ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Hester Mulso Chapone
, "To Health" 1755 ca; Chapone, Works (1807) 4:152-54.
1739: Aaron Hill
1740: Aaron Hill
1741 ca.: Rev. Josiah Relph
1747: Elizabeth Teft
1747: Rev. James Hervey
1748: Rev. Joseph Spence
1750: William Shenstone
1751: Thomas Edwards
1752: Thomas Edwards
1752: James Harris
1754: Anna Williams
1755: Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
1755 ca.: Hester Mulso Chapone
1756: Rev. John Duncombe
1758: Rev. William Hawkins of Oxford
1759: James Beattie
1761: Elizabeth Carter
1761: John Hawkesworth
1764: Horace Walpole
1770 ca.: Bennet Langton
1772: Samuel Johnson
1776: D. Al-n-by
1779: C. Jackson
1782: Hannah More
1783: Mr. Jackson of Dublin
1787: Anna Seward
1793: Edmond Malone
1797: William Godwin
1804: Andrew Caldwell
1807: Rev. Percival Stockdale
1808: Rev. George Gregory
1809: Rev. Percival Stockdale
1809: Dr. Nathan Drake
1812: Robert Southey
1821: Lord Byron
1821: Mary Leadbeater
1826: Anne Grant
1848: Leigh Hunt
1850: Thomas Babington Macaulay
1852: Mary Russell Mitford
1894: Austin Dobson
Hester Mulso Chapone:
1749: Thomas Edwards
1752: Samuel Johnson
1755 ca.: Susanna Duncombe
1755 ca.: Samuel Richardson
1772: Elizabeth Montagu
1773: John Milton
1773: Elizabeth Montagu
O Health! thou friend of Nature! Goddess blythe,
That oft upon the Uplands bleak art seen,
Printing with nimble step the dewy green.
To help the early mower with his scythe,
Or with the jocund swain partake the toil
To press the plough, and break the stubborn soil;
Ah, wherefore dost thou fly me, nymph divine!
With youth and Innocence thou lov'st to dwell,
And gentle Peace, soft whisp'ring, "all is well!"
Youth, Innocence, and gentle Peace are mine;
Nor sacred Friendship to my heart denies
Her richest treasures, and her sweetest joys.
No bois'trous passion shook my troubled frame,
To fright thee from my breast, nor pining Care,
Nor rankling Envy ever fester'd there,
Nor did Intemp'rance e'er my blood inflame;
And Grief, tho' long a inmate of my mind,
To Hope and Cheerfulness her place resign'd.
O Health, thy Napier calls, well-skill'd to save,
Foe of thy foes, and friend of human race,
Whose potent hand the tyrant Pain can chase,
And pale Disease, that points an op'ning grave;
Nor thou, ungrateful, can'st to him deny,
Thy glad return, fresh source of springing joy!
Without thee, Virtue's self forgets to smile,
And suff'ring saints with heav'n in view complain;
Philosophy, and Stoic pride how vain,
To stifle anguish, or the sense beguile!
Yet thou art often the good unkind,
Like Fortune partial, and to merit blind.
Hast thou not left a Richardson unblest?
He woos thee still in vain, relentless maid!
Tho' skill'd in sweetest accents to persuade,
And wake soft Pity in a savage breast.
Him Virtue loves, and brightest Fame is his,
Smile thou too, Goddess, and complete his bliss.
But if regardless thou can'st hear him sigh,
Shall I not silence my presumptuous plea!
To him obdurate, wilt thou yield to me?
Ah no! — to thee, mild Patience, I'll apply,
Affliction's nurse! hear thou my humbler pray'r,
And teach, the ills I may not shun, to bear!