Grongar Hill invites my song, With my hand beneath my head; While strayed my eyes o'er Towy's flood, From house to house, from hill to hill, About his chequered sides I wind, Now I gain the mountain's brow, Old castles on the cliffs arise, The sturdy oak, with broad-spread boughs. On which a dark hill, steep and high, His sides are clothed with waving wood, A little rule, a little sway, A sunbeam in a winter's day, And see the rivers, how they run Ever charming, ever new, The pleasant seat, the ruined tower, See, on the mountain's southern side, Be full, ye courts; be great who will; Seek her on the marble floor: WILLIAM HAMILTON. WILLIAM HAMILTON of Bangour, a Scottish gentleman of education, rank, and accomplishments, was born of an ancient family in Ayrshire in 1704. He was the delight of the fashionable circles of his native country, and became early distinguished for his poetical talents. In 1745, struck, we may suppose, with the romance of the enterprise, Hamilton joined the standard of Prince Charles, and became the volunteer laureate' of the Jacobites, by celebrating the battle of Gladsmuir. On the discomfiture of the party, Hamilton succeeded in effecting his escape to France; but having many friends and admirers among the royalists at home, a pardon was procured for the rebellious poet, and he was soon restored to his native country and his paternal estate. He did not, however, live long to enjoy his good fortune. His health had always been delicate, and a pulmonary complaint forced him to seek the warmer climate of the continent. He gradually declined, and died at Lyons in 1754. Hamilton's first and best strains were dedicated to lyrical poetry. Before he was twenty, he had assisted Allan Ramsay in his 'Tea-Table Miscellany.' In 1748, some person, unknown to him, collected and published his poems in Glasgow; but the first genuine and correct copy did not appear till after the author's death, in 1760, when a collection was made from his own manuscripts. The most attractive feature in his works is his pure English style, and a somewhat ornate poetical diction. He had more fancy than feeling, and in this respect his amatory songs resemble those of the courtier poets of Charles II.'s court. Nor was he more sincere, if we may credit an anecdote related of him by Alexander Tytler in his life of Henry Home, Lord Kames. One of the ladies whom Hamilton annoyed by his perpetual compliments and solicitations, consulted Home how she should get rid of the poet, who she was convinced had no serious object in view. The philosopher advised her to dance with him, and show him every mark of her kindness, as if she had resolved to favour his suit. The lady adopted the counsel, and the success of the experiment was complete. Hamilton wrote a serious poem, entitled Contemplation, and a national one on the Thistle, which is in blank verse: How oft beneath Its martial influence have Scotia's sons, In everlasting blushes seen, Such Pringle shines, of sprightly mien ; Others of his amatory strains are full of quaint conceits and exaggerated expressions, without any trace of real passion. His ballad of The Braes of Yarrow is by far the finest of his effusions: it has real nature, tenderness, and pastoral simplicity. As the cause of the composition of Wordsworth's three beautiful poems, Yarrow Unvisited,'' Yarrow Visited,' and Yarrow Revisited,' it has, moreover, some external importance in the records of British literature. The poet of the lakes has copied some of its lines and images. The Braes of Yarrow. A. Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, Pouing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. Pouing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow? weep, And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow? Upon the duleful Braes of Yarrow. Wash, oh wash his wounds his wounds in tears, His helpless fate on the Braes of Yarrow. And warn from fight, but to my sorrow; Thou met'st, and fell on the Braes of Yarrow. Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows the Flows Yarrow sweet? as sweet, as sweet flows Tweed, Busk ye, then busk, my bonny bonny bride, C. How can I busk a bonny bonny bride, That slew my love on the Braes of Yarrow. O Yarrow fields! may never never rain, green, The boy put on his robes, his robes of The boy took out his milk-white milk-white steed, But e'er the to-fall of the night He lay a corpse on the Braes of Yarrow. Much I rejoiced that waeful waeful day; That slew my love, and left me mourning. How canst thou, barbarous man, then woo me? May bid me seek on Yarrow Braes My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid, And strive with threatening words to move me, My lover's blood is on thy spear, How canst thou ever bid me love thee? Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of love, Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door, Let in the expected husband lover. But who the expected husband husband is? Comes, in his pale shroud, bleeding after? And crown my careful head with willow. Pale though thou art, yet best yet best beloved, 4. Return, return, O mournful mournful bride, Song. Ye shepherds of this pleasant vale, She grants, she yields; one heavenly smile One happy minute crowns the pains Raise, raise the victor notes of joy, No doubtful hopes, no anxious fears, The sun with double lustre shone The gales their gentle sighs withheld, The hovering songsters round were mute, The hills and dales no more resound All nature seemed in still repose The woods struck up to the soft gale, The feathered choir resumed their voice, The hills and dales again resound With all his murmurs Yarrow trilled Above, beneath, around, all on I snatched her to my trembling breast, Song. Ah, the poor shepherd's mournful fate, Yet eager looks and dying sighs While rapture, trembling through mine eyes, The tender glance, the reddening cheek, A thousand various ways they speak For, oh! that form so heavenly fair, broke college, Oxford. Misfortunes in trade happened to the elder Johnson, and Samuel was compelled to leave the university without a degree. He was February 7, 1755. My Lord-I have been lately informed by the proprietor of the World,' that two papers, in which myDictionary' is recommended to the public, were written by your lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre;-that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in public, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. Seven years, my lord, have now passed since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before. The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks. Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron which providence has enabled me to do for Dr Johnson's Room in Pembroke College. a short time usher in a school at Market Bosworth; but marrying a widow, Mrs Porter (whose age was double his own), he set up a private academy near his native city. He had only three pupils, one of whom was David Garrick. After an unsuccessful career of a year and a-half, Johnson went to London, accompanied by Garrick. He now commenced author by profession, contributing essays, reviews, &c., to the Gentleman's Magazine. In 1738 appeared his London, a satire; in 1744 his Life of Savage; in 1749 The Vanity of Human Wishes, an imitation of Juvenal's tenth Satire, and the tragedy of Irene; in 1750-52 the Rambler, pub-myself. lished in numbers; in 1755 his Dictionary of the English Language, which had engaged him above seven years; in 1758-60 the Idler, another series of essays; in 1759 Rasselas; in 1775 the Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland; and in 1781 the Lives of the Poets. The high church and Tory predilections of Johnson led him to embark on the troubled sea of party politics, and he wrote some vigorous pamphlets in defence of the ministry and against the claims of the Americans. His degree of LL.D. was conferred upon him first by Trinity college, Dublin, and afterwards by the university of Oxford. His majesty, in 1762, settled upon him an annuity of £300 per annum. Johnson died on the 13th of December 1784. As an illustration of Johnson's character, and incidentally of his prose style, we subjoin his celebrated letter to Lord Chesterfield. The courtly nobleman had made great professions to the retired scholar, but afterwards neglected him for some years. When his 'Dictionary' was on the eve of publication, Chesterfield (hoping the work might be dedicated to him) attempted to conciliate the author by writing two papers in the periodical called 'The World,' in recommendation of the work. Johnson thought all was false and hollow,' and penned his indignant letter. He did Chesterfield injustice in the affair, as from a collation of the facts and circumstances is now apparent; but as a keen and dignified expression of wounded pride and surly independence, the composition is inimitable : Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which I once boasted myself most humble, most obedient servant-SAM. JOHNSON. with so much exultation, my lord-Your lordship's The poetry of Johnson forms but a small portion of the history of his mind or of his works. His imitations of Juvenal are, however, among the best imitations of a classic author which we possess; and Gray has pronounced an opinion, that 'London (the first in time, and by far the inferior of the two) has all the ease and all the spirit of an original.' Pope also admired the composition. In The Vanity of Human Wishes, Johnson departs more from his original, and takes wider views, of human nature, society, and manners. His pictures of Wolsey and Charles of Sweden have a strength and magnificence that would do honour to Dryden, while the historical and philosophic paintings are contrasted by reflections on the cares, vicissitudes, and sorrows of life, so profound, so true, and touching, that they may justly be denominated mottoes of the heart.' Sir Walter Scott has termed this poem a satire, the deep and pathetic morality of which has often extracted tears from those whose eyes wander dry over pages professedly sentimental.' Johnson was too prone to indulge in dark and melancholy views of human life; yet those who have experienced its disappointments and afflictions, must subscribe to the |