partly to gratify his curiosity, partly to bring him the thanks of some Scotch professors. This was on the very eve of his mental attack. On his recovery, Cowper hastened to acknowledge the attention. This visit is noteworthy, because Rose took occasion of it to present him with the Poems of Burns. When he wrote to Rose he had read them all twice, and though the Scotch tongue had been somewhat troublesome to him, he was satisfied that the work was "a very extraordinary production."[1] Rose was invited to Weston, and the more Cowper saw of him the better he liked him, and the feeling was entirely reciprocated, as is shown by Rose's own letters to his sister, still in existence. He proved very useful, for he was never better pleased than in transcribing the translation of Homer from Cowper's rough copy. Cowper's mind seemed now at ease again. He still suffered a good deal from headache and giddiness,[2] but was in great hopes of ultimate recovery. He stood godfather to one of Rose's children, who was accordingly christened "William Cowper." Another point which was noticed by Lady Hesketh was that he said grace at his dinner. In his darkest moods he used, while grace was being said, to play with his knife and fork ostentatiously, as proving that he had no part nor lot in worshipping God. Mr. Throckmorton gave him the run of his library, and seeing, as he often said, that he had no books of his own,[3] this was a great benefaction. It is remarkable that the only letters of his at this time which are dark and sad are those to Newton. Though he esteemed him as highly as ever, many of his former illusions had been connected with him, and, conscious of that, Cowper always dreaded the time when friendship required him to write.
Lady Hesketh was to visit him in the spring of 1788, but the continued illness of her father, now eighty-six years old, forced her to put off the visit from time to time. In one of his letters to her Cowper enclosed a poem, which he entitled "Benefactions; a poem in Shenstone's manner. Addressed to my dearest Coz, April 14, 1788." This poem he afterwards altered into the form in which it will be found in p. 357 of this volume. But the two last stanzas as they stood originally, bearing so entirely on his present condition, ought not to be lost. They ran thus; —
"These items endear my abode,
Disposing me oft to reflect
By whom they were kindly bestowed,
Whom here I impatient expect.
But hush! She a parent attends,
Whose dial hand points to eleven,
Who, oldest and dearest of friends,
Waits only a passage to heaven.
- ↑ July 24, 1787.
- ↑ "The jarrings make my skull feel like a broken egg-shell., . . I have a perpetual din in my head, and though I am not deaf, hear nothing aright, neither my own voice, nor that of others. I am under a tub, from which tub accept my best love.—Yours, W. C."— To Lady Hesketh. Sept. 29, 1787.
- ↑ He says in one letter that he has bought a Latin dictionary, and now, perhaps, will buy more Latin books to make it useful, for that at present he has only a Virgil.
