Digby Mackworth Dolben
Biography of Digby Mackworth Dolben
Digby Augustus Stewart Mackworth Dolben (8 February 1848 – 28 June 1867) was an English poet who died young from drowning. He owes his poetic reputation to his cousin, Robert Bridges, poet laureate from 1913 to 1930, who edited a partial edition of his verse, Poems, in 1911.
He was born in Guernsey, and brought up at Finedon Hall in Northamptonshire. His father, William Harcourt Isham Mackworth (1806—1872), a younger son of Sir Digby Mackworth, the 3rd Baronet, took the additional surname Dolben after he married Frances, the heiress of Sir John English Dolben, the 4th Baronet.
He was educated at Eton College, studying under the influential Master William Johnson Cory whose principles of pedagogy and collection of verses Ionica inspired his own poetry. At Eton, his distant cousin Bridges was his senior and took him under his wing.
Dolben caused considerable scandal at school by his exhibitionist behaviour. He marked his romantic attachment to another pupil a year older than him, Martin Le Marchant Gosselin, by writing love poetry. He also defied his strict Protestant upbringing by joining a High Church Puseyite group of pupils. He then claimed allegiance to the Order of St Benedict, affecting a monk's habit. He was considering a conversion to Roman Catholicism.
In 1865 on his seventeenth birthday, he was introduced by Bridges, by then an undergraduate at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, to Gerard Manley Hopkins who was at Balliol. According to the account given by his biographer Norman White, this encounter caused Hopkins a great deal of perturbation.
Digby Mackworth Dolben Poems
Beautiful, Oh Beautiful--
Beautiful, oh beautiful- In all the mountain passes The plenteous dowers of April showers, Which every spring amasses,
Flowers For The Altar
Tell us, tell us, holy shepherds, What at Bethlehem you saw.- 'Very God of Very God 'Asleep amid the straw.'
The Pilgrim And The Knight
Here in the flats that encompass the hills called Beautiful, lying, O Beloved, behold a Pilgrim who fain would be sleeping,
Homo Factus Est
Come to me, Belovèd, Babe of Bethlehem; Lay aside Thy Sceptre And Thy Diadem.
On the tender myrtle-branches, In the meadow lotus-grassèd, While the wearied sunlight softly To the Happy Islands passèd,-
My Love, and once again my Love, And then no more until the end, Until the waters cease to move, Until we rest within the Ark,
Beyond the calumny and wrong, Beyond the clamour and the throng, Beyond the praise and triumph-song He passed.
Brevi Tempore Magnum Perfecit Opus
'Twas not in shady cloister that God set His chosen one, But in the van of battle and the streets of Babylon:
A Sea Song
In the days before the high tide Swept away the towers of sand Built with so much care and labour By the children of the land,
From falsehood and error, From darkness and terror, From all that is evil, From the power of the devil,
Thou liest dead,-lie on: of thee No sweet remembrances shall be, Who never plucked Pierian rose, Who never chanced on Anterôs.
I Said To My Heart,--'I Am Tired
ErwV ImeroV te. I said to my heart,-'I am tired, Am tired of loving in vain;
Lean Over Me
O, a moon face In a shadowy place. Lean over me-ah so,-let fall
I asked for Peace- My sins arose, And bound me close, I could not find release.
A Poem Without A Name I
Surely before the time my Sun has set:
The evening had not come, it was but noon,
The gladness passed from all my Pleasant Land;
And, through the night that knows nor star nor moon,
Among clean souls who all but Heaven forget,
Alone remembering I wander on.
They sing of triumph, and a Mighty Hand
Locked fast in theirs through sorrow's Mystery;
They sing of glimpses of another Land,