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Description
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 Another random document
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Parodies of the works of
English & American authors, vol. V
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. V

Compiler: Walter Hamilton

Release date: April 14, 2023 [eBook #70547]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Reeves & Turner, 1888

Credits: Carol Brown, Chris Curnow and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARODIES OF

THE WORKS OF ENGLISH & AMERICAN AUTHORS, VOL. V ***
 PA R O D I E S
OF THE WORKS OF

ENGLISH AND AMERICAN

AUTHORS,
COLLECTED AND ANNOTATED BY

WA LT E R H A M I LT O N ,
Fellow of the Royal Geographical and Royal Historical Societies;
Author of “A History of National Anthems and Patriotic Songs,” “A Memoir of George Cruikshank”
“The Poets Laureate of England,” “The Æsthetic Movement in England,” etc.

“I have here only made a Nosegay of culled Flowers, and have brought little more of my own than
the band which ties them.”

V O L U M E V.
 CONTAINING PARODIES OF

Thomas Gray’s “Elegy in a Country Churchyard,”

AND OTHER POEMS.
WILLIAM COWPER. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
S. T. COLERIDGE. M. G. LEWIS. LEIGH HUNT.

LORD MACAULAY.
W. M. PRAED. W. M. THACKERAY. LORD LYTTON.

P. B. Shelley. Mrs. Browning. The Ingoldsby

Legends.
J. ADDISON. W. COLLINS. S. ROGERS. E.
WALLER.
NATIONAL SONGS OF THE UNITED STATES.
MODERN AMERICAN POETS.
SONGS OF THE CIVIL WAR.

REEVES & TURNER, 196, STRAND, LONDON, W.C.

1888.
 INTRODUCTION.

V O L U M E V.
HE completion of the Fifth Volume of this
collection of Parodies affords me an opportunity
of acknowledging many acts of courtesy shown
by gentlemen who take an interest in the
subject.
They have appreciated the importance of
making the collection complete, and reliable as
a book of reference on Parody and Burlesque,
and by the information they have sent, have
assisted me to carry out my design so far as it
has gone.
In some few cases the difficulty of finding the authors has prevented me
from obtaining their permission to insert their poems, but in every instance
due acknowledgment has been made.
No trouble has been spared to obtain every parody worth quoting, to
trace every poem to its original source, and to give the Authors’ names,
wherever they could be ascertained.
Without the assistance of the Authors themselves it would have been
impossible to collect and verify such a mass of information, and my thanks
are especially due to the following gentlemen, either for permission to
reprint their parodies, or for other literary assistance in the compilation of
the work: E. B. Anstee, Cuthbert Bede, (Rev. E. Bradley,) F. W. Crawford,
T. F. Dillon-Croker, J. G. Dalton (of Boston, U.S.) F. B. Doveton, James
Gordon, F.S.A., J. H. Ingram, J. Brodie-Innes, John Lane, Rev. H. C.
Leonard, J. M. Lowry, A. W. Mackenzie, F. B. Perkins (of San Francisco,
U.S.) Walter Parke, Edward Simpson, G. R. Sims, T. H. Smith, (of Chicago,
U.S.) Edward Walford, M.A., C. H. Waring, and Edmund H. Yates.
Not only has their friendly aid cheered my labors, but it has encouraged
me to hope for equally valuable assistance during the publication of the
Sixth Volume, which will deal principally with the works of living poets, or
with the poems of those who have only recently passed away.
WALTER HAMILTON,
57, Gauden Road, Clapham, S.W.
December, 1888.
 T H O M A S G R AY
Born in Cornhill, London, December 26, 1716.
Died in Cambridge, July 30, 1771.

The following is a list of the principal poems written by Thomas Gray,

upon most of which parodies will be given:

Elegy written in a Country Church-Yard.

Ode on the Spring.
On the Death of a favourite Cat.
On a distant Prospect of Eton College.
To Adversity.
The Progress of Poesy.
The Bard.
Ode for Music.
The Fatal Sisters.
The Triumphs of Owen.
The Descent of Odin.
The Death of Hoel.
A Long Story.

——:o:——
The Elegy in a Country Churchyard was commenced by Gray in 1742, at
the age of 34; it was then laid aside, to be taken up again after the death of
his aunt, Mary Antrobus, in 1749. Stoke-Poges Churchyard, where this lady
was buried, is the generally accepted scene of the poem, and there the poet
was himself afterwards laid to rest.
 The “Elegy” was completed at Stoke in June, 1750, a copy, in MS., was
sent immediately by Gray to his friend Horace Walpole, and another to Dr.
Wharton of Durham, which latter is now in the library of the British
Museum. Another MS. is in the library of Pembroke College, Cambridge,
but which was really the original MS. cannot be definitely ascertained, as
Gray sent out several other copies to his friends. Hence the difficulty there
is now in deciding upon the particular version of the “Elegy” which
received the last finishing touches of the author, who was known to be most
fastidious in the diction, and punctuation of his poems.
On the 12th June, 1750, Gray announced to Walpole that “a thing,”
whose beginning he had seen long before, had at last got an end to it, “a
merit,” he added, “that most of my writings have wanted and are like to
want.” This “thing” was the “Elegy.” Walpole showed it about, copies were
taken, and early in 1751 Gray received a letter from the editors of the
“Magazine of Magazines” informing him that his “ingenious poem” was in
the press, and begging not only his indulgence, but the honour of his
correspondence. “I am not at all disposed,” wrote Gray, “to be either so
indulgent or so correspondent as they desire.” Gray had not intended to
publish the poem, but annoyed at the unscrupulous action of the proprietors
of the “Magazine of Magazines,” he determined to forestall them if
possible, and requested Walpole to get the “Elegy” printed without the
author’s name, “in what form is most convenient to the printer, but on his
best paper and character; he must correct the press himself, and print it
without any intervals between the stanzas, because the sense is in some
places continued beyond them.” Accordingly, on the 16th of February,
1751, five days after this letter was written, the first edition was printed and
published by Robert Dodsley of Pall Mall. In this hasty manner, and
without the author’s corrections, was issued from the press one of the most
popular poems in the English language.
It also appeared in The Magazine of Magazines (London) for February,
1751, where it was introduced as having been composed “by the very
ingenious Mr. Gray, of Peterhouse, Cambridge.” In this it was entitled,
Stanzas written in a Country Churchyard, although it was entered in the
Index as An Elegy made in a Country Churchyard. This was more modern
in its orthography, and contained several variations from the authorised
edition published by Dodsley.
 There can be little doubt but that this pirated version of the “Elegy” was
at first generally preferred to Gray’s authorised edition, in which there were
some very obvious errors, due to its hasty production. Certain it is that all
subsequent editions far more nearly resembled the pirated version, than that
printed by Dodsley at Gray’s request.
Dodsley’s first edition was in quarto, and is now excessively rare. The
following is an exact reprint of it, the original orthography and style of
printing being in strict accordance with the copy now in the library of the
British Museum. The only variation being that the stanzas are numbered for
convenience of reference to the foot notes.
 AN

ELEGY
WROTE IN A

COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.

 London:
Printed for R. D , in Pall-mall; and sold by M. C in Pater-
noster-Row. 1751.
[P S - .]
ADVERTISEMENT.
The following P came into my Hands by accident, if the general
Approbation with which this little Piece has been spread, may be call’d by
so slight a Term as accident. It is this approbation which makes it
unnecessary for me to make any Apology but to the Author: As he cannot
but feel some Satisfaction in having pleas’d so many Readers already, I
flatter myself he will forgive my communicating that Pleasure to many
more.
THE EDITOR.
1The Curfeu tolls the Knell of parting Day,
The lowing Herd winds slowly o’er the Lea,
The Plow-man homeward plods his weary Way,
And leaves the World to Darkness, and to me.
2Now fades the glimmering Landscape on the Sight,
And all the Air a solemn Stillness holds,
Save where the Beetle wheels his droning Flight,
And drowsy Tinklings lull the distant Folds.
3Save that from yonder Ivy-mantled Tow’r,
The moping Owl does to the Moon complain
Of such, as wand’ring near her secret Bow’r,
Molest her ancient solitary Reign.
4Beneath those rugged Elms, that Yew-Tree’s shade,
Where heaves the Turf in many a mould’ring Heap,
Each in his narrow Cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the Hamlet sleep.
5The breezy Call of Incense-breathing Morn,
The Swallow twitt’ring from the Straw-built Shed,
The Cock’s shrill Clarion, or the ecchoing Horn,
No more shall wake them from their lowly Bed.
6For them no more the blazing Hearth shall burn,
Or busy Houswife ply her Evening-Care:
No Children run to lisp their Sire’s Return,
Or climb his Knees the envied Kiss to share.
7Oft did the Harvest to their Sickle yield,
Their Furrow oft the stubborn Glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their Team afield!
How bow’d the Woods beneath their sturdy Stroke!
8Let not Ambition mock their useful Toil,
Their homely Joys and Destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful Smile
The short and simple Annals of the Poor.
9The Boast of Heraldry, the Pomp of Power,
And all that Beauty, all that Wealth e’er gave,
Awaits alike th’ inevitable Hour.
The Paths of Glory lead but to the Grave.
10Forgive, ye Proud, th’ involuntary Fault
If Memory to these no Trophies raise,
Where thro’ the long-drawn Isle and fretted Vault
The pealing Anthem swells the Note of Praise.
11Can storied Urn or animated Bust
Back to its Mansion call the fleeting Breath?
Can Honour’s Voice provoke the silent Dust,
Or Flatt’ry sooth the dull cold Ear of Death?
12Perhaps in this neglected Spot is laid
Some Heart once pregnant with celestial Fire;
Hands that the Reins of Empire might have sway’d,
Or wak’d to Extacy the living Lyre.
13But Knowledge to their Eyes her ample Page
Rich with the Spoils of Time did ne’er unroll,
Chill Penury repress’d their noble Rage,
And froze the genial Current of the Soul.
14Full many a Gem of purest Ray serene,
The dark unfathom’d Caves of Ocean bear:
Full many a Flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its Sweetness on the desart Air.
15Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless Breast
 The little Tyrant of his Fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his Country’s Blood.
16Th’ Applause of list’ning Senates to command,
The Threats of Pain and Ruin to despise,
To scatter Plenty o’er a smiling Land;
And read their Hist’ry in a Nation’s Eyes
17Their Lot forbad: nor circumscrib’d alone
Their growing Virtues, but their Crimes confin’d;
Forbad to wade through Slaughter to a Throne,
And shut the Gates of Mercy on Mankind,
18The struggling Pangs of conscious Truth to hide,
To quench the Blushes of ingenuous Shame,
Or heap the Shrine of Luxury and Pride
With Incense, kindled at the Muse’s Flame.
19Far from the madding Crowd’s ignoble Strife,
Their sober Wishes never learn’d to stray;
Along the cool sequester’d Vale of Life
They kept the noiseless Tenor of their Way.
20Yet ev’n these Bones from Insult to protect
Some frail Memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth Rhimes and shapeless Sculpture deck’d,
Implores the passing Tribute of a Sigh.
21Their Name, their Years, spelt by th’ unletter’d Muse,
The Place of Fame and Elegy supply:
And many a holy Text around she strews,
That teach the rustic Moralist to die.
22For who to dumb Forgetfulness a Prey,
This pleasing anxious Being e’er resign’d,
Left the warm Precincts of the chearful Day,
Nor cast one longing ling’ring Look behind!
23On some fond Breast the parting Soul relies,
Some pious Drops the closing Eye requires;
Ev’n from the Tomb the Voice of Nature cries
Ev’n in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.
24For thee, who mindful of th’ unhonour’d Dead,
Dost in these Lines their artless Tale relate;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some hidden Spirit shall enquire thy Fate,
25Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say,
“Oft have we seen him at the Peep of Dawn
“Brushing with hasty Steps the Dews away,
“To meet the Sun upon the upland Lawn,
26“There at the Foot of yonder nodding Beech,
“That wreathes its old fantastic Roots so high,
“His listless Length at Noontide wou’d he stretch,
“And pore upon the Brook that babbles by.
27“Hard by yon Wood, now frowning as in Scorn,
“Mutt’ring his wayward Fancies he wou’d rove;
“Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
“Or craz’d with Care, or cross’d in hopeless Love.
28“One Morn I miss’d him on the custom’d Hill,
“Along the Heath, and near his fav’rite Tree;
“Another came; nor yet beside the Rill,
“Nor up the Lawn, nor at the Wood was he;
29“The next with Dirges due in sad Array
“Slow thro’ the Church-way Path we saw him born.
“Approach and read (for thou can’st read) the Lay,
“Grav’d on the Stone beneath yon aged Thorn.”
THE EPITAPH.
Here rests his Head upon the Lap of Earth
A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown:
Fair Science frown’d not on his humble Birth,
And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.

Large was his Bounty, and his Soul sincere,

Heav’n did a Recompence as largely send:
He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a Tear:
He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a Friend.

No farther seek his Merits to disclose,

Or draw his Frailties from their dread Abode,
(There they alike in trembling Hope repose,)
 The Bosom of his Father and his God.
FINIS.

1. Curfew in later editions.

The Curfeu tolls the knell of parting day.
—— squilla di lontano
Che paia ’l giorno pianger, che si muore.
Dante, Purgat. l. 8.

And pilgrim newly on his road with love

Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far
That seems to mourn for the expiring day.
Cary’s Translation.

2. This verse seems to have strong features of similarity with the

following in Collins’s “Ode to Evening:”
“Now air is hush’d, save where the weak-ey’d bat
“With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing,
“Or where the beetle winds
“His small but sullen horn.”
10. Another version reads;
Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault,
If Memory o’er their tomb no trophies raise.
11. Burns borrowed an idea from this verse in his epitaph on the
monument to Robert Fergusson, the poet:—
No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay,
No storied urn or animated bust.
This simple stone directs pale Scotia’s way
To pour her sorrows o’er her poet’s dust.
 14. This beautiful comparison of the Gem and the Flower seems
borrowed (but with added force and elegance) from Dr. Young:
“—— Such blessings Nature pours,
“O’erstock’d mankind enjoy but half her stores;
“In distant wilds, by human eyes unseen,
“She rears her flow’rs, and spreads her velvet green:
“Pure gurgling rills the lonely desert trace,
“And waste their music on the savage race.”
Universal Passion, Sat. V.
15. Mr. Edwards (author of the Canons of Criticism), who, though an old
bachelor, like Mr. Gray, was far more attentive to the fair sex, endeavoured
to supply what he thought a defect in this Poem, by introducing after this
the two following stanzas:
Some lovely fair, whose unaffected charms
Shone with attraction to herself unknown;
Whose beauty might have blest a monarch’s arms,
And virtue cast a lustre on the throne:

That humble beauty warm’d an honest heart,

And cheer’d the labours of a faithful spouse;
That virtue form’d, for every decent part,
The healthy offspring that adorn’d their house.

18. After this verse, in Mr. Gray’s first MS. of the Poem, were the four
following:—
The thoughtless world to Majesty may bow,
Exalt the brave, and idolize success;
But more to innocence their safety owe,
Than Pow’r or Genius e’er conspir’d to bless.

And thou who, mindful of th’ unhonour’d Dead,

Dost in these notes their artless tale relate,
By night and lonely contemplation led
To wander in the gloomy walks of fate:
 Hark! how the sacred calm, that breathes around,
Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease;
In still small accents whispering from the ground,
A grateful earnest of eternal peace.

No more, with reason and thyself at strife,

Give anxious cares and endless wishes room;
But through the cool sequestred vale of life
Pursue the silent tenor of thy doom.

And here the Poem was originally intended to conclude, before the
happy idea of the hoary-headed Swain, &c. suggested itself to him.
23.
Ev’n in our ashes live their wonted fires.
Ch’i veggio nel pensier, dolce mio fuoco,
Fredda una lingua, et due begli occhi chiusi
Rimaner doppo noi pien di faville.
Petrarch, Son. 169.
25. In the M.S. copy of the Elegy bequeathed by Gray to his friend
Mason which is now in the possession of Sir William Fraser, Bart., the last
two lines of this stanza read:—
With hasty footsteps brush the dews away
On the high brow of yonder hanging lawn.
After this stanza in the same manuscript there was the following:—
Him have we seen the greenwood side along,
While o’er the heath we hied, our labour’s done,
Oft as the woodlark pip’d her farewell song,
With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun.
“I rather wonder (says Mr. Mason) that he rejected this stanza, as it
completes the account of his whole day; whereas, this Evening scene being
omitted, we have only his Morning walk, and his Noontide repose.”