Hamilton after alluding to these remarks thus questions himself: "Why don't I rest contented with the small, perhaps, but sincere portion of that happiness furnished me by my poetry, and a few friends? Why concern myself to please Jeanie Stewart, or vex myself about that happier man, to whom the lottery of life may have assigned her. Qui fit, Mæcenas, qui fit? Whence comes it. Alas! whence indeed ?
'Too long by love, a wandering fire, misled,
My better days in vain delusion fled:
Day after day, year after year, withdrew,
And beauty blest the minutes as they flew;
Those hours consumed in joy, but lost to fame,
With blushes I review, but dare not blame;
A fault which easy pardon might receive,
Did lovers judge, or could the wise forgive:
But now to wisdom's healing springs I fly,
And drink oblivion of each charmful eye:
To love revolted, quit each pleasing care,
Whate'er was witty, or whate'er was fair.'
I am yours, &c."
The "Jeanie Stewart" above alluded to complained to Mr Home, that she was teased with Mr Hamilton's continually dangling after her. She was convinced, she said, that his attentions to her had no serious aim, and she hinted an earnest wish to get rid of him. " You are his friend," she added, "tell him he exposes both himself and me to the ridicule of our acquaintance." "No, madam," said Mr Home, who knew how to appreciate the fervour of Mr Hamilton's passion, "you shall accomplish his cure yourself, and by the simplest method. Dance with him to-night at the assembly, and show him every mark of your kindness, as if you believed his passion sincere, and had resolved to favour his suit. Take my word for it, you'll hear no more of him." The lady adopted the counsel, and she had no reason to complain of the success of the experiment.[1]
In poetry, however, no one could paint a warmer love, or breathe a fiercer flame. In some rather conceited lines, " upon hearing his picture was in & lady's breast," he chides it for
'Engrossing all that beauteous heaven,
That Chloe, lavish maid, has given;"
And then passionately exclaims, that, if he were the lord of that bosom
"I'd be a miser too, nor give
An alms to keep a god alive."
A noble burst of fancy and enthusiasm! A most expressive image of the boundless avarice of love.
Of Mr Hamilton's poems not devoted to love, the most deserving of notice is "The Episode of the Thistle," which appears intended as part of a larger work never completed, called " The Flowers." It is an ingenious attempt, by a well devised fable, to account for the selection of the thistle, as the national emblem of Scotland. The blank verse which he has chosen for this incomplete poem, does not seem to have been altogether adapted to his powers; yet, on reading
- ↑ Bonnie Jeanie Stewart of Torsonce," as she was here fully described in ordinary parlance married the earl of Dundonald, and was mother of the late ingenious ear , so distinguish by his scientific investigations, and by the generally unfortunate tenor of his life.
