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lived, and ever since his death, have lived with his Widow. Her, therefore, you will find mistress of the house; and I judge of you amiss, or you will find her just such as you would wish. To me she has been often a nurse, and invariably the kindest friend, through a thousand adversities that I have had to grapple with in the course of almost thirty years. I thought it better to introduce her to you thus, than to present her to you at your coming, quite a stranger, Bring with books that you any you think be useful to my Commentatorship, for, with you for an interpreter, I shall be afraid of none of them. And in truth, if you think that you shall want them, you must bring books for your own use also; for they are an article with which I am heinously unprovided: being much in the condition of the man, whose library Pope describes, as

No mighty store!

may

His own works neatly bound and little more! You shall know how this has come to pass hereafter.

Tell me, my friend, are your Letters in your own handwriting? If so, I am in pain for your eyes, lest by such frequent demands upon them I should hurt them. I had rather write you three Letters for one, much as I prize your Letters, than that should happen. And now, for the present, adieu-I am going to accompany Milton into the lake of fire and brimstone, having just begun my annotations.

VOL. II.

F

W. C.

LETTER

MY DEAR SIR,

LETTER XVIII.

To the Revd. Mr. HURDIS.

Weston, April 8, 1792.

Your entertaining and pleasant Letter,

resembling in that respect all that I receive from you, deserved a more expeditious answer, and should have had what it so well deserved, had it not reached me at a time when, deeply in debt to all my correspondents, I had letters to write without number; like autumnal leaves that strew the brooks-in Vallombrosa-the unanswered farrago lay before me. If I quote at all, you must expect me henceforth to quote none but Milton, since for a long time to come I shall be occupied with him only.

I was much pleased with the extract you gave me from your Sister Eliza's Letter; she writes very elegantly, and (if I might say it without seeming to flatter you) I should say much in the manner of her Brother. It is well for your Sister Sally that gloomy Dis is already a married man, else perhaps finding her, as he found Proserpine, studying Botany in the fields, he might transport her to his own flowerless abode, where all her hopes of improvement in that science would be at an end for ever.

What Letter of the 10th of December is that which you say you have not yet answered? Consider it is April now, and I never

remember

remember any thing that I write half so long. But perhaps it relates to Calchas, for I do remember that you have not yet furnished me with the secret history of him and his family, which I demanded from you. Adieu. Your's most sincerely.

W. C.

I rejoice that you are so well with the learned Bishop of Sarum, and well remember how he ferreted the vermin Lauder out of all his hidings, when I was a boy at Westminster.

I have not yet studied with your last remarks before me, but hope soon to find an opportunity.

LETTER XIX.

To Lady THROCKMORTON.

MY DEAR LADY FROG.

April 16, 1792.

I thank you for your Letter, as sweet as it was short, and as sweet as good news could make it. You encourage a hope that has made me happy ever since I have entertained it. And if my wishes can hasten the event, it will not be long suspended. As to your jealousy, I mind it not, or only to be pleased with it: I shall say no more on the subject at present than this, that of all ladies living, a certain lady, whom I need not name, would

F 2

would be the lady of my choice for a certain gentleman, were the whole sex submitted to my election.

1

What a delightful anecdote is that which you tell me of a young lady detected in the very act of stealing our Catharina's praises is it possible that she can survive the shame, the mortification of such a discovery? Can she ever see the same company again, or any company that she can suppose, by the remotest possibility, may have heard the tidings? If she can, she must have an , assurance equal to her vanity. A lady in London stole my Song on the Broken Rose, or rather would have stolen and have passed it for her own. But she too was unfortunate in her attempt; for there happened to be a female Cousin of mine in company, who knew that I had written it. It is very flattering to a Poet's pride, that the ladies should thus hazard every thing for the sake of appropriating his verses. I may say with Milton, that I am fallen on evil tongues, and evil days," being not only plundered of that which belongs to me, but being charged with that which does not. Thus it seems, (and I have learned it from more quarters than one) that a report is, and has been some time current in this and the neighbouring counties, that though I have given myself the air of declaiming against the Slave Trade in the Task; I am in reality a friend to it, and last night I received a Letter from Joe Rye, to inform me, that I have been much traduced and calumniated on this account. Not knowing how I could better, or more effectually refute

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refute the scandal, I have this morning sent a Copy to the Northampton Paper, prefaced by a short Letter to the Printer, specifying the occasion. The Verses are in honour of Mr. Wilberforce, and sufficiently expressive of my present sentiments on the subject. You are a wicked fair one for disappointing us of our expected visit, and therefore out of mere spite I will not insert them. I have been very ill these ten days, and for the same spite's sake will not tell you what has ailed me. But lest you should die of a fright, I will have the mercy to tell you that I am recovering.

Mrs, G, and her little ones are gone, but your Brother is still here. He told me that he had some expectations of Sir John at Weston; if he comes, I shall most heartily rejoice once more to see him at a table so many years his own.

W. C.

SONNE T,*

To WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, Esqr.

Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain,
Hears thee, by cruel men and impious, call'd
Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose th' enthrall'd
From exile, public sale, and slav'ry's chain.
Friend of the poor, the wrong'd, the fetter-gall'd,
Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain!

*NOTE BY THE EDITOR.

Thou

The following Sonnet, not printed in the collected Works of Cowper, is the Poem that he

alluded to in this Letter.

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