Letter 268 - The Letters of Robert Bloomfield

268. Robert Bloomfield to Hannah Bloomfield, 28 August 1811* 

Wednesday morning, Aug 28. 1811

My Dear Girls

I feel myself unusually well this morning, and I have this moment finishd the Song [1]  to my liking. (The Book says 'Allegro', but to these words it must not be so).

XIV

Rondo,To sleep my dear, to sleep my dear,
The march is oer, the fight is done,
To sleep my dear, you need not fear,
We're safe, the Field is won. D.C
Rest thy troubled bosom,
And rest thy weary head,
Comrades watch around thee,
Thy Husband guards thy bed, D.C. To sleep &c.
No piercing Trumpet
Shall tell of death and terrors,
No thundering Cannon
Shall fill thee with dismay; — To sleep &c
Broad the vanguard shows its front,
Our brave Commander knows his ground,
And faintly roll their doubling drums,
The conquer'd foe is far away. D.C. To Sleep.

You will perceive the words 'No piercing Trumpet' are set to that part of the tune which so much resembles a passage in the Forest song, and on the word dismay I mean you to sing it thus. [Some musical notation] Dismay must finish on the c. and the 4 notes I have inclosed will be symphony.

On Monday I waited anxiously for your letter untill One, and then took Charles and Charlotte to Mr Parks,—Charles walkd nobly all the journey with only a small lift up the mountain on our return from Battle-Bridge to the Belvedere, [2]  but I must leave the particulars to themselves, you will find them in a parcel at the begining of the week, which (with money) I will direct for you at Mr Loffts. I write to him now to beg that you may be there on Monday, or sooner. I have mentiond Friday. Therefore, if you have no previous intimation from thence before Friday teatime, I advise you by all means to go in the evening, and take with you such articles of cloathing as you judge will be wanted for two or three days. Your letter was most wellcome; I should have liked to see Mary mounted on a Donkey. She is just the weight for them. Repeat it at Troston if you can.—I miss your company, both of you, sadly. Your Mother has a very bad cold, but the rest are well and as usual are a compound of noise, childishness and sense. We went to Hampstead by way of Primrose Hill, and Charles in particular was in his glory. I have a scrabble from Canterbury, and one from Mr Pollard, and his friend the three-cornerd parson at Westminster, &c. &c.—

If possible I will send the parcel by Monday's Coach, but if later, you will certainly have it, so make yourselves happy, and enjoy the Sunshine while you have it.—Miss Ansted calld yesterday and made a speech of 2 hours!! She has perhaps more sound sense than you are aware of, or it would be intolerable. I shall meet Mr Cooper tomorrow week in Broad Street. Thus by bits and patches I tell you my news, O how I wish I was with you! When you pass the Brook could you not fancy it the Wye, and Hilly-Close the Sugarloaf? That stream has washd my young skin many a time, and there I have caught, with my bare hands, fish that would rival a mackerel, and caught gudgeons with a crooked pin. What nonsense it would appear to some to see me thus dwell upon such trifles. You have a better taste, and will believe that the recollection of these and other such triffles have, through providence, enabled you to see the spot of my nativity.—God bless you both, I am at the end before I thought of it. Yours ever

Rob Bloomfield

I hope this will be recieved on Thursday night, if not you may hear of Mr Lofft before you are aware of it.

Notes

* BL Add. MS 28268, ff. 309–310 BACK

[1] Bloomfield was adding words to the melodies given in Hook's Guida di Musica. The resultant poems were published in the first volume of Remains (pp. 51–56). Hook himself set a Bloomfield poem to music: Rosy Hannah, A Much Admired Song, with an Accompaniment, for the Harp or Pianoforte, Composed for Mr. Braham, by Mr. Hook (The Words from Bloomfield's Poems) (London, [? 1810]). BACK

[2] Battle-Bridge: the London area now known as King's Cross; the Belvedere: a pub on the Pentonville Road, London, now called Clockwork. BACK


Bloomfield Letters / Letter 268