It is well known that our countrywoman MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE was on terms of familiar intimacy with the poet-laureate, whose admiration of her genius is illustrated in several allusions to her in his works, and particularly in that passage of "The Doctor" in which she is described as "the most impassioned and imaginative of all poetesses." Southey superintended the publication of "Zophiel," in London, and afterward was a frequent correspondent of Mrs. Brooks, during her residence in New York and in Cuba. Among the souvenirs of Mrs. Brooke's grateful recollection of his kindness, are two or three short poems commemorating her visits to Keswick, and the following song, put into a lyrical form by her, from the blank verse of "Madoc."
I've harnessed thee, my faithful steed-- Now, by the ocean, prove thy speed, While, as we pass, th' advancing spray Shall kiss thy side of glossy gray;-- Oh! fairer than the ocean foam Is that cold maid for whom we roam! Her cheek is like the apple flower Or summer heavens, at evening hour, While, in her tender bashfulness, She starts and files my love's excess, Tho' dim my brow, beneath its mail, As ocean when the sun is pale. On, on! until my longing sight, Can fix upon that dwelling white, Beside a verdant bank that braves The ocean's ever-sounding waves;-- There, all alone, she loves to sing, Watching the silver sea-mew's wing. In crowded halls, my spirit flies To wait upon her; and wasting sighs Consume my nights; where'er I turn For her I pant, for her I burn, Who, like some timid, graceful bird, Shrinks from my glance and fears my word. I faint; my glow of youth is gone; Sleepless at night and sick at morn, My strength departs; I droop, I fade, Yet think upon that lonely maid, And pity her, the while I pine That she should spurn a love like mine _This_, Madoc took the harp to play; Cold in the earth Prince Hoel lay; And Llaian listened, fain to speak But wept as if her heart would break.
In this connection, writing of Southey, soon after intelligence was received in this country of the decay of his intelligence, from her coffee estate in Cuba, Mrs. Brooks says:
When a child of ten years old I could admire the poem "Madoc," such is the simplicity of its sentiments and the beauty of its delineations. Looking it over, here, (amidst the woods and canes of that island where repose the bones of Columbus,) the song of Prince Hoel attached itself to my thoughts, and has been (involuntarily) put into rhyme. This song may be found in the first part of the poem mentioned. The lyric metre in which it now appears must rather injure than improve the _belle nature_ of the original. Still I wish it to be published, as coming from my hand; because it gives me an opportunity of expressing, in some degree, my unqualified admiration of its composer. Well may he be called THE POET AND HISTORIAN OF THE NEW WORLD. To justify this appellation, one has only to look at Madoc and the History of Brazil. I have heard, from a friend, of a rumor that Southey is ill; and, as it is feared, irrecoverably.