All in dreary hammocks shrouded, On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre, Heed, O heed, our fatal story, You now triumph free from fears, See these mournful spectres sweeping Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping, I, by twenty sail attended, Did this Spanish town affright; I had cast them with disdain, For resistance I could fear none, Then the Bastimentos never Of this gallant train had been. Thus like thee, proud Spain dismaying, Unrepining at thy glory, Thy successful arms we hail; But remember our sad story, And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. Hence with all my train attending Wander through the midnight gloom. O'er these waves for ever mourning, If to Britain's shore returning, You neglect my just request; WILLIAM SHENSTONE was born in 1714, at the Leasowes, in the parish of HalesOwen, Shropshire; and was educated at Pembroke College, Oxford. Although he had previously published, anonymously, a small collection of poems, it was not until the year 1740 that the world heard of his name. "The Judgment of Hercules" was soon followed by "The School-mistress "-the actual picture, it is said, of an aged dame who taught him his letters; and subsequently, as leisure offered or inclination prompted, for he was not "of necessity a writer," he continued to woo the muse among the groves, within the bowers, and beside the running streams, to which he had given existence upon his "few paternal acres"-his rural farm of the Leasowes. The Poet converted his small domain into a mimic Arcadia; planting his walks in undulating curves; making water to run and murmur where it could be heard, and to stagnate where it could be seen; leaving intervals where the prospect was agreeable, and thickening the trees where some object was to be hidden; placing seats at convenient distances; and statues of sylvan deities, with appropriate inscriptions; with lakes, cascades, rustic bridges, alcoves, slopes, tree-clumps, "easy swells and hollows," hanging woods, dripping fountains, trickling rills, grottoes, niches of rock-work, green areas and arid spots-making it, in short, a scene of wild and cultivated beauty which realized the fictions of old romance. He succeeded in rendering it "the envy of the great and the admiration of the skilful-a place to be visited by travellers and copied by designers;" and gave a practical lesson in landscape gardening, of which ample use was afterwards made. The genius of the place influenced the mind of the Poet: and here, amid those gentle and solitary walks, leading a life which the wise and active call indolent, he produced his Pastorals and Elegies; works which, if they may not rank high among the productions of genius, are at least the best and happiest of the class to which they belong. Unhappily, however, there is a darker side to this pleasant picture. The taste of Shenstone was expensive, and, in a worldly sense, unprofitable. "It brought clamours about him that overpowered the lamb's bleat and the linnet's song." He became involved in pecuniary difficulties; which probably hastened his death. He died in 1763, and was buried in the church-yard of his native village. The character of the man and the Poet has been drawn by two faithful friendsDodsley and Graves. His person was above the middle stature, largely and rather elegantly formed; his face seemed plain till you conversed with him, and then it grew very pleasing. In his disposition he was easy, generous and indolent; of a melancholy temperament, yet, at times, humorous and sprightly. One of the warmest eulogists of his planted Paradise has likened it to his mind-simple, elegant, and amiable. As a Poet, his merit has been long established. His productions, if they are deficient in vigour and variety, are full of simplicity, delicacy, and pathos. "The Schoolmistress" is, perhaps, the most popular; but among his Pastorals there are many of exceeding elegance; and although they have been often "mocked at" as simple almost to absurdity, they speak to the heart and the affections, and are dear to both. We have abundant proof that the emotions of Shenstone, as we find them in his verse, were real; besides his own assertion, that he "felt very sensibly the affections he communicates," they bear the stamp of truth; and some passages of his life are the witnesses of it. He wooed and might have won; but prudence-unhappily, for it left him without an object of excitement to industry and exertion-forbade his allying to "poetry and poverty" the woman who had gained his heart. This unfortunate resolve not only left him without a comforter in his time of trouble, a counsellor in his moments of doubt and indecision, a companion in his hours of solitude and thought, a friend in his moments of higher aspirations or deeper despondencies,—it tinged all his feelings with repining melancholy - produced a longing after fame which he lacked the resolution to achieve;-and the beauties he had called into existence out of a barren waste lost more than half their attractions, because he was without the ONE to talk with of their beauty, and by whom to hear their beauty praised. He created a paradise-and beheld from it the prospect of a jail. Dr. Johnson emphatically says of him-" he was a lamp that spent its oil in blazing"-and he adds a melancholy comment-" If he had lived a little longer, he would have been In every village mark'd with little spire, For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are sorely shent. And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree, Which Learning near her little dome did stowe; Whilom a twig of small regard to see, elegantly formed; his face seemed plain till you conversed with him, and then it grew very pleasing. In his disposition he was easy, generous and indolent; of a melancholy temperament, yet, at times, humorous and sprightly. One of the warmest eulogists of his planted Paradise has likened it to his mind-simple, elegant, and amiable. As a Poet, his merit has been long established. His productions, if they are deficient in vigour and variety, are full of simplicity, delicacy, and pathos. "The Schoolmistress" is, perhaps, the most popular; but among his Pastorals there are many of exceeding elegance; and although they have been often "mocked at" as simple almost to absurdity, they speak to the heart and the affections, and are dear to both. We have abundant proof that the emotions of Shenstone, as we find them in his verse, were real; besides his own assertion, that he "felt very sensibly the affections he communicates," they bear the stamp of truth; and some passages of his life are the witnesses of it. He wooed and might have won; but prudence-unhappily, for it left him without an object of excitement to industry and exertion-forbade his allying to "poetry and poverty" the woman who had gained his heart. This unfortunate resolve not only left him without a comforter in his time of trouble, a counsellor in his moments of doubt and indecision, a companion in his hours of solitude and thought, a friend in his moments of higher aspirations or deeper despondencies,-it tinged all his feelings with repining melancholy-produced a longing after fame which he lacked the resolution to achieve ;-and the beauties he had called into existence out of a barren waste lost more than half their attractions, because he was without the ONE to talk with of their beauty, and by whom to hear their beauty praised. He created a paradise-and beheld from it the prospect of a jail. Dr. Johnson emphatically says of him-" he was a lamp that spent its oil in blazing"-and he adds a melancholy comment-" If he had lived a little longer, he would have been |