Izaak Walton

Izaak Walton


Thou meek old angler, knight of hook and line!
What glorious reveries methinks were thine,
As ’neath the spreading sycamore you sat,
To find a shelter from the vernal showers;
Or wander’d in green lanes, with cheerful chat 5
Making dull days seem Pleasure’s fleeting hours!
Oh, how I love in ‘fancy free’ to roam
By purling streams, in company with thee;
O, in some ‘honest alehouse,’ see the foam
Of nut-brown ale a-mantling merrily 10
Above the goblet’s brim;—whilst thou doest sing
A quaint old song, and all the rafters ring
With merry laughter at each harmless jest,—
For of all wit with innocent is best.

‘Peter Proletarius’ aka George Markham Tweddell
[Tweddell’s Yorkshire Miscellany, p. 369, October 1846, heading
an article on Izaak Walton by January Searle]

More a writer on angling and author of biographies but also wrote an Elergy to Donne's poems.

Issac Walton's House

From Wiki
Izaak Walton (9 August 1593 – 15 December 1683) was an English writer. Best known as the author of The Compleat Angler, he also wrote a number of short biographies that have been collected under the title of Walton's Lives. Walton was born at Stafford; the register of his baptism gives his father's name asGervase. His father, who was an innkeeper as well as a landlord of a tavern, died before Izaak was three. His mother then married another innkeeper by the name of Bourne, who would later run the Swan in Stafford.

Read more here - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Izaak_Walton

Sonnet to Milton

Sonnet to Milton














All-hallow’d Milton! Though thine earthly eyes
Were dark as in the unillumined night,
Yet thy rapt fancy soar’d beyond the skies,
Undazzled, e’er by Heaven’s all-radiant light:
No earthly objects could impede the flight; 5
For unto thee was given visions fair
Of man, fresh from his Maker, ere the blight
Of sin had fallen on the happy pair
Who dwelt in Eden, God’s especial care.
Thou lived in troubled times, immortal bard!— 10
In times when there was need of such as thee—
And we rejoice to know thou labour’d hard
For thine own “mountain nymph, sweet Liberty,”
And now hast gain’d of Fame “exceeding great reward.”

‘Peter Proletarius’ aka George Markham Tweddell
[Tweddell’s Yorkshire Miscellany, p. 334, July 1846]

Bio
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/john-milton

Sonnet to John Critchley Prince

Sonnet to John Critchley Prince


Author of “Hours with the Muses”
Hail! Prince of modern poets! Thou whose song
So oft hath charm’d me in dull sorrow’s hour:
To grasp thy honest hand I ofttimes long:
For few like thee have gain’d the magic power
Of charming heart and mind: it is a dower 5
Which Nature only on a few bestows,
For fear that she the honour due should lose
Which from her sons she claims. For poets are
Nature’s first fav’rites; and their only care
Is for their mother,—knowing well that she 10
Is no cross step-dame, but a parent kind,
For ever striving to endow mankind
With peace, and love, and health, and liberty,
Whose pioneers are poets such as thee.

George Markham Tweddell
[Tweddell’s Yorkshire Miscellany, p. 309, April 1846, &
The Life of John Critchley Prince, Lithgow (1880). A
second stanza can be found on p. 60]

Addition to first stanza of ‘John Critchley Prince’
II
So sang I years before we ever met;
And it delighted me when I did know
My Sonnet smooth’d one wrinkle on his brow,
Where Poverty and Care too oft were set:
And though at times he prudence did forget, 5
And sought to drown his sorrows in the bowl,
Which gives but for the moment to the soul
Ease of its pains, yet he did never let
One sordid or immoral line defile
The purity of his sweet poësy; 10
His muse being one of perfect chastity.
He loved the freedom of his native isle;
And in all things of nature he could see
Beauty and joy and heavenly purity.

George Markham Tweddell
Born Wigan, June 21st, 1808; resided for
many years at Ashton-under-Lyne; and Died
at Hyde, May 5th, 1866. [1st stanza on p. 30]

John Critchely Prince was another friend and fellow poet who Tweddell published in his publications. In the intro to Tweddell's poems (look at the top menu bar for the link) there's a comparison and exchange between them.

You can read on line The Life of John Critchley  with links to his poetry on line - here - 
http://gerald-massey.org.uk/prince/b_biog.htm

Sonnet [Mind] (To Charles Swain)

Sonnet [Mind] 
To Charles Swain, Esq of Cheetwood Priory,

Charles Swain

Manchester on receiving a presentation of
his “Mind and other poems”

The beauties of thy Mind I much admire,
Friend of the muses, heaven-inspired!
Long may thy heart be warm’d with holy fire,
And such soul-soothing strains burst from thy lyre,
To cheer their drooping spirits who complain 5
Of num’rous ills on this abuséd globe,
Where man delights to mar the beautiful,
To curse his fellows whom he ought to bless,
To laugh and mock at Love and Gentleness,
An e’en the olive branch of Peace to pull, 10
That Hate, and Strife, and Jealousy, and War,
May bow each neck to Misery’s iron car:
But such sweet sounds peal from thy gentle lute,
As bid the discord of the soul be mute.

Stokesley - George Markham Tweddell.
[p. 226 – published in Tweddell’s Yorkshire Miscellany,
October 1845]
28

This may be an updated version of the same poem published in Tweddell's Tractates 1887 (the first version was 1845) and occasioned by the death of Charles Swain.

Tractates No. 29
North of England Sonnets, Fourth Series (1887)
DEDICATED TO
The ever-treasured Memory of my beloved old Friend,
who lived Poetry as well as he wrote it.
Charles Swain
(Born in Ancoats, Manchester, January 4th, 1803; Died at this pleasant
Residence in Prestwick Park, near that City, September 23rd, 1874.)

The many-beautied Mind all must admire,
Friend of the Muses, Heaven-inspired SWAIN!
Thy heart was truly warm’d with holy fire,
And fine soul-soothing strains burst from thy lyre,
To cheer their drooping spirits who complain 5
Of numerous ills on this abused globe,—
Where man delights to mar the beautiful—
To curse his fellows, whom he ought to bless—
To laugh and mock at Love and Gentleness,
And e’en the olive-branch from Peace to pull; 10
That Hate, and Strife, and Jealousy, and War,
May bow each neck to Misery’s iron car:
But the sweet sounds struck from SWAIN’s gentle lute
All bid the discord of the soul be mute.

Rose Cottage, Stokesley George Markham Tweddell

Tweddell published Charles Swain in his Yorkshire Miscellany and North of English Tractates and i think his early newspaper The Cleveland News and Stokesley Reporter.

From Wiki - Read more here - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Swain_(poet)Charles Swain (4 January 1801 – 22 September 1874) was an English poet, sometimes called “the Manchester poet,” which epithet refers to his birthplace. He worked in a dye house for a time, and then in an engraving and lithography enterprise which he eventually purchased and ran until his death. He became honorary professor of poetry at the Manchester Royal Institution, and in 1856 was granted a civil list pension. His friends included Robert Southey. Swain's epitaph for John Horsefield is noted by English Heritage as an element of their rationale for listing Horsefield's tomb as a Grade II monument.

Read online or download free Charles Swain's Mind and other Poems here - http://archive.org/details/mindandotherpoe00swaigoog