So stands my mournfull case, For had he been lesse good He yet (all uncorrupt) had kept the stocke [From Milton.] As killing as the canker to the rose, Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Such Lycidas thy loss to shepherd's ear. Here is not an absolute plagiarism, but there is evidently a borrowed suggestion-a kind of debt which a great poet is often found to owe even to his inferiors. But it is not this single passage alone which shows, that Milton's perusal of Browne's verses had left an impression on his ear and mind that influenced him in the composition of his Lycidas. Browne, in the introduction to his eclogue, explains that "the author bewails the death of one, whom he shadoweth forth under the name of Philarete ;" and Milton in his pastoral monody also "bewails a friend" under a poetical name. The general plan, the occasion, the sentiments and the illustrations of both poems, are very similar-a similarity that is too close to be an accidental coincidence. That the passage about the rose is not the only one that seems to have given a hint to Milton, the following lines will convince any reader in the habit of tracing out poetical beauties to their first source, which is often too obscure and dim to strike a careless eye. Behold our flowery beds : The glowing violet, Browne. The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine. Milton. In the place of the words sad embroidery in the last line, Milton originally wrote (as is known from the various readings in his manuscript copy) sorrow's livery; which was perhaps a slight shade nearer to the imagery of Browne. Browne was born in Devonshire, and has made his native county-the garden of England—the scene of his Pastorals. I honor him for his boldness, his good sense, and his good taste, in breaking through the silly custom of carrying the British Muse to foreign regions, in search of beauties that are no where more easily found than in our own delightful land. SONNET. ON THE DEATH OF NEVER, oh! never, this sin-tainted earth, His words were bodied radiance, and his worth An angel's dower. There seemed nor gloom nor dearth Than flower or gem, or sun or moon or star, Or river-waves that dance in summer mirth. He proudly spurned for heaven's eternal day. Hath joined the choir that hymn their God for ever! LOVE-VERSES. I. WHEN thou wert nigh the world was bright, And life a lovely dream; I basked beneath the warm sun's light, In every mood, by night or day, SONNETS. I. THE breast that would not feel this calm profound, Is seen or heard; not lonelier is the grave; And yet this lovely solitude is rife With food for living thought, and few would crave A holier refuge from the loud world's strife. II. But, ah! no scene of loveliness may last! III. Yet well and wisely hath the poet said, That all exists by elemental strife, And passions are the elements of life*." This moving world were as a dreamless bed- Held in its base enthralment Nature's realm, And man's unslumbering soul. Though storms o'erwhelm Life's scene awhile, eternal stillness dead Were heavier fate for human heart to bear. We know not what we ask; but, blind and weak, Madly neglect the blessings that we share, And hidden evils ignorantly seek. Oh! if his own fixed fate could man bespeak How oft for change would rise the impatient prayer! STANZAS WRITTEN AT SEA. LIKE blossoms pale the vernal orchard strewing Through the stiff shrouds the gale is loudly singing, But here no human foes with fierce commotion * Pope. |