User: Can you write me a poem about johnsoniana?
Assistant: Sure, here's a poem about johnsoniana:
  The eighteenth century was an age addicted to gossiping about its
interest in the Johnsoniana that flooded the market. Courtenay's
revealing. Courtenay evidently never met Johnson; indeed, the
(Boswell seconded), and elected two weeks later, on 23 December,
references indicate that the acquaintance was a fresh one.
From the start Boswell enjoyed Courtenay's company. In the first
place, Boswell appreciated Courtenay's talent in conversation.
"sparkles more than almost any man's." On 26 March 1788, Boswell
melancholy would have been at greater leisure to torment him.
Moreover, Boswell often solicited Courtenay's advice in various
Courtenay's high spirits and his ability to relieve Boswell's
This is not to say that relations between the two men were always
subject. They also differed on the question of slavery, and
Boswell good-naturedly chided Courtenay and William Windham as
depression grew, Courtenay's power to brighten his spirits waned
reflects the ambivalence which colors contemporary accounts of
Johnson. We are now accustomed to the notion of great art as the
product of a flawed life. But in the eighteenth century, an age
formidable problems to the biographer and his readers. Although
powerful mixture of great virtues and vices; and though he is not
For the most part, the commendatory section of the poem is an
unsystematic tracing of Johnson's moral and literary merits.
knowledge of men and manners in his writings. But his admiration
Johnson's writings. Usually, however, he was on firmer ground.
biographers and memorialists. Furthermore, he employs footnotes
skillfully. Though they impede the progress of the poem, they do
The clearest evidence for the care which Courtenay took with the
contains important revisions. Courtenay added ten lines and five
achieves a more unified portrait of Johnson. By means of such
Courtenay's _Review_ did not go unnoticed at the time, though for
praise for the sentiments and candor. Chesterfield's apologist in
Courtenay's _Review_, together with several other little known
 For the information about Courtenay's election, I am indebted to
 _Ibid._, XVII, 80. For additional testimony to Courtenay's
reputation as a wit, see _Thraliana_, ed. Katharine C. Balderston
 See Boswell's letters to Malone, _Letters_, II, 405, 427, and
 _Letters_, II, 428, 425. Boswell tried to negotiate loans for
 See Frank Brady, _Boswell's Political Career_ (New Haven, 1965),
 _Private Papers_, XVIII, 271. This entry is dated 31 March 1794,
Boswell's death.
 Boswell praised Courtenay's "just and discriminative eulogy" on
 It should be noted that the attack on Courtenay in this poem is
the mildest of the four. The famous caricaturist, Sayer, included
 Boswell quoted Courtenay's compliment in _Life_, II, 268.
Man is thy theme; his virtue, or his rage,
Drawn to the life, in each elaborate page. WALLER.
----_immensæ veluti connexa carinæ
Cymba minor._ STATIUS.
A Generous tear will Caledonia shed?
Her ancient foe, illustrious Johnson's dead;
Mac-Ossian's sons may now securely rest,
Safe from the bitter sneer, the cynick jest.
The song of triumph now I seem to hear,
And these the sounds that vibrate on my ear:
"Low lies the man, who scarce deigns Gray to praise,
But from the tomb calls Blackmore's sleeping lays;
A passport grants to Pomfret's dismal chimes,
To Yalden's hymns, and Watts's holy rhimes;
By subtle doubts would Swift's fair fame invade,
And round his brows the ray of glory shade;
With poignant taunt mild Shenstone's life arraigns,
His taste contemns, and sweetly-flowing strains;
At zealous Milton aims his tory dart,
But in his Savage finds a moral heart;
At great Nassau despiteful rancour flings,
But pension'd kneels ev'n to usurping kings:
Rich, old and dying, bows his laurel'd head,
And almost deigns to ask superfluous bread."
A sceptick once, he taught the letter'd throng
To doubt the existence of fam'd Ossian's song;
Yet by the eye of faith, in reason's spite,
Saw ghosts and witches, preach'd up _second sight_:
For o'er his soul sad Superstition threw
Her gloom, and ting'd his genius with her hue.
On popish ground he takes his high church station,
To sound mysterious tenets through the nation;
On Scotland's kirk he vents a bigot's gall,
Though her young chieftains prophecy like SAUL!
On Tetty's state his frighted fancy runs,
And Heaven's appeas'd by cross unbutter'd buns:
He sleeps and fasts, pens on himself a libel,
And still believes, but never reads the Bible.
Fame says, at school, of scripture science vain,
Bel and the Dragon smote him on the brain;
And eyed the Ark with reverential awe:
Let priestly S--h--n in a godly fit
The tale relate, in aid of Holy Writ;
Though candid Adams, by whom DAVID fell,
Who ancient miracles sustain'd so well,
To recent wonders may deny his aid,
Nor own a buzy zealot of the trade.
A coward wish, long stigmatiz'd by fame,
Devotes Mæcenas to eternal shame;
Religious Johnson, future life to gain,
Would ev'n submit to everlasting pain:
How clear, how strong, such kindred colours paint
The Roman epicure and Christian saint!
O, had he liv'd in more enlighten'd times,
When signs from heaven proclaim'd vile mortals' crimes,
How had he groan'd, with sacred horrors pale,
When Noah's comet shook her angry tail;
That wicked comet, which Will Whiston swore
Would burn the earth that she had drown'd before!
Or when Moll Tosts, by throes parturient vext,
Saw her young rabbets peep from Esdras' text!
To him such signs, prepar'd by mystick grace,
Had shewn the impending doom of Adam's race.
But who to blaze his frailties feels delight,
When the great author rises to our sight?
When the pure tenour of his life we view,
Himself the bright exemplar that he drew?
Whose works console the good, instruct the wise,
And teach the soul to claim her kindred skies.
By grateful bards his name be ever sung,
Whose sterling touch has fix'd the English tongue!
Fortune's dire weight, the patron's cold disdain,
"Shook off, as dew-drops from the lion's mane;"
Unknown, unaided, in a friendless state,
Without one smile of favour from the great;
The bulky tome his curious care refines,
Till the great work in full perfection shines;
His wide research and patient skill displays
What scarce was sketch'd in ANNA's golden days;
What only learning's aggregated toil
Slowly accomplish'd in each foreign soil.
Yet to the mine though the rich coin he trace,
No current marks his early essays grace;
For in each page we find a massy store
Of English bullion mix'd with Latian ore:
In solemn pomp, with pedantry combin'd,
He vents the morbid sadness of his mind;
In scientifick phrase affects to smile,
Form'd on Brown's turgid Latin-English style:
Too oft the abstract decorates his prose,
While measur'd ternaries the periods close:
But all propriety his Ramblers mock,
When Betty prates from Newton and from Locke;
When no diversity we trace between
The lofty moralist and gay fifteen--
Yet genius still breaks through the encumbering phrase;
His taste we censure, but the work we praise:
There learning beams with fancy's brilliant dyes,
Vivid as lights that gild the northern skies;
Man's complex heart he bares to open day,
Clear as the prism unfolds the blended ray:
The picture from his mind assumes its hue;
The shades too dark, but the design still true.
Though Johnson's merits thus I freely scan,
And paint the foibles of this wond'rous man;
Yet can I coolly read, and not admire,
When Learning, Wit and Poetry conspire
To shed a radiance o'er his moral page,
And spread truth's sacred light to many an age?
For all his works with innate lustre shine,
Strength all his own, and energy divine.
While through life's maze he sent a piercing view,
His mind expansive to the object grew.
With various stores of erudition fraught,
The lively image, the deep-searching thought,
Slept in repose;--but when the moment press'd,
The bright ideas flood at once confess'd;
Instant his genius sped its vigorous rays,
And o'er the letter'd world diffus'd a blaze:
As womb'd with fire the cloud electrick flies,
And calmly o'er the horizon seems to rise;
Touch'd by the pointed steel, the lightning flows,
And all the expanse with rich effulgence glows.
In judgment keen, he acts the critick's part,
By reason proves the feelings of the heart;
In thought profound, in nature's study wise,
Shews from what source our fine sensations rise;
With truth, precision, fancy's claims defines,
And throws new splendour o'er the poet's lines.
When specious sophists with presumption scan
The source of evil, hidden still from man;
Revive Arabian tales, and vainly hope
To rival St. John, and his scholar, Pope;
Though metaphysicks spread the gloom of night,
By reason's star he guides our aching sight;
The bounds of knowledge marks; and points the way
To pathless wastes, where wilder'd sages stray;
Where, like a farthing linkboy, Jennings stands,
And the dim torch drops from his feeble hands.
Impressive truth, in splendid fiction drest,
Checks the vain wish, and calms the troubled breast;
O'er the dark mind a light celestial throws,
And sooths the angry passions to repose;
As oil effus'd illumes and smooths the deep,
When round the bark the foaming surges sweep.--
But hark, he sings! the strain ev'n Pope admires;
Indignant Virtue her own bard inspires;
Sublime as Juvenal, he pours his lays,
And with the Roman shares congenial praise:--
In glowing numbers now he fires the age,
And Shakspeare's sun relumes the clouded stage.
So full his mind with images was fraught,
The rapid strains scarce claim'd a second thought;
And with like ease his vivid lines assume
The garb and dignity of ancient Rome.--
Let college _versemen_ trite conceits express,
Trick'd out in splendid shreds of Virgil's dress;
From playful Ovid cull the tinsel phrase,
And vapid notions hitch in pilfer'd lays;
Then with mosaick art the piece combine,
And boast the glitter of each dulcet line:
Johnson adventur'd boldly to transfuse
His vigorous sense into the Latian muse;
Aspir'd to shine by unreflected light,
And with a Roman's ardour _think_ and write.
He felt the tuneful Nine his breast inspire,
And, like a master, wak'd the soothing lyre:
Horatian strains a grateful heart proclaim,
While Sky's wild rocks resound his Thralia's name.--
Hesperia's plant, in some less skillful hands,
To bloom a while, factitious heat demands;
Though glowing Maro a faint warmth supplies,
The sickly blossom in the hot-house dies:
By Johnson's genial culture, art, and toil,
Its root strikes deep, and owns the fost'ring soil;
Imbibes our sun through all its swelling veins,
And grows a native of Britannia's plains.
Soft-ey'd compassion, with a look benign
His fervent vows he offer'd at thy shrine;
To guilt, to woe, the sacred debt was paid,
And helpless females bless'd his pious aid:
Snatch'd from disease, and want's abandon'd crew,
Despair and anguish from their victims flew;
Hope's soothing balm into their bosoms stole,
And tears of penitence restor'd the soul.
Nor did philanthrophy alone expand
His liberal heart, and ope his bounteous hand;
His _talents_ ev'n he gave to friendship's claim,
And by the gift imparted wealth and fame:
His mind exhaustless sped its vivid force,
Yet with unbated vigour held its course;
As some fix'd star fulfills heaven's great designs,
Lights other spheres, yet undiminish'd shines.
How few distinguish'd of the studious train
At the gay board their empire can maintain!
In their own books intomb'd their wisdom lies;
Too dull for talk, their slow conceptions rise:
Yet the mute author, of his writings proud,
For wit unshewn claims homage from the crowd;
As thread-bare misers, by mean avarice school'd,
Expect obeisance from their hidden gold.--
In converse quick, impetuous Johnson press'd
His weighty logick, or sarcastick jest:
Strong in the chace, and nimble in the turns,
For victory still his fervid spirit burns;
Subtle when wrong, invincible when right,
Arm'd at all points, and glorying in his might,
Gladiator-like, he traverses the field,
And strength and skill compel the foe to yield.--
Yet have I seen him, with a milder air,
Encircled by the witty and the fair,
Ev'n in old age with placid mien rejoice
At beauty's smile, and beauty's flattering voice.--
With Reynolds' pencil, vivid, bold, and true,
So fervent Boswell gives him to our view.
In every trait we see his mind expand;
The master rises by the pupil's hand;
We love the writer, praise his happy vein,
Grac'd with the naiveté of the sage Montaigne.
Hence not alone are brighter parts display'd,
But ev'n the specks of character portray'd:
We _see_ the Rambler with fastidious smile
Mark the lone tree, and note the heath-clad isle;
But when the heroick tale of Flora charms,
Deck'd in a kilt, he wields a chieftain's arms:
The tuneful piper sounds a martial strain,
And Samuel sings, "The King shall have his ain":
Two Georges in his loyal zeal are slur'd,
A gracious pension only saves the third!--
By Nature's gifts ordain'd mankind to rule,
He, like a Titian, form'd his brilliant school;
And taught congenial spirits to excel,
While from his lips impressive wisdom fell.
Our boasted GOLDSMITH felt the sovereign sway;
From him deriv'd the sweet yet nervous lay.
To Fame's proud cliff he bade our Raphael rise;
Hence REYNOLDS' pen with REYNOLDS' pencil vyes.
With Johnson's flame melodious BURNEY glows,
While the grand strain in smoother cadence flows.
And you, MALONE, to critick learning dear,
Correct and elegant, refin'd, though clear,
By studying him, acquir'd that classick taste,
Which high in Shakspeare's fane thy statue plac'd.
Near Johnson STEEVENS stands, on scenick ground,
Acute, laborious, fertile, and profound.
Ingenious HAWKESWORTH to this school we owe,
And scarce the pupil from the tutor know.
Here early parts accomplish'd JONES sublimes,
And science blends with Asia's lofty rhimes:
Harmonious JONES! who in his splendid strains
Sings Camdeo's sports, on Agra's flowery plains;
In Hindu fictions while we fondly trace
Love and the Muses, deck'd with Attick grace.
Amid these names can BOSWELL be forgot,
Scarce by North Britons now esteem'd a Scot?
Who to the sage devoted from his youth,
Imbib'd from him the sacred love of truth;
The keen research, the exercise of mind,
And that best art, the art to know mankind.--
Nor was his energy confin'd alone
To friends around his philosophick throne;
Its influence wide improv'd our letter'd isle,
And lucid vigour mark'd the general style:
As Nile's proud waves, swol'n from their oozy bed,
First o'er the neighbouring meads majestick spread;
Till gathering force, they more and more expand,
And with new virtue fertilise the land.
Thus sings the Muse, to Johnson's memory just,
And scatters praise and censure o'er his dust;
For through each checker'd scene a contrast ran,
Too sad a proof, how great, how weak is man!
Though o'er his passions conscience held the rein,
He shook at dismal phantoms of the brain:
A boundless faith that noble mind debas'd,
By piercing wit, energick reason grac'd:
A generous Briton, yet he seems to hope
For James's grandson, and for James's Pope:
With courtly zeal fair freedom's sons defames,
Yet, like a Hamden, pleads Ierne's claims.
Though proudly splenetick, yet idly vain,
Accepted flattery, and dealt disdain.--
E'en shades like these, to brilliancy ally'd,
May comfort fools, and curb the Sage's pride.
Yet Learning's sons, who o'er his foibles mourn,
To latest time shall fondly view his urn;
And wond'ring praise, to human frailties blind,
Talents and virtue of the brightest kind;
Revere the man, with various knowledge stor'd,
Who science, arts, and life's whole scheme explor'd;
Who firmly scorn'd, when in a lowly state,
To flatter vice, or court the vain and great;
Whose heart still felt a sympathetick glow,
Prompt to relieve man's variegated woe;
Whose ardent hope, intensely fix'd on high,
Saw future bliss with intellectual eye.
Still in his breast Religion held her sway,
Disclosing visions of celestial day;
And gave his soul, amidst this world of strife,
The blest reversion of eternal life:
By this dispell'd, each doubt and horrour flies,
And calm at length in holy peace he dies.
The sculptur'd trophy, and imperial bust,
That proudly rise around his hallow'd dust,
Shall mould'ring fall, by Time's slow hand decay'd,
But the bright meed of virtue ne'er shall fade.
Exulting Genius stamps his sacred name,
Enroll'd for ever in the dome of Fame.
 "A Scotchman must be a sturdy moralist, who does not prefer
Scotland to truth." Johnson's _Journey to the Western Isles of
 "The Poems of Dr. Watts were by my recommendation inserted in
Watts, Pomfret and Yalden." Johnson's _Life of Watts_.
The following specimen of their productions may be sufficient to
enable the reader to judge of their respective merits:
"Alas, Jerusalem! alas! where's now
Thy pristine glory, thy unmatch'd renown,
To which the heathen monarchies did bow?
Ah, hapless, miserable town!"
Eleazar's _Lamentation over Jerusalem, paraphrased by_ Pomfret.
"Before the Almighty Artist fram'd the sky,
Or gave the earth its harmony,
His first command was for thy light;
He view'd the lovely birth, and blessed it:
_In purple swaddling bands it struggling lay_,
Old Chaos then a chearful smile put on,
And from thy beauteous form did first presage its own."
Yalden's _Hymn to Light_.
"My chearful soul now all the day
Sits waiting here and sings;
Looks through the ruins of her clay,
And practises her wings.
O, rather let this flesh decay,
The ruins wider grow!
Till glad to see the enlarged way,
I stretch my pinions through."
 "He seemed to me to have an unaccountable prejudice against
impatient of all indignity offered to the established religion of
_Publick Spirit of the Whigs_. It is well known, that he affected
"The greatest part of that book was finished above thirteen years
edition of Swift's Works, 8vo. vol. xvi. p. 145.
 _Johnson._ "I would tell truth of the two Georges, or of that
 See his letter to Lord Thurlow, in which he seems to approve of
 "If (added Dr. Johnson) GOD had never spoken figuratively, we
 See his conversation with Lord Auchinleck. Boswell's _Tour_.
 "And I commend to thy fatherly goodness the soul of my departed
 "I returned home, but could not settle my mind. At last I read a
 "I fasted, though less rigorously than at other times. I by
To keep a journal. To begin this day. (Sept. 18th, 1766.)
 "I resolved last Easter to read, within the year, the whole
 "I have never yet read the Apocrypha. When I was a boy I have
read or heard Bel and the Dragon." _Meditations._
 See the First Book of Samuel, ch. v. and vi. in which an account
 The Rev. Dr. Adams of Oxford, distinguished for his answer to
David Hume's _Essay on Miracles_.
 From the following letter there is reason to apprehend that Dr.
In your last month's Review of books, you have asserted, that the
"Debilem facite manu,
Debilem pede, coxa;
Tuber adstrue gibberum;
Lubricos quate dentes;
Vita dum superest, bene est:
Hanc mihi, vel acuta
Si sedeam cruce, sustine." SENEC. EPIST. 101.
Let me but live, the fam'd Mæcenas cries,
Lame of both hands, and lame in feet and thighs;
Hump-back'd, and toothless;--all convuls'd with pain,
Ev'n on the cross,--so precious life remain.
existence in eternal pain to annihilation.
 "This last comet (which appeared in the year 1680) I may well
 "'Tis here foretold [by Esdras] that there should be _signs in
 "The incumbrances of fortune were shaken from his mind as
 Every reader of sensibility must be strongly affected by the
assistance foreign nations and distant ages gain access to the
 See Swift's letter to Lord Oxford for the institution of an
academy to improve and fix the English language.
 The great French and Italian Dictionaries were not the
productions of an individual, but were compiled by a body of
Academicians in each country.
 "In times and regions so disjoined from each other, that there
 The style of the _Ramblers_ seem to have been formed on that of
Sir Thomas Brown's _Vulgar Errors_ and _Christian Morals_.
bodies only incrassation."--Is this written by Brown or Johnson?
 In the _Ramblers_ the abstract too often occurs instead of the
concrete;--one of Dr. Johnson's peculiarities.
 See Victoria's Letter, RAMBLER, No. 130.--"I was never permitted
 See his admirable _Lives of the Poets_, and particularly his
Disquisition on metaphysical and religious poetry.
 Pope's or rather Bolingbroke's system was borrowed from the
Arabian metaphysicians.
 See that sublime and beautiful Tale, _The Prince of Abyssinia_;
 "The world is disposed to call this a discovery of Dr.
Franklin's, (from his paper inserted in the Philosophical
elementum implacabilius."
 _London_, a Satire, and _The Vanity of Human Wishes_, are both
 "Inter _ignotæ_ strepitus _loquelæ_."--Ode to Mrs. Thrale.
 The dignified and affecting letter written by him to the King in
recovery, clothed, and placed them in a way of life to earn their
 The papers in the ADVENTURER, signed with the letter T, are
 "A good continued speech (says Bacon in his ESSAYS) without a
good speech of interlocution, shews slowness; and a good reply or
exception to the rule; for he was certainly as _strong_ "in the
 The celebrated Flora Macdonald. See Boswell's _Tour_.
 Dr. Burney's _History of Musick_ is equally distinguished by
elegance and perspicuity of style, and for scientifick knowledge.
 Sir William Jones produced that learned and ingenious work,
_Poeseos Asiaticæ Commentarii_, at a very early age.
 "The Hindu God, to whom the following poem is addressed, appears
There can be little doubt, considering the antiquity and early
civilisation of Hindostan, that both the philosophy and beautiful
 The following observation in Mr. Boswell's _Journal of a Tour to
"Scarce by _South_ Britons now esteem'd a Scot."
 When Dr. Johnson repeated to Mr. Boswell Goldsmith's beautiful
English common Soldiers, at the end of the _Idler_.
 Though Dr. Johnson has called Hamden the _zealot of rebellion_,
controversial argument like a Tory, possessed a high independent
Hêmisu tês aretês apoainutai doulion êmar.
A slave and a scoundrel are signified by the same words in many
 It is observable that Dr. Johnson did not prefix a dedication to
Lawyers_ (1746). _The New Play Criticiz'd, or The Plague
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