Possessed of a fine genius, a brilliant fancy, and much gracefulness of expression, Weir has decided claims to remembrance. His conversational talents were of a remarkable description, and attracted to his shop many persons of taste, to whom his poetical talents were unknown. He was familiar with the whole of the British poets, and had committed their best passages to memory. Possessing a keen relish for the ludicrous, he had at command a store of delightful anecdote, which he gave forth with a quaintness of look and utterance, so as to render the force of the humour totally irresistible. His sarcastic wit was an object of dread to his opponents in burgh politics. His appearance was striking. Rather mal-formed, he was under the middle size; his head seemed large for his person, and his shoulders were of unusual breadth. His complexion was dark, and his eyes hazel; and when his countenance was lit upon the recitation of some witty tale, he looked the impersonation of mirthfulness. Eccentric as were some of his habits and modes of action, he was seriously impressed by religious principle; some of his devotional compositions are admirable specimens of sacred poetry. He left an unpublished MS. poem, entitled "The Pleasures of Religion."
SEE THE MOON.
See the moon o'er cloudless Jura
Shining in the lake below;
See the distant mountain tow'ring
Like a pyramid of snow.
Scenes of grandeur—scenes of childhood—
Scenes so dear to love and me!
Let us roam by bower and wildwood—
All is lovelier when with thee.
On Leman's breast the winds are sighing;
All is silent in the grove;
And the flow'rs, with dew-drops glist'ning,
Sparkle like the eye of love.
Night so calm, so clear, so cloudless;
Blessed night to love and me!
Let us roam by bower and fountain—
All is lovelier when with thee.
LOVE IS TIMID.
Love is timid, love is shy,
Can you tell me, tell me why?
Ah! tell me why true love should be
Afraid to meet the kindly smile
Of him she loves, from him would flee,
Yet thinks upon him all the while?
Can you tell me, tell me why
Love is timid, love is shy?
Love is timid, love is shy,
Can you tell me, tell me why?
True love, they say, delights to dwell
In some sequester'd, lonely bow'r,
With him she loves, where none can tell
Her tender look in passion's hour.
Can you tell me, tell me why
Love is timid, love is shy?
Love is timid, love is shy,
Can you tell me, tell me why?
Love, like the lonely nightingale,
Will pour her heart, when all is lone;
Nor will repeat, amidst the vale,
Her notes to any, but to one.
Can you tell me, tell me why
Love is timid, love is shy?