Announcements and the rest of "The Months" poem by Samuel Collings

 As an Anglophile and a Canadian (Canada is a nation with the monarchy of Great Britain as its head of state), I am deeply saddened by the death of Queen Elizabeth II. There are no words but...

Long Live the King

And as always, life goes on.

 

I am pleased to announce that my website, https://www.lesleyannemcleod.com has undergone a complete refurbishment and renewal. I hope you will visit and enjoy its fresh, new look. 

There you will also discover the cover reveal of my thirteenth novel, The Tower's Peculiar Visitor. This book will be released on November 15, 2022 by Uncial Press. I love this cover, and I hope you will also!

I thought you might enjoy reading the rest of Samuel Collings' poem, The Months, as it appeared in The Repository of Arts, in August of 1812. It is laboured, and hackneyed, but it gives us a view of what our Regency forebears considered worth reading. The stanza 'August' contains repellent sentiments on the part of the squire, and 'September' is decidedly odd, but it is all interesting nonetheless

THE MONTHS by Samuel Collings, continued from my last post:

    August

    See the reapers, gleaners dining, 

    Seated on the shady grass; 

    O'er the gate the squire reclining, 

    Wanton eyes each ruddy lass.

 

    September

 

    Hark--a sound like distant thunder!

    Murd'rer, may thy malice fail!

    Torn from all they love asunder,

    Widow'd birds around us wail. 

    October

    Now Pomona pours her treasure,

    Leaves autumnal strew the ground;

    Plenty crowns the market measure,

    While the mill runs briskly round.

    November

    

    Now the giddy rites of Comus

    Crown the hunter's dear delight;

    Ah! the year is fleeting from us,

    Bleak the day and drear the night.

    December 

    Bring more wood and set the glasses;

    Join, my friends, our Christmas cheer:

    Come, a catch, and kiss the lasses,

    Christmas comes but once a year.

 

I hope your autumn (or spring!) is unfolding as it should, and all is well with you.

 

Until next time,

 

Lesley-Anne

 

"Conversations on the Arts" and news from my Regency world

 It is so long since I have posted here, I cannot quite believe it. We have had illness in our family (on the way to resolution) and I am on a surgeon's list for knee replacement, so things have not been static. 

Also, during the seven months since my last blog, I have been writing another book. "The Tower's Peculiar Visitor", the third book in my Red Tower series, will be released in November of this year. Watch this space for further details soon.

And just a notice that my website is undergoing an overhaul soon, and will probably be unavailable for a month or two. The address will remain the same, but it will have a bright new look. I have been transferring a great deal of the information from the website to my Pinterest boards so for Regency information, do consult there.

Now for a Regency moment--

In Ackermann's Repository of the Arts of August 1812, in the 'Conversations on the Arts' column, the work of one Samuel Collings is discussed. He is described as a poet, "residing opposite to the Asylum, near Lambeth-Marsh Gate". It is said "...his compositions are under several of Bartolozzi's prints; also under prints from Reynolds." In fact, there was a Samuel Collings  who was an artist and caricaturist, a friend of Rowlandson, who was active in the 1780's and '90's. He dabbled in poetry, but his art is much better than his verse.

 THE MONTHS by Samuel Collings circa 1790

January

Lo, my fair, the morning hazy

Peeps abroad from yonder hill;

Phoeus rises red and hazy,

Frost has stopp'd the village mill. 

February

All around looks sad and dreary,

Fast the flaky snow descends;

Yet the red-breast chirrups cheery,

While the mitten'd lass attends.

March

Rise the winds and rocks the cottage,

Thaws the roof and wets the path;

Dorcas cooks the sav'ry pottage,

Smokes the cake upon the hearth.

April

Sunshine intermits with ardour,

Shades fly swiftly o'er the fields,

Show'rs revive the drooping verdue,

Sweets the sunny upland yields.

May

 

Pearly beams the eye of morning; 

Child! forbear the deed unblest;

Hawthorn ev'ry hedge adorning,

Pluck the flow'rs, but spare the nest.

 

June

 

Schoolboys in the brook disporting,

Spend the sultry hours of play;

While the nymphs and swaints are courting,

Seated on the new-made hay.

 

July

 

Maids, with each a guardian lover,

While the vivid lightning flies,

Hast'ning to the nearest cover,

Clasp their hands before their eyes.

Personally I think Mr. Collings should have restricted himself to art; his poetry was trite and pedestrian. His art however was very good and, overshadowed by the great talents of his era, he did not get the credit he deserved.

A good place to look at his art is the Google Art Project.

 

Perhaps I will print the rest of his poem in my next post. I will certainly tell you more about my new book, and reveal the beautiful cover. 

'Til next time,

Lesley-Anne