FRANCES BROWN'S POEMS.

Tam volume contains a variety of pleasing, readable, and, where narrative is involved, interesting poems, considered absolutely, with- out reference to any thing but their intrinsic character. A greater source of their attraction, however, is in the circumstances of their authoress—the obstacles which Fortune has interposed to her pro- gress, and the natural privation to which she has been subjected. From an autobiographical letter, parts of which are interwoven in the judicious preface to the work, it appears that FRANCES BROWN was born in 1816, at Stranorlar, a small village in the county of Donegal. Her father was the humble village-post- master ; and she was the seventh child in a family of twelve. At the age of eighteen months she lost her sight by the smallpox ; and when the innatus amor of letters began to stir within her, she supplied her want of sight by expedients. Whenever she heard a word she did not understand, she asked its meaning from any per- son she thought most likely to give an explanation : her brothers and sisters attended the village school, and were obliged to commit to memory portions of the Dictionary and English Grammar as a lesson; and by hearing them con these aloud, she learned them herself—and faster than they did, as her blindness appears to have rendered her memory more tenacious in some things than that of persons with sight. Her first acquaintance with literature is thus told by herself- " My first acquaintance with books was necessarily formed among those which are most common in country villages. Susan Gray, The Negro Ser- vant, The Gentle Shepherd, Mungo Park's Travels, and, of course, Robinson Crusoe, were among the first of my literary friends ; for I often heard them read by my relatives, and remember to have taken a strange delight in them when I am sure they were not half understood. Books have been always scarce in our remote neighbourhood, and were much more so in my childhood : but the craving for knowledge which then commenced grew with my growth; and as I had no books of my own in those days, my only resource was bor- rowing from the few acquaintances I had,—to some of whom I owe obligations -of the kind that will never be forgotten. In this way I obtained the reading of many valuable works, though generally old ones ; but it was a great day for me when the first of Sir Walter Scott's works fell into my hands. It was The Heart of Mid-Lothian; and was lent me by a friend whose family were rather better provided with books than most in our neighbourhood. " My delight in the work was very great, even then ; and I contrived, by means of borrowing, to get acquainted in a very short time with the greater part of the works of its illustrious author,—for works of fiction about this 4ime occupied all my thoughts. I had a curious mode of impressing on my memory what bad been read—namely, lying awake in the silence of the night, and repeating it all over to myself."

After describing her introduction to history, which finally super- seded her taste for fiction, she gives this touching account of her struggles to acquire geography.

"My historical studies made a knowledge of geography requisite; but my first efforts to acquire it had been made even in childhood, by inquiring from every person the situation and locality of distant places which they chanced to -mention. As I grew older and oould understand the language of books, the small abridgments of Geography which were used by my brothers and eistemat the village school were committed to memory, by a similar process to thatly which 1 bad learnt the Dictionary and Grammar. In order to acquire a more perfect knowledge of the relative situations of distant places, I sometimes re- quested a friend, who could trace maps, to place my finger upon some well- known spot, the situation of which I had exactly ascertained, and then con- duct the fingers of the other hand, from the points thus marked, to any place on the map whose position I wished to know; at the same time mentioning the places through which my fingers passed. By this plan, having previously known how the cardinal points were placed, I was enabled to form a tolerably correct idea not only of the boundaries and magnitude of various countries but also of the courses of rivers and mountain-chains."

The first great poetical work FRANCES BaowN procured was POPE'S translation of the Iliad; her previous knowledge of poetry having been limited to Warrs's Divine Songs, some Psalms of the Scotch version, and specimens of modern poets as quoted in stray provincial newspapers. These things had stimulated her to poetical composition : but on perusing the Iliad, all her childish poems were committed to the flames; and Childe Harold put a stop to her composition altogether for some time. In 1840, she heard a friend read the story of LA PEROUSE ; and the tale of his disappearance haunted her till she gave vent to her feelings in a poem upon the subject. Soon afterwards, some small pieces of hers were published in the Irish Penny Journal; and the publisher's presentation of a copy of the volume of that work, on its discontinuance, was the first book she ever possessed of her own. She subsequently contributed to the Athena-Ian, Lady BLESSINGTON'S Keepsake, and Hood's Maga- zine. Of those contributions ten are reprinted in the volume be- fore us : the remainder consists of original miscellaneous poems, and of the two works named on the titlepage,— The Vision of Schwartz, relating to the reputed discoverer of gunpowder, to whom a supernatural being appears at the moment of projection, and shows him some of the effects of his invention ; The Star of Atte- ghei, a Circassian story of love and war, connected with the Russian invasion.

Two points of a metaphysical as well as of a critical character naturally suggest themselves in relation to the productions of those all but born blind. Is the definite perception of the sight necessary to originality ? Is LIEBIG'S great discovery of the limitation of the nutritive powers in the physiological world equally applicable to the mental ? From the meanest plant to the highest animal, one law distinguishes the digestive power ; it can assimilate, but not create. Carbon or any other element necessary to the plant, gela- tine or any other matter necessary to the animal, must be admi- nistered to it. However hidden or complicated it may be, a vigorous and healthy digestion will separate it from the concomitant sub- stances, throw them off as dross, and assimilate the useful parts to its own sustenance. But these elements must be in the food ad- ministered; the nutritive function cannot create what it does not receive. Can the mind ? The first of these queries cannot be com- pletely settled by the case of FRANCES BROWN; because, as far as these poems are concerned, the answer must be in the affirmative. Amid all her merits—and those merits are considerable—there is no trace of originality : the reader is reminded of SCOTT, or BYRON, or Mrs. HEMANS; the poems Of FRANCES BROWN differing from other imitative poems, as they may be called, rather in degree than kind. A priori one should answer the second question in the ne- gative; yet these poems would almost lead one to assert that the mind may describe what it has not seen. The descriptions of FRANCES BROWN, though she was blind from infancy, are as good as those of many grown persons with eyes, or better. And this result seems to be contained in her want of originality. Persons who do not describe those appearances they have themselves observed, but echo the images they have found in books, may as well be blind as not. In one sense the privation of sight is perhaps an advantage, because it fixes the mind more intently upon the images presented by books, causing it to dwell upon them till they take a more defi- nite idea than is done by a person to whose perceptions many external objects present themselves. When, as in the case of The Star of Attighei, the scene is laid in a foreign country, and all images that have any semblance to reality must be drawn from books, it would seem that the blind are quite upon a par with those who can see. At all events, the following opening description of Circassia is curious : it wants those definite traits which give such life and truth to the Oriental sketches of BYRON, yet we imagine no one would have guessed that it was written by a blind person. "For glorious is the mountain-land That rises o'er the Euxine Sea, With towering cliffs so wildly grand, And forests waving, wide and tree, O'er ruin'd tower and rocky steep, And lovely valley green and deep ; Where, far amid the boundless blue, The mighty mountains close the view, In misty majesty, with zone Of cloud and glacier, dimly lone— The eagle's rest, the tempest's throne— Or robed in all the gorgeous dyes That only shine from Eastern skies."

The subject of The Star of Attighli is a Circassian maiden ; whose father, having submitted to the Emperor, is anxious to marry her to Paschoff, a Russian noble. Besides her hatred to the op- pressors, the lady is in love with a Pole, one of Paschoffs suite ; and to avoid the detested match, the lovers fly—the maiden assuming the warrior's garb, and devoting herself henceforth to her country. In a battle that takes place between the Russians and Circassians, the disguised maiden is killed by Paschoff, in fulfilment of a prophecy, that what he most loved should fall by his hand. This main story is well varied by the introduction of scenes, charac- ters, and incidents. There is a description of the house of Zaphor the lady's father; and the story of her mother, an European enslaved during Napoleon's Russian campaign. The reader is carried to a council of Circassians, such as SPENCER describes in his Travels ; and, besides the hardy mountaineers, various adventurers in the cause of liberty are brought together,—an exile of Erin ; and the last of the Mamelukes, who is skilfully enough conceived.

"There, all restless, roved the glance

Of Hassan's dark and jealous eye—

The last of Mamelukes whose lance Flash'd under Egypt's burning sky, And smote the Arab spear and bow :

He led the tameless Lesghi now.

But, since the hour when Hassan fled From Cairo's walls, the only guest That left alive the deadly feast, Though brave in battle, it was said He trusted nothing but the steed That bore him with such saving speed."

There is something like originality in the following scene between the lovers before the battle ; partly because sentiment rather than external images predominates, and partly from the woman's nature that shows itself in some nice touches. The Polish lover is en- deavouring to persuade Dizila, the heroine, to fly with him.

", Then, wilt thou share my Polish home,

And bless my kindred with the light

Of thy bright presence ? Dearest, come—

And leave the fields of fear and fight !

My country's hope bath long been lost, And freedom flies her fated coast ; But green her woods are waving still, As in Jagellon's days—and hill And valley shall seem free and fair To me, beloved, when thou art there.'

Strange were the watcher's words, in Booth, Addrese'd to such a martial youth : But midnight is the time for truth ; And in the glance of love that now Was resting on the speaker's brow There shone a soul more pure and Than man's rude nature ever knew; Though high resolve and fled despair, Beyond both words and tears, were there.

" Silent awhile Dizila stood ; Then pointed upwards to the star That now above the Eastern wood Shone, like a beacon, bright and far, And said--• Or ere you planet's light Beturne, to lead the hosts of night On their bright journey, I shall be In the far land where all are free !

Earth bath no more a home for me !

I left beside my father's hearth

• The smile of childhood's cloudless mirth ; I shed upon my mother's grave

• The latest tears that ere should lave These weary eyes. All else that Heaven To life had promised, or had given, Ion my country's altar laid, A votive offering freely made : The offering may be vain, but none Shall tear it from the altar-stone !

Ask then no more what is not mine : But oh ! revoke the generous vow That made my wayward fortunes thine ; I bless thee, and restore it now Blest and unbroken, may it prove

To thee the pledge of happier love—

Some household lamp whose gentle light Shall all thy changeless faith requite ! But when, in some far future time, The prize of freedom crowns thy clime, (For, yet, that glorious day shall be,

And, brother, mayst thou live to see ! )

Think of thine early dreams and me.

Go—and be happy!' • Never, never!' The Pole replied ; • we may not sever !

For once thy words are vainly spoken—

The vow is in my heart, unbroken : In good or ill, whate'er betide,

My chosen path is by thy side I'

"As when, through Autumn's misty veil, The sun breaks forth in morning splendour, Till highest peak and deepest dale Receive his smile so brightly tender, Till suddenly the cloudy screen From the cold mountains falls between ; So briefly bright the joy whose glow Lit up Dizila's brow of snow, The last her heart might ever know !

And when it pase'd, her visage wore A deeper sadness than before.

• Ah ! friend and brother of the past ! How hatbi thy heart its riches cast On one who wrong'd a love so true, Because its worth she never knew

Till now : like him who found the pile

Of treasure in the Serpent's Isle, And bore a few dim pearls away, Nor dream'd that diamonds deeper lay !'

'She ceased ; for, as on Soudjouk rose The purple of the summer dawn, The mountain-warriors and their foes Awoke to strife, from brief repose ; And scarce the shades of night were drawn Ere peal'd the Moscov's signal-gun, That told the hours of vigil done."

The reader will in a measure be able to form his own judgment

of Miss Beowtes poem from these extracts. Deficient in that truthfulness which arises from a study of Nature herself it must of necessity be ; nor does it possess that original mode of present- ing the ideas, which is as often the rest4t of fresh matter as of mere

style. But all that imitation can do is done. The original anec- dote is cleverly expanded ; variety is given by additional subjects, skilfully interwoven with the main tale ; the poetess has studied such works on Circassia as were accessible ; her versification is fluent, free, and harmonious ; and the whole is animated by a spirit of romance. Her fluency, however, has produced the most tangible defect of The Star of Atteghei; which consists in a predominance of general descriptions and reflections, rendering the matter of the poem disproportioned to its length. Putting aside incidental pas- sages of this character, the poem, with very slight changes, might have opened at the council, and avoided the fragmentary passages, that lead to nothing except calling to mind 2'/se Giaour.