ECLOGUE II.
All the advantages that any species of poetry can derive from the novelty of the subject and scenery, this eclogue possesses. The route of a camel-driver is a scene that scarce could exist in the imagination of a European, and of its attendant distresses he could have no idea.––These are very happily and minutely painted by our descriptive poet. What sublime simplicity of expression! what nervous plainness in the opening of the poem!
| “In silent horror o’er the boundless waste The driver Hassan with his camels past.” |
The magic pencil of the poet brings the whole scene before us at once, as it were by enchantment; and in this single couplet we feel all the effect that arises from the terrible wildness of a region unenlivened by the habitations of men. The verses that describe so minutely the camel-driver’s little provisions have a touching influence on the imagination, and prepare the reader to 110 enter more feelingly into his future apprehensions of distress:
| “Bethink thee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage, When fails this cruise, his unrelenting rage!” |
It is difficult to say whether his apostrophe to the “mute companions of his toils” is more to be admired for the elegance and beauty of the poetical imagery, or for the tenderness and humanity of the sentiment. He who can read it without being affected, will do his heart no injustice if he concludes it to be destitute of sensibility:
| “Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear In all my griefs a more than equal share! Here, where no springs in murmurs break away, Or moss-crown’d fountains mitigate the day, In vain ye hope the green delights to know, Which plains more blest, or verdant vales, bestow: Here rocks alone and tasteless sands are found, And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around.” |
Yet in these beautiful lines there is a slight error, which writers of the greatest genius very frequently fall into.––It will be needless to observe to the accurate reader, that in the fifth and sixth verses there is a verbal pleonasm where the poet speaks of the green delights of verdant vales. There is an oversight of the same kind in the Manners, an Ode, where the poet says,
| “–––Seine’s blue nymphs deplore In watchet weeds–––.” |
This fault is indeed a common one, but to a reader of taste it is nevertheless disgustful; and it is mentioned here, as the error of a man of genius and judgment, that men of genius and judgment may guard against it.
Mr. Collins speaks like a true poet, as well in sentiment as expression, when, with regard to the thirst of wealth, he says,
| “Why heed we not, while mad we haste along, The gentle voice of Peace, or Pleasure’s song? Or wherefore think the flowery mountain’s side, The fountain’s murmurs, and the valley’s pride, Why think we these less pleasing to behold, Than dreary deserts, if they lead to gold?” |
But however just these sentiments may appear to those who have not revolted from nature and simplicity, had the author proclaimed them in Lombard Street, or Cheapside, he would not have been complimented with the understanding of the bellman.––A striking proof, that our own particular ideas of happiness regulate our opinions concerning the sense and wisdom of others!
It is impossible to take leave of this most beautiful eclogue, without paying the tribute of admiration so justly due to the following nervous lines:
This, amongst many other passages to be met with in the writings of Collins, shows that his genius was perfectly capable of the grand and magnificent in description, notwithstanding what a learned writer has advanced to the contrary. Nothing, certainly, could be more greatly conceived, or more adequately expressed, than the image in the last couplet.
The deception, sometimes used in rhetoric and poetry, which presents us with an object or sentiment contrary to what we expected, is here introduced to the greatest advantage:
| “Farewell the youth, whom sighs could not detain, Whom Zara’s breaking heart implored in vain! Yet, as thou go’st, may every blast arise––– Weak and unfelt as these rejected sighs!” |
But this, perhaps, is rather an artificial prettiness, than a real or natural beauty.