Where oft the mastiff skulks with half-shut eye, Rosy Hannah. A spring, o'erhung with many a flower, The gray sand dancing in its bed, Embanked beneath a hawthorn bower, Sent forth its waters near my head. A rosy lass approached my view; I caught her blue eyes' modest beam; The stranger nodded 'How-d'ye-do?' And leaped across the infant stream. The water heedless passed away; With me her glowing image stayed; I strove, from that auspicious day, To meet and bless the lovely maid. I met her where beneath our feet Through downy moss the wild thyme grew; Nor moss elastic, flowers though sweet, Matched Hannah's cheek of rosy hue. I met her where the dark woods wave, Our plighted vows to heaven are flown; Lines addressed to my Children. Occasioned by a visit to Whittlebury Forest, Northamptonshire, in August 1800. Genius of the forest shades! Lend thy power, and lend thine ear; Amidst thy dark and bounding deer; Thy dells by wintry currents worn, No ear to hear, no eye to see. Hail, greenwood shades, that, stretching far, Withholds the clouds, withholds the shower. Down hazel aisles and arches green- From my charmed heart the numbers sprung, I poured wild raptures from my tongue, Where human foot had seldom strayed, I read aloud to every hill Sweet Emma's love, 'the Nut-brown Maid.' Shaking his matted mane on high, How would each sweeping ponderous bough A roaring wilderness of leaves? But peace was there: no lightnings blazed; Some clouds must dim your coming day; Well pleased I met the sun again; My seat was destined to the main. Perhaps they'll many a conflict brave, Go, then, proud oaks; we meet no more! Description of a Blind Youth. For from his cradle he had never seen Banquet of an English Squire. Then came the jovial day, no streaks of red O'er the broad portal of the morn were spread, But one high-sailing mist of dazzling white, A screen of gossamer, a magic light, Doomed instantly, by simplest shepherd's ken, To reign a while, and be exhaled at ten. O'er leaves, o'er blossoms, by his power restored, Had plucked his flowers, and still he held his sway, Waved his white head, and felt the breath of May. Well corked, well flavoured, and well taxed, that came From Lusitanian mountains dear to fame, Whence Gama steered, and led the conquering way At length the damasked cloths were whisked away They viewed him, while his ale was filling round, 'Full be your hopes, and rich the crops that fall? The Soldier's Home. 'The topic is trite, but in Mr Bloomfield's hands it almost assumes a character of novelty. Burns's Soldier's Return is not, to our taste, one whit superior.'-PROFESSOR WILSON. My untried Muse shall no high tone assume, How sweet it was to breathe that cooler air, never; They roll and foam, and roll and foam for ever. Close by him stood a little blue-eyed maid; JOHN LEYDEN. burgh Magazine. In 1800, Leyden was ordained for the church. He continued, however, to study and compose, and contributed to Lewis's Tales of Wonder and Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. So ardent was he in assisting the editor of the Minstrelsy, that he on one occasion walked between forty and fifty miles, and back again, for the sole purpose of visiting an old person who possessed an ancient historical ballad. His strong desire to visit foreign countries induced his friends to apply to government for some appointment for JOHN LEYDEN (1775-1811), a distinguished ori- him connected with the learning and languages of ental scholar as well as poet, was a native of the east. The only situation which they could Denholm, Roxburghshire. He was the son of procure was that of surgeon's assistant; and in humble parents, but the ardent Borderer fought five or six months, by incredible labour, Leyden his way to learning and celebrity. His parents, | qualified himself, and obtained his diploma. The seeing his desire for instruction, determined to sudden change of his profession,' says Scott, gave educate him for the church, and he was entered of great amusement to some of his friends. In Edinburgh College in the fifteenth year of his age. December 1802, Leyden was summoned to join He made rapid progress; was an excellent Latin the Christmas fleet of Indiamen, in consequence and Greek scholar, and acquired also the French, of his appointment as assistant-surgeon on the Spanish, Italian, and German, besides studying | Madras establishment. He finished his poem, the the Hebrew, Arabic, and Persian. He became | Scenes of Infancy, descriptive of his native vale, no mean proficient in mathematics and various and left Scotland for ever. After his arrival at branches of science. Indeed, every difficulty seemed Madras, the health of Leyden gave way, and he to vanish before his commanding talents, his re- was obliged to remove to Prince of Wales Island. tentive memory, and robust application. His He resided there for some time, visiting Sumatra college vacations were spent at home; and as his and the Malayan peninsula, and amassing the father's cottage afforded him little opportunity for curious information concerning the language, literaquiet and seclusion, he looked out for accommoda-ture, and descent of the Indo-Chinese tribes, which tions abroad. In a wild recess,' says Sir Walter afterwards enabled him to lay a most valuable Scott, 'in the den or glen which gives name to the dissertation before the Asiatic Society at Calcutta. village of Denholm, he contrived a sort of furnace Leyden quitted Prince of Wales Island, and was for the purpose of such chemical experiments as appointed a professor in the Bengal College. This he was adequate to performing. But his chief was soon exchanged for a more lucrative appointplace of retirement was the small parish church, a ment, namely, that of a judge in Calcutta. His gloomy and ancient building, generally believed spare time was, as usual, devoted to oriental in the neighbourhood to be haunted. To this manuscripts and antiquities. I may die in the chosen place of study, usually locked during week- attempt,' he wrote to a friend, 'but if I die without days, Leyden made entrance by means of a window, surpassing Sir William Jones a hundredfold in read there for many hours in the day, and depos-oriental learning, let never a tear for me profane ited his books and specimens in a retired pew. It was a well-chosen spot of seclusion, for the kirk -excepting during divine service-is rather a place of terror to the Scottish rustic, and that of Cavers was rendered more so by many a tale of ghosts and witchcraft of which it was the supposed scene, and to which Leyden, partly to indulge his humour, and partly to secure his retirement, contrived to make some modern additions. The nature of his abstruse studies, some specimens of natural history, as toads and adders, left exposed in their spirit-phials, and one or two practical jests played off upon the more curious of the peasantry, rendered his gloomy haunt not only venerated by the wise, but feared by the simple of the parish.' From this singular and romantic study, Leyden sallied forth, with his curious and various stores, to astonish his college associates. He already numbered among his friends the most distinguished literary and scientific men of Edinburgh. On the expiration of his college studies, Leyden accepted the situation of tutor to the sons of Mr Campbell of Fairfield, whom he accompanied to the university of St Andrews. There he pursued his own researches connected with oriental learning, and in 1799, published a sketch of the Discoveries and Settlements of the Europeans in Northern and Western Africa. He wrote also various copies of verses and translations from the northern and oriental languages, which he published in the Edin the eye of a Borderer.' The possibility of an early In 1811, Leyden accompanied the governorgeneral to Java. 'His spirit of romantic adventure,' says Scott, 'led him literally to rush upon death; for, with another volunteer who attended the expedition, he threw himself into the surf, in order to be the first Briton of the expedition who should set foot upon Java. When the success of the well-concerted movements of the invaders had given them possession of the town of Batavia, Leyden displayed the same ill-omened precipitation, in his haste to examine a library, or rather a warehouse of books. The apartment had not been regularly ventilated, and either from this circumstance, or already affected by the fatal sickness peculiar to Batavia, Leyden, when he left the place, had a fit of shivering, and declared the atmosphere was enough to give any mortal a fever. The presage was too just he took his bed, and died in three days (August 28, 1811), on the eve of the battle which gave Java to the British empire.' The Poetical Remains of Leyden were published in 1819, with a Memoir of his Life, by the Rev. James Morton. Sir John Malcolm and Sir Walter Scott both honoured his memory with notices of his life and genius. The Great Minstrel has also alluded to his untimely death in his Lord of the Isles: Scarba's Isle, whose tortured shore Scenes sung by him who sings no more, Has Leyden's cold remains. The allusion here is to a ballad by Leyden, entitled The Mermaid, the scene of which is laid at Corrievreckan, and which was published with another, The Cout of Keeldar, in the Border Minstrelsy. His longest poem is his Scenes of Infancy, descriptive of his native vale of Teviot. His versification is soft and musical; he is an elegant rather than a forcible poet. His ballad strains are greatly superior to his Scenes of Infancy (1803). Sir Walter Scott has praised the opening of The Mermaid, as exhibiting a power of numbers which, for mere melody of sound, has seldom been excelled in English poetry. Sonnet on the Sabbath Morning. With silent awe I hail the sacred morn, That slowly wakes while all the fields are still; Ode to an Indian Gold Coin. Slave of the dark and dirty mine! What vanity has brought thee here? Jeffrey considered (Edinburgh Review, 1805) that Grahame borrowed the opening description in his Sabbath from the above sonnet by Leyden. The images are common to poetry, besides being congenial to Scottish habits and feelings. How can I love to see thee shine So bright, whom I have bought so dear? The jackal's shriek bursts on mine ear Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild, Where loves of youth and friendships smiled, Uncursed by thee, vile yellow slave ! Fade, day-dreams sweet, from memory fade! Revives no more in after-time. The daring thoughts that soared sublime Gleams baleful as the tomb-fire drear. A gentle vision comes by night My lonely widowed heart to cheer: Her eyes are dim with many a tear, That once were guiding stars to mine; Her fond heart throbs with many a fear! I cannot bear to see thee shine. For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave, I crossed the tedious ocean-wave, To roam in climes unkind and new. Dark and untimely, met my view- A wanderer's banished heart forlorn, Of sun-rays tipt with death was borne? From love, from friendship, country, torn, To memory's fond regrets the prey; Vile slave, thy yellow dross I scorn! Go mix thee with thy kindred clay ! From the Mermaid' On Jura's heath how sweetly swell But softer floating o'er the deep, The mermaid's sweet sea-soothing lay, That charmed the dancing waves to sleep, Before the bark of Colonsay. Aloft the purple pennons wave, As, parting gay from Crinan's shore, From Morven's wars, the seamen brave Their gallant chieftain homeward bore. In youth's gay bloom, the brave Macphail Still blamed the lingering bark's delay: For her he chid the flagging sail, The lovely maid of Colonsay. 'And raise,' he cried, 'the song of love, "When on this ring of ruby red Shall die," she said, "the crimson hue, Know that thy favourite fair is dead, Or proves to thee and love untrue.' Now, lightly poised, the rising oar Disperses wide the foamy spray, And echoing far o'er Crinan's shore, Resounds the song of Colonsay: 'Softly blow, thou western breeze, Softly rustle through the sail! Soothe to rest the furrowy seas, Before my love, sweet western gale! 'Where the wave is tinged with red, And the russet sea-leaves grow, Mariners, with prudent dread, Shun the shelving reefs below. 'As you pass through Jura's sound, Bend your course by Scarba's shore; Shun, O shun, the gulf profound, Where Corrievreckan's surges roar ! "If from that unbottomed deep, With wrinkled form and wreathed train, O'er the verge of Scarba's steep, The sea-snake heave his snowy mane, 'Unwarp, unwind his oozy coils, 'Softly blow, thou western breeze, Softly rustle through the sail! Soothe to rest the furrowed seas, Before my love, sweet western gale!' Thus all to soothe the chieftain's woe, Far from the maid he loved so dear, The song arose, so soft and slow, He seemed her parting sigh to hear. The lonely deck he paces o'er, Impatient for the rising day, And still from Crinan's moonlight shore, He turns his eyes to Colonsay. The moonbeams crisp the curling surge, That streaks with foam the ocean green; While forward still the rowers urge Their course, a female form was seen. That sea-maid's form, of pearly light, Was whiter than the downy spray, And round her bosom, heaving bright, Her glossy yellow ringlets play. Borne on a foamy crested wave, She reached amain the bounding prow, Then clasping fast the chieftain brave, She, plunging, sought the deep below. Ah! long beside thy feignèd bier, Shall weep the maid of Colonsay ! But downward like a powerless corse, ... Rings from the motley tortoise-shell, While moonbeams o'er the watery plain Seem trembling in its fitful swell.' Proud swells her heart! she deems at last To lure him with her silver tongue, And, as the shelving rocks she passed, She raised her voice, and sweetly sung. In softer, sweeter strains she sung, O sad the Mermaid's gay notes fell, And ever as the year returns, HENRY KIRKE WHITE. HENRY KIRKE WHITE, a young poet, who has accomplished more by the example of his life than by his writings, was a native of Nottingham, where he was born on the 21st of August 1785. His father was a butcher-an 'ungentle craft,' which, however, has had the honour of giving to England one of its most distinguished churchmen, Cardinal Wolsey, and the two poets, Akenside and White. Henry was a rhymer and a student from his earliest years. He assisted at his father's business for some time, but in his fourteenth year was put apprentice to a stocking-weaver. Disliking, as he said, 'the thought of spending seven years of his life in shining and folding up stockings, he wanted something to occupy his brain, and he felt that he should be wretched if he continued longer at this trade, or indeed in anything except one of the learned professions.' He was at length placed in an attorney's office, and applying |