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reader of Angerianus is, I think, doubtful all events the coincidence is curious.

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Dry be that tear, my gentlest love," is supposed to have been written at a later period; but it was most probably produced at the time of his courtship, for he wrote but few love-verses after his marriage. This song having been hitherto printed incorrectly, I shall give it here, as it is in the copies preserved by his relations.

"Dry be that tear, my gentlest love,*

Be hush'd that struggling sigh,

Nor seasons, day, nor fate shall prove
More fix'd, more true than I.
Hush'd be that sigh, be dry that tear,
Cease boding doubt, cease anxious fear.—
Dry be that tear.

"Ask'st thou how long my love will stay,
When all that's new is past?

How long, ah Delia, can I say
How long my life will last?

Dry be that tear, be hush'd that sigh,
At least I'll love thee till I die.

Hush'd be that sigh.

-

"And does that thought affect thee too, The thought of Sylvio's death, That he who only breath'd for you,

Must yield that faithful breath?

An Elegy by Halhed, transcribed in one of his letters to Sheridan, begins thus: "Dry be that tear, be hush'd that struggling sigh."

1770-1.

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1770-1.

Hush'd be that sigh, be dry that tear,
Nor let us lose our Heaven here. —

Dry be that tear."

There is in the second stanza here a close resemblance to one of the madrigals of Montreuil, a French poet, to whom Sir John Moore was indebted for the point of his well known verses, "If in that breast, so good so pure." * Mr. Sheridan, however, knew nothing of French, and neglected every opportunity of learning it, till, by a very natural process, his ignorance of the language grew into hatred of it. Besides, we have the immediate source from which he derived the thought of this stanza, in one of the Essays of Hume, who, being a reader of foreign literature, most probably found it in Montreuil. †

* "The grief, that on my quiet preys,

That rends my heart and checks my tongue,

I fear will last me all my days,

And feel it will not last me long."

It is thus in Montreuil :

"C'est un mal que j'aurai tout le tems de ma vie ;

Mais je ne l'aurai pas long-tems."

+ Or in an Italian song of Menage, from which Montreuil, who was accustomed to such thefts, most probably stole it. The point in the Italian is, as far as I can remember it, expressed thus:

"In van, o Filli, tu chiedi

Se lungamente durera l'ardore

Chi lo potrebbe dire ?

Incerta, o Filli, e l'ora del morire."

Why

.I.

1770-1.

The passage in Hume (which Sheridan has done CHAP. little more than versify) is as follows:- " so often ask me, How long my love shall yet endure? Alas, my Cælia, can I resolve the question? Do I know how long my life shall yet endure?"

The pretty lines, "Mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue?" were written, not upon Miss Linley, as has been generally stated, but upon Lady Margaret Fordyce, and form part of a poem which he published in 1771, descriptive of the principal beauties of Bath, entitled "Clio's Protest, or the Picture varnished," being an answer to some verses by Mr. Miles Peter Andrews, called "The Bath Picture," in which Lady Margaret was thus introduced :

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"Remark too the dimpling, sweet smile

Lady Marg❜ret's fine countenance wears."

The following is the passage in Mr. Sheridan's poem, entire; and the beauty of the six favourite lines shines out so conspicuously, that we cannot wonder at their having been so soon detached, like ill set gems, from the loose and clumsy workmanship around them :

"But, hark! - did not our bard repeat
The love-born name of M-rg-r-t? -

The Epicurean.

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".... Mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue?
Mark'd you her eye of sparkling blue?
That eye, in liquid circles moving;
That cheek abash'd at Man's approving;
The one, Love's arrows darting round;
The other, blushing at the wound:
Did she not speak, did she not move,
Now Pallas-now the Queen of Love !"

There is little else in this poem worth being extracted, though it consists of about four hundred lines; except, perhaps, his picture of a good country house-wife, which affords an early specimen of that neat pointedness of phrase, which gave his humour, both poetic and dramatic, such a peculiar edge and polish :

"We see the Dame, in rustic pride,
A bunch of keys to grace her side,
Stalking across the well-swept entry,
To hold her council in the pantry;
Or, with prophetic soul, foretelling
The peas will boil well by the shelling;
Or, bustling in her private closet,
Prepare her lord his morning posset;
And while the hallow'd mixture thickens,
Signing death-warrants for the chickens:
Else, greatly pensive, poring o'er
Accounts her cook had thumb'd before;
One eye cast up upon that great book,
Yclep'd The Family Receipt Book;
By which she's rul'd in all her courses,
From stewing figs to drenching horses.
- Then pans and pickling skillets rise,
In dreadful lustre, to our eyes,

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With store of sweetmeats, rang'd in order,
And potted nothings on the border;
While salves and caudle-cups between,
With squalling children, close the scene."

We find here, too, the source of one of those familiar lines, which so many quote without knowing whence they come; - one of those stray fragments, whose parentage is doubtful, but to which (as the law says of illegitimate children) " pater est populus."

، You write with ease, to show your breeding,
But easy writing's curst hard reading."

E 4

CHAP.
I.

1771.

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