ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Dr. Erasmus Darwin
Anonymous, "On the Death of Dr. Darwin" Scots Magazine 64 (May 1802) 423.
Dr. Erasmus Darwin:
1783: Anna Seward
1786: Anna Seward
1788: Rev. William Bagshaw Stevens
1789: Elizabeth Carter
1791: M. C. S.
1792: Rev. Richard Polwhele
1792: William Hayley
1792: Francis Noel Clarke Mundy
1792: Anna Seward
1793: Isaac D'Israeli
1793: William Cowper
1796: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
1796 ca.: Dewhurst Bilsborrow
1798: Richard Lovell Edgeworth
1798: Edward Gardner
1800: Thomas James Mathias
1800: Dr. Nathan Drake
1801: Alexander Thomson
1802: Mr. Rainford
1802: Richard Lovell Edgeworth
1805: Charles Brockden Brown
1805: Anna Seward
1808: Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges
1809: Lord Byron
1812: Charles Caleb Colton
1814: Leigh Hunt
1814: George Dyer
1818: William Hazlitt
1821: A Belle of the Old School
1824: George Dyer
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1827: Robert Southey
1833: James Montgomery
1851: Dr. David Macbeth Moir
1856: Samuel Rogers
1858: Cyrus Redding
1882: Margaret Oliphant
1882: Epes Sargent
Natives of that green isle, where fancy strays
O'er richest flowers that never fading blow,
Whose skies are ever bright with cloudless days,
Whose mazy waters ever murmuring flow;
Receive your DARWIN to the hallowed shades,
The bower perennial Flora loves to rear,
Where never frozen breath of time invades,
The blushing sweetness of her virgin year.
O'er that green bower a gentle spirit flies,
And waves the torch of welcome from above;
While Vesper, kindling in her dewy skies,
Directs the wanderer to her isle of love.
Nymphs of blue heaven's electric curling flame,
On wings of light'ning round your bard repair,
Twine your wreath'd coronets of fire, to frame
The circling glories of his hoary hair.
Thou velvet earth, let thy dark spirit smile
Complacent kindness, through the gathering beam,
And reach, the stranger's sorrow to beguile,
Oblivious Lotus from her mantling stream.
Ah! vales of bliss, in what far distant main,
Where shuddering tempests never dare to blow,
Lies your retiring, jealous, coy domain,
Beyond the reach of sorrow and of woe.
You, no faint moons, with waning splendors, light,
You, no sad tears of heavy grief defile,
Your happy fields are native to delight,
And all your hours, and all your ages smile.
On your blest plains no hungry grave receives
The bitter tear, for love and friendship shed;
In you, no widow'd bosom joyless grieves;
Nor droops in vain the unsupported head.