XIII(178) Monday Even, 11 o’clock
(14th January 1788)
Why have I not heard from you, Clarinda!-Today I well expected it; and before supper, when a letter to me was announced, my heart danced with rapture: but behold, ‘twas some fool who had taken it into his head to turn Poet, and made me an offering of the first-fruits of his nonsense. “It is not poetry, but prose run mad.” Did I ever repeat to you an epigram I made on a Mr Elphinstone, who has given a translation of Martial, a famous Latin poet? The poetry of Elphinstone can only equal his prose-notes. I was sitting in a merchant’s shop of my acquaintance, waiting somebody; he put Elphinstone into my hand, and asked my opinion of it; I begged leave to write it on a blank leaf, which I did-
To Mr Elphinstone, &c.-
O thou, whom Poesy abhors!
Whom Prose has turned out of doors!
Heard’st thou yon groan? Proceed no further!
Twas laurel’d Martial calling murther!
I am determined to see you, if at all possible, on Saturday evening. Next week I must sing-
The night is my departing night,
The morn’s the day I maun aw
There’s neither friend nor foe o’ mine
But wishes that I were awa’!
What I hae done for lack o’ wit,
I never, never can reca’;
I hope ye’re a’ my friends as yet-
Gude night, and joy be wi’ you a’!
If I could see you sooner, I would be so much the happier,; but I would not purchase the dearest gratification on earth, if it must be at your expence in wordly censure; far less, inward peace!-
I shall certainly be ashamed of thus scrawling whole sheets of incoherence.-The only unity, (a sad word with Poets & Critics!) in my ideas, is Clarinda.-There my heart “reigns and revels.”-
“What art thou Love! Whence are those charm
That thus thou bear’st an universal rule!
“For thee the soldier quits his arms,
The king turns slave, the wise man fool.-
“In vain we chase thee from the field
“And with cool thoughts resist thy yoke:
“Next tide of blood, Alas! We yield;
“And all those high resolves are broke!”-
I like to have quotations ready for every occasion.-They give one’s ideas so pat, and save one the trouble of finding expression adequate to one’s feelings.-I think it is one of the greatest pleasures attending a Poetic genius, that we can give our woes, cares, joys, loves, &c. an embodied form in verse, which, to me, is ever immediate ease.-Goldsmith says finely of his Muse-
“Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
“Who found’st me poor at first, and keep’st me so”
My limb has been so well today that I have gone up and down stairs often without my staff.-Tomorrow, I hope to walk once again on my own legs to dinner.-It is only next street.-Adieu!
Sylvander
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