Thomas Randolph was adopted by Ben Jonson as his poetic
son. He had a clear and colloquial style : a little cluttered here and there with classical commonplaces ; without much profundity of feeling ; marked with an air of improvisation ; but extraordinarily fresh and free. He did nothing better than the delightful picture of country pleasures in his Ode to Master Antony Stafford : Come, spur away.
I have no patience for a longer stay,
But must go down And leave the chargeable noise of this great town. Several of his poems, however, deserve a place in anthologies ; and it is good to have the complete reprint, The Poems of Thomas Randolph (Haslewood Press, 30s.), which Mr. G.
Thorn-Drury has given us. There is not much known of the life of Randolph. He died at the age of thirty ; and tradition says, with much probability, that his end was hastened by gay living and "indulging himself too much with the liberal conversation of his admirers—a thing incident to poets." Mr. Thorn-Drury contributes a valuable introduction.
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