The Farmers Boy | Page 7

were not related to
Mr.Austin: for he treated all his Servants exactly as he did his Sons.
They all work'd hard; all liv'd well. The DUKE had not a better Man
Tenant to him than the late Mr. Austin. I saw numbers of the
Husbandmen in tears when he was buried. He was beloved by all who

knew him. But I imagine Robert thought that when he was speaking of
Benevolence that was universal, he had no occasion to mention the
accidental circumstance of his being related to the Good Man of whom
he sung."
SUPPLEMENT
I have mention'd in the Preface "THE SAILOR'S RETURN", from an
intimation by Mr. G. BLOOMFIELD. From the Author himself, Mr.
ROBERT BLOOMFIELD, I am oblig'd with what part he can recollect
of this SONG, which I was desirous to recover. It was written shortly
after the PEACE with AMERICA and FRANCE. Probably some time
in the Spring of 1784. The Author thinks the Title of it was "THE
SOLDIER'S RETURN," and that it was occasion'd by the arrival of
some Regiments of British Soldiers from remote parts of the Globe.
He says, "I have endeavour'd to bring it back to my mind: but can only
remember the following; which is not the beginning nor the finish."
Round LYBIA'S south point, where from toils so late freed, Sweet
Hope cheer'd my soul as we clear'd the rough sea;
I strove midst the
Tars to improve the ship's speed;
Nor thought I of aught but ANNA
and THEE.
Here comes the dear Girl! comes with kind arms extended
To
welcome me!... limbs numb'd with age fain would move.
My cheek
feels the offspring of rapture warm blended,
With answering drops:...
this the meed of chaste Love!
Rouse the Fire--

I think every Reader will be of opinion that it is indeed desirable the
whole Song, of which this is a Fragment, should be recover'd. It will
probably be found (according to the recollection of the Author) either
in the General Advertiser, Gazetteer_, or _Courant. From these
specimens, and some I have since had the pleasure to see in MS. Mr.

BLOOMFIELD appears fully to possess the simple, yet elegant,
pathetic, and animated flow of Composition, the sweetness of Diction,
Thought, and Numbers, which the SONG or BALLAD in their best
character require.
I now quote a little Fragment in blank verse from the same Letter: with
a slight correction in a place or two where the distribution or
mechanism of the lines was not exact.
SUBJECT. An Harvest Scene: describing Gleaners return'd from the
Field.
--Welcome the Cot's
Warm walls!... thrice welcome Rest, by toil
endear'd;
Each hard bed softening, healing every care.
Sleep on, ye
gentle souls ...
Unapprehensive of the midnight thief!
Or if bereft of
all with pain acquir'd,
Your fall, with theirs compar'd who sink from
affluence,
With hands unus'd to toil, and minds unus'd
To bend,
how little felt! how soon repair'd!
The ear of the Author seems as sweetly attun'd to verse without as with
Rhime: though his less practice has given him proportionally less
exactness.
It reminds one of the simple, tender, and flowing melody of the blank
verse of ROWE: or of some of the affecting passages in the _Paradise
Regain'd_ of MILTON.
Sweetness, pastoral Content, the innocent and benevolent heart "_with
a little pleas'd,_" breathe indeed through the Poems, and in the manners
and conversation, of the Author of THE FARMER'S BOY.
When the Spirit_ of CHRISTIANITY declares "_blessed are the meek,"
every heart which considers what meekness is, feels the truth of that
blessedness. It may smooth the way, and prevent impediments, which a
different temper raises to temporal felicity: it certainly assures that
Heaven which is within: and is a pledge and anticipation of the Heaven
hereafter.

It is pleasing to think on a remark of Mr. GEO. BLOOMFIELD
concerning his Brother when he first went to LONDON. "I have him in
my mind's eye a little Boy; not bigger than Boys generally are at twelve
years old. When I met him and his Mother at the Inn, [Footnote: In
Bishopsgate-street.] he strutted before us, dress'd just as he came from
keeping Sheep, Hogs, &c.... his shoes fill'd full of stumps in the heels.
He looking about him, slip'd up ... his nails were unus'd to a flat
pavement. I remember viewing him as he scamper'd up ... how small he
was. Little thought, that little fatherless Boy would be one day known
and esteem'd by the most learned, the most respected, the wisest and
the best men of the Kingdom."
The brotherly overflowing of the heart in this passage I felt when I read
the Letter (dated 27 March last), and cannot deny to others the pleasure
of feeling it.
And those who have shewn themselves the FRIENDS of the
FARMER'S BOY must excuse me if I mention