[THE idea of this poem, which was completed in November, 1784, Cowper appears to have first entertained while corresponding on the subject of education with Unwin, to whom it was dedicated in these terms: -"To the Rev. William Cawthorne Unwin, Rector of Stock, in Essex, the tutor of his two sons, the following poem, recommending private tuition in preference to an education at school, is inscribed by his affectionate friend, William Cowper." In the dedication, as originally written, the words, "and of his two sons only," occurred, but were suppressed, though with some reluctance, by the poet, who acknowledges his fears lest, without such insertion, the poem might be regarded as "an interested recommendation of a friend's boarding establishment." To neither of the requisites for writing on practical education - freedom from prejudice and enlightened experience could Cowper lay claim. From his earliest infancy he suffered under a temperament which unfitted him for the active scenes of life; and that which was merely personal in his case, he makes incidental to the system. What to most other boys is a mere passing unhappiness, a momentary cloud on the sun of their joyous hours, and leaving not a trace upon the memory of the man, settled down in his recollection into rooted antipathy. His actual acquaintance also with public education in England, was, for a professional man, singularly imperfect. Save Westminster, he knew nothing of any seminary of eminence. Of the universities which he censures so freely, he possessed, beyond hearsay, absolutely no information. Accordingly, as a didactic treatise, the "Review of Schools" is a failure; while, as a poem, it displeases by unpoetical sentiments, exhibiting Cowper's peculiarities of genius and manner to the greatest disadvantage. The occasional carelessness of his language and versification, which in his other works, supported by natural sentiment, assumes the semblance of a graceful negligence, becomes here harshness and obscurity. On the other hand, a general, even painful elaboration of the whole, takes away much of the wonted airiness and freedom of his effects. As a satirist, he displays here more than infelicity in the application of his censure. The imputed vices of students are reprehended in language which it would be indecent to read in the hearing of youth teachers are absurdly and meanly blamed for selling their instructions; and parents are accused of sending their children to public schools from motives of personal caprice, or the mercenary hope of their contracting advantageous friendships. On the main question discussed, the relative advantages of public and private education,-it is sufficient that utility and experience have long since determined it in favour of the system of education which trains the boy for the active concerns of the world where the man is to play a part. Besides, Cowper does not even attempt to make good his abuse of public schools: he gravely assumes, instead of proving the points at issue. True, at a public school a boy may learn some vices which he might not have witnessed at home; but his heart, his morals, and his understanding will be more debased by one day's familiarity with the menials of his father's house or stable, than by years of such intimacies as he is likely to form among his equals at a public seminary.

Notwithstanding these defects, the work was a favourite with the writer; and he has prefixed to it the longest, and the only laboured, preface which he ever wrote. "In the poem on Education, he (the author) would be very sorry to stand suspected of having aimed his censure at any particular school. His objections are such as naturally apply themselves to schools in general. If there were not, as for the most part there is, wilful neglect in those who manage them, and an omission even of such discipline as they are susceptible of, the objects are yet too numerous for minute attention; and the aching hearts of ten thousand parents, mourning under the bitterest of all disappointments, attest the truth of the allegation. His quarrel, therefore, is with the mischief at large, and not with any particular instance of it." But whatever objections may be urged against the doctrines of the poem, all must willingly and with pleasure confess that there are passages of great beauty and pathos, where domestic scenes and domestic affections are described.]

The education of youth is the foundation of all civil government.

It is not from his form, in which we trace
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace,
That man, the master of this globe, derives
His right of empire over all that lives.
That form, indeed, the associate of a mind
Vast in its powers, ethereal in its kind,
That form, the labour of almighty skill,
Framed for the service of a freeborn will,
Asserts precedence, and bespeaks control,
But borrows all its grandeur from the soul:
Her's is the state, the splendour, and the throne,
An intellectual kingdom, all her own.
For her the memory fills her ample page
With truths pour'd down from every distant age
For her amasses an unbounded store,

The wisdom of great nations, now no more ;
Though laden, not encumber'd with her spoil;
Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil;

When copiously supplied, then most enlarged
Still to be fed, and not to be surcharged.
For her the fancy, roving unconfined,
The present muse of every pensive mind,
Works magic wonders, adds a brighter hue
To Nature's scenes than Nature ever knew.
At her command winds rise, and waters roar,
Again she lays them slumbering on the shore;
With flower and fruit the wilderness supplies,
Or bids the rocks in ruder pomp arise.
For her the judgment, umpire in the strife,
That grace and nature have to wage through life
Quick-sighted arbiter of good and ill,
Appointed sage preceptor to the will,
Condemns, approves, and with a faithful voice
Guides the decision of a doubtful choice.
Why did the fiat of a God give birth
To yon fair sun, and his attendant earth?
And when, descending, he resigns the skies,
Why takes the gentler moon her turn to rise,
Whom ocean feels through all his countless waves,
And owns her power on every shore he laves?
Why do the seasons still enrich the year,
Fruitful and young as in their first career?
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze;
Summer in haste the thriving charge receives
Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves,
Till Autumn's fiercer heats and plenteous dews
Dye them at last in all their glowing hues.
'Twere wild profusion all, and bootless waste,
Power misemploy'd, munificence misplaced,
Had not its Author dignified the plan,
And crown'd it with the majesty of man.

Thus form'd, thus placed, intelligent, and taught,
Look where he will, the wonders God has wrought,
The wildest scorner of his Maker's laws

Finds in a sober moment time to pause,

To press the important question on his heart,

66

Why form'd at all, and wherefore as thou art?”

If man be what he seems, this hour a slave,
The next mere dust and ashes in the grave;
Endued with reason only to descry

His crimes and follies with an aching eye;
With passions, just that he may prove, with pain,
The force he spends against their fury vain ;
And if, soon after, having burnt, by turns,
With every lust with which frail Nature burns,
His being end, where death dissolves the bond,
The tomb take all, and all be blank beyond;
Then he, of all that Nature has brought forth,
Stands self-impeach'd the creature of least worth,
And useless while he lives, and when he dies,
Brings into doubt the Wisdom of the skies.

Truths, that the learn'd pursue with eager thought,
Are not important always as dear-bought,
Proving at last, though told in pompous strains,
A childish waste of philosophic pains;

But truths, on which depends our main concern,
That 'tis our shame and misery not to learn,
Shine by the side of every path we tread
With such a lustre, he that runs may read.
'Tis true that, if to trifle life away
Down to the sunset of their latest day,

Then perish on futurity's wide shore
Like fleeting exhalations, found no more,

Were all that Heaven required of humankind,

And all the plan their destiny design'd,

What none could reverence all might justly blame,
And man would breathe but for his Maker's shame.

But reason heard, and Nature well perused,
At once the dreaming mind is disabused.
If all we find possessing earth, sea, air,

Reflect His attributes, who placed them there,
Fulfil the purpose, and appear design'd
Proofs of the wisdom of the all-seeing mind,
'Tis plain the creature, whom he chose to invest
With kingship and dominion o'er the rest,
Received his nobler nature, and was made
Fit for the power, in which he stands array'd;

That first or last, hereafter if not here,

He too might make his Author's wisdom clear,
Praise Him on earth, or, obstinately dumb,
Suffer his justice in a world to come.

This once believed, 'twere logic misapplied
To prove a consequence by none denied,
That we are bound to cast the minds of youth
Betimes into the mould of heavenly truth,
That, taught of God, they may indeed be wise,
Nor, ignorantly wandering, miss the skies.

In early days the conscience has in most
A quickness, which in later life is lost;
Preserved from guilt by salutary fears,
Or, guilty, soon relenting into tears.
Too careless often, as our years proceed,

What friends we sort with, or what books we read,

Our parents yet exert a prudent care

To feed our infant minds with proper fare ;
And wisely store the nursery by degrees

With wholesome learning, yet acquired with ease.
Neatly secured from being soil'd or torn
Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn,
A book (to please us at a tender age
'Tis call'd a book, though but a single page)

Presents the prayer the Saviour deign'd to teach,
Which children use, and parsons- when they preach.
Lisping our syllables, we scramble next

Through moral narrative, or sacred text;

And learn with wonder how this world began,

Who made, who marr'd, and who has ransom❜d man :
Points which, unless the Scripture made them plain,
The wisest heads might agitate in vain.
O thou, whom, borne on fancy's eager wing
Back to the season of life's happy spring,
I pleased remember, and, while memory yet
Holds fast her office here, can ne'er forget;
Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale
Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail;
Whose humorous vein, strong sense, and simple style,
May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile;