Memories of Childhood -
Memories of Childhood
Loved stream, that meanders along
Where the steps of my infancy strayed,
When first I attuned the rude song,
That nature all artless essayed;
Though thy borders be stripped of each tree,
Where trees were indulged to decay,
Their image still pictures to me
Thy villagers gambolling gay.
Nor by Fancy shall aught be unseen
Where thy fountains flow murmuring by,
Where I mixed in the sports on the green,
Where I wept with the woe-begone eye.
" Man born unto trouble" and strife
Is but little inclined to discern
That, amidst the hard lessons of life,
He has still many harder to learn.
Hope calls; he no longer delays,
Nor sees how his way is beset,
Till at length on his happier days
Out of breath he looks back with regret.
Double ff , I remember you well,
Double ss , I alone was to blame,
When your persons, in learning to spell,
To me seemed exactly the same.
The dawning of folly or sense,
Revolutions in Latin or taw,
The pedagogue armed in defence
Of Lilly, the fountain of law;
Keen enmities lasting an hour,
Much prose and much verse out of joint,
All revive; and I triumph in power
To decide between comma and point.
Past rapine arises anew,
Not a bird can be safe in her nest;
That orchard again is in view,
Those apples were always the best.
The boy quits, enamoured of ease,
For thy cool embraces, his book;
Thy minnows, that play when they please,
O Derwent! how happy they look!
How oft, by no pity controlled,
An impaler of brandlings I've been!
How oft returned hungry and cold,
Unburthened with booty, I ween!
When thy Hyads impetuously poured
A deluge from every hill,
The dams by thy torrents devoured
The miller aghast in his mill;
Thy rage did but temper the air;
Far distant the mildew of Health,
Where Guilt vainly decorates Care,
Disdaining the gewgaws of wealth.
Fine houses, fine coaches, fine wives,
Genealogies bought by the yard!
Why forfeit the peace of your lives,
Ye wretches, for such a reward?
Far better to perish obscure,
With ignorance binding your eyes,
Than to riot on spoils of the poor,
Than be learned without being wise.
Simplicity heard in her cot
Long tales of hard winters and wars,
And still hoped to better her lot
By the change of the moon and the stars.
What feats were performed in the snow,
When the track of the hare was descried!
What joys did old Jowler bestow,
What grief, when the veteran died!
How Derwent for liberty fought,
Regardless of riches and ease!
Now liberty's not worth a groat,
And money corrupts all degrees!
Thus the sages of Derwent find out,
As the sages of Greece did before,
That Truth may be elbowed about,
And Honesty kicked out of door.
As the trout still prefers the clear stream,
As the eel still will bask in the mud,
So this is for ever the theme,
All is over and gone that was good.
For a story they stir up the fire,
Till vanquished and silenced by sleep;
No vale like their own they admire,
Not a lake in the land like the Sneep.
Loved stream, that meanders along
Where the steps of my infancy strayed,
When first I attuned the rude song,
That nature all artless essayed;
Though thy borders be stripped of each tree,
Where trees were indulged to decay,
Their image still pictures to me
Thy villagers gambolling gay.
Nor by Fancy shall aught be unseen
Where thy fountains flow murmuring by,
Where I mixed in the sports on the green,
Where I wept with the woe-begone eye.
" Man born unto trouble" and strife
Is but little inclined to discern
That, amidst the hard lessons of life,
He has still many harder to learn.
Hope calls; he no longer delays,
Nor sees how his way is beset,
Till at length on his happier days
Out of breath he looks back with regret.
Double ff , I remember you well,
Double ss , I alone was to blame,
When your persons, in learning to spell,
To me seemed exactly the same.
The dawning of folly or sense,
Revolutions in Latin or taw,
The pedagogue armed in defence
Of Lilly, the fountain of law;
Keen enmities lasting an hour,
Much prose and much verse out of joint,
All revive; and I triumph in power
To decide between comma and point.
Past rapine arises anew,
Not a bird can be safe in her nest;
That orchard again is in view,
Those apples were always the best.
The boy quits, enamoured of ease,
For thy cool embraces, his book;
Thy minnows, that play when they please,
O Derwent! how happy they look!
How oft, by no pity controlled,
An impaler of brandlings I've been!
How oft returned hungry and cold,
Unburthened with booty, I ween!
When thy Hyads impetuously poured
A deluge from every hill,
The dams by thy torrents devoured
The miller aghast in his mill;
Thy rage did but temper the air;
Far distant the mildew of Health,
Where Guilt vainly decorates Care,
Disdaining the gewgaws of wealth.
Fine houses, fine coaches, fine wives,
Genealogies bought by the yard!
Why forfeit the peace of your lives,
Ye wretches, for such a reward?
Far better to perish obscure,
With ignorance binding your eyes,
Than to riot on spoils of the poor,
Than be learned without being wise.
Simplicity heard in her cot
Long tales of hard winters and wars,
And still hoped to better her lot
By the change of the moon and the stars.
What feats were performed in the snow,
When the track of the hare was descried!
What joys did old Jowler bestow,
What grief, when the veteran died!
How Derwent for liberty fought,
Regardless of riches and ease!
Now liberty's not worth a groat,
And money corrupts all degrees!
Thus the sages of Derwent find out,
As the sages of Greece did before,
That Truth may be elbowed about,
And Honesty kicked out of door.
As the trout still prefers the clear stream,
As the eel still will bask in the mud,
So this is for ever the theme,
All is over and gone that was good.
For a story they stir up the fire,
Till vanquished and silenced by sleep;
No vale like their own they admire,
Not a lake in the land like the Sneep.
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This poem is by John Carr LLD
This poem is by John Carr LLD. He was NOT Sir John Carr. The poem's title given by the author is "Derwent; an Ode"
The Derwent is a river separating Durham and Northumberland in North East England
Various forms of the poem have been published. The complete poem has 40 verses
Carr, John. (1787). Derwent; an Ode. London: T. Longman. Reprinted in 1842 by M.A. Richardson, Newcastle upon Tyne.
Seven stanzas of the poem were published in 1783 in The Gentleman's Magazine, September 1783, London: E. Cave. p. 784, and in two newspapers: the Newcastle Chronicle on 11 October 1783 and in the Leeds Intelligencer on 21 October 1783.
In this Ode Carr reflects nostalgically of his love for the River Derwent. It evokes a deep connection to nature. Wherever he wandered as a child the river flowed gently by. Here he first began to sing simple unrefined songs inspired by the river’s natural beauty.
Despite trees ageing and decaying, and the surroundings forever changing, Carr remembers the river banks as they were and the local people, who joyfully played there. Time passes, the physical landscapes change, but the shared moments of this joyful community linger in his mind.
CARR, John (1732 -1807: Oxford Dictionary of National Biography)
He was born at Muggleswick, Durham, the third of at least four children of Joseph Carr (1705-75), a farmer and small estate owner, and his wife Hannah Swinburne (1708-38), who married sometime after the date of their marriage bond, 4 September 1727. There is no record of his baptism.
He was educated locally at the village school and then by Rev. Daniel Watson, the local curate, before proceeding to St. Paul’s in London. His father could not afford to send him to university. He became first usher then Master of Hertford Grammar School until about 1792 when he became Mayor of Hertford.
He was said to have been a candidate for the mastership of St. Paul’s but the lack of a degree prevented his appointment.
On the recommendation of James Beattie (q.v.) he was awarded the LLD in 1781 by Marischal College, Aberdeen.
He married Mary Dacres (1734-1793) on 12 Jan. 1769 at Hertford. There is no record of any issue and no children are mentioned in his will.
He was best known for his translation of Dialogues of Lucian (5 vols. 1773-98) and had earlier published minor poems and a poor continuation of Sterne’s Tristram Shandy. He also contributed “Ode to the River Derwent” to the Gentleman’s Magazine (GM Sept. 1783, 784).
He died on 6 June 1807 and was buried at St. John’s, Hertford, where there is a memorial plaque. (Oxford Dictionary of National Biography 21 Sept. 2022; Leeds Mercury 20 June 1807; GM Sept. 1783, 784, and June 1807, 596; John Nichols, Literary Anecdotes [1812], 3: 168-9, 8: 305-312) AA
His wife Mary, predeceased him, as the memorial plaques All Saints, Hertford records:-
"Beneath this stone is interred the body of Mary Carr, wife of John Carr, of Hertford, LL.D who died 20th Jan 1793, aged 58”. South Panel of the same “Here are deposited the remains of said John Carr, many years Master of the Free Grammar school of this town, who departed this life 6 June 1807, aged 76 yrs”
Paul Heatherington
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