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<title type="main">The Collected Letters of Robert Southey. Part 1: 1791-1797 </title>
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<name>Southey, Robert, 1774-1843</name>
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<p>MS has not survived.  Previously  published: Monthly Magazine, 3 (April 1797), 270–272 [from where
                        the text is taken] under pseudonym ‘T.Y.’. For attribution to Southey, see
                        Kenneth Curry, ‘Southey’s contributions to The Monthly
                            Magazine and The Athenaeum’, The Wordsworth Circle, 11 (1980), 216.</p>
<p>These letters were edited with the assistance of Carol Bolton, Tim Fulford and Ian Packer</p>
<p>For permission to publish the text of MSS in their possession, the editor wishes to thank the Beinecke Rare
											Books and Manuscript Library, Yale University; Berg Collection of English and American Literature, The New
											York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations; the Bodleian Library Oxford University; the
											British Library; Boston Public Library; the Syndics of Cambridge University Library; the Syndics of the
											Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge; Haverford College, Connecticut; the Historical Society of Pennsylvania; the
											Hornby Library, Liverpool Libraries and Information Services; the Houghton Library, Harvard University;
											the John Rylands Library, Manchester; the Kenneth Spencer Research Library, University of Kansas; Luton
											Museum (Bedfordshire County Council); Massachusetts Historical Society; McGill University Library; the
											National Library of Scotland; the Newberry Library, Chicago; the New York Public Library (Pforzheimer
											Collections); the Pierpont Morgan Library, New York; the Public Record Offices of Bedford, Suffolk (Bury
											St Edmunds) and Northumberland, the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; the Society of
											Antiquaries of Newcastle upon Tyne; the Trustees of the William Salt Library, Stafford, the Wisbech and
											Fenland Museum; the University of Virginia Library.</p>
<p>A research grant from the British Academy made much of the archival work possible, as did support from the
											English Department of Nottingham Trent University.</p>
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<div n="208" type="letter">
<head>208. Robert Southey to the <ref target="people.html#AikinJohn">Editor of the
                            <title level="j">Monthly Magazine</title>,</ref>
<date when="1797-04">[c. April 1797]</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">MS: MS has not survived<lb/>Previously published: <title level="j">Monthly Magazine</title>, 3 (April 1797), 270–272 [from where
                        the text is taken] under pseudonym ‘T.Y.’. For attribution to Southey, see
                        Kenneth Curry, ‘Southey’s contributions to <title level="j">The Monthly
                            Magazine</title> and <title level="j">The Athenaeum</title>’, <title level="j">The Wordsworth Circle</title>, 11 (1980), 216.</note>
</head>
<p rend="indent1"> ESTEBAN MANUEL DE VILLEGAS<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">Esteban Manuel de Villegas (1585–1669), Spanish lawyer and poet.</note> was
                    born in the city of Nagera, in Old Castille, in the year 1595; the reigns of the
                    IId and IIId Philip<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">The Spanish kings,
                        Philip II (1527–1598; reigned 1556–1598) and Philip III (1578–1621; reigned
                        1598–1621).</note> were generally favourable to literature; yet neither the
                    claims of illustrious family, nor of distinguished abilities, procured patronage
                    for Villegas, and his long life was spent in continual hopes, and continual
                    disappointment. At the age of fourteen, he became a student at law, at the
                    university of Salamanca. Villegas must have regretted, in his age, the
                    employments of his youth: for those hours that should have been sacrificed to
                    the civilians, were given to the Greek and Roman poets; nor could the title he
                    acquired, of the Spanish Anacreon,<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        Greek lyric poet Anacreon (c. 6th century BC).</note> atone for after years
                    of fruitless expectation, embittered by the difficulties of a narrow
                    fortune.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> His “Delicias” were, as he himself tells us, in the first of
                    them, written at fourteen, and corrected at twenty.</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">A los veinte limidas,</l>
<l rend="indent2">A los catorce escritas.<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">Esteban Manuel de Villegas, ‘Mis dulces cantilenas’ (1618), lines 3–4.
                            The passage translates as ‘Polished at twenty,/ And written at
                            fourteen’.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent1"> They form the second book of his Eroticas, or Amatory Poems,
                    which he published at Nagera, in 1618.<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">Esteban Manuel de Villegas, <title level="m">Las Eroticas o
                            Amatorias</title> (1618).</note> These poems are said to unite in
                    themselves the sweetness of Anacreon, the simplicity of Theocritus,<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">Theocritus (c. 308–c. 240 BC).</note> the ease
                    of Horace,<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">Quintus Horatius Flaccus (65–8
                        BC).</note> and the elegance of Catullus.<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">Gaius Valerius Catullus (c. 84–c. 54 BC).</note> In fine
                    (says the editor of Parnaso Espanol), he has displayed whatever constitutes a
                    great poet, rendering himself the first of his own nation, and equally the most
                    celebrated of antiquity.<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Juan José Lopez
                        de Sedano (1729–1801), <title level="m">El Parnaso Español</title>, 9 vols
                        (Madrid, 1768–1778), II. p. x. The translation is probably Southey’s
                        own.</note>
</p>
<p> Something must be allowed for the prodigality of a Spaniard’s praise; something
                    for the age and country in which Villegas wrote; and something for the errors of
                    a work, “written at fourteen, and corrected at twenty.” The poems are trifling,
                    like their subjects, playful and elegant. One, perhaps the best of the series,
                    addressed to a stream, has lately been translated.<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey’s translation of ‘A un arroyuelo’ (‘To a Stream’) had
                        appeared in his <title level="m">Letters Written During a Short Residence in
                            Spain and Portugal</title> (Bristol, 1797), pp. 376–377.</note> The
                    following is attempted in the Anacreontic metre of the original, varying,
                    however, the uniformity of cadence, which would otherwise weary an English
                    ear:</p>
<p rend="indent4"> TO WINTER.</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">ENOUGH, enough, old Winter!</l>
<l rend="indent2">Thou workest to annoy us,</l>
<l rend="indent2">With cold, and rain, and tempest,</l>
<l rend="indent2">When snows have hid the country,</l>
<l rend="indent2">And rivers cease to flow.</l>
<l rend="indent2">The flocks and herds accuse thee,</l>
<l rend="indent2">And even the little ermine</l>
<l rend="indent2">Complains of thee, old Winter!</l>
<l rend="indent2">For thou to man art freezing,</l>
<l rend="indent2">And his white fur is warm.</l>
<l rend="indent2">The beasts they crouch in cover,</l>
<l rend="indent2">The birds are cold and hungry,</l>
<l rend="indent2">The birds are cold and silent,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Or, with a weak complaining,</l>
<l rend="indent2">They call thee hard and cruel.</l>
<l rend="indent2">But not to me, old Winter!</l>
<l rend="indent2">Thy tyranny extends;</l>
<l rend="indent2">For I have wine and music,</l>
<l rend="indent2">The cheerful hearth and song.<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">Esteban Manuel de Villegas, ‘Al Hibierno’ in Juan José
                            Lopez de Sedano, <title level="m">El Parnaso Español</title>, 9 vols
                            (Madrid, 1768–1778), I pp. 63–64. The translation is probably Southey’s
                            own.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent1"> The reputation of these poems has been severely attacked, in an
                    essay, prefixed to the posthumous poems of Don Joseph Iglerias de la Casa,
                    printed at Salamanca, 1793. “The Delicias of Villegas (says the anonymous
                    writer) are the first poems of their kind, which obtained celebrity in the
                    Spanish language.<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">José Inglerias de la
                        Casa (1748–1791), <title level="m">Poésias Pośthumas</title>, 2 vols
                        (Salamanca, 1793), I, p. xii. The translation is probably Southey’s
                        own.</note> Our author has likewise exercised himself in the same line of
                    composition, and he has excelled his model in the beauty and selection of his
                    images, and more particularly in the sweetness and nature of his sentiments.
                    For, although Villegas may have possessed a feeling heart, he knew not how to
                    develope it in his verses.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> “You will be astonished to see me treat with so little respect, a
                    poet of such high estimation. But the fame of this writer, like that of many
                    others, is merely the fame of tradition: not founded upon his real merit, but
                    upon the opinion of some person, who knew how to impose upon the mob of readers.
                    This assertion may appear somewhat bold, if we consider when Don Vicente de los
                    Rios published and panegyrized Villegas.<note n="13" place="foot" resp="editors">Vicente de Los Rios (1736–1779), whose two-volume edition of Villegas was
                        published in 1774. It included a life of Villegas.</note> Then, perhaps, his
                    poems were a model of good taste, but in what a state was our literature then!
                    What should be said of a poet, whose verses are full of ridiculous
                    transpositions, low words and phrases, forced and obscure metaphors, ill-time
                    allusions, and pedantic erudition, that are bald of imagery, and totally devoid
                    of feeling? These faults mark every part of every work of Villegas; and
                    notwithstanding the Greek*<note n="14" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey adds
                        footnote: ‘Eroticas.’</note> name in the title-page, you never hear in them
                    the language of love. It avails not, my friend, to be learned in Greek and
                    Latin, if good taste be wanting. Let us undeceive ourselves; Villegas would have
                    been forgotten by this time, had it not been for the harmonious cadence of his
                    verses; there indeed he is excellent.”<note n="15" place="foot" resp="editors">José Inglerias de la Casa, <title level="m">Poésias Pośthumas</title>
                        (Salamanca, 1793), I, p. xiii. The translation is probably Southey’s
                        own.</note>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> The censure of the essayist is too unqualified. Of all poems,
                    such as are entitled Amatory, are most devoid of feeling. Petrarch and
                        Hammond<note n="16" place="foot" resp="editors">Francesco Petrarca
                        (1304–1374); and James Hammond (1710–1742; <title level="m">DNB</title>),
                        author of <title level="m">Love Elegies</title> (1742).</note> are
                    distinguished by fantastic nonsense and whining dullness; and wherever Cupid is
                    subpœnaed into a poem, his evidence is sufficient to prove that the poet was not
                    in love. A bee mistakes the lips of Lydia for a rose. Lydia sees Cupid asleep,
                    and steals his bow and arrows. — The poet adjures the stars to tell Lydia that
                    her forehead is more polished than silver, and her teeth whiter than pearls. If
                    an author abandons himself to write upon such subjects, you are not to expect
                    human feelings.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Strange and uncouth metaphors are undoubtedly to be found in the
                    poems of Villegas. He addresses a stream, “thou who runnest over sands of gold,
                    with feet of silver.” — “Touch my breast (says he) if you doubt the power of
                    Lydia’s eyes, you will find it turned to ashes.” He has hyperbolized the Spanish
                    hyperbolical salutation, “may you live a thousand years!” and wishes that the
                    young grandee, to whom the first of his Delicias is addressed, may enjoy more
                    years than there are days in an age, drops of water in the ocean, and grains of
                    land on the shore. “Thou art so great (says he) that thou canst only imitate
                    thyself with thy own greatness.” Joshua Sylvester calls Du Bartas’ Weeks,</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">The noblest work</l>
<l rend="indent2">After itself’s condignity. <note n="17" place="foot" resp="editors">The poet and translator Josuah [Joshua] Sylvester
                            (1562/3–1618; <title level="m">DNB</title>). His literary hero was the
                            Gascon Huguenot poet Guillaume de Saluste, Sieur Du Bartas (1544–1590).
                            Southey is quoting from Sylvester’s <title level="m">Divine Weekes and
                                Workes</title> (1621), ‘Corona dedicatoria’, lines
                        109–110.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent1"> So that “none but himself can be his parallel,” is not an
                    unparalleled line; and when Aaron Hill defended it,<note n="18" place="foot" resp="editors">The writer and entrepreneur Aaron Hill (1685–1750; <title level="m">DNB</title>), defended the line ‘none but himself can be his
                        parallel’ in a letter to Alexander Pope (1688–1744; <title level="m">DNB</title>), published in the <title level="m">Works of the Late Aaron
                            Hill</title>, 4 vols (London, 1753), I, pp. 261–263.</note> he might
                    have found precedents enough for nonsense. But absurdities, like these, are not
                    abundant in Villegas; and it should be remembered, that these are selected from
                    the productions of his youth.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Anacreon may be read with pleasure in the translation of the
                    Spaniard who has been honoured with his name; nor will he, who peruses the
                    version of Villegas, remember to its disadvantage the harmony of Grecian
                    cadence. He has likewise introduced hexameters and Sapphics, with success, into
                    his native language; and even the critic, who so severely attacks the Eroticas,
                    calls his Sapphic ode to Zephyrus most beautiful (<hi rend="ital">bellissima
                        oda</hi>).<note n="19" place="foot" resp="editors">José Inglerias de la
                        Casa, <title level="m">Poésias Pośthumas</title> (Salamanca, 1793), I, p.
                        xiii. The translation is probably Southey’s own.</note> A translation of
                    this piece into English Sapphics, has been lately published in the same
                        work*<note n="20" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey adds a footnote:
                        ‘Letters from Spain and Portugal, with some Account of Spanish and
                        Portuguese Poetry, by Robert Southey.’</note> with his Lines to a
                    Stream.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> From Salamanca, Villegas returned to Nagera, his native place:
                    where he lived with his mother, then a widow, and availed himself of leisure and
                    retirement to follow his favourite studies, till his marriage. — His marriage
                    appears to have been a fortunate one; the account he has left is
                    interesting:</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Hymen!<note n="21" place="foot" resp="editors">Greek god of
                            marriage.</note> ere yet, with chasten’d heart, I pass’d</l>
<l rend="indent2">Thy threshold, I hung up the idle lute:</l>
<l rend="indent2">For better offerings suit thy blessed shrine,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Oh, holy Power! I gather now no more</l>
<l rend="indent2">Garlands of gay and perishable flowers,</l>
<l rend="indent2">But in the summer-tide of life present</l>
<l rend="indent2">The summer fruits. Enough were thirty years</l>
<l rend="indent2">Of youth and folly. Even the mettl’d steed,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Obedient to the rein, will bend at last</l>
<l rend="indent2">His stately-arching neck. The blood grows cool,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Passions’ wild-tempests to a quiet calm</l>
<l rend="indent2">Subside; and from the witcheries of Vice</l>
<l rend="indent2">Her waken’d captive starts. Oh; holy Power!</l>
<l rend="indent2">Who but would bow the neck to thee, and court</l>
<l rend="indent2">The freedom of thy yoke? With thankful heart</l>
<l rend="indent2">I bless thee, Hymen, for that seraph form,</l>
<l rend="indent2">In whom thou gavest me another soul,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Doubling existence. Thou hast given to me</l>
<l rend="indent2">Truth, tenderness, and all the nameless joys</l>
<l rend="indent2">Of quiet life, making me live indeed!</l>
<l rend="indent2">Who but would bow the neck to thee, and court</l>
<l rend="indent2">The freedom of thy yoke? Oh, holy Power!</l>
<l rend="indent2">I have escap’d from Babylon, and bless</l>
<l rend="indent2">Thy saviour aid.<note n="22" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                            poem by Villegas is unidentified. The translation is probably by Southey
                            and was published under the signature ‘T.Y.’ in the <title level="m">Annual Register</title> (London, 1804), p. 224.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent1"> As these lines indicate, Villegas now bade adieu to poetry, and
                    applied himself to such studies as were likely to be more esteemed, and better
                    rewarded. Two folio volumes of classical criticism, entitled <title level="m">Variæ Philologiæ</title>, yet remain in manuscript, to witness his learning
                    and industry; and he began the more laborious task of commenting upon the
                    Theodosian Code.<note n="23" place="foot" resp="editors">The Codex Theodosius, a
                        compilation of the laws of the Roman Empire.</note> But no exertion of
                    genius, or of industry, could procure him such patronage as he deserved and
                    wanted; and when, in his old age, experience had convinced him of the vanity of
                    his hopes, he employed the latter days of life in translating the Consolations
                    of Philosophy, fully participating, perhaps, the proud and melancholy feelings
                    that comforted Boethius.<note n="24" place="foot" resp="editors">Anicius Manlius
                        Severinus Boethius (c. 475–525). Villegas’s translation of ‘Los Cincos
                        Libros De La Consolacion de Severino Boecio’ was published as the second
                        volume of Vicente de Los Rios, <title level="m">Las Eroticas, y Traduccion
                            De Boecio</title>, (1774).</note>
</p>
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<signed rend="indent11"> T. Y.</signed>
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