Glides with white sails, dispense the downy freight To copsy villages on either side, And spiry towns, where ready diligence, The grateful burden to receive, awaits, Like strong Briareus, with his hundred hands. GRONGAR HILL. SILENT nymph, with curious eye! Draw the landscape bright and strong; Sate upon a flowery bed, With my hand beneath my head; While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood, Over mead and over wood, From house to house, from hill to hill, About his chequer'd sides I wind, The mountains round, unhappy fate! Withdraw their summits from the skies, Still the prospect wider spreads, Adds a thousand woods and meads; Now, I gain the mountain's brow, Below me trees unnumber'd rise, The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, On which a dark hill, steep and high, His sides are cloth'd with waving wood, 'Tis now the raven's bleak abode; But transient is the smile of Fate! A sun-beam in a winter's day, Is all the proud and mighty have And see the rivers how they run, Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view! See on the mountain's southern side, So we mistake the Future's face, Which to those who journey near, Now, e'en now, my joys run high. Be full, ye courts; be great who will; Search for Peace with all your skill: Open wide the lofty door, Seek her on the marble floor. In vain you search, she is not there; And often, by the murmuring rill, WILLIAM HAMILTON was born at Bangour, in Ayrshire, in 1704; and was descended from an ancient and honourable family. The earlier years of his life were passed as a private gentleman, apart from the bustle and business of the world; and a liberal education, a refined taste, and an independent property, enabled him to cultivate literature as a source of enjoyment. The greater number of his poems were composed when youth added its delights to the advantages of fortune-when his talents made him the pride and ornament of the circle in which he moved-and when favourable gales only wafted him along the stream of life. At length wearied of idleness, and influenced by the spirit which so largely excited his countrymen, he joined the standard of the Pretender, in 1745; and celebrated, by an "Ode on the Battle of Gladsmuir," the success of his party at Prestonpans. Unfortunately for the Laureate of the exiled Stuarts, this was his only opportunity of exulting in their triumph. The following year destroyed their hopes at Culloden, and placed the life of their poetical auxiliary in imminent peril. He wandered for some time in the Highlands, where he wrote the " Soliloquy" which we have extracted into our pages,— eluding with extreme difficulty the diligence of the royal troops; and at length found means to escape to France. In France and Italy he resided several years; until having made his peace with government, he returned and took possession of his paternal estate, which had devolved to him by the death of his brother. His health however was very precarious, and he was soon compelled to revisit the continent. He died at Lyons in 1754; but his body was conveyed to Scotland and interred in the Abbey Church of Holyrood-house. It is to be regretted that no friendly pen was called upon to preserve other than very scanty memorials of his life; his countryman, Dr. Anderson, describes him as "amiable and respectable." He adds, that the poet "possessed the social virtues in an eminent degree. His writings breathe the passions which he felt; and are seldom cold or inanimate. The qualities of his head and heart were equally remarkable. His elegance and judgment were universally confessed. He was, in the proper sense of the word, a fine gentleman." It is impossible, however, to place him high in the ranks of British Poets; and if the name of Hamilton of Bangour is known more widely than his compositions, it is perhaps to be attributed to the slight mingling of the soldier with the poet; and to the celebrity obtained by his ballad in the Scottish dialect, "the Braes of Yarrow." His ode on the Battle of Gladsmuir too, as the composition of one actually fighting for the cause he celebrates, could not fail to obtain popularity; he describes the genius of his country as leaving "the vale of solitude and woe," wielding once more the "proud imperial sword," and rousing England to support a Prince, "Who overcomes but to forgive and free." He wrote however merely for his own amusement and to gratify a circle of accomplished friends; and probably without the remotest idea of giving his productions to the world. They were first printed, not only without his name, but without his consent, at Glasgow in 1748; and although he afterwards made some few corrections in this edition, he never felt himself called upon to produce a new and complete work. It is evident that he either thought them unworthy of fame or was indifferent to it. If, however, we cannot usher him to a conspicuous seat among the Bards, we may safely accord to him the merit of being an agreeable and effective writer. Few of his compositions bear the marks of genius, and are by no means conspicuous for strength of intellect or fertility of invention. But he had a delicate and refined taste; and his natural advantages were improved by an extensive acquaintance with 'classical learning and a thorough knowledge of the world. He writes with ease and grace, occasionally with energy and spirit, and his versification is correct and harmonious. His productions are numerous--but except the Triumph of Love, the Odes to Fancy, the Episode of the Thistle, the Braes of Yarrow, the Ode on the Battle of Gladsmuir, and an Epistle sent to the Countess of Eglintoun with "the Gentle Shepherd," they consist of songs and addresses to fair ladies, epitaphs on some of his personal friends, |