The Farmer's Boy: A Rural Poem Part 7

Whilst thus the loit'rer's utmost stretch of soul Climbs the still clouds, or pa.s.ses those that roll, And loos'd _Imagination_ soaring goes High o'er his home, and all his little woes, TIME glides away; neglected Duty calls: At once from plains of light to earth he falls, And down a narrow lane, well known by day, With all his speed pursues his sounding way, In thought still half absorb'd, and chill'd with cold; When, lo! an object frightful to behold; A grisly SPECTRE, cloth'd in silver-gray, Around whose feet the waving shadows play, Stands in his path!... He stops, and not a breath Heaves from his heart, that sinks almost to death.

Loud the owl halloos o'er his head unseen; All else is silent, dismally serene: Some prompt e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, whisper'd low, Yet bears him up against the threat'ning foe; And thus poor Giles, though half inclin'd to fly, Mutters his doubts, and strains his stedfast eye.

''Tis not my crimes thou com'st here to reprove; 'No murders stain my soul, no perjur'd love: 'If thou'rt indeed what here thou seem'st to be, 'Thy dreadful mission cannot reach to me.

'By parents taught still to mistrust mine eyes, 'Still to approach each object of surprise 'Lest Fancy's formful visions should deceive 'In moon-light paths, or glooms of falling eve, 'This then's the moment when my heart should try 'To scan thy motionless deformity; 'But oh, the fearful task! yet well I know 'An aged ash, with many a spreading bough, '(Beneath whose leaves I've found a Summer's bow'r, 'Beneath whose trunk I've weather'd many a show'r,) 'Stands singly down this solitary way, 'But far beyond where now my footsteps stay.

'Tis true, thus far I've come with heedless haste; 'No reck'ning kept, no pa.s.sing objects trac'd:...

'And can I then have reach'd that very tree?

'Or is its reverend form a.s.sum'd by thee?'

The happy thought alleviates his pain: He creeps another step; then stops again; Till slowly, as his noiseless feet draw near, Its perfect lineaments at once appear; Its crown of s.h.i.+v'ring ivy whispering peace, And its white bark that fronts the moon's pale face.

Now, whilst his blood mounts upward, now he knows The solid gain that from conviction flows; And strengthen'd Confidence shall hence fulfill (With conscious Innocence more valued still) The dreariest task that winter nights can bring, By church-yard dark, or grove, or fairy ring; Still buoying up the timid mind of youth, Till loit'ring Reason hoists the scale of Truth.

With these blest guardians _Giles_ his course pursues, Till numbering his heavy-sided ewes, Surrounding stillness tranquilize his breast, And shape the dreams that wait his hours of rest.

As when retreating tempests we behold, Whose skirts at length the azure sky unfold, And full of murmurings and mingled wrath, Slowly unshroud the smiling face of earth, Bringing the bosom joy: so WINTER flies!...

And see the Source of Life and Light uprise!

A height'ning arch o'er southern hills he bends; Warm on the cheek the slanting beam descends, And gives the reeking mead a brighter hue, And draws the modest _primrose_ bud to view.

Yet frosts succeed, and winds impetuous rush, And hail-storms rattle thro' the budding bush; And night-fall'n LAMBS require the shepherd's care, And teeming EWES, that still their burdens bear; Beneath whose sides tomorrow's dawn may see The milk-white strangers bow the trembling knee; At whose first birth the pow'rful instinct's seen That fills with champions the daisied green: For ewes that stood aloof with fearful eye, With stamping foot now men and dogs defy, And obstinately faithful to their young, Guard their first steps to join the bleating throng.

But casualties and death from damps and cold Will still attend the well-conducted fold: Her tender offspring dead, the dam aloud Calls, and runs wild amidst the unconscious crowd: And orphan'd sucklings raise the piteous cry; No wool to warm them, no defenders nigh.

And must her streaming milk then flow in vain?

Must unregarded innocence complain?

No;... ere this strong solicitude subside, Maternal fondness may be fresh apply'd, And the adopted stripling still may find A parent most a.s.siduously kind.

For this he's doom'd awhile disguis'd to range, (For fraud or force must work the wish'd-for change;) For this his predecessor's skin he wears, Till cheated into tenderness and cares, The unsuspecting dam, contented grown, Cherish and guard the fondling as her own.

Thus all by turns to fair perfection rise; Thus twins are parted to increase their size: Thus instinct yields as interest points the way, Till the bright flock, augmenting every day, On sunny hills and vales of springing flow'rs With ceaseless clamour greet the vernal hours.

The humbler _Shepherd_ here with joy beholds The approv'd economy of crowded folds, And, in his small contracted round of cares, Adjusts the practice of each hint he hears: For Boys with emulation learn to glow, And boast their pastures, and their healthful show Of well-grown Lambs, the glory of the Spring; And field to field in compet.i.tion bring.

E'en GILES, for all his cares and watchings past, And all his contests with the wintry blast, Claims a full share of that sweet praise bestow'd By gazing neighbours, when along the road, Or village green, his curly-coated throng Suspends the chorus of the spinner's song; When Admiration's unaffected grace Lisps from the tongue, and beams in every face: Delightful moments!... Suns.h.i.+ne, Health, and Joy, Play round, and cheer the elevated Boy!

'_Another_ SPRING!' his heart exulting cries; '_Another_ YEAR! with promis'd blessings rise!...

'ETERNAL POWER! from whom those blessings flow, 'Teach me still more to wonder, more to know: '_Seed-time_ and _Harvest_ let me see again; 'Wander the _leaf-strewn_ wood, _frozen_ plain: 'Let the first Flower, corn-waving Field, Plain, Tree, 'Here round my home, still lift my soul to THEE; 'And let me ever, midst thy bounties, raise 'An humble note of thankfulness and praise!'--

APRIL 22, 1798.

NOTES

_A fav'rite morsel with the Rook, &c._ P. 9, l. 104.

In these verses, which have much of picturesque, there is a severe charge against _Rooks and Crows_, as very formidable depredators; and their destruction, as such, seems to be recommended. Such was the prevalent opinion some years back. It is less general now: and I am sure the humanity of the Author, and his benevolence to Animals in general, will dispose him to rejoice in whatever plea can be offered in stay of execution of this sentence. And yet more so, if it shall appear that ROOKS, at least, deserve not only mercy, but _protection_ and _encouragement_ from the Farmer.

I shall quote a pa.s.sage from BEWICK'S interesting HISTORY of BIRDS: the narrative part of which is often as full of information as the embellishments cut in wood are beautiful.... It is this.

Speaking of Birds of the PIE-KIND in general, he says "Birds of this kind [Footnote: P. 63] are found in every part of the known world, from Greenland to the Cape of Good Hope. In many respects they may be said to be of singular benefit to mankind: princ.i.p.ally by destroying great quant.i.ties of noxious insects, worms, and reptiles. ROOKS, in particular, are fond of the erucae of the _hedge-chaffer_, or chesnut _brown beetle_: for which they search with indefatigable pains. These insects," he adds in a note, "appear in hot weather in formidable numbers: disrobing the fields and trees of their verdure, blossoms, and fruit; spreading desolation and destruction wherever they go.... They appeared in great numbers in IRELAND during a hot summer, and committed great ravages. In the year 1747 whole meadows and corn-fields were destroyed by them in SUFFOLK. The decrease of Rookeries in that County was thought to be the occasion of it. The many Rookeries with us is in some measure the reason why we have so few of these destructive animals."[Footnote: Wallis's History of Northumberland.]

"Rooks," he subjoins, "are often accus'd of feeding on the corn just after it has been sown, and various contrivances have been made both to kill and frighten them away; but, in our estimation, the advantages deriv'd from the destruction which they make among grubs, earth-worms, and noxious insects of various kinds, will greatly overpay the injury done to the future harvest by the small quant.i.ty of corn they may destroy in searching after their favourite food." [Footnote: Mr. Bewick does not seem to have been quite aware that much of this mischief, as I have been informed by a sensible neighboring Farmer and Tenant, is done in the grub-state of the chaffer by biting through the _roots_ of gra.s.s, &c. A latent, and imperceptibly, but rapidly spreading mischief, against which the _rooks_ and birds of similar instinct are, in a manner, the sole protection. C.

L.]

"In general they are sagacious, active, and faithful to each other. They live in pairs; and their mutual attachment is constant. They are a clamorous race: mostly build in trees, and form a kind of society in which there appears something like a regular government. A Centinel watches for the general safety, and gives notice on the appearance of danger."

Under the t.i.tle, "ROOKS," (p. 71) Mr. BEWICK repeats his observations on the useful property of this Bird.

I confess myself solicitous for their safety and kind treatment.

We have two which were lam'd by being blown down in a storm (a calamity which destroys great numbers almost every spring). One of them is perfectly domesticated. The other is yet more remarkable; since although enjoying his natural liberty completely, he recognizes, even in his flights at a distance from the house, his adoptive home, his human friends, and early protectors.

The ROOK is certainly a very beautiful and very sensible Bird; very confiding, and very much attach'd. It will give me a pleasure, in which I doubt not that the Author of this delightful Poem will partake, if any thing here said shall avail them with the Farmer; and especially with the SUFFOLK FARMER.

C. L.

_Destroys life's intercourse; the social plan._ P. 46, l. 341.

"Allowing for the imperfect state of sublunary happiness, which is comparative at best, there are not, perhaps, many nations existing whose situation is so desirable; where the means of subsistence are so easy, and the wants of the people so few. The evident distinction of ranks, which subsists at _Otaheite_, does not so materially affect the felicity of the nation as we might have supposed. The simplicity of their whole life contributes to soften the appearance of distinctions, and to reduce them to a level. Where the climate and the custom of the country do not absolutely require a perfec: garment; where it is easy at every step to gather as many plants as form not only a decent, but likewise a customary covering; and where all the necessaries of life are within the reach of every individual, at the expence of a trifling labour; ambition and envy must in a great measure be unknown. It is true, the highest cla.s.ses of people possess some dainty articles, such as pork, fish, fowl, and cloth, almost exclusively; but the desire of indulging the appet.i.te in a few trifling luxuries can at most render individuals, and not whole nations, unhappy. Absolute want occasions the miseries of the lower cla.s.s in some civiliz'd states, and is the result of the unbounded voluptuousness of their superiors. At _Otaheite_ there is not, in general, that disparity between the highest and the meanest man, that subsists in England between a reputable tradesman and a labourer. The affection of the Otaheitans for their chiefs, which they never fail'd to express upon all occasions, gave us great reason to suppose that they consider themselves as one family, and respect their eldest borm in the persons of their chiefs. The lowest man in the nation speaks as freely with his king as with his equal, and has the pleasure of seeing him as often as he likes. The king, at times, amuses himself with the occupations of his subjects; and not yet deprav'd by false notions of empty state, he often paddles his own canoe, without considering such an employment derogatory to his dignity. How long such an happy equality may last is uncertain: and how much the introduction of foreign luxuries may hasten its dissolution cannot be too frequently repeated to Europeans. If the knowledge of a few individuals can only be acquired at such a price as the happiness of nations, it were better for the discoverers and the discovered that the _South Sea_ had still remain'd unknown to _Europe_ and its restless inhabitants."

REFLECTIONS ON OTAHEITE: Cook's second Voyage.

APPENDIX

When the FIRST EDITION of this POEM appear'd in March last, I intimated a design of accompanying it with some CEITICAL REMARKS. With that design various Engagements have since greatly interfer'd. From one of the most laborious and constant of those, that of the office of a Justice of the Peace for the County of Suffolk, I am now discharg'd. Why those who are in power have done this, they have not explain'd: and it being an office from which any one who holds it is removable at _pleasure_, they are not call'd to explain. Had it been for Crime or Misconduct as a Magistrate, of course Trial and Conviction should have preceded my Removal. As it is, I feel, as I have publicly declar'd, no shame in the removal. I have held an office honorable because extensively useful; because unprofitable and burthensome to the individual; because independently and conscientiously exercis'd, with a devotion, such as it requir'd, of my time, my thoughts, and my best faculties, daily to its discharge. My Collegues,--and they are and have been, during a course of seventeen years, those of them who now act, and those who are dead or absent, men with whom to have acted was indeed satisfactory and pleasant,--my late Collegues part with me, and I with them, regrettingly. Our reciprocal Esteem is not lessen'd by this abruption of our official intercourse. And as every man who feels what Society is, ought to determine to be serviceable to the Public, my removal from this office neither weakens the determination, nor probably will be found to have impair'd the means of effecting it. I am therefore well content;--as I ought to be. I sought not the office. I have never sought any. It solicited my acceptance; unask'd and unexpected. I owe my appointment to the Duke of GRAFTON, very soon after I came to reside in this County. He was then _Lord Lieutenant_. I have not yielded that appointment to disgust; though there were those who were not sparing in their endeavours to disgust me with it: I have not relinquished it to suit my convenience; though in times like these an office of no little expence, and which shut me out from sources of professional emolument, was to me certainly not convenient: I have not consulted my ease or health by a voluntary retirement. I am remov'd, I am superseded, I am struck out from an office of incredible and hourly increasing anxiety. Circ.u.mstances like this are not new. They have repeatedly taken place in relation to very high offices; and the Public remembers men to whom they have happen'd whose internal dignity and worth is above any official dignity. Had I felt that I _merited_ to be remov'd, I should not have thought myself a fit Editor of the FARMER'S BOY; a Poem which breathes every where modest independence, benevolence, innocence, and virtue. As it is, I think myself no way less fit than ever for any laudable and becoming employ. And I have accordingly announc'd my intention of resuming my profession as a BARRISTER. In the mean time, the leisure which has thus been thrown to me may properly and usefully be devoted to the Remarks which I had before meditated; and for which I had in some measure pledg'd myself to the PUBLIC.

The FIRST of these will naturally be that which relates to the _manner_ and circ.u.mstances of the Composition. There is such proof in it of Genius disregarding difficulty, and of powers of retention and arrangement, that it will be believ'd I could not overpa.s.s it: and that it would have been stated at the first if it had been then in my power to state it.

I now lay it before the Public in the words of Mr. SWAN: who in a Letter address'd to me in _The Ladies Museum_ of this Month, after congratulating me on my "successful efforts," (and with such a Production to propose to public Attention how could they be unsuccessful?) "in rescuing from oblivion a Poem, which for the harmony of its numbers, the beauty of its imagery, originality of thought, elegance and chasteness of diction, (every circ.u.mstance consider'd,) stands unrivall'd in the Annals of English Literature, and will descend to Posterity with increasing celebrity," states the _motive_ on which he writes: (a motive well meriting a Letter and a public statement:) "to throw light upon the manner of the composition of the Farmer's Boy; which appears to him (and most justly) no inconsiderable addition to the well-earn'd laurels of the Author."

For the pleasure of the view which it includes of the character and manners of Mr. BLOOMFIELD, I shall, with the Author of this interesting Letter, go beyond the mere fact; and give his narration of the cause and manner of the _Discovery_, as well at the Discovery itself.

Mr. SWAN thus expresses himself:

"From the pleasure I receiv'd in reading the FARMER'S BOY, and from some strange coincidences in the early part of Mr. Bloomfield's life with my own, I was naturally enough anxious to become acquainted with the Author.

For this purpose I obtain'd his address, and found him ... the modest, the unambitious person you describe; wondering at the praise and admiration with which his Poem has been receiv'd; whose utmost ambition was to have presented a fair copy to his aged Mother, as a pledge of filial affection, and a picture of his juvenile avocations. So unexpected was the fame of his production, that the whole of his good fortune appears to him as a dream."--'I had no more idea,' says he, 'to be sent for by the Duke of Grafton, and be so kindly and generously treated, than of the hour I shall die.'

"I gave him," Mr. SWAN continues, "my card of address, an invitation to my house, and a sincere profession of friends.h.i.+p; if, among his numerous admirers, and n.o.ble and royal patrons, the latter was worthy of acceptance."

"Last Sunday afternoon [Footnote: The Letter is dated 12 July, 1800.] I was highly pleas'd with his company, and gratified and entertain'd with his conversation.--Sir, he is all ... nay, more than you have describ'd."

"Among other subjects of conversation respecting the _Farmer's Boy_, I wish'd to be inform'd of his manner of composition. I enquir'd, as he compos'd it in a garret, amid the bustle and noise of six or seven fellow workmen, whether he us'd a slate; or wrote it on paper with a pencil, or pen and ink. But what was my surprize when told that he had us'd neither.--My business, during the greatest part of my life having led me into the line of litterary pursuits, and made me acquainted with litterary men, I am, consequently, pretty well inform'd of the methods us'd by authors for the retention of their productions. We are told, if my recollection is just, that Milton took his Daughters as his amanuenses; that Savage, when his poverty precluded him the conveniency of pen, ink, and paper, us'd to study in the streets, and go into shops to record the productions of his fertile genius; that Pope, when on visits at Lord Bolingbroke's, us'd to ring up the servants at any hour in the night for pen and ink, to write any thought that struck his lively and wakeful imagination; that Dr. Blacklock, though blind, had the happy faculty of writing down, in a very legible hand, the chaste and elegant productions of his Muse."

"With these and many other methods of composition we are acquainted; but that of a great part of _the Farmer's Boy_ stands, in my opinion, first on the List of Litterary [Footnote: I have ventur'd to restore litterary to that mode of spelling, with the double _t_, which the a.n.a.logy of our language seems to require. L.] Phaenomena.--Sir, Mr. Bloomfield, either from the contracted state of his pecuniary resources to purchase Paper, or from other reasons, compos'd the latter part of his _Autumn_ and the whole of his _Winter_ in his head, without committing one line to paper.--This cannot fail to surprize the Litterary World: who are well acquainted with the treacherousness of memory, and how soon the most happy ideas, for want of sufficient quickness in noting down, are lost in the rapidity of thought."

"But this is not all.--He went still a step farther.--He not only compos'd and committed that part of the work to his retentive memory, but he corrected it all in his head. And, as he said, when it was thus prepar'd,... _I had nothing to do but to write it down_."

"By this new and wonderful mode of composition he studied and completed his Farmer's Boy in a garret; among six or seven workmen, without their ever suspecting any thing of the matter."

"Sir, this to me was both new and wonderful: and induc'd me rather to communicate the information to you through the medium of the Press than by writing; that it may meet the eye of many, who will be equally struck and pleas'd with the novelty of the idea as myself."