THOMAS MATHERS.

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Thomas Mathers, the fisherman poet, was born at St Monance, Fifeshire, in 1794. Receiving an education at school confined to the simplest branches, he chose the seafaring life, and connected himself with the merchant service. At Venice, he had a casual rencounter with Lord Byron,—a circumstance which he was in the habit of narrating with enthusiasm. Leaving the merchant service, he married, and became a fisherman and pilot, fixing his residence in his native village. His future life was a career of incessant toil and frequent penury, much alleviated, however, by the invocation of the muse. He contributed verses for a series of years to several of the public journals; and his compositions gained him a wide circle of admirers. He long cherished the ambition of publishing a volume of poems; and the desire at length was gratified through the subscriptions of his friends. In 1851, he printed a duodecimo volume, entitled, "Musings in Verse, by Sea and Shore," which, however, had only been put into shape when the author was called to his rest. He died of a short illness, at St Monance, on the 25th September 1851, leaving a widow and several young children. His poetry is chiefly remarkable for depth of feeling. Of his powers as a song-writer, the following lyric, entitled "Early Love," is a favourable specimen.


EARLY LOVE.

There 's nae love like early love,
Sae lasting an' sae leal;
It wins upon the youthfu' heart,
An' sets its magic seal.
The die that 's cast in early life,
Is nae vain airy dream;
But makes thee still in after years
The subject of my theme.
But years o' shade an' sunshine
Have flung alternately
Their fleeting shadows as they pass'd
Athwart life's changing sky.
Like troubled waters, too, the mind
'S been ruffled an' distress'd;
But with the placid calm return'd
Thine image to my breast.
Still I hae seen a fairer face,
Though fairer anes are few,
An' I hae marked kinder smiles
Than e'er I gat frae you.
But smiles, like blinks o' simmer sheen,
Leave not a trace behind;
While early love has forged chains
The freest heart to bind.
The mind from tyrant fetters
Is free as air to rove;
But powerful are the links that chain
The heart to early love.
Affections, like the ivy
In nature's leafy screen,
Entwine the boughs o' early love
Wi' foliage "ever green."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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