Tennant (1784-1848) was a native of Anstruther, Scotland, who, while filling the situation of clerk in a mercantile house, studied ancient and modern literature, and taught himself Hebrew. He is known in literature by his mock-heroic poem of "Anster Fair" (1812), written in the ottava-rima stanza, afterward adopted by Frere and Byron. The subject was the marriage of Maggie Lauder, the famous heroine of Scottish song. The poem was praised by Jeffrey in the Edinburgh Review; and several editions of it were published. After struggling with poverty till 1834, Tennant received the appointment of Professor of Oriental Languages in St. Mary's College. In 1845 he published "Hebrew Dramas, founded on Incidents in Bible History." A memoir of his life and writings appeared in 1861. DESCRIPTION OF MAGGIE LAUDER. Her form was as the Morning's blithesome star, That, capped with lustrous coronet of beams, Rides up the dawning orient in her car, New-washed, and doubly fulgent from the streams: The Chaldee shepherd eyes her light afar, Each little step her trampling palfrey took, By Jove, the very waving of her arm Her face was as the summer cloud, whereon The dawning sun delights to rest his rays! Compared with it, old Sharon's vale, o'ergrown With flaunting roses, had resigned its praise: For why? Her face with heaven's own roses shone, Mocking the morn, and witching men to gaze; And he that gazed with cold, unsmitten soul, That blockhead's heart was ice thrice baked be neath the Pole. Her locks, apparent tufts of wiry gold, The tresses in their arms so slim and tangling, Her eye was as an honored palace, where A choir of lightsome Graces frisk and dance ; What object drew her gaze, how mean soe'er, Got dignity and honor from the glance; Woe to the man on whom she unaware Did the dear witchery of her eye elance! 'Twas such a thrilling, killing, keen regardMay Heaven from such a look preserve each tender bard! So on she rode in virgin majesty, Charming the thin dead air to kiss her lips, And with the light and grandeur of her eye Shaming the proud sun into dim eclipse; While round her presence clustering far and nigh, On horseback some, with silver spurs and whips, And some afoot with shoes of dazzling buckles, Attended knights, and lairds, and clowns with horny knuckles. Alexander Rodger. Rodger (1784-1846) was a native of East-Calder, Scotland. In 1797 he was apprenticed to a weaver in Glasgow. He married, and had a large family, some of whom emigrated to the United States. Having written some articles against the Government in a radical newspaper, he was imprisoned for some time. His first appearance as an author was in 1827, when he published a volume of poems. Some of his songs are still very popular. BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk ; And dinna be so rude to me As kiss me sae before folk. It wadna gi'e me mickle pain, But, guidsake! no before folk! Consider, lad, how folk will crack, O' naething but a simple smack That's gi'en or ta'en before folk. It's no through hatred o' a kiss To be sae teased before folk. I'm sure wi' you I've been as free Sic freedom used before folk. Ye tell me that my face is fair: Ye tell me that my lips are sweet: To pree their sweets before folk. Gin that's the case, there's time and place, But gin you really do insist And mak' me yours before folk. Bernard Barton. 66 Barton (1784-1849) has often been spoken of as the Quaker poet." He became a banker's clerk at the age of twenty-six, and continued in that position, like Lamb in the East India House, to the end of his life. Pure, gentle, and amiable, his poetry reflects his character. To the "Sonnet to a Grandmother," Charles Lamb affixed the characteristic comment, "A good sonnet. Dixi.-C. LAMB." Barton's "Poems and Letters" were published, with a memoir, by his daughter, in 1853. TO A GRANDMOTHER. "Old age is dark and unlovely."—OSSIAN. Oh, say not so! A bright old age is thine, A peaceful throne-which thou wert formed to fill; A winter night! the stormy wind is high, Levi Frisbie. AMERICAN. Frisbic (1784-1822) was the son of a clergyman of Ipswich, Mass. He was educated at Harvard, and did much to defray his own expenses by teaching. After finishing his course, he was successively Latin tutor, Professor of Latin, and Professor of Moral Philosophy. A volume containing some of his philosophical writings and a few poems, and edited by his friend, Andrews Norton, was published in 1823. A CASTLE IN THE AIR. I'll tell you, friend, what sort of wife, In sweet aërial dreams. The rose its blushes need not lend, Nor yet the lily with them blend, To captivate my eyes. Give me a cheek the heart obeys, Features, where pensive, more than gay, A form, though not of finest mould, Where yet a something you behold Unconsciously doth please; Manners all graceful, without art, That to each look and word impart A modesty and ease. But still her air, her face, each charm, Ah! could I such a being find, And were her fate to mine but joined By Hymen's silken tie, To her myself, my all, I'd give, For her consent to die. Whene'er by anxious care oppressed, My aching head I'd lay; At her sweet smile each care should cease, Her kiss infuse a balmy peace, And drive my griefs away. In turn, I'd soften all her care, Each thought, each wish, each feeling, share; Should sickness e'er invade, My voice should soothe each rising sigh, Should gathering clouds our sky deform, My bosom to its bolts I'd bare, Together should our prayers ascend; Together would we humbly bend To praise the Almighty name; And when I saw her kindling eye Beam upward to her native sky, My soul should catch the flame. Thus nothing should our hearts divide, But on our years serenely glide, And all to love be given; And, when life's little scene was o'er, We'd part to meet and part no more, But live and love in heaven. Leigh Hunt. The son of a West Indian who settled in England and became a clergyman, James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784– 1859) was born at Southgate, and educated at Christ's Hospital, London. In connection with his brother he established the Examiner newspaper in 1808, and became the literary associate of Coleridge, Lamb, Campbell, Hood, Byron, Shelley, and other men of note. Having called the Prince Regent "an Adonis of fifty," he and his brother were condemned to two years' imprisonment, with a fine of £500 each. On Hunt's release, Keats addressed to him one of his finest sonnets. Improvident and somewhat lax in money matters, and often in want of "a loan," Hunt's life was spent in struggling with influences contrary to his nature and temperament. In 1822 he went to Italy to reside with Lord Byron; and in 1828 he published "Lord Byron, and some of his Contemporaries," for which he was bitterly satirized by Moore, in some biting verses, as an ingrate. Certain affectations in his style caused Hunt to be credited with founding the "Cockney School of Poetry." TO T. L. H., SIX YEARS OLD, DURING SICKNESS. Sleep breathes at last from out thee, My little patient boy; And balmy rest about thee Smooths off the day's annoy. I sit me down and think Of all thy winning ways; Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink, That I had less to praise. The sidelong pillowed meekness, The little trembling hand That wipes thy quiet tears, These, these are things that may demand Dread memories for years. Sorrows I've had, severe ones, Ah, first-born of thy mother, When life and hope were new; Kind playmate of thy brother, Thy sister, father, too; My light where'er I go, My bird when prison-bound, My hand-in-hand companion—no, My prayers shall hold thee round. To say "He has departed"— Yet feel we must bear on; Yes, still he's fixed and sleeping; 1 John Wilson, once the lusty assailant of Hunt, called him at last "the most vivid of poets and most cordial of critics." ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night Aud lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. AN ITALIAN MORNING IN MAY. FROM "THE STORY OF RIMINI." The sun is up, and 'tis a morn of May 'Tis nature, full of spirits, waked and springing:- bay. THOUGHTS ON THE AVON, SEPT. 23, 1817. It is the loveliest day that we have had This lovely month-sparkling, and full of cheer; The sun has a sharp eye, yet kind and glad; Colors are doubly bright: all things appear Strong outlined in the spacious atmosphere; And through the lofty air the white clouds go, As on their way to some celestial show. The banks of Avon must look well to-day: And why must I be thinking of the pride It is not that I envy autumn there, Nor the sweet river, though my fields have none; No; but it is that on this very day, MAY AND THE POETS. There is May in books forever: May will part from Spenser never; May's in Milton, May's in Pryor, May's in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer; |