Like plants, where the Simoom1 hath past, The sun went down on many a brow Which, full of bloom and freshness then, And ne'er will feel that sun again. And sicken at so foul a prey! Only the fierce hyena stalks Through the city's desolate walks The glaring of those large blue eyes, FROM "THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS." HINDA'S DESPAIR. She now has reach'd that dismal spot, Where, some hours since, his voice's tone Had come to soothe her fears and ills, Sweet as the angel Israfil's,3 Oh! stay-one moment is not much- 1 The poison wind of the desert, taking its colour from the sand which it raises in its course. 2 The Ghebers (a word said by Gibbon to give origin to the Turkish term Giaour, an infidel), the Persians of the old religion," who, on the irruption of the Arab Saracens to conquer their country and extinguish their faith, either resisted or fled into foreign countries. Their descendants, under the title of Parsees, are numerous in the north-west of India. 3" The angel, who has the most melodious voice of all God's creatures."-Sale. In Mr Moore's love pictures, beautifully as they are adapted to the phases of the passion in the clines where the scene is placed, we miss the higher and nobler attributes with which the emotion is invested in the writings of many of his cotemporaries. In wild lamentings, that would touch DIRGE OF HINDA. Farewell-farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Oh! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing, But long, upon Araby's green sunny highlands, 3 Nor shall Iran, beloved of her Hero! forget thee- Farewell-be it ours to embellish thy pillow With every thing beauteous that grows in the deep; Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreathed chamber We'll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling, "This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes, that they can never be tuned while it lasts."-Stephen's Persia. 2" One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian Gulf is a fish which the English call star-fish. It is circular, and at night very luminous, resembling the full moon sur rounded by rays "-Mirza-Abu-Taleb. The gulf yields a prolific pearl fishery. 3 The native appellation of Persia. 4 "Some naturalists have imagined that amber is a concretion of the tears of birds."— See Trevoux, Chambers. We'll seek where the sands of the Caspian1 are sparkling, Farewell-farewell-until pity's sweet fountain Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. (1784-1842.) This poet, novelist, and miscellaneous writer, was born of comparatively humble parentage in Dumfries-shire. He began life as a stone mason; but his early literary ability was such that, being introduced to Cromek, the editor of " Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song," and undertaking to procure contributions to that work, he sent to the editor, as genuine remains, compositions of his own. These form the bulk of Cromek's collection. The cheat was long unsuspected; but the suspicious sagacity of the Ettrick Shepherd and others, especially Professor Wilson (see Blackwood's Magazine, Dec. 1819), ultimately demonstrated the imposition, much to the reputation of the real author. Mr Cunningham repaired in 1810 to London, and, obtaining an appointment of trust in the sculptor Chantrey's studio, he settled himself here for life. In this congenial position of comfort and independence, he possessed opportunities for the employment of his active pen, and for intercourse with men of kindred genius. His warm heart, his honest, upright, and independent character, attracted the affectionate esteem and respect of all who enjoyed his acquaintance. He died in London in 1842. His larger works are, the "Maid of Elvar," a species of epic in Spenserian stanzas, illustrative of Dumfries-shire in days of yore; and "Sir Marmaduke Maxwell," a wild tumultuous collection of Border superstitions. His reputation rests chiefly on his smaller pieces, which are airy, natural, and intensely Scotch; vigorous and even splendid in their higher moods, affectingly pathetic in their softer strains. His novels, "Paul Jones," &c., are full of glittering description, and exaggerated and unnatural character. THE SUN RISES BRIGHT IN FRANCE.3 The sun rises bright in France, And fair sets he; But he has tint the blythe blink he had "The bay of Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden Bay, the sand whereof shines as fire."-Stray. 2 Comp. Collins, Dirge on Thomson "And mourned till pity's self be dead." The explanatory notes to the extracts from Moore are chiefly the author's. "The Sun rises bright in France' is a sweet o'd thing, very popular both in Scotland and England. I got some stanzas from Surtees of Mainsforth; but those printed are from Cromek. It is uncertain to what period the song refers."-Hogg, Jac. Rel., ii. 355, O it's nae my ain ruin That saddens aye my e'e, But the dear Marie I left ahin', My lanely hearth burn'd bonnie, The bud comes back to summer, OI am leal to high Heaven, A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA.1 A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast, my boys, Away the good ship flies, and leaves O for a soft and gentle wind! I heard a fair one cry; But give to me the snoring breeze, And white waves heaving high; And white waves heaving high, my boys, The good ship tight and free The world of waters is our home, There's tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud; But hark, the music, mariners! The wind is piping loud; The wind is piping loud, my boys, The lightning flashing free While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. 1 I look upon the alteration of "It's hame and it's hame," and "A wet sheet and Bowing sea," as among the best songs going.-Sir Walter Scott, Diary, 14th Nov. 1826. HENRY KIRKE WHITE (1785-1806.) Or H. K. White, it may be indeed said in Byron's beautiful words— "No lovelier spirit than thine Ever burst from its mortal control, He was born in Nottingham: like Akenside, he was the son of a butcher: and, after attempting his father's trade, and that of stocking weaving, his taste and ambition led him to place himself in a more advantageous situation, by entering an attorney's office. His verses attracted the notice of generous patrons, particularly Mr Southey. At the age of seventeen he published a volume of poetry, the profits of which were to supply the means of accomplishing his great ambition, an education at Cambridge, to qualify him for the ecclesiastical functions. He was rapidly acquiring distinction, when the severity of his studies terminated his life. Amidst the savage satire of the " English Bards," &c., it is pleasant to see Byron writing thus "Unhappy White, when life was in its spring, Oh, what a noble heart was here undone, 'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low: And winged the dart that quivered to his heart." Kirke White's life and death were alike beautiful: his poetry of course is that of promise, but that promise is very rich. It " abounds," says Byron, in such beauties, as must impress the reader with the liveliest regret that so short a period was allotted to talents which would have dignified even the sacred functions he was destined to assume." His poems are, “Clifton Grove," a descriptive piece founded on the manner of Denham, Pope, and Goldsmith; an imperfect epic, "The Christiad," and a considerable number of miscellaneous pieces, odes, ballads, &c. TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE. Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire! And cradled in the winds. Thee, when young Spring first question'd Winter's sway, Thee on this bank he threw To mark his victory. |