Miscellaneous poems

Front matter

JOHN BYROM. M.A. F.R.S. sui/autm-e. 'fc w,>* t'/v, "s/ry e?w 7?/<_*s/f/.,//r p-// $,-,>• - A //./raws/ Ar/ A/ffAeten^ /rente, nn Oreyrna/ ■Wf.'rA />./ /J. A',/../>r>/A.z/rt £so . ' Are /A? A.s_-es_-esin qftn—f&s WAi/Vs- Asy. x«j.. _-iA/.7'iAJt_.'w..(,j_*„. mju MISCELLANEOUS p © <_? m __. BY JOHN BYROM, M. A. F. R. S. SOME TIME FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, AND INVENTOR OF THE UNIVERSAL ENGLISH SHORT-HAND. TO WHICH ARE A.DDED HIS LIFE AND NOTES BY THE EDITOR. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LEEDS: Printed by and for James Nichols, AND SOLD IN LONDON, BY CRADOCK AND JOY, GALE, CURTIS AND FENNER, AND BAYNES; BY WILSON AND SON, YORK; J. CUMMING, DUBLIN; J. AND J- ROBERTSON, EDINBURGH; FORD, MANCHESTER; KAYE, LIVERPOOL; HARTLEY, ROCHDALE; TURNER, HULL; BLACKBURN, DARLINGTON; STANFIELD, BRADFORD; NICHOLSON, CAMBRIDGE; SUGDEN, HALIFAX; AND OTHER BOOKSELLERS. 1814. ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL.

Preface

. THE publication of the following sheets is in compliance with the request of many of Mr. Byrom's friends, who were much pleased with some of his poetical compositions, which had casually circulated in his life-time. Much might here be said of the author's learned and poetical talents; but it does not seem to be the business of an editor to endeavour to an ticipate the reader's judgment. By its own intrinsic worth, and the candid opinion of the public, the following work is left to stand or fall. A deference due to the public may, however, make it necessary to assure them, that the poems here presented, are the genuine production of Mr. Byrom. They are carefully tran scribed from his own manuscripts; but as many of them were written rather for private than for public perusal, it is hoped that all favourable allowance will be made for small inac curacies.

The reader may be surprized perhaps to find in these vo lumes so many learned and critical questions discussed in verse. This is indeed a singularity almost peculiar to our au thor; but he had so accustomed himself to the language of poetry, that he always found it the easiest way of expressing his sentiments upon all occasions. He himself used to give this reason to his friends for treating such subjects in so un common a method; and it is presumed, that, if they are not found deficient in other respects, the novelty of the manner will be rather a recommendation than otherwise.

PREFACE.

. IV At a time when party disputes are so happily subsided, it may seem to want an apology, that in the following collection, some few pieces are inserted, which appear to be tinctured with a party spirit. A small attention however will convince the warmest partizan, that what Mr. Byrom has written of this cast was intended to soften the asperity, and prevent the mischiefs of an over-heated zeal. Since this was the author's chief motive for writing, it is imagined no other apology will be necessary for the publication of such pieces. The great truths of Christianity had made, from his earliest years, a deep impression upon the author's mind; and as it was his manner to commit his sentiments, of every kind, to verse, so he had a peculiar pleasure in employing his pen upon serious subjects. To the purposes of instruction, and the interests of virtue, all his abilities were ever made subservient.

This will appear, more particularly, from the second volume of the following sheets, in which it was thought pro per to select such pieces as treat on subjects of a deeper and more important nature. The reader, it is not doubted, will be pleased to find that the author's natural talent for wit and humour, has so often given place to something more solid and substantial.

ADVERTISEMENT.

TO THIS EDITION. THE " Miscellaneous Poems" of the late Mr. Bi/rom had be come exceedingly scarce, and were in great request, when the editor of these volumes was induced to undertake a republication of them. Several of the author's humourous verses, by being inserted in different collections of poetry, are very popular and generally admired. But others of his productions, especially those on seri ous subjects, have never yet received the general attention which their excellence demands. Various have been the causes of this neglect. The impression of the first edition in 1 773, was but small; and its circulation was principally confined to the counties of Lancashire and Yorkshire. Very few of the poems were in tended for publication; they do not, therefore, possess that high and attractive polish which, under other circumstances, they might have been expected to exhibit.

But the chief reason why his seri ous pieces have not obtained the notice and publicity to which they are entitled, is the character of Mysticism, which, being with many persons another term for Heresy, has Operated to the prejudice of the author. He breathed too much piety for the age in which he lived;' and received the honourable appellation of Mystic, which was then bestowed on all who excelled nominal christians in spirituality of doctrine and purity of practice. ' This reproach was first taken up against him by lukewarm profess ors and infidel philosophers ; and has been propagated to this day from one writer to another, each of whom has known very little about that which they undertook to condemn. It cannot be denied that in an inconsiderable number of places, most of which are pointed out in this edition, may be discovered a leaning in him towards the opinions of Mystic authors; but these instances are so slight and infrequent, as scarcely to expose him to the charge of being one of their disciples.

There is a manly and nervous style employed in all his serious writings, which distinguishes them as the works of one who was capable of executing high designs. A great critic has said, that " the beautiful pastoral of Colin and " Phebe is sufficient to procure Mr. Byrom a reputation in poe " try." Another has made an equally strong assertion respecting the Verses on buying the picture of Father Malebranche at a sale. And every pious man will feel no hesitation in using a like ex pression concerning the beautiful Hymn to Jesus. b VI

ADVERTISEMENT.

. The editor has endeavoured, by adding notes in elucidation of obscure allusions, to render some facts more generally interesting or better understood. The translation of the several Latin, Greek, and Hebrew phrases which the poems contain, will, it is hoped, prove an acceptable service to persons who are ignorant of those languages. In some portions of the work, these phrases, besides having a place in the notes, occur in the poetical text ; and unless one knows their quantity and the right method of reading them, the harmony of the line is destroyed. For this reason, the pronunciation, in English characters, of every Hebrew and Greek word is inserted in the notes; and neither sound nor sense suffers any interruption. The critical observations on Homer, Horace, S(c_- have a translation; and are likewise so explained as to be intelligible to the English reader.

Respecting the former collection, and the pieces now added to it, the editor adopts the assurance of his predecessor, " that the " poems here presented are the genuine production of Mr. Byrom." In this edition are admitted a few verbal variations from the former one, which are so trifling as scarcely to cause a shade of difference in the meaning. Many of the verses which thus disagree,* were circulated while the author was living; it is therefore difficult in many cases to discern between his alterations and the emendations of other people. Thus Colin and Phebe, as it stands in the Spectator, varies in four or five places from the copy of it inserted in the first edition of this work. In the midst of such difference, only a small number, and they are those which appeared to be the most natural readings, have been adopted.

The portrait of Mr. Byrom which is prefixed to this volume, was procured through the kindness of that accomplished bibliogra pher, Mr. Ford, of Manchester. It is copied from the only like ness extant, which was taken by stealth and painted by the author's friend, the late D. Rasbotham, Esq. »The editor has felt dubious about one authority which hn« h«»n ,« ■ .... because some of the variations observable in ™Sem to tavf b^uS Sf.S8'7 foUowcd • avoutag curious and trite expressions- The prindpaUf itj__ ___ Ttee^d^:"16 tUIfOX °f Page 5. Tlie Derbyshire Peak, instead of The Diets Arse a' Peak .... 9. ThougMI, Thinks I. .... 1?. Break it, Swashit. .... 66. Atum, Evmt_ .... 10. I can't maintain except by Imvly cringing, instead 0f J g^ j mi}i raign, there's no defending. THE LIFE OF JOHN BYROM, M. A. F. R. S. IT is a trite observation in the literary world, that the biography of a mere scholar, from its not being a register of amazing exploits, is devoid of interest; and, because its incidents are few, and seldom beyond the common course of human affairs, that " it affords little amusement or instruction."

These conclusions, like many others, are too extensive to be true. To the multitude itself the opening buds, as well as the mature proofs of genius, are generally pleasing. The events of a lettered man's years may indeed appear tame and meagre to superficial readers who find most entertainment in what is marvellous; but the contemplative perusal of them will always be attended with profit and delight. The objects of his eager pursuit in childhood, the developement of his youthful genius, the; difficulties which bestrewed his path in life, the method which he adopted to overcome them and to effect his purposes, and the merited applause which he obtained by his talents, are so many points in his history with which the intelligent and inquiring mind wishes to be gratified. It is a public loss when a man eminent in the endowments of the mind, is unwilling to give memoirs of himself to his cotemporaries or posterity.

Yet a plan might be devised of doing this, equally removed from the flippancy of egotism and the obscurity thrown by diffidence over many laudable actions. A few men may be found in a century, who are impartial when relating their own affairs, and righteous in ascribing motives to the actions of others.But it too frequently happens that persons of shallow understandings and confined intellects are the first to consider themselves of great importance; and the inflated narrative of their trifling actions, sufferings, and thoughts as of prime consequence to society. Imagining that they are born for the edification of the age in which they live, they contribute a portion, incalculably small, towards its improvement, by publishing relations of what little they know of themselves and the exaggerated praise they have received from their friends.

The public voice, when raised in displeasure against the mean insignificancy of such performances, has often been so loud and" THE LIFE OF severe as to discourage the attempts of meritorious individuals* who are known to be capable of imparting valuable information. The writer of this sketch laments, and the reader will par ticipate with him in the regret, that with all the requisite qua lifications for being his own historian, Mr. Byrom has not fav oured posterity with any biographical notice respecting himself. Had his own pen been employed in relating some detached portions of his chequered life, which extended through the greater part of an eventful century, his biography would have derived a degree of interest from that circumstance, Which it cannot be expected to obtain when given, from spare materials, by another person.

Mr. John Byrom was born at Manchester, in the year 1691, being a younger son of Mr. Edward Byrom, Linen Draper, of Kersall, in Lancashire. His father was a branch of an ancient and genteel family in that county. The subject of this memoir received the rudiments of his education at his native town, and completed his preparatory studies at Merchant Taylors' School in London, where he obtained a high reputation for classical erudition. Indeed his proficiency in literature must have been very respectable, since at the early age of sixteen he was deem ed competent to enter upon University studies. He was ac cordingly sent to Cambridge; and admitted, on the 6th of July, 1708, a pensioner of Trinity College, under the tuition of the famous Doctor Baker. He applied himself very closely to the acquisition of Mathematical knowledge, without which no candidate for University honours at Cambridge can hope to succeed.

He took his first degree of Bachelor of Arts with great credit; and, in the year 1714, was elected Fellow of his College through the interest of Doctor Richard Bentley, the master, who admired his genius and was an encourager of his merit. To be a fellow of Trinity was accounted then, as it is now, an extraordinary reward of talent. The high character of that College, second to none in the University, confers cele brity on every student in it whose well-tried abilities procure for him any public mark of respect. The same year, while in these sacred groves, he made his first literary attempt, as an author, by writing two excellent essays on dreaming. They were inserted in the Spectator (Numbers 586 and 593,) and have obtained great approbation from the learned. He lays it down as an axiom, that -* dreams are certainly the result of our waking thoughts and our daily hopes and fears are what give the mind such nim ble relishes of pleasure and severe touches of pain, in its mid- U night rambles.

To go to bed with a mind entirely free from passions, and a body clear of the least intemperance," is the way which he proposes for inducing pleasant and refreshing dreams. He would have every one, in a morning before he arose, " to consider what he had been about that night, and with the same strictness as if the condition he has believed him self to be in, was real. Such a scrutiny into the actions of his fancy must be of considerable advantage, for this reason, be cause the circumstances which a man imagines himself in, du ring sleep, are generally such as entirely favour his inclinations good or bad, and give him imaginary opportunities of pursuing them to the utmost; so that his temper will be fairly open to his view, while he considers how it is moved, when free from those constraints which the accidents of real life put it under."

In one of his poems, (vol. 1, page 59,) he has adverted to the benefit to be derived from this practice. Of midnight thoughts to take no heed Betrays a sleepy soul indeed; It is but dreaming in the day To throw our nightly hours away. Though the productions of a young man, they discover such a liveliness of imagination, and powers of conception and exe cution, with such just aptitude of style to the subject, as would be no disgrace to a veteran in literature. Two other papers (Numbers 587 and 597) in the same Mis cellany, are ascribed to him, but on doubtful authority. From his earliest years he had indulged himself in the com position of poetry. Well I remember that my younger breast The same desire, that reigns in yours, possess'd. Me, numbers flowing to a measur'd time, Me, sweetest grace of English verse, the Rhyme, Choice epithet, and smooth descriptive line, Conspiring all to finish one design, Smit with delight.

Vol. 1, page!26. The good success which had attended his early acquaintance with the Muses, was apparent on the publication of his first poetical production. It is entitled, " Colin and Phebe, a Pas toral;" and was sent to the Spectator, in which it appeared as No. 603. For a century it has preserved the popularity which it then gained; and to this day it is accounted one of the most agreeable and natural specimens of that kind of composition. Some of the actions described in it have been blamed for then ludicrous vulgarity; but not one of them is incongruous with the manners of a rustic, from whose unrepressed feelings and b X low ideas it is nothing uncommon for such expressions as these to flow: My heart was as light as a feather all day.— My heart, I am sure, weighs more than a pound.— Peace there with your bubbling.

I fling at their fleeces a handful of grass.— It makes me quite mad to see you so merry while I am so sad.— Yet what swam is so silly to live without love?— Nor will budge one foot faster for all thou canst say. In other expressions, the lover evinces just as much know ledge of heathen mythology as we may suppose a countryman to possess; and the clumsy manner in which he employs it, shews it to be not the most profound. When he exclaims, How slowly time creeps! he adds, in all the keen impatience of present disap pointment, If I knew whereabouts he' would tread, I could breathe on his wings; — it would melt down the lead, and would consequently quicken the leaden, lingering pace of tune, and hasten the pe riod of the fair one's arri val. The minutes are afterwards charg ed more swiftly to fly; and, as a special inducement to then rapid advance, they are invited to rest longer when she shall be here; a reward congenial with a shepherd's ideas.

All this is exquisitely characteristic. Had Colin been made to utter pretty things in a fine style, he would have appeared, indeed, in gar ments more splendid than this his holiday suit; yet they would have been borrowed robes, and under their guise still a clown, he would but occasionally have proved himself to be a polite gen tleman. But he is now a plain countryman throughout ; and, except in those parts where the descriptions apply, as they were intended by the author, exclusively to the views and habits of a shepherd,* he speaks the impassioned language of human nature. This is universally understood, especially by those who have been in similar circumstances. Such persons will acknowledge that the feverish petulance of the solitary rustic, whom nothing pleases, bears a very strong resemblance to the ill-humoured effervescence of their own feelings on the absence of some beloved object.

Joanna, the youngest daughter of Doctor Bentley, is usually mentioned as the lady in whose praise these pastoral verses were composed. That a copy of them might be presented to her, out of respect to her accomplishments and virtues, may be readily believed. But it will be credited by no one, who only partially knew Mr. Byrom, that he made any advances towards a place in the young lady's affections, with the sinister design of succeeding the more effectually in his application for a fellowship. Yet it has been hinted, that his college promotion was owing rather to his feigning an attachment to the daughter, than to any ad- » See vol. 1, page 1. miration of his talents by the father. This is stated by none of his biographers as a fact, but is raised only in the convenient form of a surmise; and scarcely merits any attempts at refutation.

Two considerations, however, will tend to shew the fallacy of this conjecture: the remarkably frank and generous disposition ofMr.Byrom, is itself a sufficient contradiction to the calumny. His conduct, from childhood to old age, in every affair of life, was the opposite to double-dealing. Besides, there exists in the poem no allusion that can apply to Miss Bentley as the absent shepherdess. Although it was composed prior to his sitting fijr a fellowship, yet it is not said My time, O ye Muses, washappily spent When Joanna went with me wherever I went. He would not have framed his eulogy in so general and loose a manner as to be equally appropriate to any other of the sex, if he had been the designing and selfish youth which this repre sentation would make him. What lady would acknowledge such lines, unless they were inscribed with her name, or con tained some specific reference to her person, mind, or circum stances, which could neither be mistaken nor applied with propriety to another?

But in all the accounts which are given of our author's motives, it is never once intimated that the young lady entertained an idea of the secret meaning of any courtly expressions in it which were applicable to herself. How any one else could assert that they were a covert and mean treat to her vanity, it is not easy to divine. Regarded merely as a youthful exercise of poetic skill, why may not this eclogue be allowed that free range of imagination which is claimed for similar compositions? Colin and Phebe, it is true, may, by a warm fancy, be supposed to mean Mr. Byrom and Miss Bentley, with the same degree of probability as the Palemon and Galatea of another poet may be imagined to pourtray two particular individuals whom he had not in his contemplation while writing, and whom he never intended his fictitious characters to personate.

But there is internal evidence in the poem, which, taken in conjunction with the testimony of his own family, makes it certain that if any compliment was implied in it beyond the mere playfulness of imagination, it was intended for another person. To his favourite sister, Miss Phebe Byrom, this pastoral was addressed, as well as several' other copies of verses. The mention of her name in it was al ways accounted, by his connections, as tender a mark of per sonal respect as a brother could confer on such a near relative. Exalting her, by an allowable poetic licence, into the imaginary object of his fondest affections, in glowing language he depicts the charming effect which her presence gave to all the appear ances of nature; and the clouded aspect which every thing bore when she was absent. .

On the whole, it is very probable that this story had its ori gin either in vanity, or in the colloquial slander of some rival candidate who was at that time disappointed in his prospects ot collegiate honours. For it is a fact which admits of no doubt, that, long before the publication of these verses, the preposses sing manners, accurate classical knowledge, and amiable disposition of Mr. Byrom, had recommended him to the friendship of Dr. Bentley. Whoever reads his poetical criticisms on Ho race, Homer, &c. in the latter part of this volume, will be astonished at the profundity of his genius and the extent of his attainments; and will be further convinced that it was something beyond a pretended partiality for his daughter that induced the discerning Master of Trinity College to favour Mr. Byrom's election to a fellowship.

He proceeded, at the usual period, to his degree of Master of Arts; and in the year 1716 resigned his college preferment. As it was not a lay fellowship, by the statutes of the house he coidd retain it no longer without entering into holy orders. His reasons for declining to minister in holy things, according to the forms of the Established Church, have never been satisfactorily stated. From this omission several persons have ventured to class him with the conscientious among Dissenters, and have imputed his Nonconformity in this instance to his political opinions, or to his refined ideas of church-government. His political sentiments were indeed the same as were held by a num ber of most worthy characters in that age; and they were not the most friendly to all the principles and measures of Govern ment.

Yet had there not been another more powerful cause, these would have had very little influence on his determination with respect to the Church, because many of her dignitaries were the abettors of the same political principles. Nor was he hindered by any want of attachment to her doctrines and cere monies; for she had not a more dutiful son; and however libe ral he was towards contrary attachments in other people, it was his delight and high satisfaction through life to attend on the ministration of all her ordinances. Yet he appears to have been influenced at this critical period by religious motives of a peculiar nature. Soon after the resignation of his fellowship, being in an infirm state of health, he went to Montpellier, where he began to study physic, having an intention of exercising it as a profession.

It is generally believed, that, during his residence in France, he imbibed the mystical opinions of Father Malebranche in Philoso phy and of Fenelon and Madame Bourignon in Divinity. But these notions, however they might be increased by his remaining a short time in the region of their growth, had been embraced by him before he left Cambridge; and to his reasons for court ing privacy they had communicated a powerful bias. The latter part of the Seventeenth Century was particularly marked by the violent concussions which took place between two opposite parties in religion. One of them may, not unaptly, be called the party of the Moralists, and the other that of the Spiri tualists. Their struggle was not confined to one church or country: It extended through Christendom. Ever since the passing of the act of Uniformity, by which nearly two thousand of her best pastors reluctantly became Nonconformists, the Established Church of England had been suffering a decay in her vitals from the want of "able ministers of the New Testament."

The successors of these worthies did not press on the consciences of their hearers those grand truths of Christianity, which distinguish it from every religious system of merely human origin. They were themselves ignorant of that inward kingdom of God, which is " righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost;" and could not therefore be expect ed rightly to divide the word of truth, or to teach others the method of salvation. It became a fashionable practice among Clergymen to expatiate largely on the sublime morality of the Gospel. Great acuteness and precision were also expended in proving that the Christian Religion was in several respects su perior to the systems of heathen sages. If a preacher could, moreover, evince his dexterity in the pulpit by confuting the arguments of the Papists, he was immediately pronounced a good christian and an astute theologian.

From this slight but true sketch, the fact is not at all extraordinary that no writer of eminence can be found in the Established Church, from those days till nearly the middle of the eighteenth century, whose productions clearly exhibit the doctrines of Christ in their happy influence on the conduct, and their saving efficacy in the soul. Repentance, Faith, and Holiness sometimes occur in the theolo gical writings of that period; but they are only in the lowest ac ceptations of those sacred terms. Repentance is generally set forth as such a contrition for sin as secures the favour of Jeho vah, without much, if any, need of the intervention of the Sa viour. Faith is represented, in all the pomp of words, as "the THE LTFE Of substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen;" but when examined, it is found to be, not the vital and operative principle obviously intended by that word in the records of truth, but a cold assent of the understanding to this proposition, " Christianity is a revelation from God."

And Holiness, according to them, is principally an abstinence from gross vices, and a tranquility of mind which may comport with, what they call, " the proper dignity of a human being." The discourses on these topics are adorned with many excellent precepts, of which Seneca and Epictetus furnish as large a share as the writers of the New Testament. Such was the deplorable state of Evangelical Religion in one of the best constituted churches of Christ in Europe. But this representation does not apply to her alone: The Seceders from the Establishment were in a little time enveloped in thick mists of error, and had gone far from the doctrines of the Reformers and from the piety of their predecessors, the Puritans. The Nonconforming ministers about this time seemed divinely commissioned to impart much of the savour of godliness to the people with whom they united, and to revive its drooping interests among Dissenters.

But when those holy men died, — and their race was soon finished, — spiritual fervour suddenly departed, and divine influence was lightly esteemed. No longer did their coadjutors occupy themselves regularly and earnestly in enforcing the humbling doctrines of the cross; the fall of man; his restoration by Christ; the efficacy of the divine atonement ; and the necessity of faith and of a heavenly conversation. Hypothetical disquisitions on the narrow limits of divine mercy, and on the supposed secret and revealed will of God, became favourite subjects with preachers. The scriptural doctrines of the pardon of sins, a knowledge of individual forgiveness, and the witness and fruits of the Spirit, were casually mentioned by a few of them aa privileges and almost attainable. At length they were commented away, becoming themes of controversy and furnishing matter for cavil.

Nothing so distinctly marks the decay of a church as the low ideas entertained by its members of the person of Christ Jesus. If a minister professed a belief in Christ's divinity, he was branded for illiberality, and judged unworthy of the refined society of Arians. With regard to purity of doctrine, the established church had a decided advantage. For, whatever unscriptural dogmas might be promulgated from the pulpit, the liturgy, which made an integral and important part of every public service, was heard from the reading desk; and in it were recognised all the essential and consolatory truths of MR. JOHN BYR0.M. XV Christianity. But when nearly "all the light that was in dissent ing churches, became darkness, how great must that darkness have been! To this religious condition were the Moralists of England re duced; yet lower in the scale of depression was the same party in every other European country.