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"Cenci," Act III. 1. (193-216) The original schoolmaster was Paddy Byrne. (217-430) Note the line which shows Goldsmith's poverty. Dr. Samuel Johnson on hearing of the death of Goldsmith said, “Was ever poet so trusted before?" Goldsmith died £2,000 in debt. The seven deadly sins are left behind by the exiles. Six virtues they take with them. According to Goldsmith, note the function of poetry. Usually the didactical element in a pastoral detracts from its merits. Observe that the poet is sensitive to pain and melancholy in almost every line of the poem. Analyse some of the felicitous phrases. Where does the heroic couplet verse at times convey conceptions that do not belong to classicism but to romanticism?

WHEN LOVELY WOMAN STOOPS TO FOLLY

When lovely woman stoops to folly,

And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away?

5 The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,

And wring his bosom, isto die.

I said, "Do you like Goldsmith's 'When lovely woman stoops to folly'?" And he replied: "I love it." - Locker-Lampson to Tennyson, as related in Memoirs, II. 73.

The Georgian Era

1744-1832

THE ROMANTIC SCHOOL

the halo

The poets of romanticism are those who present conceptions not calmly realised, but such as depend on their halo for their attraction, consisting of four primitive colours: love for God, love for nature, love for man, and love for animals. The blending of these four colours in English poetry is accomplished by means of the elements of mystery and aspiration, which, according to Prof. H. A. Beers, are quite lacking in the classical school.

WILLIAM COWPER

1731-1800

Cowper is a domestic poet, although he was neither a husband nor a father; he is the poet of his own home, the private life of which was sweetly attuned to actions of integrity; he is the poet of the thicket which was visible at the farther end of the garden, or of the chimney nook. - Sainte-Beuve.

To Mary.

Optional Poems

John Gilpin.

On The Loss Of The Royal George.

The Castaway.

Phrases

God made the country, and man made the town.

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Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

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An idler is a watch that wants both hands,
As useless when it goes as when it stands.

- Retirement.

THE POPLAR FIELD

The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.

5 Twelve

years have elapsed, since I last took a view Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew; And now in the grass behold they are laid,

And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade.

The black bird has fled to another retreat,

IO Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat,
And the scene where his melody charmed me before,
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie lowly as they,

15 With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.

The change both my heart and my fancy employs,
I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys;
Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures we see,
20 Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.

(4) "Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives." Cf. "The Task,” Book I.:

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"Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain
Of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled o'er,
Conducts the eye along his sinuous course
Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank,
Stand, never overlooked, our favorite elms,
That screen the herdsman's solitary hut.

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Scan (7) and compare with (1) and (2). Where, before, has such metre been presented? F. J. Palgrave in personal recollection affirms that Tennyson, after reading Cowper's "Poplar Field," said: "People nowadays, I believe, hold this style and metre light: I wish there were any who could put words together with such exquisite flow and evenness. The poem "The Poplar Field" was published in 1785, the year in which Cowper thought it fitting to tell his friends about his literary retreat, the Boudoir, where, undisturbed by visitors, he could gaze out of the door on a garden full of roses, pinks, and honeysuckles, and out of a window on the orchard of his neighbor. The poems written on the table of his little summer-house partake of the charm of "Poplar Field "; they vibrate to a breeze which comes from across the Ouse, where are groves, grapevine hedges, heaths, smoky villages, square towers, and tall spires from which comes undulating the sound of church bells.

THE ROSE

The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower,
Which Mary to Anna conveyed,

The plentiful moisture encumbered the flower,

And weighed down its beautiful head.

5 The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet, And it seemed, to a fanciful view,

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To weep for the buds it had left with regret,
On the flourishing bush where it grew.

I hastily seized it, unfit as it was

For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned,
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!
I snapped it, it fell to the ground.

And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part

Some act by the delicate mind,

15 Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart Already to sorrow resigned.

20

This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,

Might have bloomed with its owner a while;
And the tear that is wiped with a little address,
May be followed perhaps by a smile.

Note the allegorical signifiAnalyse the fine felicitous his essay on Cowper in

(1-20) Mary is Mrs. Unwin, who made Cowper a poet; Anna is Lady Austen, who made him popular as a poet. cation of the stem-broken weeping rose. phrase. Scan (17-20). Sainte-Beuve, in "Causeries du Lundi," in analysis of this poem says: "This delightful little poem tells everything of the pure joy and the pathos existing between Cowper and these two women, of their transient and ephemeral union, and of the rose which was accidentally broken before one could present it to the other."

ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE
OUT OF NORFOLK

Oh that those lips had language! Life has passed
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Those lips are thine - thy own sweet smile I see,
The same that oft in childhood solaced me;

5 Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,
'Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!'
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
(Blessed be the art that can immortalize,
The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim
10 To quench it) here shines on me still the same.
Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,

O welcome guest, though unexpected here!

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