[124] Parnell, “David,” l. 49.

[125] Stanhope, “Progress of Dullness.”

[126] Addison, “An Account of the Greatest English Poets.”

[127] Dryden, “Works,” XI, 7.

[128] Marvell, “An Epitaph upon ——.”

[129] Cf. Cowley, “Davideis,” iii, 553, and Pope, “Spring,” l. 81.

[130] Dryden, “Works,” XI, 131; III, 390; II, 451.

[131] Butler, “Satire to a Bad Poet.”

[132] Ambrose Philips, “Epistle to a Friend.”

[133] Congreve, “The Mourning Muse of Alexis,” l. 89; cf. also Fenton, “Florelia.”

[134] Congreve, “The Tears of Amaryllis for Amyntas,” l. 143.

[135] Watts, “A Funeral Poem on Thomas Gunston,” ll. 252, 308. Compare the indifference of Nature to the death of Lucy whose body is

[136] Cowley, “Constantia and Philetus,” sts. 5, 10.

[137] Shenstone, “Roxana.” For an interesting variation of this theme see Cowley, “The Spring.”

[138] Hughes, “Cupid’s Review,” l. 17.

[139] Marvell, “Upon Appleton House,” l. 661.

[140] Waller, “At Penshurst.”

[141] Marvell, “Upon Appleton House,” l. 689.

[142] Wordsworth, “Lucy.”

[143] Waller, “At Penshurst.”

[144] Virgil, “Eclogues,” iv, 28; Dryden, “Pastoral,” iv, l.

[145] Virgil, “Georgics,” iv, 306; Dryden, “Georgics,” iv, 433.

[146] Virgil, “Georgics,” iii, 156; Dryden, “Georgics,” iii, 250.

[147] Dryden, “Works,” XII, 5; XI, 221.

[148] Percy, “Reliques,” II, 190.

[149] Somerville, “To Anne Coventry,” l. 25.

[150] Cowley, “The Shortness of Life,” st. 11; “The Muse;” “Davideis,” ii, 29; “The Plagues of Egypt,” st. 17.

[151] Blackmore, “Creation,” vi, 170; v, 101; Yalden, “The Insect.”

[152] Somerville, “Field Sports,” l. 161.

[153] Pitt, “Earl Stanhope;” “Ps. 144.”

[154] Tickell, “Kensington Garden;” Somerville, “Rural Games,”

[155] Dyer, “Grongar Hill,” l. 65.

[156] Dryden, “Works,” VI, 228.

[157] Cowley, “Ode 2.”

[158] Many of these words occur in the translations by Dryden but in none of the instances quoted is there any justification in the Latin phrase for the adjective “watery.” For instance, “watery way” = spumantibus undis; “watery reign” = altum; “watery deep” = pelago, and so on through the list.

[159] Milton, “Paradise Lost,” iv, 239; vii, 302.

[160] Blair, “The Grave.”

[161] Falconer, “The Shipwreck,” i, 359.

[162] Gay, “Rural Sports,” i, 226.

[163] Dyer, “Ruins of Rome,” l. 86.

[164] Armstrong, “Art of Preserving Health,” ii, 7.

[165] Addison, “To the King,” l. 115.

[166] Thomson, “Autumn,” l. 626; cf. also “Summer,” l. 1574; “Autumn,” l. 628.

[167] Pitt, “Ode to John Pitt,” st. 5; Mallet, “Amyntor and Theodora,” i, 153; Shenstone, “To a Lady;” “Rural Elegance,” st. 17.

[168] See Thomson, “Spring,” ll. 215, 767; “Summer,” l. 1547.

[169] Parnell, “Hymn to Contentment.”

[170] Wordsworth, “Three Years She Grew.”

[171] Dryden, “Works,” II, 360; IX, 104.

[172] Fenton, “Florelio,” l. 43.

[173] Gray, “Progress of Poetry.”

[174] Thomson, “Autumn,” l. 843.

[175] Garth, “Dispensary,” ii, 3, 14; iv, 260.

[176] Virgil, “Georgics,” i, 329, “quo maxuma motu Terra tremit;” Dryden, “Georgics,” i, 430, “the mountains nod and earth’s entrails tremble.” Virgil, “Eclogue 6,” “rigidas motare cacumina quercus;” Dryden, “Pastoral 6,” “nodding forests to the numbers danced;” cf. Pope, “Messiah,” “nodding forests on the mountain dance,” and Milton, “Comus,” l. 38, “nodding horror of the wood.”

[177] Virgil, “Georgics,” iii, 243; “Aeneid,” iv, 525.

[178] Milton, “Paradise Lost,” vii, 434.

[179] Pope, “Windsor Forest,” l. 118; cf. note in Courthope edition.

[180] Shenstone, “Virtuoso.”

[181] Parnell, “Anacreontic.”

[182] Waller, “On a Brede of Divers Colors.”

[183] Hugo Blümner, “Die Farbenbezeichnungen bei den römischen Dichtern,” pp. 184–98. Blümner shows that πορφύρεος was used by the Greeks with widely varying meanings, and adds, “Ganz ähnlich ist der Gebrauch, den die römischen Dichter von purpureus machen nur zweilfellos in viel weniger ursprünglicher Weise.” He says further that the Latin poetical use of “purpureus” did not follow the speech of daily life.

[184] This constant use of Latin and Greek names for English peasants was frequently satirized. Dryden makes Limberham say to Brainsick, “But why, of all names, would you choose a Phyllis? There have been so many Phyllises in song I thought there was not another to be had for love or money.”—“Works,” VI, 62. Cf. Watts, “Meditation in a Grove”:

[185] Compare Ridley’s characteristic commendation of Christopher Pitt’s poems,

and Pitt’s precept in Vida’s “Art of Poetry,” i, 102,

[187] Dryden, “Works,” XV, 231.

[188] Compare especially Gay’s “Monday,” Pope’s “Spring,” and Virgil’s “Third Eclogue.” Also Gay’s “Thursday,” and Virgil’s “Eighth Eclogue.”

[189] Addison, “Letter from Italy” (1701).

[190] Tickell, “Oxford” (1707).

[191] Pope, “January and May,” l. 454.

[192] Pope, “Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot,” l. 149.

[193] William Thomson, “To the Author of Leonidas.”

[194] Pope, “Essay on Criticism,” i, 350.

[195] Gray, “Ode.”

[196] In this connection see the following passages from Ruskin, Humboldt, and Veitch on Nature in the poetry of the ancients:

“Thus, as far as I recollect, without a single exception, every Homeric landscape, intended to be beautiful, is composed of a fountain, a meadow, and a shady grove. This ideal is very interestingly marked, as intended for a perfect one, in the fifth book of the Odyssey; when Mercury himself stops for a moment, though on a message, to look on a landscape ‘which even an immortal might be gladdened to behold.’... Now the notable things in this description are, first, the evident subservience of the whole landscape to human comfort, to the foot, the taste, or the smell; and, secondly, that throughout the passage there is not a single figurative word expressive of the things being in any wise other than plain grass, fruit, or flower.... If we glance through the references to pleasant landscape which occur in other parts of the Odyssey, we shall always be struck by this quiet subjection of their every feature to human service, and by the excessive similarity in the scenes. Perhaps the spot intended, after this, to be most perfect, may be the garden of Alcinous, where the principal ideas are, still more definitely, order, symmetry, and fruitfulness.”—Ruskin, “Modern Painters,” chapter on “Classical Landscape.”

“Homer looks on nature as it affects man—its power of sustaining life, its subserviency to our physical wants. Hence the side of nature which is lovingly regarded by him is not mountain, or rock, or wild sea—all fruitless and barren—but flat soft meadow-land, diversified, it may be, with tree and fountain, filled with waving grass—good pasture-land for nourishing the useful ox, or cow, or sheep.... In Theocritus ... we do not go beyond the softer side ... the accessories of the shepherd’s life faithfully noted.... The aspect of nature which Virgil loved was the soft and pastoral side of Italian scenery. In so far as he has depicted free nature, it is seen almost wholly from the human side, and in its relation to man’s works, life and action.”—Veitch, “The Feeling for Nature in Scottish Poetry,” I, 88–91.

“Es is oftmals ausgesprochen worden, dass die Freude an der Natur, wenn auch dem Alterthume nicht fremd, doch in ihm als Ausdruck des Gefühls sparsamer und minder lebhaft gewesen sei denn in der neueren Zeit.... In dem hellenischen Alterthum ... das eigentlich Naturbeschreibende zeigt sich dann nur als ein Beiwerk, weil in der griechischen Kunstbildung sich alles gleichsam im Kreise der Menschheit bewegt.

“Beschreibung der Natur in ihrer gestaltenreichen Mannigfaltigkeit Naturdichtung als ein abgesonderter Zweig der Litteratur, war den Griechen völlig fremd. Auch die Landschaft erscheint bei ihnen nur als Hintergrund eines Gemäldes, vor dem menschliche Gestalten sich bewegen. Leidenschaften in Thaten ausbrechend fesselten fast allein den Sinn. Ein bewegtes öffentliches Volksleben zog ab von der dumpfen, schwärmerischen Versenkung in das stille Treiben der Natur; ja den physischen Erscheinungen wurde immer eine Beziehung auf die Menschheit beigelegt, sei es in den Verhältnissen der äusseren Gestaltung oder der inneren anregenden Thatkraft. Fast nur solche Beziehungen machten die Naturbetrachung würdig, unter der sinnigen Form des Gleichnisses, als abgesonderte kleine Gemälde voll objectiver Lebendigkeit in das Gebiet der Dichtung gezogen zu werden.”—“Kosmos,” II, 5, 6.

[197] In this connection compare the following significant passage from Taine: “Rien ne m’a plus intéressé dans les villas romaines que leurs anciens maîtres. Les naturalistes le savent, on comprend trés-bien l’animal d’aprés la coquille. L’endroit où j’ai commencé à le comprendre est la villa Albani.... Cette villa est un débris, comme le squellette fossile d’une vie qui a duré deux siècles, et dont le principal plaisir consistait dans la conversation, dans la belle représentation, dans les habitudes de salon, et d’antichambre. L’homme ne s’intéressait pas aux objets inanimés, il ne leur reconnaissait pas une âme et une beauté propre; ils ne servaient que de fond au tableau, fond vague et d’importance moins qu’accessoire. Toute l’attention était occupée par le tableau lui-meme, c’est-à-dire par l’intrigue et le drame humain. Pour reporter quelque partie de cette attention sur les arbres, les eaux, le paysage, il fallait les humaniser, leur ôter, leur forme et leur disposition naturelle, leur air ‘sauvage,’ l’apparence du désordre et du désert, leur donner autant que possible l’aspect d’un salon, d’un galerie à colonnades, d’une grande cour de palais.”—Taine, “Voyage en Italie,” I, 231, 232 (Paris, Librairie Hatchette et Cie, 1893).

[198] Cowley, “Of Agriculture.”

[199] “Cyder,” i, 248.

[200] Shairp, “The Poetic Interpretation of Nature,” p. 199.

[201] “Cyder,” i, 563.

[202] “Cyder,” ii, 65.

[203] “Pastorals,” i, 6; iii, 1, 6; iii, 41–44; iii, 69–74; i, 10; iv, 154; v, 8; i, 27; ii, 59; ii, 125–28; iii, 65–68; iv, 153–60.

[204] Rowe, “An Epistle to Flavia;” Pope, “An Impromptu to Lady Winchilsea.”

[205] Wordsworth, “Essay, Supplementary to the Preface.”

[206] The estimate of Lady Winchilsea here given was based on the 1713 edition of her poems. In 1903, through the kindness of Mr. Edmund Gosse and of the Earl of Winchilsea, I was enabled to bring out a complete edition of her works. In the Introduction to those poems I have endeavored to indicate Lady Winchilsea’s literary qualities and affiliations, and to give some idea of her life and personality. So far as her attitude toward Nature is concerned nothing is to be found in the scope of her voluminous verse that is of higher significance than the poems published by Ward. The new fact that does emerge from a fuller knowledge of her writings is the very interesting relation between her poetry of Nature and the events of her life. For an analysis of this relation I must refer to pp. cxxxiii-cxxxiv of the Introduction to my edition of her poems (“The Poems of Anne, Countess of Winchilsea,” The University of Chicago Press, 1903).

[207] “Miscellany Poems on Several Occasions,” Written by a Lady, 1713.

[208] In the references to the nightingale by Chaucer, Milton, Cowper, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, Matthew Arnold, and Mrs. Browning, the only approaches to description of the appearance of the bird are Matthew Arnold’s “tawny-throated,” Keats’ “full-throated,” and Coleridge’s “bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full.”

[209] Cf. Milton’s, “sweetest, saddest plight;” or “most musical, most melancholy;” and Shelley’s, “melodious pain;” and Keats’ “plaintive anthem;” and Matthew Arnold’s, “Wild, unquenched, deep-sunken, old-world pain.” Coleridge speaks once of “pity-pleading strains,” but in another poem contends for the “merry nightingale,” and refuses to hear anything but “love and joyance” in the song.

[210] Cf. Matthew Arnold’s

and Chaucer’s “lusty nightingale” whose voice made a “loud rioting;” and Shelley’s “storm of sound;” and Wordsworth’s “tumultuous harmony;” and Keats’ “pouring forth thy soul abroad in such an ecstasy;” and Coleridge’s

[211] Cf. Arnold’s “Eternal passion!” Milton’s “amorous power;” Shelley’s “voluptuous nightingale;” Coleridge’s “wanton song;” and all of Mrs. Browning’s “Bianca among the Nightingales.”

[212] Cf. Gosse, “Gossip in a Library,” p. 123; “Eighteenth Century,” p. 35.

[213] Gay, “Rural Sports,” i, 35.

[214] Ibid., i, 99.

[215] Gay’s “Chair.”

[216] See “Coquette Mother and Daughter” for a second reference to the fragrant bean-flower before Thomson.

[217] Compare Tennyson’s “wrinkled sea” in “The Eagle.”

[218] As illustrative of this point compare, Virgil, Eclogue viii, 27, 28, and Gay, Pastoral III, 59–62; Virgil, Eclogue i, 59–63, and Gay, Pastoral III, 67–72; Virgil, Eclogue v, 36–39, and Gay, Pastoral V, 83–87; Virgil, Eclogue v, 76–78, and Gay, Pastoral V, 153–58; Virgil, Eclogue iv, 1–3, and Gay, Pastoral VI, 1–3; Virgil, Eclogue vi, and Gay, Pastoral VI; Virgil, Eclogue viii, and Gay, Pastoral IV.

[219] Pastoral I.

[220] “Night Piece on Death;” “The Hermit.”

[221] “Health.”

[222] “The Flies.”

[223] “The Hermit.”

[224] “Anacreontic.”

[225] “Anacreontic.”

[226] “Health.”

[227] Parnell, “Poetical Works,” p. 77.

[228] Pattison died in 1727, and he was in college during the four preceding years. The records of his life are scanty, but he probably wrote this poem before 1723, when he left the region of his dear Ituna, that being the stream on whose banks he was accustomed to murmur out his verses.

[229] See Ramsay, “Poems,” I, xxvii.

[230] Cf. “Richy and Sandy,” l. 8; “Robert, Richy, and Sandy,” ll. 31–34; “Gentle Shepherd,” i, 1, 89; i, 1, 148; ii, 2, 17–40; ii, 3, 27–47; v, 1, 19–43.

[231] Cf. “Gentle Shepherd,” i, 2, 190–93, 207; i, 2, 200–204; ii, 1, 76–86; ii, 2, Prologue; ii, 1, Prologue; iii, 3, 111–16; v, 2, Prologue.

[232] Cf. “Gentle Shepherd,” i, 1, 205; i, 2, 1–4.

[233] Cf. “Richy and Sandy,” ll. 49, 50; “Gentle Shepherd,” i, 1, 43, 44, 67–70, 156; i, 2, 131–37; song viii.

[234] “Gentle Shepherd,” i, 2, 138–47; ii, 4, 43–66; iv, 2, 148–58.

[235] In the copious notes to the 1815 edition of Pennecuik’s “Tweeddale” is a full account of the country about New-Hall, accompanied by quotations from Ramsay’s poem, to show the accuracy of his descriptions.

[236] “Answer to the Foregoing” (to Somerville).

In the poems addressed to Allan Ramsay on the publication of his works in 1721 we find significant critical approval based on Ramsay’s avoidance of tame Nature, and his turning from the authority of the schools. The simile of a garden recurs in a poem by “C. T.” He planted trees in equal rows and arranged flowers in a parterre, but found his labor in vain. The narrow scene became daily more distasteful to him, and finally he went back to the fields where “Nature wantoned in her prime.” Here he found space, variety, surprise, and was content. Ja. Arbuckle praises Ramsay for roaming over hill and dale and leaving “carpet-ground” to “tender-footed beasts,” and for choosing to subsist on his native stock while other poets pilfered fame by picking the locks of their predecessors.—“Poems of Allan Ramsay,” I, 4–7.

[237] “The Gentle Shepherd,” ii, 4, 62.

[238] Ibid., 50.

[239] “The Gentle Shepherd,” ii, 4, 10.

[240] “To Mr. William Starrat,” l. 46.

[241] “The Gentle Shepherd,” iii, 3, 41.

[242] Ibid., i, 1, 137.

[243] Ibid., Prologue, i, 2.

[244] Ibid., Prologue, ii, 3.

[245] Ibid., iii, 3, 43.

[246] “The Gentle Shepherd,” i, 2, 7.

[247] “An Ode to the Ph—,” 1721, st. 1.

[248] “Answer to the Foregoing.”

[249] “Prospect of Plenty.”

[250] (a) Dr. Armstrong’s “Winter” in “Imitations of Shakespeare,” written in 1725, though not published till 1770.

(b) Riccaltoun’s “A Winter’s Day,” written before 1725, published in Savage’s “Miscellany” in 1726, and in “Gentleman’s Magazine,” 1740.

(c) Thomson’s “Winter,” written in fragments before 1725, but fused into one poem at Mallet’s suggestion in 1726.

[251] “The Art of Preserving Health,” i, 64–96.

[252] Ibid., i, 97–102; iii, 39–52.

[253] Ibid., iii, 71–96.

[254] Pope, “Works,” VI, 36, 37.

[255] Wordsworth, “Essay Supplementary to the Preface,” 1815.

[256] Pope, “Works,” I, 322; Denham, “Cooper’s Hill;” Marvell, “Upon the Hill and Grove at Billbarrow,” and “Upon Appleton House.”

[257] Veitch in “Feeling for Nature in Scottish Poetry,” II, 52, credits Thomson with being the first poet to mention purple heather, but this mention by Pope is more than twenty years earlier.

[258] Pope, “Works,” I, 346, n. 3; but compare “Autumn,” l. 74.

[259] Ibid., I, 269, n. 1.

[260] Ibid., I, 283, n. 3; 296, n. 9.

[261] Ibid., I, 293; cf. Warton, “Essay on Pope,” I, 6.

[262] (a) Description of moonshine walk. (This letter, perhaps a sincere expression when first written (1713), was a favorite of Pope’s. When he published his “Letters” he made an amusing blunder by transferring this passage to a letter dated February 10, 1715, at which time the park where he was supposed to have watched the moonshine and reflected on mortality, was under water from the great flood of February 9; see “Letters,” I, 367.)

(b) “Pleasure in Birds,” etc., I, 338.

(c) “Twickenham in Spring,” IV, 72, 74.

(d) “Autumn,” IV, 89.

[263] “Spectator,” June 21, 1712 (No. 411).

[264] Ibid., June 23, 1712 (No. 412); June 25, 1712 (No. 414).

[265] Ibid., June 23, 1712 (No. 412).

[266] Ibid., May 31 (No. 393).