Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 6: With His Letters and JournalsMoore, Thomas
General
Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 6: With His Letters and Journals
Moore, Thomas
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron, 1788-1824; Poets, English -- 19th century -- Biography
not Homer either, it is not even Cowper. As a child I first read
Pope's Homer with a rapture which no subsequent work could ever
afford, and children are not the worst judges of their own language.
As a boy I read Homer in the original, as we have all done, some of
us by force, and a few by favour; under which description I come is
nothing to the purpose, it is enough that I read him. As a man I have
tried to read Cowper's version, and I found it impossible. Has any
human reader ever succeeded?
[Footnote 1: I will submit to Mr. Bowles's own judgment a passage
from another poem of Cowper's, to be compared with the same writer's
Sylvan Sampler. In the lines to Mary,--
"Thy _needles_, once a shining store,
For my sake restless heretofore,
Now rust disused, and shine no more,
My Mary,"
contain a simple, household, "_indoor_," artificial, and ordinary
image; I refer Mr. Bowles to the stanza, and ask if these three lines
about "_needles_" are not worth all the boasted twaddling about
trees, so triumphantly re-quoted? and yet, in _fact_, what do they
convey? A homely collection of images and ideas, associated with the
darning of stockings, and the hemming of shirts, and the mending of
breeches; but will any one deny that they are eminently poetical and
pathetic as addressed by Cowper to his nurse? The trash of trees
reminds me of a saying of Sheridan's. Soon after the "Rejected
Address" scene in 1812, I met Sheridan. In the course of dinner, he
said, "Lord Byron, did you know that, amongst the writers of
addresses, was Whitbread himself?" I answered by an enquiry of what
sort of an address he had made. "Of that," replied Sheridan, "I
remember little, except that there was a _phoenix_ in it."--"A
phoenix!! Well, how did he describe it?"--"_Like a poulterer_,"
answered Sheridan: "it was green, and yellow, and red, and blue: he
did not let us off for a single feather." And just such as this
poulterer's account of a phoenix is Cowper's stick-picker's detail of
a wood, with all its petty minutiae of this, that, and the other.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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