While many a stroke of fondness glides While softly from thy whiskered cheek Do rustics rude thy feats admire; The learned sage, whose thoughts explore Whence hast thou, then, thou witless Puss, A lion, darting on the prey, Or is it that in thee we trace, With all thy varied wanton grace, An emblem viewed with kindred eye, Ah! many a lightly sportive child, Nor, when thy span of life is past, And children show, with glistening eyes, BIRTHDAY LINES TO AGNES BAILLIE. Dear Agnes, gleamed with joy and dashed with tears, Since we on Bothwell's bonny braes were seen By those whose eyes long closed in death have been- 'Twas thon who woo'dst me first to look Upon the page of printed book, The Manse of Bothwell was at some considerable distance from the Clyde, but the two little girls were sometimes sent there in summer to bathe and wade about. That thing by me abhorred, and with address Or hear thee say, as grew thy roused attention, By daily use and circumstance endeared, To see thee by the morning tables set, Pouring from smoky spout the amber stream Which sends from saucered cup its fragrant steam: To see thee cheerly on the threshold stand, On summer morn, with trowel in thy hand For garden-work prepared; in winter's gloom Ay, even o'er things like these sooth'd age has thrown The change of good and evil to abide, If thou art taken first, who can to me Like sister, friend, and home-companion be? Shall feel such loss, or mourn as I shall mourn? And if I should be fated first to leave This earthly house, though gentle friends may grieve, A friend and brother, long and justly loved, Who then shall mourn for me as thou wilt mourn. Thou ardent, liberal spirit! quickly feeling The touch of sympathy, and kindly dealing The unhoarded mite, nor for to-morrow caring- From tardy love proceeds, though long delay'd. SAMUEL ROGERS, 1762 "And thou, melodious Rogers, rise at last, Assert thy country's honor and thine own."-BYRON. SAMUEL ROGERS, one of the most elegant poets of the present century, was the son of an eminent banker in London, and was born in that city about the year 1762. He presents a rare instance of great wealth allied to great talents, untiring industry in literary pursuits, and pure morals. No expense, of course, was spared in his education, and after leaving the university, he travelled through most of the countries of Europe. On his return he published, in 1786, an " Ode to Superstition, with other Poems," which was well received. About six years after, when he had attained his thirtieth year, appeared "The Pleasures of Memory," which was received by the public with universal applause, and at once established his fame as among the best of our modern poets. The subject was most happily chosen, for it came home "to the business and bosoms" of all, and it was executed with exceedingly great care. It has been said that no poem of equal size ever cost its author so many hours to produce. Not satisfied with correcting and re-correcting it again and again himself, he read it to various friends for the benefit of their criticism; and the result is that it is perfectly finished throughout, each part harmonizing with the other, and every line carefully and tastefully elaborated. "It acquired," says a writer in the "Edinburgh Review," "a popularity originally very great, and which has not only continued amidst extraordinary fluctuation of general taste, but increased amidst a succession of formidable competitors. No production so popular was probably so little censured by criticism. It was approved by the critics as much as read and applauded, and thus seemed to combine the applause of contemporaries with the suffrages of the representatives of posterity." In 1798, Rogers published his "Epistle to a Friend, with other Poems," but did not come forward again as a poet till 1812, when he added to a collected edition of his works his somewhat irregular poem of "The Vision of Columbus." Two years after, in company with Lord Byron's "Lara," appeared his tale of "Jacqueline," which, though well received, contributed but little to his reputation; and, in 1819, he published his "Human Life," which, next to his "Pleasures of Memory," is our author's most finished production. The subject was a good one, for it was drawn from universal nature, and connected with all those rich associations which increase in attraction as we journey onward in the path of life. It is an epitome of man from the cradle to the grave, and is executed throughout with the poet's wonted care. 1 In 1822 was published his first part of "Italy," which was soon after completed, and has since been published in the most splendid style, illustrated by numerous engravings. This is his last and longest, but not his best performance, though there are certainly many beautifully descriptive passages in it-delightful glimpses of Italian life and scenery, and old traditions; for the poet was an accomplished traveller, a lover of the fair and good, and a worshipper of the classic glories of the past. But it is chiefly as the author of the "Pleasures of Memory" that he will be known to posterity, though, at the same time, some of his minor poems are among the most pure and exquisite fragments of verse which the poets of this age have produced. In all his works, however, there is every where seen "a classic and graceful beauty; no slovenly or obscure lines; fine cabinet pictures of soft and mellow lustre; and occasionally trains of thought and association that awaken or recall tender and heroic feelings. His diction is clear and polished-finished with great care and scrupulous nicety; but it must be admitted that he has no forcible or original invention, no deep "The poet looks on man, and teaches us to look on him not merely with love, but with reverence; and, mingling a sort of considerate pity for the shortness of his busy, little career, and for the disappointments and weaknesses with which it is beset, with a genuine admiration of the great capacities he unfolds, and the high destiny to which he seems to be reserved, works out a very beautiful and engaging picture, both of the affections by which life is endeared, the trials to which it is exposed, and the pure and peaceful enjoyments with which it may often be filled." Edinburgh Review, vol, xxxi p. 325. |