Two months after his return to England, his father died in embarrassed circumstances, and Gray returned to Cambridge, where he prosecuted his studies, with an ardor and industry seldom equalled, to the end of his life. In 1742 he produced his Ode to Spring," and in the autumn of the same year he wrote the Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College," and the Hymn to Adversity;" but he did not publish them till some years after. They were circulated among his friends, who were, of course, delighted with them, and they received from their gifted author touches and re-touches, till they were brought to the perfection in which we now have them. So slow was he in poetical composition, that his next ode, On the Death of a favorite Cat," was not written till 1747. In 1750 appeared his most celebrated poem, the "Elegy written in a Country Churchyard." Few poems were ever so popular. It soon ran through eleven editions, and has ever since been one of those few, favorite pieces that every one has by heart. In 1757 the office of poet-laureate, made vacant by the death of Cibber, was offered to Gray, but declined. The same year he published his two odes on "The Progress of Poesy," and The Bard." Though they showed to a still higher degree the power and the genius of the poet, and were felt to be magnificent productions, they were not so popular, because they were less understood.1 In 1768, the Professorship of History at Cambridge becoming vacant, it was conferred upon our poet, than whom a person of greater and more extensive scholarship could not be found at that time in England. But his habitual indolence in writing unfitted him for the office; for though he retained it till his death, he delivered no lectures. In the spring of 1770 illness overtook him, as he was projecting a tour in Wales; but recovering, he was able to effect the tour in the autumn. But the next year, 1771, on the 24th of July, he was seized with an attack of gout in the stomach, from which, as an hereditary complaint, he had long suffered; and died on the 30th of the same month, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. The life of Gray is one singularly devoid of interest and variety, even for an author. It is the life of a student giving himself up to learning, accounting it as an end itself, and its own exceeding great reward." He devoted his time almost exclusively to reading: writing was with him an exception, and that, too, a rare one. His life was spent in the acquisition of knowledge. At the time of his death, "he was perhaps the most learned man in Europe. He was equally acquainted with the elegant and profound parts of science, and that not superficially, but thoroughly. He knew every branch of history, both natural and civil; had read all the original historians of England, France, and Italy; and was a great antiquary. Criticism, metaphysics, morals, politics, made a principal part of his plan of study; voyages and travels of all sorts were his favorite amusement: and he had a fine taste in painting, prints, architecture, and gardening."2 As a poet, though we cannot assent to the enthusiastic encomium of his ardent admirer and biographer, Mr. Matthias, 3 that he is "second to none," 1 He himself prefixed to them a quotation from Pindar, wvaVTA OUVETOLOIV, "vocal to the intelligent alone." 2 From a sketch of his life by the Rev. William Temple. "I am sorry," says the excellent Dr. Beattie, in writing to a friend, "you did not see Mr. Gray on his return: you would have been much pleased with him. Setting aside his merit as a poet, which, however, in my opinion, is greater than any of his contemporaries can boast, in this or any other nation, I found him possessed of the most exact taste, the soundest judgment, and most extensive learning." a Works, by T J. Matthias, 2 vols. quarto; the best edition. yet, after naming Milton, and Shakspeare, and Spenser, and Chaucer, if we were compelled to assign the fifth place to some one, we know not to whom it would be, if not to Thomas Gray. There are in the poems that he has left us, few though they be, such a perfect finish of language, such felicity of expression, such richness and harmony of numbers, and such beauty and sublimity of thought and imagination, as to place him decidedly at the head of all English lyric poets. True, Collins comes next, and sometimes approaches him almost within a hair's-breadth: but after all there is distance between them, and that distance is generally clearly perceptible. Of the "Bard" and "The Progress of Poesy," Mr. Matthias justly observes, "There is not another ode in the English language which is constructed like these two compositions; with such power, such majesty, and such sweetness, with such proportioned pauses and just cadences, with such regulated measures of the verse, with such master principles of lyrical art displayed and exemplified, and, at the same time, with such a concealment of the difficulty, which is lost in the softness and uninterrupted flowing of the lines in each stanza, with such a musical magic, that every verse in it in succession dwells on the ear, and harmonizes with that which has gone before." As a man, he had great benevolence of feeling, the strictest principles of virtue, and the most unbending integrity. As an instance of the strictness of his principles, he once made it his particular request to a friend who was going to the continent, that he would not pay a visit to Voltaire; and when his friend replied, "What can a visit from a person like me to him signify?" he rejoined, with peculiar earnestness, "Sir, every tribute to such a man signifies." If such sentiments were more generally felt and acted on, men of elevated positions would not so often presume upon their talents, or eloquence, or learning, as being a sufficient covering for their moral deficiencies. THE PROGRESS OF POESY. I. 1. Awake, Æolian lyre, awake,2 And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. A thousand rills their mazy progress take: 1 "His faculties were endowed with uncommon strength; he thought with a manly nervousness; and he penetrated forcibly into every subject which engaged his attention. But his petty manners were disagreeably effeminate and fastidious; his habits wanted courage and hardiness; and his temper and spirits were a prey to feebleness, indolence, and trivial derangements. His heart was pure; and his conduct, I firmly believe, stained with no crime. He loved virtue for its own sake, and felt a just and never slackened indignation at vice."-Sir Egerton Brydges, “Censura Literaria," viii. 217. Read, also, a well-sustained and most interesting dialogue between Gray and Walpole in the same author's "Imaginative Biography." Read, also, Drake's "Literary Hours," 3 vols.-a most fascinating work. 2 Awake up, my glory; awake, psaltery and harp.—Psalm lvii. 8. 8 The subject and simile, as usual with Pindar, are united. The various sources of poetry, which gives life and lustre to all it touches, are here described; its quiet majestic progress enriching every subject (otherwise dry and barren) with a pomp of diction and luxuriant harmony of numbers; and its more rapid and irresistible course, when swollen and hurried away by the conflict of tumultuous passions. Now the rich stream of music winds along, Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign: Headlong, impetuous, see it pour: The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar. I. 2. Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul,' Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command. Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. I. 3. Thee the voice, the dance, obey,2 Temper'd to thy warbled lay. O'er Idalia's velvet green The rosy-crowned Loves are seen On Cytherea's day; With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures, Frisking light in frolic measures; Now pursuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet: To brisk notes in cadence beating, Glance their many-twinkling feet. Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare: With arms sublime, that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way: O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love. II. 1. Man's feeble race, what ills await,3 Labor, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove. Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse? Night, and all her sickly dews, Power of harmony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul. The thoughts are borrowed from the Arst Pythian of Pindar. 2 Power of harmony to produce all the graces of motion in the body. * To compensate the real and imaginary ills of life, the Muse was given to mankind by the same Providence that sends the day, by its cheerful presence, to dispel the gloom and terrors of the night. Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky; Till down the eastern cliffs afar1 Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war. II. 2. In climes beyond the solar road, 2 Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight-gloom To cheer the shivering Native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the odorous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, In loose numbers wildly sweet, Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. Glory pursue, and generous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and Freedom's holy flame. II. 3. Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,3 Or where Mander's amber waves How do your tuneful echoes languish Murmur'd deep a solemn sound: Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, Left their Parnassus, for the Latian plains. And coward Vice, that revels in her chains, They sought, oh Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast. III. 1. Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid, To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face: The dauntless child Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled. "This pencil take," she said, "whose colors clear 1 Or seen the morning's well-appointed star Come marching up the eastern hills afar.-Cowley. ? Extensive influence of poetic genius over the remotest and most uncivilized nations: Its connection with liberty, and the virtues that naturally attend on it. * Progress of Poetry from Greece to Italy, and from Italy to England. Chaucer was not unao. quainted with the writings of Dante, or of Petrarch. The Earl of Surrey, and Sir Thomas Wyatt, had travelled in Italy, and formed their taste there; Spenser imitated the Italian writers; Milton improved on them; but this school expired soon after the Restoration, and a new one arose on the French model, which has subsisted ever since. 4 Shakspeare. 1 Milton. Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy! Of horror that, and thrilling fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears." III. 2. Nor second He,' that rode sublime The secrets of th' abyss to spy. He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw: but, blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night. Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car, Wide o'er the fields of glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race,3 With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace. III. 3. Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.5 But ah! 'tis heard no more Oh! Lyre divine, what daring spirit Wakes thee now? Though he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, Through the azure deep of air: Yet oft before his infant eyes would run With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun: Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the Good how far-but far above the Great. THE BARD.7 I. 1. "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!8 Confusion on thy banners wait! 2" For the spirit of the living creature was in the wheels-and above the firmament, that was over their heads, was the likeness of a throne, as the appearance of a sapphire-stone.-This was the appearance of the glory of the Lord."-Ezekiel 1. 20, 26, 28. 3 Meant to express the stately march and sounding energy of Dryden's rhymes. 4 "Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder "--Job. "Words that weep, and tears that speak."-Cowley. 6 Pindar compares himself to that bird, and his enemies to ravens that croak and clamor in vain below, while it pursues its flight, regardless of their noise. 7 This ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward the First, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands to be put to death. "Over this inimitable ode a tinge so wildly awful, so gloomily terrific, is thrown, as without any exception to place it at the head of lyric poetry."-Drake's Literary Hours. 8 "This abrupt execration plunges the reader into that sudden, fearful perplexity which is designed |