TO SILVIO.

"Soft flow'd the lay by Avon's sedgy side, While o'er its streams the drooping willow hung Beneath whose shadow Silvio fondly tried To check the opening roses as they sprung.

In vain he bade them cease to court the gale, That wanton'd balmy on the zephyr's wing; In vain, when Philomel renew'd her tale, He chid her song, and said _'It was not Spring.'_

For still they bloom'd, tho' Silvio's heart was sad, Nor did sweet Philomel neglect to sing; The zephyrs scorned them not, tho' Silvio had, For love and nature told them it was Spring.

[Footnote: As the poem altogether would be too long, I have here omitted five or six stanzas]

To other scenes doth Silvio now repair, To n.o.bler themes his daring Muse aspires; Around him throng the gay, the young, the fair, His lively wit the listening crowd admires.

And see, where radiant Beauty smiling stands, With gentle voice and soft beseeching eyes, To gain the laurel from his willing hands, Her every art the fond enchantress tries.

What various charms the admiring youth surround, How shall he sing, or how attempt to praise?

So lovely all--where shall the bard be found, Who can to _one_ alone attune his lays?

Behold with graceful step and smile serene, Majestic Stella moves to claim the prize: [Footnote: According to the Key which has been given me, the name of Stella was meant to designate the d.u.c.h.ess of Rutland]

"'Tis thine," he cries, "for thou art beauty's queen."

Mistaken youth! and sees't thou Myra's eyes?

[Footnote: The d.u.c.h.ess of Devonshire]

With beaming l.u.s.tre see they dart at thee: Ah I dread their vengeance--yet withhold thy hand,-- That deepening blush upbraids thy rash decree; Hers is the wreath--obey the just demand.

"Pardon, bright nymph,"(the wond'ring Silvio cries) "And oh, receive the wreath thy beauty's due"-- His voice awards what still his hand denies, For beauteous Amoret now his eyes pursue.

[Footnote: Mrs. (afterward Lady) Crewe]

With gentle step and hesitating grace, Unconscious of her pow'r the fair one came; If, while he view'd the glories of that face, Poor Silvio doubted,--who shall dare to blame?

A rosy blush his ardent gaze reprov'd, The offer'd wreath she modestly declined;-- "If sprightly wit and dimpled smiles are lov'd, My brow," said Flavia, "shall that garland bind."

[Footnote: Lady Craven, afterwards Margravine of Ans.p.a.ch.]

With wanton gaiety the prize she seized-- Silvio in vain her snowy hand repell'd; The fickle youth unwillingly was pleas'd, Reluctantly the wreath he yet withheld.

But Jessie's all-seducing form appears, [Footnote: The late Countess of Jersey.]

Nor more the playful Flavia could delight; Lovely in smiles, more lovely still in tears, Her every glance shone eloquently bright.

Those radiant eyes in safety none could view, Did not those fringed lids their brightness shade-- Mistaken youths! their beams, too late ye knew, Are by that soft defence more fatal made.

"O G.o.d of Love!" with transport Silvio cries, "a.s.sist me thou, this contest to decide; And since to _one_ I cannot yield the prize, Permit thy slave the garland to divide.

"On Myra's breast the opening rose shall blow, Reflecting from her cheek a livelier bloom; For Stella shall the bright carnation glow-- Beneath her eyes' bright radiance meet its doom.

"Smart pinks and daffodils shall Flavia grace, The modest eglantine and violet blue On gentle Amoret's placid brow I'll place-- Of elegance and love an emblem true."

In gardens oft a beauteous flow'r there grows, By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen; In sweet security it humbly blows, And rears its purple head to deck the green.

This flower, as nature's poet sweetly sings, Was once milk-white, and _hearts-ease_ was its name; Till wanton Cupid pois'd his roseate wings, A vestal's sacred bosom to inflame;

With treacherous aim the G.o.d his arrow drew, Which she with icy coldness did repel; Rebounding thence with feathery speed it flew, Till on this lonely flow'r at last it fell.

Heart's-ease no more the wandering shepherds found, No more the nymphs its snowy form possess; Its white now chang'd to purple by Love's wound, Heart's-ease no more, 'tis "Love in Idleness."

"This flow'r with sweet-brier join'd shall thee adorn, Sweet Jessie, fairest 'mid ten thousand fair!

But guard thy gentle bosom from the thorn, Which, tho' conceal'd, the sweet-brier still must bear.

"And place not Love, tho' _idle_, in thy breast, Tho' bright its hues, it boasts no other charm-- So may thy future days be ever blest, And friendship's calmer joys thy bosom warm !"

But where does Laura pa.s.s her lonely hours?

Does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree?

Shall Silvio from his wreath of various flowr's Neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee?

"Ah, Laura, no," the constant Silvio cries, "For thee a never-fading wreath I'll twine; Though bright the rose, its bloom too swiftly flies, No emblem meet for love so true as mine.

"For thee, my love, the myrtle, ever-green, Shall every year its blossom sweet disclose, Which, when our spring of youth no more is seen, Shall still appear more lovely than the rose."

"Forgive, dear youth," the happy Laura said, "Forgive each doubt, each fondly anxious fear, Which from my heart for ever now is fled-- Thy love and truth, thus tried, are doubly dear.

"With pain I mark'd the various pa.s.sions rise, When beauty so divine before thee mov'd; With trembling doubt beheld thy wandering eyes, For still I fear'd;--alas! because I lov'd.

"Each anxious doubt shall Laura _now_ forego, No more regret those joys so lately known, Conscious, that tho' thy breast to _all_ may glow, Thy faithful _heart_ shall beat for _her_ alone.

"Then, Silvio, seize again thy tuneful lyre, Nor yet sweet Beauty's power forbear to praise; Again let charms divine thy strains inspire, And Laura's voice shall aid the poet's lays."

CHAPTER V.

THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.

Mr. Sheridan was now approaching the summit of his dramatic fame;--he had already produced the best opera in the language, and there now remained for him the glory of writing also the best comedy. As this species of composition seems, more, perhaps, than any other, to require that knowledge of human nature and the world which experience alone can give, it seems not a little extraordinary that nearly all our first-rate comedies should have been the productions of very young men. Those of Congreve were all written before he was five-and-twenty. Farquhar produced the Constant Couple in his two-and-twentieth year, and died at thirty. Vanbrugh was a young ensign when he sketched out the Relapse and the Provoked Wife, and Sheridan crowned his reputation with the School for Scandal at six-and-twenty.

It is, perhaps, still more remarkable to find, as in the instance before us, that works which, at this period of life, we might suppose to have been the rapid offspring of a careless, but vigorous fancy,-- antic.i.p.ating the results of experience by a sort of second-sight inspiration,--should, on the contrary, have been the slow result of many and doubtful experiments, gradually unfolding beauties unforeseen even by him who produced them, and arriving, at length, step by step, at perfection. That such was the tardy process by which the School for Scandal was produced, will appear from the first sketches of its plan and dialogue, which I am here enabled to lay before the reader, and which cannot fail to interest deeply all those who take delight in tracing the alchemy of genius, and in watching the first slow workings of the menstruum, out of which its finest trans.m.u.tations arise.

"Genius," says Buffon, "is Patience;" or, (as another French writer has explained his thought)--"La Patience cherche, et le Genie trouve;" and there is little doubt that to the co-operation of these two powers all the brightest inventions of this world are owing;--that Patience must first explore the depths where the pearl lies hid, before Genius boldly dives and brings it up full into light. There are, it is true, some striking exceptions to this rule; and our own times have witnessed more than one extraordinary intellect, whose depth has not prevented their treasures from lying ever ready within reach. But the records of Immortality furnish few such instances; and all we know of the works, that she has. .h.i.therto marked with her seal, sufficiently authorize the general position,--that nothing great and durable has ever been produced with ease, and that Labor is the parent of all the lasting wonders of this world, whether in verse or stone, whether poetry or pyramids.

The first sketch of the School for Scandal that occurs was written, I am inclined to think, before the Rivals, or at least very soon after it;-- and that it was his original intention to satirize some of the gossips of Bath appears from the t.i.tle under which I find noted down, as follows, the very first hints, probably, that suggested themselves for the dialogue.

"THE SLANDERERS.--_A Pump-Room Scene_.

"Friendly caution to the newspapers.

"It is whispered--

"She is a constant attendant at church, and very frequently takes Dr.

M'Brawn home with her.