"BE MAN'S HARD VIRTUES HIGHLY WROUGHT, BUT LET MY GENTLE MISTRESS BE-(PATMORE) SUCH PERFECT FRIENDS ARE TRUTH AND LOVE-(PATMORE) For many an end; and others, wise, "Would that I might the kernel spy!" And so within that busy round I brake and came to calmer ground. 66 The lip of scorn might well be curled An inner circle still I reached, By which," cried he, "the world defies [From "Tamerton Church Tower, and Other Studies."] THAT NEITHER LOVES WHERE BOTH ARE NOT."-PATMORE. IN EVERY LOOK, WORD, DEED, AND THOUGHT, NOTHING BUT SWEET AND WOMANLY!"-PATMORE. 338 SWEET ARE THE LINKS THAT BIND US TO OUR KIND, WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. Winthrop Mackworth Praed. [PRAED's poetry, or Vers de Société, is brilliant, fluent, and vigorous, with many happy touches, and a fascinating air of easy grace; but the poet never soars into any very lofty region, or strings his lyre to any very passionate strains. The gems are carefully polished and richly set; but they are not "orient pearls," much less diamonds or rubies. A writer in the Quarterly Review very justly says of Praed's poetical effusions, that 'throughout they exhibit a remarkable fluency of language and quickness in verse, with many strokes of truthful observation; yet the effect of his longer poems is wearisome. Even the bright and abundant fancy with which he has been properly credited does not conceal from us that, when attempting to deal with chivalrous themes, or stories of medieval romance and passion, Praed rarely rises above an ingenious but mechanical reproduction of the thoughts of stronger men. The materials are put together neatly enough; but there is no poetical fusion into a whole, no sign of creative fire,-much glitter, but little warmth." Winthrop Mackworth Praed was born in 1802, and died in 1839. He enjoyed for some years a seat in Parliament; and in 1835 was Secretary to the Board of Control. His premature death cut short a career of great promise.] "I THINK THAT LOVE IS LIKE A PLAY, WHERE TEARS AND SMILES ARE BLENDED; OR LIKE A FAITHLESS APRIL DAY, WHOSE SHINE WITH SHOWER IS ENDED."-PRAED. SKETCH OF A YOUNG LADY FIVE MONTHS OLD. IN Y pretty, budding, breathing flower, Methinks, if I to-morrow Could manage, just for half an hour, I might immortalize a few Which Time, while yet they all are new, I'd paint, my child, your deep blue eyes, The fringe of long dark lashes; MEEK, BUT UNYIELDING,-felt, but undefined.”—PRAED. 66 SWEET IS THE LOVE OF BRETHREN, SWEET THE JOY SKETCH OF A YOUNG LADY FIVE MONTHS OLD. 339 I'd draw with most fastidious care The forehead of your mother. I'd oft retouch the dimpled cheek Where health in sunshine dances; "I THINK POOR BEGGARS COURT ST. GILES, RICH BEGGARS COURT ST. STEPHEN,-(PRAED) ["I'd paint, my child, your deep blue eyes."] Nor less on those twin rounded arms Nor less upon the rosy charms Of every tiny finger; OF A YOUNG MOTHER IN HER CRADLED TOY."-PRAED AND DEATH LOOKS DOWN WITH NODS AND SMILES, AND MAKES THE ODDS ALL EVEN."-PRAED. "HOW SILENTLY THE BREEZE MOVES ON, FLUTTERS, AND WHISPERS, AND IS GONE! 340 "SWEET IS CHILDHOOD'S DEEP AND EARNEST GLOW-(PRAED) WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. Nor slight the small feet, little one, That, though they neither walk nor run, Your murmur of petition, Here were a puzzling toil, indeed, To note your transformations, Hereafter, when revolving years Have made you tall and twenty, And brought you blended hopes and fears, May those who watch our little saint Feel all her virtues hard to paint, As we now deem her beauties. ["If this very graceful child's portrait be not equal to Reynolds in his tender intensity, or Gainsborough in his exquisite naturalness, it is worthy to rank with the best of those charmingly-coquettish infants whom Lawrence once painted. The last lines especially exhibit what is very rare in Praed-an epigrammatic point in which humour is united with beauty."— Quarterly Review, No. ccxxxvi.] OF REVERENCE FOR A FATHER'S HEAD OF SNOW."-PRAED. HOW CALMLY DOES THE QUIET SKY SLEEP IN ITS COLD SERENITY!"-w. M. PRAED. "OH! SWEET WERE THOSE UNTUTORED YEARS, THEIR JOYS AND PAINS, THEIR HOPES AND FEARS; "HE OPENS WIDE THE EVERLASTING WORD,-(WINTHROP M. PRAED) QUINCE. 341 N QUINCE. EAR a small village in the West, Where many very worthy people Eat, drink, play whist, and do their best A tenement of brick and plaster, My good friend Quince was lord and master. Welcome was he in hut and hall, To maids and matrons, peers and peasants; By making puns; and making presents. He kept his counsel, and his carriage, And shrunk from Chancery suits-and marriage. Sound was his claret-and his head; That he was faultless in his dealings: Asylums, hospitals and schools, He used to swear, were made to cozen; AND BIDS THE SOUL DRINK DEEP OF WISDOM THERE!"-PRAED. THERE WAS A PLEASURE IN THEM ALL, WHICH WE MAY TASTE, BUT NOT RECALL."-W. M. PRAED. |