Thomas Campbell. ON PARODIES OF POPULAR SONGS. Songs by Henry Carey, A. Bunn, J. H. Payne, Songs by R. Herrick, T. H. Baily, and Lewis Songs by C. and T. Dibdin, T. Campbell, and The Bilious Beadle, The Old English Gentle- man, Rule Britannia, and God Save the Songs in W. S. Gilbert's Comic Operas. Parodies of various old Songs and Ballads. "THERE is no talent so universally entertaining as that of mimickry, even when it is confined to the lively imitation of the air, manner, and external deportment of ordinary individuals. It rises in interest, however, and in dignity, when it succeeds in expressing, not merely the visible and external characteristics of its objects, but those also of their taste, their genius and temper. A vulgar mimic repeats a man's known stories, with an exact imitation of his voice and gestures; but he is an artist of a far higher description, who can make stories or reasonings in his manner, and represent the features and movements of his mind, as well as the accidents of his body. The same distinction applies to the mimickry, if it may be so called, of an author's style and manner of writing. It is another matter, however, to be able to borrow the diction and manner of a celebrated writer to express sentiments like his own-to write as he would have written on the subject proposed to his imitator-to think his thoughts in short, as well as to use his words-and to make the revival of his style appear a natural consequence of the strong conception of his peculiar ideas. To do this in all the perfection of which it is capable, requires talents, perhaps, not inferior to those of the original on whom they are employed-together with a faculty of observation, and a dexterity of application, which that original might not always possess ; and should not only afford nearly as great pleasure to the reader, as a piece of composition, - but may teach him some lessons, or open up to him some views, which could not have been otherwise disclosed. The exact imitation of a good thing, it must be admitted, promises fair to be a pretty good thing in itself; but if the resemblance be very striking, it commonly has the additional advantage of letting us more completely into the secret of the original author, and enabling us to understand far more clearly in what the peculiarity of his manner consists, than most of us should ever have done without this assistance. The resemblance, it is obvious, can only be rendered striking by exaggerating a little, and bringing more conspicuously forward, all that is peculiar and characteristic in the model." LORD JEFFREY on The Rejected Addresses. THOMAS GRAY. Born in Cornhill, London, December 26, 1716. Died in Cambridge, July 30, 1771. THE ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD was commenced by Gray in 1742, at the age of 34; it was then laid aside, to be taken up again after the death of his aunt, Mary Antrobus, in 1749. Stoke-Poges Churchyard, where this lady was buried, is the generally accepted scene of the poem, and there the poet was himself afterwards laid to rest. The "Elegy" was completed at Stoke in June, 1750, a copy, in MS., was sent immediately by Gray to his friend Horace Walpole, and another to Dr. Wharton of Durham, which latter is now in the library of the British Museum. Another MS. is in the library of Pembroke College, Cambridge, but which was really the original MS. cannot be definitely ascertained, as Gray sent out several other copies to his friends. Hence the difficulty there is now in deciding upon the particular version of the "Elegy" which received the last finishing touches of the author, who was known to be most fastidious in the diction, and punctuation of his poems. On the 12th June, 1750, Gray announced to Walpole that "a thing," whose beginning he had seen long before, had at last got an end to it, "a merit," he added, "that most This of my writings have wanted and are like to want." "thing" was the "Elegy." Walpole showed it about, copies were taken, and early in 1751 Gray received a letter from the editors of the "Magazine of Magazines" informing him that his "ingenious poem" was in the press, and begging not only his indulgence, but the honour of his correspondence. "I am not at all disposed," wrote Gray, "to be either so indulgent or so correspondent as they desire." Gray had not intended to publish the poem, but annoyed at the unscrupulous action of the proprietors of the 'Magazine of Magazines," he determined to forestall them if possible, and requested Walpole to get the "Elegy" printed, without the author's name. "in what form is most convenient to the printer, but on his best paper and character; he must correct the press himself, and print it without any intervals between the stanzas, because the sense is in some places continued beyond them." Accordingly, on the 16th of February, 1751, five days after this letter was written, the first edition was printed and published by Robert Dodsley of Pall Mall. In this hasty manner, and without the author's corrections, was issued from the press one of the most popular poems in the English language. It also appeared in The Magazine of Magazines (London) for February, 1751, where it was introduced as having been composed by the very ingenious Mr. Gray, of Peterhouse, Cambridge.' In this it was entitled, Stanzas written in a Country Churchyard, although it was entered in the Index as An Elegy made in a Country Churchyard. This was more modern in its orthography, and contained several variations from the authorised edition published by Dodsley. There can be little doubt but that this pirated version of the "Elegy" was at first generally preferred to Gray's authorised edition, in which there were some very obvious errors, due to its hasty production. Certain it is that all subsequent editions far more nearly resembled the pirated version, than that printed by Dodsley at Gray's request. 1 THE Curfeu tolls the Knell of parting Day, The lowing Herd winds slowly o'er the Lea, The Plow-man homeward plods his weary Way, And leaves the World to Darkness, and to me. 2 Now fades the glimmering Landscape on the Sight, And all the Air a solemn Stillness holds, Save where the Beetle wheels his droning Flight, And drowsy Tinklings lull the distant Folds. Save that from yonder Ivy-mantled Tow'r, The moping Owl does to the Moon complain Of such, as wand'ring near her secret Bow'r, Molest her ancient solitary Reign. Beneath those rugged Elms, that Yew-Tree's shade, Where heaves the Turf in many a mould'ring Heap, Each in his narrow Cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the Hamlet sleep. 5 The breezy Call of Incense-breathing Morn, The Swallow twitt'ring from the Straw-built Shed, The Cock's shrill Clarion, or the ecchoing Horn, No more shall wake them from their lowly Bed. • For them no more the blazing Hearth shall burn, Or busy Houswife ply her Evening-Care: No Children run to lisp their Sire's Return, Or climb his Knees the envied Kiss to share. Oft did the Harvest to their Sickle yield, Their Furrow oft the stubborn Glebe has broke: How jocund did they drive their Team afield! How bow'd the Woods beneath their sturdy Stroke! • Let not Ambition mock their useful Toil, Their homely Joys and Destiny obscure; The Paths of Glory lead but to the Grave. 10 Forgive, ye Proud, th' involuntary Fault If Memory to these no Trophies raise, Where thro' the long-drawn Isle and fretted Vault 11 Can storied Urn or animated Bust Back to its Mansion call the fleeting Breath? 12 Perhaps in this neglected Spot is laid Some Heart once pregnant with celestial Fire; Hands that the Reins of Empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to Extacy the living Lyre. 1. Curfew in later editions. The Curfeu tolls the knell of parting day. Che paia 'l giorno pianger, che si muore. Dante, Purgat. 1. 8. 2. This verse seems to have strong features of similarity with the following in Collins's" Ode to Evening:" Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-ey'd bat "With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, "Or where the beetle winds "His small but sullen horn." 10. Another version reads; Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise. 11. Burns borrowed an idea from this verse in his epitaph on the monument to Robert Fergusson, the poet : No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way 13 But Knowledge to their Eyes her ample Page The dark unfathom'd Caves of Ocean bear : And waste its Sweetness on the desart Air. Some Cromwell, guiltless of his Country's Blood. And read their Hist'ry in a Nation's Eyes 17Their Lot forbad: nor circumscrib'd alone Their growing Virtues, but their Crimes confin'd; 18 The struggling Pangs of conscious Truth to hide, With uncouth Rhimes and shapeless Sculpture deck'd, 21 Their Name, their Years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, 14. This beautiful comparison of the Gem and the Flower seems borrowed (but with added force and elegance) from Dr. Young: -Such blessings Nature pours, 15. Mr. Edwards (author of the Canons of Criticism), who, though an old bachelor, like Mr. Gray, was far more attentive to the fair sex, endeavoured to supply what he thought a defect in this Poem, by introducing after this the two following stanzas: Some lovely fair, whose unaffected charms And virtue cast a lustre on the throne: That humble beauty warm'd an honest heart, That virtue form'd, for every decent part, The healthy offspring that adorn'd their house. 18. After this verse, in Mr. Gray's first MS. of the Poem, were the four following: The thoughtless world to Majesty may bow, And thou who, mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead, To wander in the gloomy walks of fate: In still small accents whispering from the ground, No more, with reason and thyself at strife, And here the Poem was originally intended to conclude, before the happy idea of the hoary-headed Swain, &c. suggested itself to him. 22 For who to dumb Forgetfulness a Prey, This pleasing anxious Being e'er resign'd, Left the warm Precincts of the chearful Day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring Look behind! 23 On some fond Breast the parting Soul relies, Some pious Drops the closing Eye requires; Ev'n from the Tomb the Voice of Nature cries Ev'n in our Ashes live their wonted Fires. 24 For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd Dead, Dost in these Lines their artless Tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some hidden Spirit shall enquire thy Fate, 25 Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say, "Oft have we seen him at the Peep of Dawn Brushing with hasty Steps the Dews away, "To meet the Sun upon the upland Lawn, 26" There at the Foot of yonder nodding Beech, "That wreathes its old fantastic Roots so high, "His listless Length at Noontide wou'd he stretch, "And pore upon the Brook that babbles by. 27" Hard by yon Wood, row frowning as in Scorn, Mutt'ring his wayward Fancies he wou'd rove; "Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn, 86 "Or craz'd with Care, or cross'd in hopeless Love. 28" One Morn I miss'd him on the custom'd Hill, Along the Heath, and near his fav'rite Tree; "Another came; nor yet beside the Rill, 66 "Nor up the Lawn, nor at the Wood was he; 2. The next with Dirges due in sad Array 66 "Slow thro' the Church-way Path we saw him born. 'Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the Lay, "Grav'd on the Stone beneath yon aged Thorn." 25. In the M.S. copy of the Elegy bequeathed by Gray to his friend Mason which is now in the possession of Sir William Fraser, Bart., the last two lines of this stanza read : With hasty footsteps brush the dews away On the high brow of yonder hanging lawn. After this stanza in the same manuscript there was the following:- While o'er the heath we hied, our labour's done, "I rather wonder (says Mr. Mason) that he rejected this stanza, as it completes the account of his whole day; whereas, this Evening scene being omitted, we have only his Morning walk, and his Noontide repose. 29. Before the Epitaph, Mr. Gray originally inserted a very beautiful stanza, which was printed in some of the first editions, but afterwards omitted, because he thought that it was too long a parenthesis in this place. The lines however are, in themselves, exquisitely fine, and demand preservation. There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the Year, To some readers they may appear to be an imitation of the following in Collins's "Dirge in Cymbeline:" "The female fays shall haunt the green, "Shall kindly lend his little aid, Large was his Bounty, and his Soul sincere, He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a Tear: He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a Friend. No farther seek his Merits to disclose, Or draw his Frailties from their dread Abode, (There they alike in trembling Hope repose,) The Bosom of his Father and his God. FINIS. :0: Notwithstanding the want of originality in some detached passages of this "Elegy," and the obvious truisms of many of its ideas, it is doubtless the finest poem of its kind in the language, not even excepting the beautiful, and perhaps more pathetic, "Elegy on the Death of Sir John Moore." The best proof of its popularity is to be found in the immense number of Parodies, Imitations, and Translations to which it has given rise. In dealing with the Parodies the chief difficulty has been to decide which were worthy of preservation. To reprint all the Parodies, in full, is out of the question, yet the omission of any important or noteworthy example would destroy the utility of this Collection as a work of reference, especially in the eyes of the numerous admirers of Thomas Gray. To readers not having access to either of our great public libraries it is the earlier parodies which are the most difficult to refer to, these will therefore be inserted complete, though it must be admitted that the first half dozen will be found rather heavy reading. These will be followed by selections from the most amusing modern parodies, and a few of the best imitations and translations. The earliest parody I can trace of Gray's "Elegy" is one entitled AN EVENING CONTEMPLATION IN A COLLEGE. Being a Parody on the ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. Printed for R. and J. Dodsley in Pall-mall; and Sold ADVERTISEMENT. THE Author of the excellent POEM on which the following PARODY is built, it is hop'd will forgive this innocent Play upon it; which a sincere admiration of its beauties invited the Parodist to attempt: and if it should be thought there is any merit in this Imitation, it must be attributed in a great measure to his working after so fine an Original. AN EVENING CONTEMPLATION IN A COLLEGE. THE Curfew tolls the hour of closing gates; With jarring sound the porter turns the key, Then in his dreary mansion slumb'ring waits, And slowly, sternly quits it-tho' for me. |