Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Poetical Works of Robert Story
EN I was in the eleventh year of my age, the living of Kirknewton, in the county of N orthumberland, held by a yofing clergyman of the name of boucher. He was a ention to the his extensive, though not very populous parish, he had endeared himself to everyone. Among the schools which he visited, was one at the village of Howtel, re I occasionally attended, and where, indeed, arned nearly all that I ever learned from a Master - namely, to read badly, to write worse, and to cipher a little farther perhaps than the Rule Of Three. After examining the pupils, he used to reward the most proficient with a copy of Dr. Watts's Divine Songs for Children. I heard the successful boys reading or reciting the verses; and I was so charmed - literally chamed - by the measure and the rhyme, that I persuaded my father to take me with him to Kirknewton, and ask Mr. Boucher for a copy - not as a reward, but as a favour. It was readily granted, on the condition that I should get one of the hymns by heart every week. Before the end of seven days, I could have repeated to him the whole volume. I carried it with me to the hills, whither I was sent as a herd - bov and pored over itin the loneliest places - my heart burning with secret rapture. Its effect upon my mind was magical. It gave me the feeling of a new existence. The moun tains, the clouds, and the skies, took an aspect of poetry and religion. When wandei'ing along the green hill-tops in a starry spring mornmg, 0t rechmng on a sunny slope of Lanton Hill in a Sunday noon with the Beaumont winding along beneath me, and Kirknewton churchyard lying, distinct and still, on the further side - I had feelings and aspiratlons en tirely new, holy, and blissful. I was happy and yet I felt that at some future period I should be nuima ginably happier - when I should dwell above that sky, and when the Morning Star, which I espemally loved to contemplate, should form but one of the in numerable ornaments of my pathway -were I to assert that I was already a poet, I might be charged with presumption. I may perhaps be allowed to describe myself as already the being that I have ever since continued to be - possessed by a Spirit, under whose irresistible impulsion I attempted, be fore my twelfth year, to emulate the lines which I loved.
About the Publisher
Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
