In 1842 Branwell began to feel more perceptibly the development of his intellectual powers, and to discern more clearly his natural ability to define, in poetic and felicitous language, his thoughts, feelings, and emotions. While under the depression and gloom consequent upon his disgrace, and the recent loss of his employment, he wrote the three following sonnets. The profound depth of feeling, expressed with mournful voice, which pervades them, the full consciousness of woe by which they are informed, leave nothing wanting in their expression of pathetic beauty; and they are distinguished by much sweetness of diction. These sonnets favourably show the poetical genius of Branwell. His soul is carried beyond his frail mortality; but sadness and sorrow, enshrouding his imagination, bind it to the precincts of the tomb. Here, with pessimistic and gloomy philosophy, he bids us, impressed with the slender sum of human happiness, to recognize the constant recurrence of the misery to which we are born, and to discern how little there is beneficent in nature or mankind. SONNET I. ON LANDSEER'S PAINTING. _'The Shepherd's Chief Mourner'--A Dog Keeping Watch at Twilight over its Master's Grave._ The beams of Fame dry up affection's tears; And those who rise forget from whom they spring; Wealth's golden glories--pleasure's glittering wing-- All that we follow through our chase of years-- All that our hope seeks--all our caution fears, Dim or destroy those holy thoughts which cling Round where the forms we loved lie slumbering; But, not with _thee_--our slave--whose joys and cares We deem so grovelling--power nor pride are thine, Nor our pursuits, nor ties; yet, o'er this grave, Where lately crowds the form of mourning gave, I only hear _thy_ low heart-broken whine-- I only see _thee_ left long hours to pine For _him_ whom thou--if love had power--would'st save! SONNET II. ON THE CALLOUSNESS PRODUCED BY CARE. Why hold young eyes the fullest fount of tears? And why do youthful hearts the oftenest sigh, When fancied friends forsake, or lovers fly, Or fancied woes and dangers wake their fears? Ah! he who asks has known but spring-tide years, Or Time's rough voice had long since told him why! Increase of days increases misery; And misery brings selfishness, which sears The heart's first feelings: 'mid the battle's roar, In Death's dread grasp, the soldier's eyes are blind To comrades dying, and he whose hopes are o'er Turns coldest from the sufferings of mankind; A bleeding spirit oft delights in gore: A tortured heart oft makes a tyrant mind. SONNET III. _On Peaceful Death and Painful Life._