Afflictions great! yet greater still remain:" The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush On Scylla or Charybdis (dangerous rocks!) She strikes rebounding; whence the shatter'd oak, Admits the sea; in at the gaping side The crowding waves gush with impetuous rage, Resistless overwhelming! horrors seize The mariners; death in their eyes appears; They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray; Implacable; till, delug'd by the foam, The ship sinks foundering in the vast abyss. THOMAS PARNELL was born in Dublin, in 1679. He was descended from an ancient family of Cheshire, who, after the Restoration, purchased an estate in Ireland, to which the poet became heir, together with their lands, in their native country. After the usual preparatory education, he entered, in the thirteenth year of his age, the university of Dublin, and in 1700 took his master's degree, immediately after which he was ordained deacon, though under the canonical age. About three years after he was ordained priest; and, in 1705, the bishop of Clogher conferred upon him the archdeaconry of that see. When the Whigs, toward the end of Queen Anne's reign, passed out of office, Parnell repaired to London and joined the Tory party, by whom he was regarded as an acquisition of strength. He had previously married Miss Anne Minchen, a young lady of great beauty and accomplishments; but having the misfortune to lose her by death a few years after their union, he suffered the event to prey so deeply upon his mind as to hurry him into the habit of intemperance. But the vice could not have been either gross or notorious; for he afterward received, from Archbishop King, the vicarage of Finglass, in the diocese of Dublin, which was worth four hundred pounds a year. He did not, however, long enjoy this last preferment, as his death occurred at Chester, in the month of July, 1717, when on his way to Ireland. Parnell seems to have been one of those poets who write from the mere love of writing. The compass of his poetry,' says Campbell, 'is not extensive, but its tone is peculiarly delightful.' His works are of a miscellaneous nature, consisting of translations, songs, hymns, epistles, and narra tives. His most celebrated production is The Hermit—a poem familiar to most readers from their infancy. Its sweetness of diction and picturesque solemnity of style must always afford pleasure. His Night Piece on Death was indirectly preferred by Goldsmith to Gray's celebrated Elegy; but few persons of taste will be inclined to adopt such an opinion. In the 'Night Piece' the poet goes forth at midnight to the churchyard, and there meditates among the tombs :— How deep yon azure dyes the sky! 'Time was, like thee, thy life possessed, And time shall be that thou shalt rest.' Those with bending osier bound, That nameless heave the crumbled ground, The flat smooth stones that bear a name, The chisel's slender help to fame Whose pillars swell with sculptured stones, Arms, angels, epitaphs, and bones; Adorn the rich, or praise the great, The poem, however, by which Parnell is chiefly known is the 'Hermit;" and did our limits permit, we should introduce it entire. As it is, we must be satisfied with a few of the opening paragraphs, merely to show the style. VOL. II.-C THE HERMIT. Far in a wild, unknown to public view, A life so sacred, such serene repose, And glimmering fragments of a broken sun, Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound, Thus useful ivy clasps an elm around. We shall close this brief notice of Parnell with the following beautiful hymn : HYMN TO CONTENTMENT. Lovely, lasting peace of mind! With more of happiness below, Thy presence in its gold enshrined. No real happiness is found In trailing purple o'er the ground: Or in a soul exalted high, To range the circuit of the sky, "T was thus, as under shade I stood, I sung my wishes to the wood, And, lost in thought, no more perceived The joys which from religion flow: And I'll be there to crown the rest. Oh! by yonder mossy seat, In my hours of sweet retreat, Might I thus my soul employ, In heavenly vision, praise, and prayer; Pleasing all men, hurting none, While silver waters glide along, To please my ear, and court my song; Go search among your idle dreams, Or own the next begun in this. WILLIAM SOMERVILLE, the author of The Chase, belongs to the poets of this period, but his works are now rarely read or consulted. He was a native of Warwickshire, and was born on a family estate called Edston, in 1682. He received his early education at Westminster school, from which he was sent to New College, Oxford, and there was afterwards elected to a fellowship. It does not appear that in the places of his education Somerville exhibited any uncommon proofs of genius, or attainments in literature. His powers were first displayed in the country, where he became distinguished, both as a poet, and a gentleman. His estate yielded him an income of fifteen hundred pounds a-year; but being generous, and even extravagant, he died in distressed circumstances, in 1742, and was buried at Wotton, near Henleyon-Arden. Somerville wrote in a variety of strains, but in none with elevation sufficient to entitle him to greater praise than that of 'writing very well for a gentleman.' In his verses to Addison,' says Johnson, the couplet which mentions Clio is written with the most exquisite delicacy of praise: it exhibits one of those happy strokes that are seldom attained.' Addison, it is well known, signed his papers in the Spectator, with the letters forming the name of Clio. The couplet alluded to, is as follows: When panting virtue her last efforts made You brought your Clio to the virgin's aid. In welcoming Addison to the banks of the Avon, in Warwickshire, where he had purchased an estate, Somerville does not scruple to place him, as a poet, above Shakspeare: In heaven he sings; on earth your muse supplies |