university; but, as the chair had been always filled by one of the members of the faculty of advocates, the choice fell upon another competitor, who possessed that qualification. When disappointed in this object, he published the substance of his lectures in a work, entitled, "Elements of the Philosophy of History ;" and, in a separate essay, "On the manners of Asia." His poems, which had hitherto been only circulated in MS. or printed in a desultory manner, were collected and published in 1781. The favourable reception which they met with, encouraged him to attempt the composition of a tragedy, and he chose the charter of Runnymede for his subject. This innocent drama was sent to the manager of Covent Garden, by whom it was accepted, and even put into rehearsal; but, on some groundless rumour of its containing dangerous political matter, the Lord Chamberlain thought fit to prohibit its representation. It was, however, acted on the Edinburgh boards, and afterwards published; though without exhibiting in its contents anything calculated to agitate either poetical or political feelings. In the meantime our author unhappily drew on himself the displeasure of his parishioners. His connexion with the stage was deemed improper in a clergyman. His literary pursuits interfered with his pastoral diligence; and, what was worse, he was constitutionally subject to fits of depression, from which he took refuge in inebriety. Whatever his irregularities were, (for they have been differently described,) he was obliged to compound for them, by resigning his flock, and retiring upon a small annuity. He came to London, where his principal literary employments were, furnishing articles for the English Review, and writing in vindication of Warren Hastings. He died at the age of forty, at his lodgings, in Marlborough-street. His Sermons, which were published two years after his death, have obtained considerable popularity. His "Ode to the Cuckoo" is the most agreeable effusion of his fancy. Burke was so much pleased with it, that, when he came to Edinburgh, he made himself acquainted with its author. His claim to this piece has indeed been disputed by the relatives of Michael Bruce; and it is certain, that when Bruce's poems were sent to Logan, he published them intermixed with his own, without any marks to discriminate the respective authors. He is farther accused of having refused to restore the MSS. But as the charge of stealing the Cuckoo from Bruce was not brought against Logan in his life-time, it cannot, in charity, stand against his memory on the bare assertion of his accusers*. ODE TO THE CUCKOO. HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove! What time the daisy decks the green, Delightful visitant! with thee I hail the time of flowers, The schoolboy, wandering through the wood Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, An annual guest in other lands, Sweet bird thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year! O could I fly, I'd fly with thee! We'd make, with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the Spring. THE LOVERS. Har. 'Tis midnight dark: 'tis silence deep, The window's drawn, the ladder waits, I am alone. 'Tis dreary night, O come, thou partner of my flight! [* Because some pieces which are printed among the remains of poor Michael Bruce, have been ascribed to Logan, Mr. Chalmers has not thought it proper to admit Bruce's poems into his collection.-SOUTHEY, Quar. Rev. vol. xi. p. 501.] The dog howls dismal in the heath, The night-struck man through flood and fire. The owlet screams ill-boding sounds, Hen. I come, I come, my love! my life! And nature's dearest name, my wife! Long have I loved thee; long have sought: And dangers braved, and battles fought; In this embrace our evils end; From this our better days ascend; The year of suffering now is o'er, At last we meet to part no more! My lovely bride! my consort, come! Har. I fear to go- -I dare not stay. Look back.- -I dare not look that way. Hen. No evil ever shall betide Har. Still beats my bosom with alarms : Now, without father, mother, friend, Hen. My Harriet, dissipate thy fears, And let a husband wipe thy tears; For ever join'd our fates combine, And I am yours, and you are mine. The fires the firmament that rend, On this devoted head descend, If e'er in thought from thee I rove, Or love thee less than now I love! Although our fathers have been foes, From hatred stronger, love arose ; From adverse briars that threat'ning stood, Har. My heart believes my love; but still My boding mind presages ill: For luckless ever was our love, An unforeseen and fatal hand Cross'd all the measures love had plann'd ; What clouds may hang above my head? Hen. O do not wound that gentle breast, Nor sink, with fancied ills opprest; For softness, sweetness, all, thou art, And love is virtue in thy heart. That bosom ne'er shall heave again But to the poet's tender strain ; And never more these eyes o'erflow But for a hapless lover's woe. Long on the ocean tempest-tost, Har. My father's castle springs to sight; Ye towers that gave me to the light! O hills! O vales! where I have play'd; Ye woods, that wrap me in your shade! O scenes I've often wander'd o'er ! O scenes I shall behold no more! I take a long, last, lingering view : Adieu! my native land, adieu ! O father, mother, brother dear! Hen. Thy friends, thy father's house resign; To higher thoughts, and happier life! They rise, the dear domestic hours! Connubial love has dearer names, Like cherubs new come from the skies, You clasp the husband in the son; ROBERT NUGENT, EARL NUGENT. [Born, 1709. Died, 1788.] ROBERT NUGENT was descended from the Nugents of Carlanstown, in the county of Westmeath, and was a younger son of Michael Nugent, by the daughter of Robert Lord Trimlestown. In the year 1741, he was elected Member of parliament for St. Mawes, in Cornwall; and, becoming attached to the party of the Prince of Wales, was appointed in (1747) comptroller of his Royal Highness's household. On the death of the Prince he made his peace with the court, and was named successively a lord of the Treasury, one of the vice-treasurers of Ireland, and a lord of trade. In 1767 he was created Baron Nugent and Viscount Clare, and subsequently Earl Nugent. He was thrice married. second wife, with whom he acquired a large fortune, was sister and heiress to Secretary Craggs, the friend of Addison. His factures of his native island induced him, on one occasion, to present the Queen with a newyear's gift of Irish grogram, accompanied with a copy of verses; and it was wickedly alleged, that her Majesty had returned her thanks to the noble author for both his pieces of stuff. A volume of his poems was published, anonymously, by Dodsley in 1739. Lord Orford remarks, that "he was one of those men of parts, whose dawn was the brightest moment of a long life." He was first known by a very spirited ode on his conversion from popery ; yet he relapsed to the faith which he had abjured. On the circumstance of his re-conversion it is uncharitable to lay much stress against his memory. There have been instances of it in men, whom either church would have been proud to appropriate. But it cannot be denied, that his poem on Faith formed, at a late period of his life, an anti-climax to the first promise of his literary talents; and though he possessed abilities, and turned them to his private account, he rose to no public confidence as a statesman ODE TO WILLIAM PULTENEY, ESQ. + REMOTE from liberty and truth, I bow'd to priests and kings. [* Goldsmith, who admitted his Epistle to a Lady among his Beauties of British Poetry, addressed his Haunch of Venison to him. "I am told," writes a Mr. John Gray to Smollett, "that Dr. Goldsmith now generally lives with his countryman, Soon reason dawn'd, with troubled sight Too weak it shone to mark my way, Lord Clare, who has lost his only son Colonel Nugent." [ "Mr. Nugent," says Gray to Walpole, "sure did not write his own Ode. Mallet, it was universally believed, had trimmed and doctored it up."] |