ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
, "The Sequestered Bard. An Elegy" Gentleman's Magazine 33 (February 1763) 90.
1737: William Shenstone
1749: Lady Luxborough
1750 ca.: Rev. Richard Graves
1751: Rev. Richard Jago
1755: Robert Dodsley
1756: John Scott Hylton
1758: Alexander Carlyle
1759: James Woodhouse
1760: Edward Cooper
1760: Rev. Richard Graves
1761: Mrs. John Thomas
1763: Edward Cooper
1763: Rev. Richard Graves
1763: John Cunningham
1763: Edward Cooper
1763: Mary Darwall
1763 ca.: A Lady
1763: Dr. S.
1763: T. H.
1764: Rev. John Langhorne
1765: Cuthbert Shaw
1765: John Oakman
1766: John Scott of Amwell
1769: Thomas Gray
1771: William Roscoe
1771: Rev. Richard Graves
1772: Rev. John Ball
1773: Thomas Lyttleton
1774: Samuel Jackson Pratt
1774: Charles Graham
1776: Rev. Thomas Maurice
1778: Richard Tickell
1778: Old Robin
1779: J. M.
1779: Menassah Dawes
1780: J. W.
1782: Samuel Johnson
1783: Edmond Malone
1784: De Sp—do
1785: H. R.
1787: Robert Burns
1788: John Williams
1789: A Bard of the Wrekin
1791: Isaac D'Israeli
1792: Anna Seward
1792: John Bennet
1793: J. H. C.
1793: Captain John Majoribanks
1795: Dr. Robert Anderson
1797: Mr. Mott
1798: Anna Seward
1802: George Dyer
1805: Thomas Park
1806: Dr. John Aikin
1806: John F. M. Dovaston
1807: Robert Southey
1808: Anne Grant
1812: A. F.
1814: John Hamilton Reynolds
1814: James Jennings
1815: William Wordsworth
1818: William Hazlitt
1818: David Parkes
1823: David Parkes
1823: T. H.
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1829: Anna Brownell Jameson
1830: Rev. George Barrell Cheever
1836: Hartley Coleridge
1836: L. L.
1842: C. H. Timperley
1855 ca.: Rev. John Mitford
1859: Leigh Hunt
1880: George Saintsbury
1882: Epes Sargent
1910: Ralph Straus
1760: John Gilbert Cooper
1760: Thomas Gray
1760: Rev. William Hawkins of Oxford
1760: Rev. John Huckell
1760: Rev. William Mason
1760: William Shenstone
1760: Rev. William Thompson
1760: Rev. Thomas Warton
1763: William Shenstone
1763: William Shenstone
1765: Rev. Charles Churchill
1773: George Lyttelton
Clad in a sable pall, now frowns the sky,
In negro-darkness o'er the visto'd scene:
Now sheeted sprights from restless graves do fly,
And now they trip it o'er the twilight green.
Perhaps still mindful of their wonted home,
Indulgent wait on dearest friends on earth,
In vehicles of air unseen they roam,
And oft frequent the place that gave 'em birth.
The well-tim'd aid of Vesper's twinkling urn,
Directs my steps to yonder time-struck tow'r,
There, as in short-liv'd passion, oft I burn,
These melancholy musings thus I pour.
Full many a flow'ret blushing to the sun,
That scents the sweetness of the eastern morn,
Inglorious oft its little life does run
Nor once the bosom of the fair adorn.
Or near the bubbling of some weeping stream,
Oft its sequester'd sweetness did it breathe,
Where the coy damsel sleeps in pleasing dream,
Or where the decent graves in briery order heave.
Poetic youths in many an unknown home,
Musing in pensive wailings oft we find,
Perhaps the thymy heath they saunt'ring roam,
Or court in wayward strains the fleeting wind.
The chilling blasts of icy winter's frost,
Too oft the virgin primrose nip severe,
And many a friend by Envy's breath is lost,
Nor claims a tribute of a sigh sincere.
How many Shakspeares have there liv'd alone,
And Drydens, thankless in their poorer day!
And many a pensive Gray we've seen, unknown,
Who to the world has still refus'd his lay.
Haply, on Edgar's hallow'd lips, the fire
Of Daedal fancy might have charm'd the day,
Haply, the sacred veh'mence of his lyre
Might chace the white-wing'd minutes fast away.
Yet still the breath of Penury severe,
Ah! too untimely, nipt the tender shoot—
If such the first attempt, then much we fear
The product of our pains, "the rip'ning fruit."
The widow'd blackbird oft is heard to moan
Her hapless consort's melancholy fate,
And many a helpless swain now droops forlorn
O'er the dusk lawn, and does this tale relate.
But still some breast with gen'rous ardour glows,
To guard fair Science in this favour'd isle,
Not all to poetry alike are foes,
But deign the grace of an applauding smile.
'Twas Shenstone's choice to raise with gentlest care
The tender shoot of blooming Fancy's tree,
To stamp a genuine mark on what was rare,
And bid each muse fir'd poet "dare be free."
How oft, as through the Arcadian groves he stray'd,
The glad'ning impulse did his soul inspire,
How oft reclining in the bow'ry shade,
Wake into extasy the muse's lyre!
Sweet moralist! the pride of Albion's coast,
Fell a sad victim to tyrannic Death;
To Dods—y me, and to his country lost,
When Shenstone's tuneful lips resign'd their breath.
To thee, my Shenstone, gratitude shall pay
This duteous tribute of a sigh sincere,
And, true to Honour's never-venal lay,
These accents shall pursue thy sacred bier.