llowing May the
author received his license as a probationer. The extraordinary success
of his poem had excited strong anticipations in respect of his
professional career, but these were destined to disappointment. Pollok
only preached four times. His constitution, originally robust, had
suffered from over exertion in boyhood, and more recently from a course
of sedulous application in preparing for license, and in the production
of his poem. To recruit his wasted strength, a change of climate was
necessary, and that of Italy was recommended. The afflicted poet only
reached Southampton, where he died a few weeks after his arrival, on the
18th September 1827. In Millbrook churchyard, near Southampton, where
his remains were interred, a monument has been erected to his memory.

Besides his remarkable poem, Pollok published three short tales relative
to the sufferings of the Covenanters. He had projected a large work
respecting the influences which Christianity had exercised upon
literature. Since his death, several short poetical pieces from his pen
have, along with a memoir, been published by his brother. In person he
was of the ordinary height, and of symmetrical form. His complexion was
pale brown; his features small, and his eyes dark and piercing. "He
was," writes Mr Gabriel Neil, who enjoyed his friendship, "of plain
simple manners, with a well-cultivated mind; he loved debate, and took
pleasure in good-humoured controversy." The copyright of "The Course of
Time" continues to produce emolument to the family.

THE AFRICAN MAID.

On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood,
Where to ocean the dark waves of Gabia haste,
All lonely, a maid of black Africa stood,
Gazing sad on the deep and the wide roaring waste.

A bark for Columbia hung far on the tide,
And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave;
Ah! well might she gaze--in the ship's hollow side,
Moan'd her Zoopah in chains--in the chains of a slave.

Like the statue of Sorrow, forgetting to weep,
Long dimly she follow'd the vanishing sail,
Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep;
Then thus o'er the billows she utter'd her wail:--

"O my Zoopah come back! wilt thou leave me to woe?
Come back, cruel ship, and take Monia too!
Ah ye winds, wicked winds! what fiend bids ye blow
To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view?

* * *