4^8 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1812. 



To the Editor of the Bombay 

 Courier. 



Sir, — I inclose some lines which 

 have no value but what they de- 

 rive from the subject : they are an 

 unworthy, but sincere, tribute to 

 one whom I have long regarded 

 with sentiments of esteem and 

 aifection, and whose loss I regret 

 with the most unfeigned sorrow. 

 It will remain with those who 

 are better qualified than I am to 

 do justice to the memory of Doc- 

 tor Leydeii ; I only know that he 

 rose by the power of native genius 

 from the humblest origin to a very 

 distinguished rank in the literary 

 world. His studies included al- 

 most every branch of human sci- 

 ence, and he was alike ardent in 

 the pursuit of all. The greatest 

 power of his mind was, perhaps, 

 shewn in his acquisition of modern 

 and ancient languages. He ex- 

 hibited an unexampled facility 

 not merely in acquiring them, 

 but in tracing their affinity and 

 connection with each other; and 

 from that talent, combined with 

 his taste and general knowledge, 

 we had a right to expect, from 

 what he did in a very few years, 

 that he would, if he had lived, 

 have thrown the greatest light 

 upon the more abstruse parts 

 of the history of the East. In 

 this curious, but intricate and 

 rugged path, we cannot hope to 

 see his equal. 



Doctor Leyden had from his 

 earliest years cultivated the Muse 

 with a success which will make 

 many regret that Poetry did not 

 occupy a larger portion of his 

 time. • The first of bis Essays 

 which appeared in a separate fonu 



was "The Scenes of Infancy;" a 

 descriptive poem, in which he 

 sung, in nounpleasing strains, the 

 charms of his native mountains 

 and streams in Tiviot-dale. He 

 contributed several small pieces to 

 that collection of poems called the 

 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 

 which he published with his cele- 

 brated friend Walter Scott. Among 

 these the Mermaid is certainly the 

 most beautiful. In it he has shown 

 all the creative fancy of a real 

 genius. His Ode on the Death of 

 Nelson is undoubtedly the best of 

 those poetical effusions that lie has 

 published since he came to India. 

 The following apostrophe to the 

 blood of that hero has a sublimity 

 of thought and happiness of ex- 

 pression which never could have 

 been attained but by a true poet : 



" Blood of the brave, thon art not lott 

 Amid the vraite of waters blue; 

 The tide tliat rolls to Albion's coast 

 Shall proudly boast its sang-uine hue ; 

 And thou slialt be the vernal dew 

 To foster valour's darings seed ; 

 The generous plant shall still its stoek 



renew, 

 And hosts of heroes rise when one shall 



bleed." 



It is pleasing to find him on 

 whom nature has bestowed emi- 

 nent genius, possessed of those 

 more essential and intrinsic quali- 

 ties which give the truest excel- 

 lence to the human character. The 

 manners of Doctor Leyden were 

 uncourtly, more perhaps from his 

 detestation of the vices too gene- 

 rally attendant on refinement, and 

 a wish (indulged to excess from his 

 youth) to keep at a marked dis- 

 tance from them, than from any 

 ignorance of the rules of good 

 breeding. He was fond of talking, 

 his voice was loud, and had little 



or 



