_Written to an Italian Air._

Ah! faded is that lovely bloom, And closed in death that speaking eye, And buried in a green gra.s.s tomb, What once breathed life and harmony!

Surely the sky is all too dark, And chilly blows the summer air,-- And, where 's thy song now, sprightly lark, That used to wake my slumb'ring fair?

Ah! never shalt thou wake her more!

And thou, bright sun, shalt ne'er again, On inland mead, or sea-girt sh.o.r.e, Salute the darling of the plain.

Maiden! they bade me o'er thy fate Numbers and strains mellifluous swell, They knew the love I bore thee great,-- They knew not what I ne'er can tell.

The unstrung heart to others leaves The music of a feebler woe, Her numbers are the sighs she heaves, Her off'ring tears that ever flow.

Where could I gather fancies now?

They 're with'ring on thy lowly tomb,-- My summer was thy cheek and brow, And perish'd is that lovely bloom!

THOMAS BROWN, M.D.

Ill.u.s.trious as a metaphysician, Dr Thomas Brown is ent.i.tled to a place in the poetical literature of his country. He was the youngest son of Samuel Brown, minister of Kirkmabreck, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, and was born in the manse of that parish, on the 9th January 1778. His father dying when he was only a year old, his childhood was superintended solely by his mother, who established her abode in Edinburgh. Evincing an uncommon apt.i.tude for knowledge, he could read and understand the Scriptures ere he had completed his fifth year. At the age of seven he was committed to the charge of a maternal uncle in London, who placed him at the schools of Camberwell and Chiswick, and afterwards at two other cla.s.sical seminaries, in all of which he exhibited remarkable precocity in learning. On the death of his relative he returned to Edinburgh, and in his fourteenth year entered the University of that city. During a visit to Liverpool, in the summer of 1793, he was introduced to Dr Currie, who, presenting him with a copy of Dugald Stewart's "Elements of Philosophy," was the means of directing his attention to metaphysical inquiries. The following session he became a student in Professor Stewart's cla.s.s; and differing from a theory advanced in one of the lectures, he modestly read his sentiments on the subject to his venerable preceptor. The philosopher and pupil were henceforth intimate friends.

In his nineteenth year, Brown became a member of the "Academy of Physics," a philosophical a.s.sociation established by the scientific youths of the University, and afterwards known to the world as having given origin to the _Edinburgh Review_. As a member of this society he formed the intimacy of Brougham, Jeffrey, Leyden, Logan, Sydney Smith, and other literary aspirants. In 1778 he published "Observations on the Zoonomia of Dr Darwin,"--a pamphlet replete with deep philosophical sentiment, and which so attracted the notice of his friends that they used every effort, though unsuccessfully, to secure him the chair of rhetoric in the University during the vacancy which soon afterwards occurred. His professional views were originally directed to the bar, but disgusted with the law after a twelve-month's trial, he entered on a medical course, to qualify himself as physician, and in 1803 received his diploma. His new profession was scarcely more congenial than that which he had abandoned, nor did the prospects of success, on being a.s.sumed as a partner by Dr Gregory, reconcile him to his duties. His favourite pursuits were philosophy and poetry; he published in 1804 two volumes of miscellaneous poems which he had chiefly written at college, and he was among the original contributors to the _Edinburgh Review_, the opening article in the second number, on "Kant's Philosophy,"

proceeding from his pen. An essay on Hume's "Theory of Causation," which he produced during the struggle attendant on Mr Leslie's appointment to the mathematical chair, established his. .h.i.therto growing reputation; and the public in the capital afterwards learned, with more than satisfaction, that he had consented to act as subst.i.tute for Professor Dugald Stewart, when increasing infirmities had compelled that distinguished individual to retire from the active business of his chair. In this new sphere he fully realised the expectations of his admirers; he read his own lectures, which, though hastily composed, often during the evenings prior to their delivery, were listened to with an overpowering interest, not only by the regular students, but by many professional persons in the city. Such distinction had its corresponding reward; after a.s.sisting in the moral philosophy cla.s.s for two years, he was in 1810 appointed to the joint professorship.

Successful as a philosopher, Dr Brown was desirous of establishing a reputation as a poet. In 1814 he published anonymously the "Paradise of Coquettes," a poem which was favourably received. "The Wanderer of Norway," a poem, appeared in 1816, and "Agnes" and "Emily," two other distinct volumes of poems, in the two following years. He died at Brompton, near London, on the 2d April 1820, and his remains were conveyed for interment to the churchyard of his native parish. Amidst a flow of ornate and graceful language, the poetry of Dr Brown is disfigured by a morbid sensibility and a philosophy which dims rather than enlightens. He possessed, however, many of the mental concomitants of a great poet; he loved rural retirement and romantic scenery; well appreciated the beautiful both in nature and in art; was conversant with the workings of the human heart and the history of nations; was influenced by generous emotions, and luxuriated in a bold and lofty imagination.[113]

[113] Margaret Brown, one of the three sisters of Dr Brown, published "Lays of Affection." Edinburgh, 1819, 12mo. She was a woman of gentle and un.o.btrusive manners and of pious disposition. Her poems const.i.tute a respectable memorial of her virtues.

CONSOLATION OF ALTERED FORTUNES.

Yes! the shades we must leave which my childhood has haunted, Each charm by endearing remembrance improved; These walks of our love, the sweet bower thou hast planted,-- We must leave them to eyes that will view them unmoved.

Oh, weep not, my f.a.n.n.y! though changed be our dwelling, We bear with us all, in the home of our mind; In virtues will glow that heart, fondly swelling, Affection's best treasure we leave not behind.

I shall labour, but still by thy image attended-- Can toil be severe which a smile can repay?

How glad shall we meet! every care will be ended; And our evening of bliss will be more than a day.

Content's cheerful beam will our cottage enlighten; New charms the new cares of thy love will inspire; Thy smiles, 'mid the smiles of our offspring, will lighten; I shall see it--and oh, can I feel a desire?

THE FAITHLESS MOURNER.

When thy smile was still clouded in gloom, When the tear was still dim in thine eye, I thought of the virtues, scarce cold in the tomb, And I spoke not of love to thy sigh!

I spoke not of love; yet the breast, Which mark'd thy long anguish,--deplore The sire, whom in sickness, in age, thou hadst bless'd, Though silent, was loving thee more!

How soon wert thou pledged to my arms, Thou hadst vow'd, but I urged not the day; And thine eye grateful turn'd, oh, so sweet were its charms, That it more than atoned the delay.

I fear'd not, too slow of belief-- I fear'd not, too proud of thy heart, That another would steal on the hour of thy grief, That thy grief would be soft to his art.

Thou heardst--and how easy allured, Every vow of the past to forsware; The love, which for thee would all pangs have endured, Thou couldst smile, as thou gav'st to despair.

Ah, think not my pa.s.sion has flown!

Why say that my vows now are free?

Why say--yes! I feel that my heart is my own; I feel it is breaking for thee.

THE LUTE.

Ah! do not bid me wake the lute, It once was dear to Henry's ear.

Now be its voice for ever mute, The voice which Henry ne'er can hear.

Though many a month has pa.s.s'd since Spring, His grave's wan turf has bloom'd anew, One whisper of those chords would bring, In all its grief, our last adieu.

The songs he loved--'twere sure profane To careless Pleasure's laughing brow To breathe; and oh! what other strain To Henry's lute could love allow?

Though not a sound thy soul hath caught, To mine it looks, thus softly dead, A sweeter tenderness of thought Than all its living strings have shed.

Then ask me not--the charm was broke; With each loved vision must I part; If gay to every ear it spoke, 'Twould speak no longer to my heart.

Yet once too blest!--the moonlit grot, Where last I gave its tones to swell; Ah! the _last_ tones--thou heardst them not-- From other hands than mine they fell.

Still, silent slumbering, let it keep That sacred touch! And oh! as dim To life, would, would that I could sleep, Could sleep, and only dream of _him_!

WILLIAM CHALMERS.

William Chalmers was born at Paisley in 1779. He carried on the business of a tobacconist and grocer in his native town, and for a period enjoyed considerable prosperity. Unfortunate reverses caused him afterwards to abandon merchandise, and engage in a variety of occupations. At different times he sought employment as a dentist, a drysalter, and a book distributor; he sold small stationery as a travelling merchant, and ultimately became keeper of the refreshment booth at the Paisley railway station. He died at Paisley on the 3d of November 1843. Chalmers wrote respectable verses on a number of subjects, but his muse was especially of a humorous tendency. Possessed of a certain versatility of talent, he published, in 1839, a curious production with the quaint t.i.tle, "Observations on the Weather in Scotland, shewing what kinds of weather the various winds produce, and what winds are most likely to prevail in each month of the year." His compositions in verse were chiefly contributed to the local periodicals and newspapers.

SING ON.

AIR--_"The Pride of the Broomlands."_