; but it has also the faults common to the compositions of his age, especially a most disgusting indelicacy of sentiment and expression.

"Ma. William Warner, a man of good yeares and honest reputation, by his profession an atturney at the Common Please, author of Albion's England; dying suddenly in the night in his bedde, without any former complaynt or sicknesse, on Thursday night, beeing the 9th of March, was buried the Saturday following, and lieth in the church at the upper end, under the stone of Gwalter Fader." Parish register of Amwell, 1608-9.

19 Thomas Hassal, vicar of Amwell; he kept the above-mentioned parish register with uncommon care and precision, enriching it with many entertaining anecdotes of the parties registered. He performed his duty in the most hazardous circumstances, it appearing that the plague twice raged in the village during his residence there; in 1603, when twenty, six persons, and in 1625, when twenty-two persons died of it, and were buried in his church-yard. The character here given of him must be allowed, strictly speaking, to be imaginary; but his composition, in the said register, appeared to me to breathe such a spirit of piety, simplicity, and benevolence, that I almost think myself authorised to assert that it was his real one. He himself is re

"Thomas Hassal, vicar of this parish, where he had continued resident fifty-seven years, seven months, and sixteen days, in the reigns of queen Elizabeth, king James, and king Charles, departed this life September 24th, Thursday, and was buried September 26th, Saturday. His body was laid in the chancel of this church, under the priests or marble stone. Ætatis 84. Non erat ante, nec erit post te similis. Edmund Hassal." Register of Amwell, 1657.

Elizabeth Hassal, wife of the said Thomas Hassal, died about the same time, aged 78 years 8 months, married 46 years and 4 months.

20 Mr. Hoole, translator of Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered.

Down to those shaded cots, and bright expanse
Of water softly sliding by: once, where
That bright expanse of water softly slides,
O'erhung with shrubs that fringe the chalky rock,
A little fount pour'd forth its gurgling rill,
In flinty channel trickling o'er the green,
From Emma nam'd; perhaps some sainted maid
For holy life rever'd; to such, erewhile,
Fond Superstition many a pleasant grove,
And limpid spring, was wont to consecrate.
Of Emma's story nought Tradition speaks;
Conjecture, who, behind Oblivion's veil,
Along the doubtful past delights to stray,
Boasts now, indeed, that from her well the place
Receiv'd its appellation 2.Thou, sweet Vill,
Farewell! and ye, sweet fields, where Plenty's horn
Pours liberal boons, and Health propitious deigns
Her cheering smile! you not the parching air
Of arid sands, you not the vapours chill
Of humid fens, annoy; Favonius' wing,
From off your thyme-banks and your trefoil meads,
Wafts balmy redolence; robust and gay
Your swains industrious issue to their toil,
Till your rich glebe, or in your granaries store
Its gen'rous produce: annual ye resound
The ploughman's song, as he through reeking soil
Guides slow his shining share; ye annual hear
The shouts of harvest, and the prattling train
Of cheerful gleaners :-and th' alternate strokes
Of loud flails echoing from your loaded barns,
The pallid Morn in dark November wake.
But, happy as ye are, in marks of wealth
And population; not for these, or aught
Beside, wish I, in hyperbolic strains
Of vain applause, to elevate your fame
Above all other scenes; for scenes as fair
Have charm'd my sight, but transient was the view:
You, through all seasons, in each varied hour
For observation happiest, oft my steps
Have travers'd o'er; oft Fancy's eye has seen
Gay Spring trip lightly on your lovely lawns,
To wake fresh flowers at morn; and Summer spread
His listless limbs, at noon-tide, on the marge
Of smooth translucent pools, where willows green
Gave shade, and breezes from the wild mint's bloom
Brought odour exquisite; oft Fancy's ear,
Deep in the gloom of evening woods, has heard
The last sad sigh of Autumn, when his throne
To Winter he resign'd; oft Fancy's thought,
In ecstasy, where from the golden east,
Or dazzling south, or crimson west, the Sun
A different lustre o'er the landscape threw,
Some Paradise has form'd, the blissful seat
Of Innocence and Beauty! while I wish'd
The skill of Claude, or Rubens, or of him
Whom now on Lavant's banks, in groves that breathe
Enthusiasm sublime, the sister nymphs 22
Inspire 23; that, to the idea fair, my hand

21 In Doomsday book, this village of Amwell is written Emmevelle, perhaps originally Emma'sWell. When the New River was opened, there was a spring here which was taken into that aqueduct. Chadwell, the other source of that river, evidently received its denomination from the tutelar saint, St. Chad, who seems to have given name to springs and wells in different parts of England. 22 Painting and Poety.

23 Mr. George Smith of Chichester, a justly celebrated landscape painter, and also a poet. La

Might permanence have lent!-Attachment strong
Springs from delight bestow'd; to me delight
Long ye have given, and I have given you praise!

AMOEBAEAN ECLOGUES.

ADVERTISEMENT.

MUCH of the rural imagery which our country affords, has already been introduced in poetry; but many obvious and pleasing appearances seem to have totally escaped notice. To describe these is the business of the following Eclogues. The plan of the Carmen Amoebaeum, or responsive verse of the ancients, inconsistent as it may be deemed with modern manners, was preferred on this occasion, as admitting an arbitrary and desultory disposition of ideas, where it was found difficult to preserve a regular connection.

ECLOGUE I.

RURAL SCENERY; OR, THE DESCRIBErs. DECEMBER'S frost had bound the fields and streams, And noon's bright Sun effus'd its cheerful beams: Where woodland, northward, screen'd a pleasant

plain,

And on dry fern-banks brows'd the fleecy train, Two gentle youths, whom rural scenes could please, Both skill'd to frame the tuneful rhyme with ease, Charm'd with the prospect, slowly stray'd along, Themselves amusing with alternate song.

FIRST.

These pollard oaks their tawny leaves retain, These hardy hornbeams yet unstripp'd remain; The wintry groves all else admit the view Through naked stems of many a vary'd hue.

SECOND.

Yon shrubby slopes a pleasing mixture show; There the rough elm and smooth white privet grow, Straight shoots of ash with bark of glossy grey, Red cornel twigs, and maple's russet spray.

FIRST.

These stony steeps with spreading moss abound,
Grey on the trees and green upon the ground;
With tangling brambles ivy interweaves,
And bright mezerion' spreads its lust'ring leaves.

vant is the name of the river at Chichester, which city gave birth to the sublime Collins.

i Mezerion : laureola sempervirens: vulg. spurge-laurel. This beautiful little evergreen is frequent among our woods and coppices. Its smooth shining leaves are placed on the top of the stems in circular tufts or clusters. Its flowers are small, of a light green, and perfume the air at a distance in an agreeable manner. It blows very early in mild seasons and warm situations. The common deciduous mezerion, frequently planted in gardens, though very different in appearance, is another species of this genus.

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470

SECOND.

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FIRST.

The skill'd in culture oft repay their toil
By choice of plants adapted to their soil;
The spiky saintfoin best on chalk succeeds,
The lucern hates cold clays and moory meads.

SECOND.

Best on loose sands, where brakes and briars once rose,

Its deep fring'd leaves the yellow carrot shows: Best on stiff loam rough teasels 2 rear their heads, And brown coriander's od❜rous umbel spreads.

THIRD.

On barren mountains, bleak with chilly air, Forbidding pasturage or the ploughman's care, Laburnum's boughs a beauteous bloom disclose, Or spiry pines a gloomy grove compose.

FIRST.

On rushy marshes, rank with watry weeds,
Clothe the clear'd soil with groves of waving reeds;
Of them the gard'ner annual fences forms,
To shield his tender plants from vernal storms.

SECOND.

Cantabrian hills the purple saffron show;
Blue fields of flax in Lincoln's fenland blow;
On Kent's rich plains, green hop-grounds scent the
gales;

And apple-groves deck Hereford's golden vales 3.

THIRD.

Shelter'd by woods the weald of Sussex lies;
Her smooth green downs sublime from ocean rise:
That, fittest soil supplies for growth of grain;
These, yield best pasture for the fleecy train.

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