The Irish Poet and the Natural World: An Anthology of Verse in English from the Tudors to the Romantics

John Cunningham (1729–1766–1773)

265 JOHN CUNNINGHAM (1729 – 1766–1773) John Cunningham was born in Dublin and educated in Drogheda. While still in his teens he started writing poetry and plays and joined a troupe of actors travelling around Ireland. He subsequently moved to England, continuing to work as an actor: he published several volumes of pastoral poetry and counted Dr Johnson – among others – as an admirer. Charles Peake in Poetry of the Landscape and the Night (London, 1967) describes Cunningham as ‘a poet of no great distinction’ but says also that his work ‘… suggests how liberating for the minor poet was the shift away from portentous meditation and pastoral machinery to the evocation of a mood through simple but accurate description of the country scene’. A Landscape. Rura mihi et irrigui placeant in vallibus amnes. VIRG1 I Now that summer’s ripened bloom Frolicks where the winter frown’d Stretch’d upon these banks of broom, We command the landscape round. II Nature in the prospect yields Humble dales and mountains bold, Meadows, woodlands, heaths,—and fields Yellow’d o’er with waving gold. III Goats upon that frowning steep Fearless, with their kidlings brouse! 10 Here a flock of snowy sheep! There an herd of motly cows! IV On the uplands, every glade Brightens in the blaze of day; O’er the vales, the sober shade Softens to an evening grey. Georgics II, 485. 1 266 V Where the rill by slow degrees Swells into a chrystal pool, Shaggy rocks and shelving trees Shoot to keep the water cool. 20 VI Shiver’d by a thunder-stroke, From the mountain’s misty ridge, O’er the brook a ruin’d oak, Near the farm-house, forms a bridge. VII On her breast the sunny beam Glitters in meridian pride; Yonder as the virgin stream Hastens to the restless tide:— VIII Where the ships by wanton gales Wafted, o’er the green waves run, 30 Sweet to see the swelling sails Whiten’d by the laughing sun! Ix High upon the dasied hill, Rising from the slope of trees, How the wings of yonder mill Labour in the busy breeze!— x Cheerful as a summer’s morn (Bouncing from her loaded pad) Where the maid presents her corn, Smirking, to the miller’s lad. 40 xI O’er the green a festal throng Gambols, in fantastic trim! As the full cart moves along, Hearken—’tis their harvest hymn! 267 John Cunningham xII Linnets on the crowded sprays Chorus,—and the wood-larks rise, Soaring with a song of praise, Till the sweet notes reach the skies. xIII Torrents in extended sheets Down the cliffs, dividing, break: 50 ’Twixt the hills the water meets, Settling in a silver lake! xIV From his languid flocks, the swain By the sunbeams sore opprest, Plunging on the wat’ry plain, Plows it with his glowing breast. xV Where the mantling willows nod, From the green bank’s slopy side, Patient, with his well-thrown rod Many an angler breaks the tide! 60 xVI On the isles, with osiers drest Many a fair-plum’d halcion2 breeds! Many a wild bird hides her nest, Cover’d in yon crackling reeds xVII Fork-tail’d prattlers as they pass To their nestlings in the rock, Darting on the liquid glass, Seem to kiss the mimick’d flock. A mythical bird said by ancient writers to breed in a nest floating at sea at the winter 2 solstice, charming the wind and waves into calm. 268 xVIII Where the stone Cross lifts its head, Many a saint and pilgrim hoar, 70 Up the hills was wont to tread Barefoot, in the days of yore.3 xIx Guardian of a sacred well, Arch’d beneath yon reverend shades, Whilom, in that shatter’d cell, Many an hermit told his beads. xx Sultry mists surround the heath Where the Gothic dome appears, O’er the trembling groves beneath, Tott’ring with a load of years. 80 xxI Turn to the contrasted scene, Where, beyond these hoary piles, Gay, upon the rising green, Many an attic building smiles! xxII Painted gardens – grots – and groves, Intermingling shade and light! Lengthen’d vistas, green alcoves, Join to give the eye delight. xxIII Hamlets—villages, and spires, Scatter’d on the landscape lie, 90 Till the distant view retires, Closing in an azure sky. Stanzas xVIII and xIx suggest that the scene described could...