He still continued to exercise the powers of his astonishing mind; upon his finishing the revisal of his Homer in March 1799, Mr. Johnson endeavoured in the gentlest manner to lead him into new literary occupation.

For this purpose on the eleventh of March he laid before him the paper containing the commencement of his Poem on The four Ages. Cowper altered a few lines he also added a few, but soon observed to his kind attendant, "that it was too great a work for him to attempt in his present situation.”

At supper Mr. Johnson suggested to him several literary projects, that he might execute more easily. He replied, " that he had just thought of six Latin verses, and if he could compose any thing, it must be in pursuing that composition."

The next morning he wrote the six verses he had mentioned, and added a few more, entitling the Poem, "Montes glaciales."

It proved a versification of a circumstance recorded in a newspaper, which had been read to him a few weeks before, without his appearing to notice it. This Poem he translated into English verse, on the nineteenth of March, to oblige Miss Perowne. Both the original and the translation shall appear in the Appendix.

On the twentieth of March he wrote the Stanzas entitled The Cast-away, founded on an anecdote in Anson's voyage, which his mcmory

memory suggested to him, although he had not looked into the book for many years.

As this Poem is the last original production from the pen of Cowper, I shall introduce it here, persuaded that it will be read with an interest proportioned to the extraordinary pathos of the subject, and the still more extraordinary powers of the Poet, whose lyre could sound so forcibly, unsilenced by the gloom of the darkest distemper, that was conducting him, by slow gradations, to the shadow of Death.

THE CAST-AWAY.

Obscurest night! involv'd the sky ;
Th' Atlantic billows roar'd,
When such a destin'd wretch as I,
Wash'd headlong from on board,
Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.

No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he, with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast,

With warmer wishes sent.

He lov'd them both, but both in vain,

Nor him hehold, nor her again.

Not

Not long beneath the 'whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay;

Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage die away;

But wag'd with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.

He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd
To check the vessel's course,

But so the furious blast prevail'd,
That, pitiless perforce,

They left their out-cast mate behind,
And scudded still before the wind.

Some succour yet they could afford;
And, such as storms allow,

The cask, the coop, the floated cord
Delay'd not to bestow.

But he (they knew) nor ship, nor shore,
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.

Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he
Thier haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in such a sea,

Alone could rescue them;

Yet bitter felt it still to die
Deserted, and his friends so nigh.

He

He long survives, who lives an hour
In ocean, self-upheld:

And so long he, with unspent fow'r,
His destiny repell'd:

And ever, as the minutes flew,
Entreated help, or cry'd-"Adieu!"

At length, his transient respite past,
His comrades, who before
Had heard his voice in ev'ry blast,

Could catch the sound no more.
For then, by toil subdued, he drank
The stifling wave, and then he sank.

No poet wept him: but the page
Of narrative sincere,

That tells his name, his worth, his age,

Is wet with Anson's tear.

And tears by bards or heroes shed,

Alike immortalize the dead.

I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate,

To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date.

But misery still delights to trace

Its 'semblance in another's case.

Νο

No voice divine the storm allay'd,
No light propitious shone ;

When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
We perish'd, each alone;

But I beneath a rougher sea,

And whelm'd in deeper gulphs than he.

In August he translated this Poem into Latin Verse. In October he went with Miss Perowne, and Mr. Johnson, to survey a larger house in Dereham, which he preferred to their present residence, and in which the family were settled in the following December.

Though his corporeal strength was now evidently declining, the tender persuasion of Mr. Johnson induced him to amuse his mind with frequent composition. Between August and December he wrote all the Translations from various Latin and Greek Epigrams, which the reader will find in the Appendix.

In his new residence, he amused himself with translating a few Fables of Gay into Latin Verse. The Fable which he used to recite as a child, "The Hare and many Friends," became one of

his latest amusements.

The perfect ease, and spirit, with which his Translations from Gay are written, induce me to print not only those, which he left

VOL. II.

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entire