These volumes have now become extremely scarce, for which, and other reasons, I have thought it right to place Davy's productions on record in these memoirs; for although they are marked by the common faults of youthful poets, they still bear the stamp of lofty genius. There is, besides, a vein of philosophical contemplation running through their composition, which may be considered as indicating the future character and pursuit of their author; an ardent aspiration after fame seems, even at this early period, to have been felt in all its force, and is expressed in many striking and beautiful passages. There is still a higher motive by which I am induced to introduce these specimens into my memoir, that of showing the bias of his genius at this early period, with a view to compare it with that which displayed itself in the "last days of the philosopher." We shall find that the bright and rosy hues of fancy which gilded the morning of his life, and were subdued or chased away by the more resplendent light of maturer age, again glowed forth in the evening of his days, and illumined the setting, as they had the dawning of his genius. His first production bears the date of 1795, and is entitled THE SONS OF GENIUS. Bright bursting through the awful veil of night The lunar beams upon the Ocean play, The watery billows shine with trembling light, Where the swift breezes skim along the sea. The glimmering stars in yon ethereal plain Grow pale, and fade before the lucid beams, Save where fair Venus, shining o'er the main Conspicuous, still with fainter radiance gleams. Clear is the azure firmament above, Save where the white cloud floats upon the breeze, All tranquil is the bosom of the grove, Save where the Zephyr warbles through the trees. Now the poor shepherd wandering to his home Surveys the darkening scene with fearful eye, On every green sees little elfins roam, And haggard sprites along the moonbeams fly. While Superstition rules the vulgar soul, Forbids the energies of man to rise, Raised far above her low, her mean controul, Aspiring Genius seeks her native skies. She loves the silent solitary hours, She loves the stillness of the starry night, When o'er the brightening view Selene pours The soft effulgence of her pensive light. 'Tis then disturb'd not by the glare of day; To mild tranquillity alone resign'd, Reason extends her animating sway O'er the calm empire of the peaceful mind. Before her lucid, all-enlightening ray, The pallid spectres of the Night retire, She drives the gloomy terrors far away, And fills the bosom with celestial fire. Inspired by her, the Sons of Genius rise Above all earthly thoughts, all vulgar care; Wealth, power, and grandeur they alike despise, Enraptured by the good, the great, the fair.