answered the purpose for which I used it. The quieting and composing effect of it was such, and so totally absorbed have I sometimes been in my rhyming occupation, that neither the past nor the future,-(those themes which to me are so fruitful in regret at other times,)—had any longer a share in my contemplation. For this reason I wish, and have often wished since the fit left me, that it would seize me again; but hitherto I have wished it in vain. I see no want of subjects, but I feel a total disability to discuss them. Whether it is thus with other writers, or not, I am ignorant, but I should suppose my case in this respect a little peculiar. The voluminous writers, at least, whose vein of fancy seems always to have been rich in proportion to their occasions, cannot have been so unlike, and so unequal to themselves. There is this difference between my poetship and the generality of them, they have been ignorant how much they have stood indebted to an Almighty power for the exercise of those talents they have supposed their own; whereas I know, and know most perfectly, and am perhaps to be taught it to the last, that my power to think, whatever it be, and consequently my power to compose, is, as much as my outward form, afforded to me by the same hand that makes me in any respect to differ from a brute. This lesson if not constantly inculcated might perhaps be forgotten, or at least too slightly remembered 1." There were but few persons to whom Cowper presented his volume; Thurlow was one. "An author," said he, "is an important character. Whatever his merits may be, the mere circumstance of authorship warrants his approach to persons whom otherwise, perhaps, he could hardly address without being deemed impertinent. He can do me no good. If I should happen to do him a little, I shall be a greater man than he 20" With the volume he sent the following letter: MY LORD, TO LORD THURLOW. Olney, Bucks, Feb. 25, 1782. I make no apology for what I account a duty; I should offend against the cordiality of our former friendship should I send a volume into the world, and forget how much I am bound to pay my particular respects to your Lordship upon that occasion. When we parted you little thought of hear 19 Feb. 16, 1782. 20 To Mr. Unwin, Feb. 24, 1782. ing from me again; and I as little that I should live to write to you, still less that I should wait on you in the capacity of an author. Among the pieces I have the honour to send, there is one for which I must entreat your pardon. I mean that of which your Lordship is the subject. The best excuse I can make is, that it flowed almost spontaneously from the affectionate remembrance of a connexion that did me so much honour. As to the rest, their merits, if they have any, and their defects, which are probably more than I am aware of, will neither of them escape your notice. But where there is much discernment, there is generally much candour; and I commit myself into your Lordship's hands, with the less anxiety, being well acquainted with yours. If my first visit, after so long an interval, should prove neither a troublesome nor a dull one, but especially if not altogether an unprofitable one, omne tuli punctum. I have the honour to be, though with very different impressions of some subjects, yet with the same sentiments of affection and esteem as ever, your Lordship's faithful, and most obedient, humble servant, W. C. The style of this letter, so different from that in which Cowper addressed his correspondents, shows that, however highly he estimated the importance of an author, he was fully sensible of what was due to the dignity of his old friend's station. Yet, if the Lord Chancellor had been a stranger, Cowper would never have presumed upon an author's privilege. Time and change had not weakened his affectionate regard for Thurlow; and though some degree of pride may have contributed to keep it alive, as if some honour were reflected upon him by the elevation of one with whom, during so many years he had lived in familiar intercourse, the prevailing motive was, undoubtedly that feeling of kindness which the remembrance of former times produced. He looked for a letter from Thurlow with more anxiety than he expected the opinion of periodical critics, or of the public. "Whether," he says to Mr. Unwin, “I shall receive any answer from his Chancellorship or not, is at present in ambiguo, and will probably continue in the same state of ambiguity much longer. He is so busy a man, and at this time, if the papers may be credited, so par 66 ticularly busy, that I am forced to mortify myself with the thought, that both my book and my letter may be thrown into a corner, as too insignificant for a statesman's notice, and never found till his executor finds them. The affair, however, is neither ad my libitum nor his. I have sent him the truth, and the truth which I know he is ignorant of 21. He that put it into the heart of a certain eastern monarch to amuse himself in sleepless nights with listening to the records of his kingdom, is able to give birth to such another occasion in Lord Thurlow's instance, and inspire him with a curiosity to know what he has received from a friend he once loved and valued 22 " Another fortnight elapsed, and in reply to some favourable opinions which Mr. Unwin had communicated, Cowper observes, Alas, we shall never receive such commendations from him on the woolsack! He has great abilities, but no religion. Mr. Hill told him some time since, that I was going to publish; to which piece of information, so far as I can learn, he returned no answer, for Mr. Hill has not reported any to me. He had afterwards an opportunity to converse with him in private, but my poor authorship was not so much as mentioned; whence I learn two lessons; first, that however important I may be in my own eyes, I am very insignificant in his; and, secondly, that I am never likely to receive any acknowledgement of the favour I have conferred upon his lordship, either under his own hand, or by the means of a third person; and, consequently, that our intercourse has ceased for ever, for I shall not have such another opportunity to revive it 23." Cowper had sent his volume to Colman also, one of the few surviving members of their club. Thornton was dead; he died at the age of forty-four, having been married only four years, and leaving a widow and three children. His death was a great loss to literature, as well as to his family and friends. Notwithstanding the change which had taken place in Cowper's views and in his way of life, the feelings of old intimacy were not dead in him; and believing that they were only dormant in others, he expected that they would be awakened in Colman, who, next to Hill, seems to have had a 21 Thurlow was living when Hayley published this letter; and therefore the latter half of this sentence was omitted. 22 March 18. 23 April 1. higher place in his affections than any other member of the Club. But Colman, like Thurlow, never thanked him for his book; and their silence was an incivility as well as an unkindness, which Cowper's nature was too sensitive to bear, without giving some vent to his wounded feelings. At first he had made those excuses for them, which a man readily devises when he fears to find a friend in fault; but when month after month had passed away, and it could no longer be doubted that he was neglected by both, he poured forth some indignant verses, which he sent to his friend Unwin, laying him under no other injunction concerning them, except that they were not for the press. "The unkind behaviour of our acquaintance," said though it is possible that in some instances it may not much affect our happiness, nor engross many of our thoughts, will sometimes obtrude itself upon us with a degree of importunity not easily resisted; and then, perhaps, though almost insensible of it before, we feel more than the occasion will justify. In such a moment it was that I conceived this poem, and gave loose to a degree of resentment, which, perhaps, I ought not to have indulged, but which, in a cooler hour, I cannot altogether condemn. My former intimacy with the two characters was such, that I could not but feel myself provoked by the neglect with which they both treated me on a late occasion. So much by way of preface." he, The poem itself is one of those pieces which may more properly be inserted in the biography of an author, than placed among his works, were it only for this cause, that they are read to more advantage when the circumstances which gave birth to them are fully understood, and fresh in the reader's mind. The latter half only was published by Hayley; there is now no reason for suppressing the former. THE VALEDICTION. FAREWELL, false hearts! whose best affections fail, Forgetful of the man whom once ye chose, Cold in his cause, and careless of his woes; I bid you both a long and last adieu ! Cold in my turn, and unconcern'd like you. First farewell Niger! whom, now duly proved, 24 Nov. 10, 1783. Your brain well furnished, and your tongue well taught Sound sense, intrepid spirit, manly grace, Your sullen silence serves at least to tell Terentius, once my friend, farewell to thee! I thought the volume I presumed to send, But thou it seems, (what cannot grandeur do, |