Robert Pollok

Found in Hone's Year Book,
"On the 15th of September, 1827, died Robert Pollok, author of 'The Course of Time, a Poem in ten books.' He was born at Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, in 1799, 'of parents whom God made of kindest heart.' They appear to have been engaged in agricultural pursuits, and to have moved in a sphere of life by no means elevated, possessing, in the absence of worldly wealth, that best of all riches, the testimony of a good conscience and the favor of God.

It seems that whilst a mere boy he was remarkably thoughtful, seldom joining in those frivolities which usually characterize that period of life; and from a very early age evinced a relish for the beauties of nature, and a capacity of enjoying them, rarely to be met with. The scenery of 'Scotia's northern battlement of hills,' connected as it was with many important points in his history, and associated with feelings of incidents of unusual interest, seems to have exercised an influence over him which the trials of after years failed to wear away.
All forms of beauty, gentle or sublime, impressed him with feelings which belong peculiarly to those who look on nature in connection with that gracious Power which called it at first into exercise, and, sanctifying it by his condescending approval, pronounced it to be 'very good.' He viewed them with the sincere desire that all which met the eye might touch the heart, and seen, like a bright enchantment through its overflowings, instruct, elevate, and purify the affections.

...The immediate neighbourhood of his natal place presented no features of peculiar beauty, and seems to have been endeared to him chiefly by the associations with which it stood connected. Amongst the most remarkable, he refers in his poem to those early lessons of piety with which his mind became impressed amidst the quiet solitude in which he spent the former portion of his life. These seem to have powerfully influenced his feelings, and quickened the natural susceptibility of his mind, communicating a largeness of soul and elevation of thought which fitted him equally to expatiate on the vast, and to find abundant matter for praise in the minute. ... He was not, however, considered a youth of very great promise, though he seems to have formed no mean estimate of his own abilities. With a feeling peculiar to his countrymen, he indulged in dreams of future eminence; and labored diligently in the path which seemed to promise a sure but toilsome passage to glory, honor, and earthly immortality. But the praise of men, for which he had so determinately striven, presently appeared in all its hollowness, to one whose gaze had now become fixed on the steadier and more substantial brightness of that crown which fadeth not away. He renounced those hopes which had before influenced all his conduct, and sought for distinction where alone it can be found -- in the approval of that God whose favour is life, and whose loving kindness is better than life.
... A notice of the work which appeared in the 'Eclectic Review' for October 1827, in which the reviewer makes this manly avowal: -- 'We cannot refuse credit to the author's representation, that he has devoutly sought, not in feigned numbers but on his bended knees, the unction of the Holy One, which will sufficiently acount for his having so far transcended the loftiest flight of earthly wing.'

Mr. Pollok, being designed for the church, studied theology under the Rev. Dr. Dick, of Glasgow. His health became seriously impaired, and so formidable were the advances of disease that the exertion of delivering a sermon, on the 3d of May, 1827, obliged him to keep his bed for several days afterwards. Those who were present on that occasion bear testimony to the hallowed tone of eloquence which distinguished that discourse, and the zeal and fearlessness with which it was delivered. It now became evident that the mighty workings of a mind thus gifted, and absorbed in the contemplation of mysteries which transcend the scope of archangel's intellect, must prove too much for the body which enshrined it, already worn and wasted by disease, and destined, as the sequel showed, in a few months to return to its primitive elements. ....At length a tour to Italy was resolved on, and our author left Scotland in the following August, but had only proceeded Southampton before his malady presented such a formidable aspect as precluded all hope of recovery. He died at Shirley Common, near that place, on the day above stated; and as a fact that sets the emptiness of earthly glory forcibly before us, it may be well to mention, that the same review which passed sentence on his poem recorded also the lamented decease of its author.

'The Course of Time' was originally published without any preface, dedication, introduction, advertisement, or argument whatever. Its merits, however, soon became known, and it passed rapidly through several large editions. The Eclectic reviewer thinks it 'the finest poem which has appeared in any language since Paradise Lost,' and adds, 'without meaning to intimate that it discovers genius superior to that of Milton, it is, of the two, the poem of which we should ourselves prefer to have been the author.'
It certainly exhibits talents of no common order - a loftiness of thought - a sweetness of feeling - a boldness and energy of expression - a devotedness of spirit - a majesty of diction - an authority irresistable - a noble singleness and simplicity of aim, and a closeness of reasoning that shuts us up to the contemplation of eternal truths.
Perhaps the first and second books possess fewer attractions than those which follow. The fearful sublimities which distinguish a considerable part of them (though the language may in one or two instances degerate into angry declamation), andthe vivid pictures of those stern and unpalateable realities existing beyond the grave, may well give umbrage to the fastidious reader who has been accustomed only to the 'windy rhyme' of men-pleasing poets, and cause him to turn in disgust from the unbending protest exhibited against him.
The lofty tone assumed by [him] rests not in a single instance on any thing approaching to human authority, but speaks out its thunders in His right before whom the nations are as grasshoppers. He pleads as one having authority, and not as one who only claims it. A tongue enriched with all utterance, and a heart enkindled at the heavenly altar, are conspicuous in almost every page of this stupendous poem, which sets in the full light of Revelation the pretence and rottenness of poor humanity under all its varied forms and circumstances. ..."
~D. A.

"A Portrait of Robert Pollok 'engraved by T. A. Dean, from the only drawing from life ever taken,' embellishes the 'Pious Minstrel,' a collection of poetry published by Tilt. Besides the 'Course of Time,' which has passed through nine editions, Mr. Pollok wrote 'Ralph Gemmel, a Tale for Youth,' and 'The Persecuted Family, a narrative of the Sufferings of the Presbyterians, in the reign of Charles II.,' which were reprinted when his name became distinguished. Some verses entitled 'Horrible Things' are ascribed to him. They appeared first in a defunct periodical work, the 'British Magazine,' and, though they possess no merit, were transplanted into many of those emphemeral publications which trust every thing to the 'magic of a name.'