SONNET.
WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF THIRTEEN.
[In 1808, a collection of her poems, which had long been regarded amongst her friends with a degree of admiration perhaps more partial than judicious, was submitted to the world, in the form (certainly an ill-advised one) of a quarto volume. Its appearance drew down the animadversions of some self-constituted arbiter of public taste,[2] and the young poetess was thus early initiated into the pains and perils attendant upon the career of an author;—though it may here be observed, that, as far as criticism was concerned, this was at once the first and last time she was destined to meet with any thing like harshness or mortification. Though this unexpected severity was felt bitterly for a few days, her buoyant spirit soon rose above it, and her effusions continued to be poured forth as spontaneously as the song of the skylark.]
I love to hail the mild and balmy hour
When evening spreads around her twilight veil.
When dews descend on every languid flower,
And sweet and tranquil is the summer gale.
Then let me wander by the peaceful tide,
While o’er the wave the breezes lightly play;
To hear the waters murmur as they glide,
To mark the fading smile of closing day.
There let me linger, blest in visions dear,
Till the soft moonbeams tremble on the seas;
While melting sounds decay on fancy’s ear,
Of airy music floating on the breeze.
For still when evening sheds the genial dews,
That pensive hour is sacred to the muse.
[2] The criticism referred to, and which, considering the circumstances under which the volume appeared, was certainly somewhat ungenerous, and quite uncalled for, ran as follows:
—“We hear that these poems are the ‘genuine productions of a young lady, written between the ages of eight and thirteen years,’ and we do not feel inclined to question the intelligence; but although the fact may insure them an indulgent reception from all those who have ‘children dear,’ yet, when a little girl publishes a large quarto, we are disposed to examine before we admit her claims to public attention. Many of Miss Browne’s compositions are extremely jejune. However, though Miss Browne’s poems contain some erroneous and some pitiable lines, we must praise the ‘Reflections in a ruined Castle,’ and the poetic strain in which they are delivered. The lines to ‘Patriotism’ contain good thoughts and forcible images; and if the youthful author were to content herself for some years with reading instead of writing, we should open any future work from her pen with an expectation of pleasure, founded on our recollection of this publication; though we must, at the same time, observe, that premature talents are not always to be considered as signs of future excellence. The honeysuckle attains maturity before the oak.”—Monthly Review, 1809.