array

That in the times of old had scathed the

rose

On England's banner, and had powerless struck

The infatuate monarch and his wavering host,

Yet ranged itself to aid his son dethroned),
The lyart veteran heard the word of God
By Cameron thundered or by Renwick
poured

In gentle stream; then rose the song, the loud

Acclaim of praise. The wheeling plover

ceased

Her plaint; the solitary place was glad,
And on the distant cairns the watcher's ear
Caught doubtfully at times the breeze-borne

note.

But years more gloomy followed, and no

more

The assembled people dared in face of day To worship God, or even at the dead

Of night save when the wintry storm raved fierce

And thunder-peals compelled the men of blood

To couch within their dens; then dauntlessly

The scattered few would meet in some deep dell

By rocks o'er-canopied to hear the voiceTheir faithful pastor's voice. He by the gleam

Of sheeted lightning oped the sacred book And words of comfort spake; over their souls His accents soothing came, as to her young The heath-fowl's plumes when at the close

of eve

ALCONER was born in Edinburgh in the year 1736.* He was the son of a poor barber in the Netherbow who had two other children, both deaf and dumb, who ended their days in a poorhouse. He early, through frequent visits to Leith, came in contact with that tremendous element which he was to sing so powerfully, and in which he was to sink at last-which was to give him at once his glory and his grave. While a mere boy he went, by his own account, reluctantly on board a Leith merchant-ship, and was afterward in the royal navy. Of his early education or habits very little is known. He had all his scholarship from one Webster. We figure him (after the similitude of a dear lost sailor-boy, a relative of our own) as a stripling with curling hair, ruddy cheek, form prematurely developed into round robustness, frank, free and manly bearing, returning ever and anon from his ocean-wanderings and bearing to his friends some rare bird or shell of the tropics as a memorial of his labors and his love. Before he was eighteen years of age Providence supplied him with the materials whence he was to pile up the monument of his future fame. He became second mate in the ship Britannia, a vessel trading in the Levant. This vessel was shipwrecked off Cape Colonna exactly in the manner described in the

* Other authorities place the year of his birth A. D. 1730.

poem, which is just a colored photograph of the adventures, difficulties, dangers and disastrous result of the voyage. In 1751 we find him living in Edinburgh and publishing his first poem; this was an elegy on the death of Frederick, prince of Wales. It was followed by other pieces, which appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine. Some have claimed for him the authorship of the favorite seasong "Cease, Rude Boreas," but this seems uncertain.

Falconer is supposed to have continued in the merchant-service (one of his biographers maintains that he was for some time in the Ramilies, a man-of-war which suffered shipwreck in the Channel) till 1762, when he published his "Shipwreck." This poem was dedicated to the duke of York, who had newly become rear-admiral of the Blue on board the Princess Amelia, attached to the fleet under Sir Edward Hawke. The duke was not a Solomon, but he had sense enough to perceive that the sailor who could produce such a poem was no ordinary man, and generous enough to offer him promotion if he should leave the merchant-service for the royal navy. royal navy. Falconer, accordingly, was promoted to be a midshipman on board the Royal George (Sir Edward Hawke's ship)-the same, we believe, which afterward went down in such a disastrous manner and furnished a subject for one of Cowper's boldest little poems. "The Shipwreck" was highly commended by the Monthly Review-then the leading literary organ-and became widely popular.

While in the Royal George, Falconer con

trived to find time for his poetical studies. Retiring sometimes from his messmates into a small space between the cable-trees and the ship's side, he wrote his " Ode on the Duke of York's Second Departure from England as Rear-Admiral." This poem was severely criticised in the Critical Review. It has certainly much pomp and thundering sound of language and versification, but wants the genuine Pindaric inspiration.

At the peace of 1763 the Royal George was paid off, and Falconer became purser of the Glory frigate of thirty-two guns. About this time he married a young lady named Hicks, daughter of a surgeon in Sheernessyard-a lady more distinguished by her mental than her physical qualities. The poet dubbed her in his verses "Miranda." It is hinted that he had some difficulty in procuring her consent to marry him, and was forced to lay regular siege to her in rhyme. At length she capitulated, and the marriage was eminently happy. She survived her husband many years, lived at Bath, and enjoyed a comfortable livelihood on the proceeds of her husband's Marine Dictionary.

When the Glory was laid up at Chatham, Commissioner Hanway, brother of the once celebrated Jonas Hanway (whom Dr. Johnson so justly chastised for his diatribe against tea), showed much interest in the pursuits and person of our poet. He even ordered the captain's cabin to be fitted up with every comfort, that Falconer might pursue his studies without expense and with all convenience. Here he brought his Marine Dictionary to a conclusion-a work which had occupied him for years, and which supplied a desideratum in the literature of the profession.

Falconer left his cabin-study with its many pleasant accommodations, and became a scribbler-of-all-work in a London garret. Here his existence ran on for a while in an obscure, and probably miserable, current. It is said that Murray, the bookseller, the father of the John Murray, of Albemarle street, wished to take the poet into partnership upon terms of great advantage, but that Falconer, for reasons which are not known, declined the offer.

Falconer had undoubtedly thought the sea a hard and sickening profession, but latterly found that writing for the booksellers was a slavery still more abject and unendurable. He resolved once more to embark upon the "melancholy main." Often as he had hugged its horrors, laid his hand on its mane and narrowly escaped its devouring jaws, he was drawn in again as by the fatal suction of a whirlpool into its power. Perhaps he had imbibed a passion for the sea. At all events, he accepted the office of purser to the Aurora frigate, which was going out to India, and on the 30th of September, 1769, he left England for ever: the Aurora was never heard of more. Some vague rumors, indeed, prevailed of a contradictory character-that she had been burned, that she had foundered in the Mozambique Channel, that she had been cast away on a reef of rocks near Macao, that five persons had been saved from her wreck but nothing certain transpired except that she was lost, and this fine singer of the sea along with her. Unfortunate Aurora! dawn soon overcast! Unfortunate poet, so speedily removed!

"It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
Built i' the eclipse and rigged with curses dark,
That laid so low that sacred head of thine."

REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN.