Poems

by George Crabbe

With such encouragement, I present my Book to your Lordship: the Account of the Life and Writings of Lopez de Vega, has taught me what I am to expect; I there perceive how your Lordship can write, and am there taught how you can judge of writers: my faults, however numerous, I know will none of them escape through inattention, nor will any merit be lost for want of discernment: My verses are before him who has written elegantly, who has judged with accuracy, and who has given unequivocal proof of abilities in a work of difficulty;—a translation of poetry, which few persons in this kingdom are able to read, and in the estimation of talents not hitherto justly appreciated: In this view, I cannot but feel some apprehension: but I know also, that your Lordship is apprised of the great difficulty of writing well; that you will make much allowance for failures, if not too frequently repeated; and, as you can accurately discern, so you will readily approve, all the better and more happy efforts of one, who places the highest value upon your Lordship’s approbation; and who has the honour to be,

MY LORD,
Your Lordship’s most faithful,
and
obliged humble Servant,
GEO. CRABBE.

PREFACE.

About twenty-five years since, was published a Poem called The Library; which, in no long time, was followed by two others, The Village, and The Newspaper: These, with a few alterations and additions, are here reprinted; and are accompanied by a Poem of greater length, and several shorter attempts, now, for the first time, before the Public; whose reception of them creates in their Author, something more than common solicitude, because he conceives that, with the judgement to be formed of these latter productions, upon whatever may be found intrinsically meritorious or defective, there will be united an enquiry into the relative degree of praise or blame, which they may be thought to deserve, when compared with the more early attempts of the same Writer.

And certainly, were it the principal employment of a man’s life, to compose Verses, it might seem reasonable to expect, that he would continue to improve as long as he continued to live; though, even then, there is some doubt whether such improvement would follow, and perhaps proof might be adduced to shew, it would not: but when to this “idle trade,” is added some “calling,” with superior claims upon his time and attention, his progress in the art of Versification will probably be in proportion neither to the years he has lived, nor even to the attempts he has made.

While composing the first-published of these Poems, the Author was honoured with the notice and assisted by the advice of the Right Honourable Edmund Burke: Part of it was written in his presence, and the whole submitted to his judgement; receiving, in its progress, the benefit of his correction: I hope therefore to obtain pardon of the reader, if I eagerly seize the occasion, and, after so long a silence, endeavour to express a grateful sense of the benefits I have received from this Gentleman, who was solicitous for my more essential interests, as well as benevolently anxious for my credit as a writer.

I will not enter upon the subject of his extraordinary abilities; it would be vanity, it would be weakness in me to believe that I could make them better known or more admired than they now are; but of his private worth, of his wishes to do good, of his affability and condescension; his readiness to lend assistance when he knew it was wanted, and his delight to give praise where he thought it was deserved; of these I may write with some propriety: all know that his powers were vast, his acquirements various, and I take leave to add, that he applied them, with unremitted attention, to those objects which he believed tended to the honour and welfare of his country; but it may not be so generally understood that he was ever assiduous in the more private duties of a benevolent nature, that he delighted to give encouragement to any promise of ability and assistance to any appearance of desert; to what purposes he employed his pen, and with what eloquence he spake in the senate, will be told by many, who yet may be ignorant of the solid instruction as well as the fascinating pleasantry found in his common conversation, among his friends, and his affectionate manners, amiable disposition, and zeal for their happiness, which he manifested in the hours of retirement with his family.

To this Gentleman I was indebted for my knowledge of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was as well known to his friends, for his perpetual fund of good-humour, and his unceasing wishes to oblige, as he was to the public, for the extraordinary productions of his pencil and his pen: By him I was favoured with an introduction to Doctor Johnson, who honoured me with his notice and assisted me, as Mr. Boswell has told, with Remarks and Emendations for a Poem I was about to publish[1]: The Doctor had been often wearied by applications, and did not readily comply with requests, for his opinion; not from any unwillingness to oblige, but from a painful contention in his mind, between a desire of giving pleasure and a determination to speak truth. No man can, I think, publish a work without some expectation of satisfying those who are to judge of its merit: but I can, with the utmost regard to veracity, speak my fears, as predominating over every pre-indulged thought of a more favourable nature, when I was told that a judge so discerning, had consented to read and give his opinion of the Village, the poem I had prepared for publication. The time of suspence was not long protracted; I was soon favoured with a few words from Sir Joshua, who observed,—‘If I knew how cautious Doctor Johnson was in giving commendation, I should be well satisfied with the portion dealt to me in his letter.’—Of that letter the following is a copy:

“Sir;

“I have sent you back Mr. Crabbe’s Poem; which I read with great delight. It is original, vigorous, and elegant.—The alterations which I have made, I do not require him to adopt; for, my lines are, perhaps, not often better [than] his own: but he may take mine and his own together, and perhaps, between them, produce something better than either.—He is not to think his copy wantonly defaced: A wet sponge will wash all the red lines away, and leave the pages clean.—His Dedication[2] will be least liked: it were better to contract it into a short sprightly Address.—I do not doubt of Mr. Crabbe’s success.