Thomas Tickell, son of Rev. Richard Tickell, was born in 1686 in Cumberland, England. He was educated at Queen's College, Oxford where he earned a Master of Arts degree. In 1710 he was made a Fellow. He held this Fellowship until 1726, when he left to get married in Dublin. He and his wife Clotilda had four children and resided in Dublin for the remainder of their lives.
A good friend of Addison's, Tickell also produced numerous poems during his career and regularly contributed verse to the Spectator. He also worked as a translator. Notably, his translation of the first book of Iliad appeared simultaneously with the Pope's in 1715.
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Thomas Tickell Poems
______ Campos, ubi Troja fuit. Virg.
To the Earl of Warwick, on the Death of ...
If, dumb too long, the drooping Muse hath stay'd, And left her debt to Addison unpaid; Blame not her silence, Warwick, but bemoan, And judge, oh judge, my bosom by your own.
Lucy and Colin
Of Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair, Bright Lucy was the grace; Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream Reflect so fair a face,
To Mr. Addison on His Opera of Rosamond
______ Ne fortè pudori Sit tibi Musa lyræ solers, & cantor Apollo.
To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato
Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage, And sunk to softness all our tragic rage: By that alone did empires fall or rise, And fate depended on a fair-one's eyes:
To a Lady Before Marriage
Oh! form'd by Nature, and refin'd by Art, With charms to win, and sense to fix the heart! By thousands sought, Clotilda, canst thou free Thy croud of captives and descend to me?
On the Prospect of Peace
______ Sacerdos Fronde super mitram, & felici comptus oliva. Virg.
Comments about Thomas Tickell
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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______ Campos, ubi Troja fuit.
Where Kensington, high o'er the neighbouring lands
Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands,
And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers,
A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers,
The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair
To gravel walks, and unpolluted air.
Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies,
They breathe in sun-shine, and see azure skies;
Each walk, with robes of various dyes bespread,
Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed,
Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow,