1

Here shall remembrance pour the silent tear,
Tho’ death removes thee from this vale of woe,
Accept my friend, accept, if thou canst hear,
’Tis all a brother’s fondness can bestow.

2

No sullen whims our simple joys retard,                        5
When children lisping round our mother’s knee,
We share her tender kiss, our wished reward,
Or hear her welcome tale with silent glee.

3

Oft wandering, thoughtless, through the pleasant groves,
In rival haste we plait the flow’ry crown,                     10
And wish to know, for sudden fancy moves,
Why shadows lengthen as the sun goes down.

4

When infant gambols riper years destroy,
And nobler pursuits reason’s care demand,
Parental love survey’d with anxious joy,                      15
Our progress equal as our minds expand.

5

Alas! Misfortune rears her gloomy shade,
The ties of friendship are asunder torn,
Disjoin’d afar no more we court the glade,
Or plan the pleasures of the coming morn.                   20

6

For William’s fancy splendid hopes conceives
Of wealth and honors on a foreign shore,
He grasps at empty forms, nor once believes
The fatal danger which my tears deplore.

7

"Come banish grief and think how short my stay,         25
"Two lustres finish’d in the Western isles,
"In rapture I’ll return to bless the day
"That crowns our future bliss with fortune’s smiles.

8

"This beaut’ous fly, with wings of glitt’ring white,
"Late in its cell a scanty pleasure knew,                       30
"But now complete with pow’rs of new delight,
"It skims the air and sips the balmy dew.

9

My fancy mournful dwells on Scotia’s shore,
And paints the feelings of our last adieu,
I stood dejected as the billows bore                            35
My early friend forever from my view.

10

Propitious breezes swell the trembling sails,
And waft him safely to the destin’d land,
But there, alas, the tragic pest prevails.
He pines in death and strangers round him stand.         40

11

As sickness flies, the planters call to arms,
For fierce Maroons their hostile banners wave;
He bravely joins to crush their dire alarms,
But ruthless wounds nigh sink him to the grave.

12

These dangers past, bright hope renews the dream      45
Of coming raptures which no cares invade;
Fallacious hope—again his shatter’d frame
The pest assaults—he sinks among the dead.

13

Unhappy he, condemn’d to lonely grief;
His pain redoubles as his mind portrays                       50
The merits of his friend, for no relief
Proceeds from soothing voices in their praise.

14

Perhaps his radiant shade around me flies,
To view the sorrows mortal scenes impart,
O grant bright spirit, if no power denies,                      55
A double portion of thy feeling heart.

15

That sympathetic heart, whose greatest pride
To sooth the anguish of the sons of woe,
Or gen’rously with smiles thy wealth divide
To mitigate or heal misfortune’s blow.                         60

16

A fleeting pain the greatest mis’ry ends,
When death relentless hurls at us his dart,
But skilled in woe by cutting off our friends,
A thousand pangs transfix the melting heart.

17

Low lies his head and cold his heart sincere,                65
My anguish hopeless, still I’m pleas’d to mourn,
Nor like Pericles check the tender tear,
A tribute grateful to the hallow’d urn.

1

Pandora from above,
With open box in hand,
Was sent by angry Jove,
His mis’ries to disband.

2

From out her box she pour’d            5
Strange griefs till then unfelt,
And all the world immur’d
In wretchedness and guilt.

3

Thus mankind were bereft
Of ev’ry earthly bliss;                      10
Kind hope alone was left
To lengthen their distress.

4

When Jupiter beheld
The misery of man—
Faint hope, his only shield,              15
His life, how short a span—

5

He found his heart relent
At sight of human woe,
And straightway friendship sent
To mitigate the blow.                      20

6

Hail! harbinger of love,
Thou greatest earthly joy,
For all thy pleasures prove
Most pure without alloy.

7

Our griefs, our joys, our fears,         25
What e’er corrodes the heart,
True friendship ever bears
And mollifies the smart.

8

A friend our care divides
And softens ev’ry pain;                   30
With him our grief subsides,
And all is joy again.

9

Black envy quickly flies
And leaves no trace behind.
Esteem its place supplies,                35
And nobleness of mind.

10

That man alone’s our friend,
Who hates the road to vice,
Whose virtue will not bend
To company or choice,                   40

11

Whose moral sense presides
Vile wishes to withstand,
And all his action guides
By heaven’s just command;

12

But shun his noxious breath             45
Who wickedness approves.
His ways lead straight to death,
And kill the man he loves.

13

Pure friendships always rest
In truth and honor sure.                   50
When this is not the test,
They’re false and not secure.

14

A steady friend directs
Along the paths of truth,
And venial faults corrects                55
If we be still in youth;

15

If cold declining age
Preys on our vital breath,
A Friend smooths every stage
And blunts the dart of death.           60

16

Thrice happy sure is he
Who finds a friend like this;
Their actions e’er agree
In gaining mutual bliss.

17

Alas! how many spend                    65
Their anxious lives in vain
In search of such a friend,
Yet never one obtain.

18

That man, who forc’d to roam
Far from the charms that spring       70
From friendship pure at home,
Its pleasures best can sing.

19

Perhaps by fate confin’d
Where feelings are despis’d,
Pure sentiment declin’d,                  75
And riches only priz’d,

20

Here friends he cannot find.
Then grant, eternal Jove,
To bless his feeling mind,
The joys of faithful love.                  80

21

A thousand ties combine
Sweet friendship to improve,
And all its charms refine
When mix’d with tender love.

This dialogue was written merely for amusement. I am sensible, however, that a poem executed on the same plan would do great service to Scotland by exposing the avarice of many of the Clergy and the supine negligence of the greater number of Professors. This attempt is not finished with any skill nor is the writer perhaps equal to the undertaking; at any rate, where he is at present, the proper materials cannot be procured. The plan of the work might be nearly the same as that adopted by the author of The Pursuits of Literature: preliminary dissertations, poetry and notes.

The first dissertation might delineate the simplicity of the original Christians, the opinions against double charges—all in English, few of the Clergymen retaining any Greek after they leave College—after which it should point out the peculiar Constitution of the church of Scotland and her avowed hostility to the multiplicity of charges, concluding with the reasons which should produce a more than ordinary circumspection among the Clergy from the peculiar aspect of the present times. Should a second dialogue be thought necessary, for which there is abundance of matter, it might be ushered in with a review of the present state of the church: the history, private views, and piety of the two factions into which she is divided. It would be proper in the Dialogue to teach the whole secret of composing a sermon for public exhortation, for at home they are easily made, few of the ministers being ignorant of the great secret of exhortation which a Clergyman of talents told me is a never failing resource in time of Need. The numerous plagiarisms in the sermons published become an excellent fund of legitimate censure but it is impossible for me at present to avail myself of it. There is still room for a third dissertation different from both the former, containing the various methods of retaining the character of learned after the little we have acquired at College is dissipated, with a sure and infallible receipt for manufacturing a sermon without fear of criticism or the trouble of thought.

The conversation is carried on by Persisus and Cornutus. The idea is entirely borrowed from The Pursuits of Literature, a work which I esteem very highly tho’ I do not approve all the opinions it contains. Priestley deserves so well of the republic of letters as shields him from the unlimited censure he receives in that work. Nor can I think that any person who reads Priestley’s publication can abstain from respecting him even when he differs in sentiments. The fame which is so generally bestowed on Dr. Parr might have induced this rigid Censor to have used him a little better. These, however, are but small matters and tho’ I may often differ from his decisions of praise and censure, the work on the whole speaks a man of great erudition and considerable poetical powers. There is one thing in which I cannot concur; his virulent attack on the Papists is unmerited and I am perfectly convinced that there is not the smallest danger to be apprehended from them. And I gladly embrace this opportunity of joining any note of praise to Mr. Pitt for his exertion in their favour which I do the more willingly as I am not disposed to approve many of his other measures. When we consider the small extent and fewness of the inhabitants of Scotland we must admit that it furnishes its full proportion of learned men; nevertheless it does not afford a field half as splendid as that of England.

1. These lines exhibit (as I think) a very accurate account of this gentleman whose writings disgust everyone who reads them merely from their vanity—in other respects they are sometimes worth the perusal. For the word "Clouda" I refer to a curious project of reforming the English language published in Letters on Literature by Mr. Pilkerton. All efforts to render our language more excellent are laudable when temperate but surely Mr. Heron will pardon me (when he recollects his own criticisms) for thinking his attempt impracticable and absurd. There are some of these letters good . . .  [back]

2. Professors publishing lectures on subjects pretty much exhausted and well known are sure to give offence by repetitions, quotations, and prolixity. Mr. Stewart could say little new after Reid his great Master. The whole cannot be perhaps justly styled a compilation but the original observations are certainly few. It is in vain for Professors to tell us that they retain the form of lectures for the ease of their pupils and beg the indulgence of the public for collecting the best materials from all quarters. What in the name of wonder have we to do with compilations when we may have recourse to the originals. [back]

3. I have not the dull volume of sermons published by Dr. Erskine at hand or I might have proved the criticism by an hundred specimens. The doctrine they contain is calculated to do much harm, not that it is contrary to the confession (one page of which is fire and the next moderation) but there are certain topics—grace, faith etc.— which should not be too often preached or published, and when they are, a greater attention should be paid to practice than Mr. Erskine pays. For whenever a man takes it in his head that he is absolutely in a state of Grace he is not far removed from madness or the Devil. [back]

4. This is the author of a volume of miserable letters written to prove that the people of this country have no rights because their ancestors gave them up, and that more frequent elections would ruin the nation with expence—perhaps bribery. This pitiful production betrays a gross ignorance of the laws and constitution, and I should not have mentioned it all but for the opportunity it affords me of congratulating Mr. Thomas on his procuring a living by his seasonable publication whatever nonsense it contains. [back]

5. This little Dr. is a great curiosity and well known among medical students for his diligence in editing many books on Physic. The remarks he subjoins in the form of Notes are deep and profound and they explain difficulties which nobody but the Dr. ever discovered. By foisting in a great number of formulae extracted from the Pharmacopoeia, an additional volume is composed by which something handsome reverted to this man of ingenuity. The Dr.’s famous discovery of this property of snow deserves to be recorded that he may have the honor of being acknowledged the inventor, the more particularly as many cooks and scullions assert with great audacity that it was known long before. But who will credit them when the Dr. avers that he himself is the only original discoverer. Indeed, he has been allowed that honor by almost all the periodical publications tho’ I believe not before in rhime. This just tribute will be more than an equivalent for some reviling housewives who, having spoiled their puddings, blame the Dr. as an imposter. As this book will go down to future ages, I should be sorry to omit such an opportunity of relating some other wonderful things of this extraordinary personage. Let us no longer be told of the diligence of the old Philosophers and their address in communicating instruction, for they were only able to draw the attention of young men. But John Rotheram M.D., Surgeon, Professor of Natural Philosophy, Chemist, Pharmacopeist, Apothecary, Editor of 29 publications (few of which he understood), and elder of the Kirk of Scotland, has given several different lectures on Natural Philosophy in an assembly room to the grand edification of the Ladies who forsook the dance to catch the words of the Dr. distilling from his lips as honey from the comb. The Dr. travelling in England saw a huge stove the weight of which he wished to discover, and after much thought he invented the following method: he measured the dimensions of the stove as exactly as possible. He then broke off a small piece of two solid inches and by proportion found the weight of the great stove and all this without moving it off the ground !!!!! I might mention several other remarkable discoveries the Dr. has made but I am afraid of drawing upon him the envy of his contemporaries. [back]

6. This Gentleman stands at the head of the ruling faction in the Church. He is master of considerable address, some abilities and perhaps some eloquence—he is a popular preacher but he should never publish. The fame he gets in the pulpit is lost in the closet; it is seldom that any of his sermons are worth the perusal. More of the Dr. farther on. [back]

7. No person can entertain a greater respect for Dr. W.L.B. than I, but it cannot be concealed that the appendix he has written to Leland’s view is done in a very careless manner and not by any means such as the Dr. commonly writes. It is difficult to pardon a man of abilities for negligence in a work of so much importance but I only mention this G[entleman] here whom I respect very highly to put him in mind that hasty publications are hurtful. [back]

8. Dr. Campbell is a name that ought to be well known to Divines and critics. He sits in the Divinity chair of Marischal College, Aberdeen and will be long remembered with regret by a great number of the most respectable clergymen in the church, for I do not hesitate a moment to assert that Aberdeen and the adjacent counties can produce a greater proportion of liberal ministers all brought up under his care than any equal number of counties in Scotland. The Dr. acquired much reputation by his treatise on miracles which yields to no publication on the same subject in acuteness and solidity. It is even reported that Mr. Hume against whom it was expressly written considered it as a masterly production. In England it has long been the custom to decry Scotch publication on any subject, particularly those on Theology; hence it was some time before the Translation of the Gospels, Campbell’s greatest work, was appreciated according to its great merit. Of all his productions I prefer his Philosophy of Rhetoric, a book too much neglected tho’ containing many profound original observations on many difficult subjects; many works of much less merit have been praised to the stars by our monthly tribunes. [back]

9. George Skene Keith, minister of Keithhall 15 miles from Aberdeen, well known through all Scotland, used to go to Edinburgh from Keithhall in 2 days—120 miles. He published a volume of sermons many years ago. They contain some rays but scattered over a vast surface. He is excessively prolix in sermons and discourse. I have heard him talk a whole Synod almost to death. He is the Editor of Dr. C’s posthumous works, remarks on Church history etc., with an account of his life and writings. I wish the Dr. had fallen into better hands, not that George is altogether unequal to the task but he is always in an hurry— it’s one thing, says Tacitus, to be in haste and another thing to be in an hurry; the consequence is that he never finishes properly and does everything ill. I wish he would show some pity on his poor hearers when he preaches in Aberdeen by cutting away half the usual length of his sermon giving us less doctrine and more practice. Justice prompts me to remark that he possesses great knowledge of agriculture and distilling and is indefatigable in trying experiments. He was called up to London to give his opinion on some of these subjects, and when he was desired to give in an account of the expence of his journey George, like a primitive Christian, gave in a statement amounting to 50 pounds, a sum hardly sufficient to defray the most necessary expences. He is an open hearted generous man, and if less fond of popular applause and talking we should have little reason to regret his moderate literary attainments. He will not easily suspect the writer of this note. Brown is a man of talents (see note 7th) and preached Dr. Campbell’s funeral sermon but not having been long acquainted and having perhaps never read his works or finding panegyric a dry subject he made a very meagre production. [back]

10. Dr. Reid’s works stand high in the literary world; my note of praise can add nothing to their merit. I shall, therefore, only notice that the amiableness of his private life was as great as his abilities were splendid. He lived to see his 87th year in the full possession of all his faculties, and could talk even within a few weeks of his death on mathematics and metaphysics with the same vigour and good sense as ever. [back]

11. Dr. Dunbar, lately professor of Philosophy, King’s College Aberdeen, dead some years. He published Essays on Man from which everybody steals and nobody acknowledges. These essays contain many excellent observations. The Dr. was an enemy to all low university policy and opposed their mean tricks. [back]

12. Adam Smith, author of The Wealth of Nations, a book of acknowledged merit. The same may be said for his Theory of Moral Sentiment. [back]

13. Leechman has the merit of being almost the first Scotchman who wrote good sermons. His liberality was attacked by his presbytery, the most furiously bigotted in Scotland, and it was with some difficulty he escaped them. It is well known or should be known that Glasgow is a nest of fanatics of whom the established Clergy take the lead. They contended with the sectaries who would preach and cant the longest but the Sectaries gave out to the great joy of the Ghostly Brethren. [back]

14. The different works of Lord Kaim’s are much read but not more than they deserve. I prefer his sketches for, altho’ the stile is often loose and inaccurate and smells too much of the law, one has the satisfaction of always meeting with something new. [back]

15. The sale of Dr. Blair’s works, particularly his sermons, has been so rapid and unprecedented that it seems almost dangerous to make any objection, but he that shall go to these sermons in quest of anything new will find himself disappointed if his reading has been but moderately extensive. The observations are just and the stile clear and simple, but they want that force and energy which should always distinguish the productions of the pulpit. They may be read with advantage in the closet but should never be carried to the pulpit or followed with slavish imitation. [back]

16. These three historians are an honor to our island. [back]

17. Dr. Hunter, Professor of Humanity, St. Andrew’s. A Gentleman of great learning, he is just now publishing an edition of the classics almost immaculate. The text refers to a shameful transaction which should be recorded. Dr. Hunter is eminently skilled in grammar and had made many valuable discoveries on that subject which he was accustomed to deliver in lectures to his class. Of these some of his pupils took notes and Gleig (who was publishing the dictionary of arts and sciences) got a copy which he published under the article "Grammar." A transaction so shameful has seldom come under public observation. But whoever looks at the immense pile of trash foisted into the Encyclopedia by this editor will perceive that he is well acquainted with the art of book-making. I wonder Dr. Hunter did not punish such rascality with all the severity of the law. [back]

18. Gleig—Editor of the Encyclopedia Britannica, a dissenting clergyman, Stirling. See last note and farther on. [back]

19. Dr. McKay, a gentleman of much merit by his own industry without the advantages of a liberal education, has become an excellent mathematician. He wrote several articles in the Encyclopedia for which Gleig gave him but a scanty reward, getting only 20 guineas for the article "Navigation," one of the very best written treatises in the whole book. Dr. McKay teaches mathematics in Aberdeen. He deserves the most liberal encouragement. [back]

20. Dr. Hamilton, Professor of mathematics, Marischal College, Aberdeen, is well known to the public by his excellent Introduction to Merchandize, a book that should be placed on the shelf of every compting house. The Dr. is become completely absorbed in mathematical speculation. He knows everything so well himself that he thinks the boys should know it almost intuitively; the consequence is that he makes but an indifferent teacher and never has above one or two good Scholars in each class. [back]

21. I lament that Dr. Adams in his Roman Antiquities did not endeavour to make his book a little more entertaining. It is a much superior performance to Kennet yet it will not be so often sold or read. His antient Geography is a very valuable work and we anxiouly expect his Latin Dictionary. [back]

22. Dr. Ferguson’s Essay on Civil Society will be always read with profit and delight but his History of the Roman Republic is the dullest historical work I ever read, unless perhaps Gillies’ History of Greece. Gillies and Ferguson should join hands. I refer them to The Pursuits of Literature. [back]

23. It was customary for the antients to resolve all virtue into patriotism and to consider patriotism as a sufficient excuse for the commission of the greatest crimes. With the Romans virtue and bravery meant the same thing. Mahomet promised that the gates of paradise should be opened for all those who fell in battle in defence of their religion and the Popes used the same language to the crusaders. But I thought these impious notions had been long rejected till Dr. Carlisle published his eloquent sermon in which he resolves religion into patriotism, patriotism in marching against the French and heaven, like his friend Mahomet, is to reward those that fall. I am no friend to political harangues from the pulpit and I think it ill becomes a minister of the lowly Jesus to sound the trumpet of war. But for a clergyman to undermine all the principles of that religion he is bound to support there can be no excuse. [back]

24. Professor Robison’s abilities as a Natural Philosopher are justly admired. I wish he had recollected before publishing his proofs that a great reputation may be lost. [back]

25. Dr. Hunter, Professor of Divinity, Edinburgh. The Dr., instead of railing against socinians groaning and grunting etc. should endeavour to make his lectures a little more interesting. His sudden infusion of the spirit will not be easily swallowed in these days of mental scepticism. He may lament the heterodoxy of Priestley which the students read instead of Owen or Baxter but his lamentation will, I hope, be in vain. What is the use of studying Theology if our inquiries are confined to a single point? The young divines have, no doubt, too liberal minds to be thus cramped. That they would inquire and think for themselves is devoutly to be wished, and they will no doubt pray that they may never meet with a greater calamity than being forced to hear P. Hunter’s dull lectures, for this is a thorn in the side not easily borne. This is a very different man from Dr. Hunter above. [back]

26. One of the ministers of Dundee amazingly popular. The crowd used to call him a sweet preacher. A lady in Aberdeen was so mightily pleased with his preaching that she sent him next day a pair of satin breeches. But poor Davidson was too far advanced in another quarter to profit by the hint. When the brethren were going to make strict inquiry about his private marriage, the people became furious and beseiged the Synod. Peter fell, David sinned greviously, and Paul himself was a persecutor of the faith. A sinning saint was therefore of superior advantage to them as he could understand their infirmities and sympathize with their afflictions. Poor fellow he suffers so much from this wife that he married so secretly as makes him rather an object of pity than of censure. [back]

27. Every person attentive to the filling up of vacancies in the universities of Scotland must be convinced that they are all guided by party and interest, and that no man, be his merit ever so great, can succeed without money or influence. This Gentleman first obtained the Professorship of Oriental languages tho’ it was well known he knew nothing of them. He has since obtained the Professorship of Greek and at the time of his appointment could not read the letters. This appointment was so glaringly absurd that Principal Chalmers, a hackneyed veteran in college tricks for sixty years, protested against it considering everything that had gone before comparatively pure and resisted giving his consent even unto death. That a Gentleman should accept of an employment which he cannot fulfill bespeaks very little principle. I would recommend to this able Professor of Greek, Touli’s editions as they will save him the trouble of learning the contractions. [back]

28. Harry Hill. I should not have compared this celebrated personage with McPherson (as slender as his abilities are, he is by far the more learned of the two) had I not known that he would take it all in good part and put it off with a horse laugh. Every lover of learning will lament that the Greek Chair at St. Andrews was not conferred on Dr. Hunter, Professor of Humanity, instead of Mr. Hill. Among all the objections to Matrimony, that which prevented Mr. Hill’s marriage is the most whimsical. His sweetheart declined because he laughed too loud. The loud loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind. Indeed, he seems peculiarly gifted with this faculty. Strangers start as if it were the explosion of a cannon. Instead of some of the historical questions which he gives as tasks to his pupils—such as the advantages and disadvantages of Ostracism—I would recommend the following: What is the quantum of ability that will save a University from contempt and ruin? Mr. Hill knows very well but will not easily recollect the person that makes such memorable mention of him. [back]

29. Mr. Roderick McLeod is dead since this note was written but it is left for the edification and comfort of posterity. He taught, or rather attempted to teach, Mathematics and Philosophy Natural and Moral. His course was so singular as to merit a very particular delineation promising, however, that it was as good as that of the other Professors. As it was customary at King’s College till ’99 for the same professor to keep the same pupils three years under his charge and in that time he gave them lectures on Mathematics pure and mix’d and on Philosophy Natural and Moral etc. That a method so preposterous obtained so long admits of no excuse for few men are equally qualified to teach all these branches. Modest men might suppose that the Professors of King’s College must have been men of uncommon abilities to discharge an office so arduous, but nothing was more easy according to their plan.
         Mr. McLeod who had the greatest character among them will serve as an example. When he got a new class his first advice was to write his notes. These were a few scraps on Natural history which I have seen but they possess no merit; a boy might extract more and better from Nature displayed. He was wont always in the afternoon to comment on the notes as one of the class read them. His remarks were very miserable and when he had nothing to say he bit his nails. In this edifying manner were the afternoons of the first year spent. In the morning he employed them with Arithmetic, Algebra, and Euclid. His manuscripts on these subjects possess some merit. They are chiefly extracted from Malcolm and Gregory. It seems that during the first years of his Professorship he had applied a little to the elements of Geometry and Algebra but never meddled with the more abstruse parts. His notes on Algebra reached only to the end of Quadratic equations. He left its application to Geometry, cubic equations and series to their private study. He was well enough acquainted with Euclid for he had taught it fifty years. He made the young men win and lose places like schoolboys as this, he said, produced emulation, but among students grown up it is rather calculated to produce disgust and enmity. The session always ended just as the class finished Euclid leaving him only time to measure a field as an example in surveying which he always measured wrong.
         The last meeting was commonly devoted to Fortification. Mr. McLeod knew that if he commenced the second session of his new class with Natural Philosophy his notes would be finished too soon. To obviate this a repetition of Euclid was enjoined and was indeed necessary for nobody knew hardly anything of Mathematics. This took up some weeks. He then proceeded to Spherical Trigonometry but this was so languid that all parties seemed effectually tired. And to cover his ignorance he was accustomed for many years to say to each class after demonstrating the few propositions of Spherical Trigonometry usually found at the end of Simon’s Euclid: "You appear to pursue Spherics with so little animation that I fear we should make but a bad [head] at Conics. We shall therefore proceed to Natural Philosophy." His manuscript on this subject had undergone no change for forty years. Some of the young men read the notes taken by their fathers and grandfathers and found them to agree in every particle with those newly taken from the Professor’s copy. He was very angry at any one who did not write these lectures which was a burdensome employment. They were chiefly taken from Desagulier’s system. A course of lectures on a subject wherein so many discoveries have been made to receive no alteration for the space of forty years is, I believe, a new phenomenon.
         Lest Natural Philosophy should be too soon exhausted, he contrived to kill two or three afternoons every week with discourses which the students were ordered to deliver in turn on any subject they chose. This might have become useful with proper management but as the speeches very often turned on subjects which the Regent did not understand, his criticisms and observations were miserable. Those who reverenced him trembled when he spoke while others rejoiced in new reasons for contempt. By this method and numerous colds, the Natural Philosopy notes were hardly 2/3 read when the session ended. In the third and last year, Natural Philosophy was resumed and the afternoons killed with harangues till Christmas when he commonly reached Astronomy. This he passed over promising to take it up at some future time which time never arrived. His manuscript (for he always had a manuscript or notes or lectures as you please) of Moral Philosophy was not tedious being little more than Shaftesbury’s essay on the balance of the passions which with all the comments could not be spun out to the end of the Session. He was therefore obliged to read scraps from Butler and Cicero and last of all Pope’s "Essay on Man" which he valued as the quintessence of all Morality. After this he conferred the title of Master of Arts on his pupils and their academical course was ended. This statement of Mr. McLeod’s course is drawn from the most authentic source and I appeal for its truth to many of his pupils still alive. One of his scholars observed to me that he was very clever in accounts current and matters of Interest for which I could find no reason till he remembered that he was a Banker. [back]

30. Dr. Garnet late in Glasgow. It is much to be regretted that the greed of a little popularity should induce men of knowledge to give up their own sense to propriety to the prejudices of the Vulgar. The experiments in Natural Philosophy can be multiplied at pleasure but they are little better than so many Legerdemain tricks unless supported by Theory. Yet many give lectures in this way. And the winds beat and the rain came and that house fell for it was built upon the sand. This Gentleman publishes travels through the highland of Scotland at the reasonable price of 2 guineas !!! [back]

31. Mr. Copland, Professor of Natural Philosophy, is reckoned the chief pillar of Marischal College but, I believe, unjustly. He is one of the show Professors (see last note). His learning of any kind is not extensive. He appears to be no very deep mathematician. It is only justice to mention that he is an excellent mechanic. He makes a great number of his instruments himself and performs experiments with very great address. I think it however exceedingly illiberal in him to blame the last Professor of N: P: when any of the instruments are found spoiled, and reading letters from correspondents describing new discoveries publicly to his class: ("Which I submit to your consideration instantly as my great work is your improvement") is vain in the highest degree. These are little arts unworthy of a man of common understanding, much more a Philosopher. Mr. Copland loves money and he pretends he cannot accept the invitations of his friends as he has no time for class affairs, preparing experiments etc. This reason is useful in two respects; it precludes the expence of company and renders him still more popular. [back]

32. I find Dr. Wilson, Professor of Church history is dead—many a pun had the good Dr. and many a good dinner. His lectures had some merit and he enlivened them with some humour. [back]

33. Scot, Professor of Natural Philosophy, King’s College Aberdeen, one of the most forbidding young men possible. He has poor natural talents but much industry. His manner is exceedingly against him. I cannot conceive anything more imprudent than his attending Mr. Copland’s private class. To be sure, Mr. Copland works experiments neatly; so might Mr. Scot with some practice. [back]

34. Mr. Beattie, Professor of Natural History, Marischal College Aberdeen, nephew to the celebrated Dr. Beattie. A young man of much application but of savage manners, possesses no command of himself and beats his pupils most unmercifully. Whipping in a milder degree may be necessary in a school, but boys are too old and big at the University to profit by such discipline. [back]

35. I pronounce Mr. Oglivie, Professor of Humanity, King’s College Aberdeen, the most extraordinary professor in Scotland—perhaps the most whimsical in Europe. A night of him seated in proper stile is a much better show than any puppet in the country. He places his chair on a table 18 inches or 2 feet high. Opposite stands a table as high as the bottom of the chair in which his legs are carefully adjusted with the help of a cushion. Before him, but a little to one side, another table is placed with a triangular foot. This foot rises like a pillar through the table which moves up and down by means of pegs. He keeps his book on this. His manner of teaching is in the highest degree negligent. He has the reputation of being a good Naturalist and he certainly is a very good Latin Scholar but nobody ever left his class the wiser in either. His manner of teaching Natural History is, I believe, peculiar to himself. Each specimen has a written description tagged to it. This the students try to read while the despot sits on his throne in great state without uttering a single word. I said try to read for the writing is so miserable that the poor fellows know no more of it than if it were Greek. His method of teaching Latin is nothing better. He gives, it is said, an excellent translation of a small piece but, as he snuffles through his nose, very few can understand what he says and still fewer hear it. Notwithstanding all this, he is exceedingly tenacious of his own interpretation when the lesson comes to be examined but as he apportions every lesson among three or four boys, the rest, knowing who are to be called on, give themselves no trouble about it. He never enters upon any critical examination, points out the beauties, or enlivens his discourse with any Philological remarks or, indeed, with observations of any kind. It is, however, worthy of notice that he despises the low university policy and votes on every question with impartiality. Of consequence, he is always of the minority, the most honourable side of all college Questions in Scotland. [back]

36. Mr. Cook, Professor of Moral Philosophy, St. Andrews, one of the most testy little Gentlemen alive, becomes furious at the smallest contradiction. Good John, practice what you preach and pray always when going into company: "The Lord deliver me from anger." Many a time has this grave Philosopher gone to dine abroad and left the house in a rage before dinner for the merest trifle.

    Like dauted wean that tarrows at its meat
    That for some feckless whim will carp and greet
    The lave laugh at it till the dinner’s past
    And syne the fool thing is oblig’d to fast
    Or scart anither’s leavings at the last
                                                         Gentle Shepherd [back]

37. Burns—a name well known among readers of taste. It was curious, as the author of The Pursuits of Literature justly observes, that no better post could be procured for a man who was an honour to his country. [back]

38. Blacklock, a Gentleman of great fame, writes poetry though blind. He is one of the few Scotchmen whom even Dr. Johnson deigned to praise. [back]

39. Mr. Ferguson, a promising poet, died young. Among the few poems he wrote there are good specimens of rising powers but poverty cut them in the bud. [back]

40. Dundass is so well known that his character needs no delineation. [back]

41. Mr. Gleig (vid 17 and 18). All who have purchased the large Encyclopedia Britannica of which this Gentleman is the editor will be at no loss to appreciate his merit. Never was such a cheat palmed on the public. It is not perhaps publicly known that, not withstanding the facility with which he procured some articles by picking up notes, he wrote himself nearly blind compiling treatises on subjects he did not understand. I desire the reader to examine his miserable treatise on Metaphysics, the only subject in which he was at all conversant. Almost all the mathematical articles are shamefully executed. The immense stuff on Natural History is manifestly put in for no other purpose but to make Volumes. [back]

42. Mr. Couts, one of the Parochial Clergrymen in Brechin. The method by which he procured his parish which happens to be in the gift of the people is so singular and may be so useful to all those who wish to rise at any rate that I am induced to describe it at full length. Mr. Hannah, Minister of Stracathry, happened to preach in Brechin in the morning of that day in which Mr. Couts was to exhibit to give the people a trial sermon. Mr. Hannah had occasion to make some observations on the atonement. Mr. Couts had a long sermon on that subject—apropos— a lucky thought struck him. In the afternoon he began by informing the people that the subject slightly touched upon by his Reverend Brother, Mr. Hannah, was of so great importance as prompted him to illustrate it more fully. He then delivered his sermon which, tho’ dull and didactic enough, yet was greedily swallowed because of the old leaven. What Mr. Couts expected instantly followed. The people were filled with admiration that a sermon so fraught with godliness could be composed since the forenoon (the kirk not being out more than an hour) and concluded that he had been inspired of the Holy Spirit. They hailed him as a saint and pitied poor Mr. Hannah. He was instantly elected and looked upon as an angel of light.
         I hope an example so memorable will not be lost. Let every young preacher get two or three Ghostly sermons by heart and when a trial such as that of Mr. Couts shall occur, they have only to pick out a sentence or two from the sermon delivered by the first preacher which may form an introduction to their own. It is not necessary that both should be on the same subject. It is enough if a sentiment or two agree; at any rate, a little ingenuity will construe an agreement. But if all this should fail, which is almost impossible, swear boldly that they are connected, that some of the topics your Reverend Brother slightly touched upon in the forenoon appear to you of so great moment as to deserve a most particular and forcible explanation. Some fools may affect to despise this wholesome counsel as disagreeing with truth but such groveling beings will never rise. I address myself solely to those choice and liberal spirits who cannot be ignorant that he who signs the Confessions of faith and believes nothing of it may rather flatter himself than bugle at a piece of ingenuity so profitable. [back]

43. Dr. Hill looks up with great reverence to Harry Dundass and, manfully despising prejudices, changes his political creed with his great patron. He is, in general, attentive to his flocks for we should tell truth of the Devil. And it is surely no disparagement to be rather more attentive to the affairs of the nation since they are of infinitely more importance than those of a small parish. We shall meet with the Dr. again. [back]

44. Dr. Martine. I recollect in my early days that a Dr. of Divinity was a rare thing and only supposed to be conferred on men of the first abilities but tempora mutantur; it is now the distinction of ignorance. This can hardly apply to Dr. Martine whose poetical talents stand high—in his own opinion. He went to St. Andrews to see Dr. Johnston. The jaunt naturally awakened the muse who discovered that if it was twelve miles from Moneymeal to St. Andrews, it was also twelve miles back. The people were exceedingly edified by this discovery which equalled any ever made by the wise men of Goatham. [back]

45. The poem begins here to enter upon ecclesiastic affairs. The kirk hath certainly been very much distressed of late by the frailty of her children. The spirit hath overflowed and the combat with the flesh hath been severe but the spirit subdued. The Scotch Clergy are but bunglers in the business or they would not fall into such scrapes—practice, practice is everything—by and by they will be more expert. [back]

46. Read in confirmation of this the sermons published for the different fast days, almost all of them breathing sentiments in direct opposition to the Christian religion. Instead of the Gospel where nothing but the purest benevolence is inculcated, they often had recourse to the Psalms, many of which, whatever justice they may have done to the feelings, have done little to the charity of the composer. [back]

47. Those who are accustomed to dine sometimes with the Presbytery know the truth of these lines. I would recommend St. Andrews as one of the very best. Here are Kettle, Forest, etc. descanting with more precision  and  minuteness  than   a  midwife  after  a  laborious  seat. [back]

48. Dr. Arnot, Professor of Divinity at St. Andrews. The divines will most willingly attest his lamentable dullness. The poor Dr. looks up sometimes after a miserable tautology which he mistakes for a fine flourish to see if they are filled with admiration. It must be confess’d too that his lectures, miserable as they are, become worse from a comparison with those of Dr. Hill which have sometimes considerable merit. Dr. Arnot has been long notorious for his Avarice. And the last exhibition he has given of this despicable passion will justify my mention of former transactions. Dr. Arnot a few years ago had a son at College who enjoyed one of the bursaries but the young man, not relishing study, left the University. As Bursaries are set apart for the express purpose of supporting such young men at college as are not able to support themselves one could have naturally supposed the bursary vacant, of course, when the student left his studies but the Dr. thought otherwise and determined to make it still productive. As no one dare draw a bursary but a student actually at college, he pitched upon one to draw the bursary in his name for which he gave him 1/6 of the whole. This infamous trick was soon whispered about. The general indignation was excited. It came to Dr. Hill’s ears who, hardened as he is in little politics, was shocked at the shameless avarice of his colleague. Poor Arnot was instantly informed by the Dr. that in this instance he was not defensible. He was therefore obliged to refund the part of the bursary he had taken, which he did with a sorrowful heart. His prayer hath been graciously complied with as we shall see immediately. [back]

49. Mr. Bell, Minister of Crail, in his laudable opposition to Arnot’s avarice balances a small error he committed some time ago which induc’d me to give him ironically the title of liberal. He was accustomed to give the poor of the parish money often as from himself and consequently his charity was extolled to the skies but it was soon discovered that he had never given a farthing without reimbursing himself from the poor’s money. Now Mr. Bell must be satisfied if I think his meritorious opposition to Arnot nothing more than equivalent to his former vanity, now +6-6=0. [back]

50. Dr. Arnot was long Minister of Ceres previous to his obtaining the Divinity chair. This parish is in Cupar Presbytery among the members of which the Dr. obtained great reputation for his skill in ecclesiastical law. I was long at a loss to discover what study was necessary to become master of a few acts of the General Assembly or the accuteness and widsom needed in their application when I recollected that his superior penetration consisted in discovering unexhausted [trends]. This endeared him to the pastors who, with the exception of Dr. Brown of Falkland, compose one of the most ignorant societies in the Church. Their love for the Dr. induced them to support him at the Synod and by that means his call to Kingsbarns was confirmed. In order to understand the importance of this cause it is necessary to notice that Dr. Arnot, sometime after his translation from Ceres to St. Andrews, got a presentation to the parish of Kingsbarns from the Earl of Crawford, the Patron. He thought he could perform the duties of his professorship and this parish together, it being only four miles from St. Andrews. The gift was, however, clogged with an annuity of fifty pounds per annum which the Dr. had to pay to an old tutor of one of Crawford’s friends till otherwise provided for. This clause the Dr. carefully concealed but his Noble Patron free and open, supposing he had by a dexterous arrangement pleased two friends, could not help mentioning his address before a public company. The story flew and a prosecution for Simony was instantly threatened and Poor Arnot after taking possession, dressing the garden, etc., was obliged to make a hasty resignation. Mr. Thomson then got the parish who dying in a couple of years Arnot thought the odium of the old story had nearly subsided and obtained a second nomination from Crawford who is now better instructed to conceal any private clauses that may be found necessary. It is needless to observe that the multipication of ecclesiastical offices in Scotland is in direct contradiction to the fundamental rules of the Kirk. [back]

51. Dr. Hill is a man of much address and some eloquence. He has been long at the head of what is called the moderate party and is sure to be supported by a numerous faction whatever cause he shall undertake to defend. It is very extraordinary that in an assembly collected for the express purpose of regulating the affairs of the Church there should be found so few disinterested men particularly when it is remembered that their interests can seldom jar, but such is the case. All are enlisted under the banners to two factions and whatever is proposed by the one is opposed by the other without any examination but merely because it is supported by their opponents. As two or three take the lead of these factions, the Kirk is ruled absolutely by two or three or rather perhaps by Hill alone who stands at the head of the more numerous faction. As Arnot had formerly supported Hill in some university tricks, he claimed his assistance in this business. Dr. Hill has given it him with success but with the loss of his popularity. [back]

52. We have had occasion to mention Dr. W.L. Brown with esteem. He is rather attached to the moderate party or, rather, being an honest man to no party. On this occasion the transaction being so flagrant he joined the minority. There is a coolness between him and Dr. Hill. Brown possesses more learning and intergrity, Hill more address. [back]

53. It is a certain fact that Arnot considered this a very strong argument for allowing (said he) a clergyman to have two or three benefices as he is obliged to pay in so much annually to the sinking fund for each of them and can only leave one widow (polygamy not being as yet fashionable) the fund gains for had each benefice its own pastor the fund would get no more and might be clogged with a widow for every one of them. [back]

54. Mr. McCulloch is, I believe, a very well-meaning man and opposed the avarice of Arnot in a becoming manner. This was the more meritorious as he was almost the only one in the Presbytery of Cupar who dared to vote according to truth. I do not admire his lectures on Isaiah the subject is too difficult for [Dearrne Moor]. [back]

55. Mr. Cook, minister at Laurencekirk, son of Mr. Cook, Professor St. Andrews mentioned (note 36th), a vain conceited young man. He proposes to do great things when he becomes professor of Mathematics. He has made a large collection of curious problems all respecting plain Trigonometry many of which he says he invented himself. A young man to whom he was showing them with great exultation unluckily discerned that they were the common propositions conceived in different words. He could not therefore compliment him on his collection. He had the vanity to deliver a most contemptible speech in the assembly which put everybody but himself to the blush. He wrote a letter to Mr. George Skene Keith soliciting his influence against the chapels of ease but Skene Keith being of contrary sentiments chastised his presumption severely in a printed letter. [back]

56. Mr. Boggie confirms the proverb that a fool will speak a wise word at a time. Were he a poor man I should pass him in silence but surely it is a disgrace to the Chruch to have a man void of common sense in it. He deserves credit, however, for his vote in the present instance. [back]

57. Dr. Hunter, Professor of Divinity, Edinburgh (vide: note 25) [back]

58. Moncrief and Johnstone, two high fliers. They voted conscientiously on this occasion. [back]

59. Mr. Rowland Hill, a famous fanatic itinerant preacher. I heard him deliver a miserable sermon and Rate one still worse. The journal they published was shameful in the highest degree calculated to inflame the people against their Clergymen and to breed divisions in every parish. [back]

60. Mr. Ewen. This gentleman possesses some popular talents. It is probable that he is sincere as he resigned a living in the Church. The mission has promoted him to instruct young men to become preachers which he undertakes to do in two years. Fanatics have affected in all ages to despise learning. These itinerants will shake the Kirk and ruin the seceders. Some sailors, a cobbler, and several low people were ordained at Glasgow to go on the foreign mission. [back]

61. Sir John Sinclair is a man of great vanity and treated the Clergymen very haughtily. To be sure, many of the accounts were drawn up most miserably and do not seem to be much mended by the Baronet’s or, rather, Mr. Heron’s corrections. [back]

62. I refer to the Acct. of Denino not as badly drawn up but as containing some curious expressions . . . . [back]

Ionia’s fertile fields receiv’d the hosts
Of wand’ring heroes from the Grecian coasts;
Too num’rous grown to share their native plains,
They leave their weeping friends for new domains;
The Goddess liberty in radiant charms                                       5
Points out the way and ev’ry bosom warms.
The sister arts, in gorg’ous robes array’d,
With solid science tend their vig’rous aid:
Inspir’d by these, the bulwarks quickly rise;
The lofty turrets seem to meet the skies;                                  10
The temples built of Parian marble blaze,
As placid lakes reflect the Solar rays;
The altars smoke beneath the sacred grove,
And Poets chant the praise of mighty Jove.
The verdant lawns the distant prospects cheer,                        15
And Ceres’ treasures crown the passing year;
The neighbouring mountains num’rous flocks sustain,
And dales re-echo to the singing swain.
The purling streams through pleasant valleys glide,
And gentle Naiads lave the glassy tide,                                    20
While gilded ships unfurl their swelling sails
In quest of wealth, and court the rising gales.
The city built in innocence and peace,
The heroes rest, but often think of Greece,
When Persia’s King the Grecian freedom saw,                        25
Whose word was life or death and will the law.
He flies to check its pow’r without delay
And crush its blossoms with his iron sway,
But Greece, indignant, spurn’d the galling yoke,
And from her children’s neck the fetters broke.                       30
The tyrant fled and, trembling for his throne,
Admir’d and fear’d Neoclus’ gallant son.
In aftertimes, the aged champion stands
And views with smiling looks the youthful bands.
"My sons," he cries, "let patriot virtue shine.                             35
Your country’s claims for no reward decline.
In Marathon our fathers fought and bled,
O Glorious day, when dastard Persia fled.
The rocks of Salamis proclaim their fame;
Thermopyle insures a deathless name.                                     40
The Savage nations lost in wonder cry,
‘O happy Greece’ and chock the rising sigh."
Thus speaks the hoary sage; his visage glows.
The grateful tear of sweet remembrance flows.
The youth, exulting, catch the sacred fire.                                 45
Their throbbing hearts to glorious deeds aspire.
They grieve they were not born in former days
To share the actions they can only praise,
When boasting Xerxes press’d th’ Athenian shore,
And Grecian fields enrich’d with Persian gore.                         50
     Shall soft Ionians boast their Grecian name,
Admire their fathers cloth’d in lasting fame,
With rapture trace the venerable line
Of poets, heroes, law-givers divine,
In golden urns preserve their hallow’d dust,                             55
And drop the gen’rous tear at Solon’s bust,
And shall not Britain’s sons, with joy elate,
Commend the glories of their Parent state.
Be witness, gracious pow’rs. Our hearts sincere,
Tho’ distant far, their noble deeds revere.                                60
We gladly deck with palms of just renown
The heroes of the Nile and Camperdown;
We dropt a tear when Abercrombie fell
And, crown’d with victory, bade the world farewell
Like gallant Wolfe, forever dear to fame,                                 65
And the great hero of the Theban name.
     But British valour always challeng’d praise.
’Tis not the light’ning’s gleam or Comet’s blaze,
When haughty Louis, threat’ning half the world,
Destructive thunder through the nations hurl’d.                         70
Our noble fathers, freedom’s stablest rock,
The tempest met, and brav’d its furious shock.
It burst recoiling on the tyrant’s head
And sunk th’ ambitious hopes that flatt’ry fed.
     When civil discord British bosoms tore                               75
And Kindred slaughter stain’d the western shore,
When neighb’ring nations triumph’d in our woe
And hasten’d to support our sinking foe,
Britannia saw the thick’ning storm afar,
Forgot her grief and met the coming war.                                 80
Her fleets triumphant humbl’d haughty Spain.
They swept Batavia’s squadrons off the main.
The crafty Gauls who long the contest fled
Engag’d at last and sunk among the dead.
     ’Twas yours, ye loyal bands, that dreadful day                    85
At risk of life your country to obey;
To spurn the prudent road the dastard steers,
A friend to either side as fortune veers.
Nor have your merits passed without regard:
Our grateful parent gives the just reward.                                 90
To her we owe that peace delights our plains,
That joyous plenty through the hamlets reigns,
That rising towns present a grateful view
Where lately dismal wilds no op’ning knew;
That gentle Spring assumes her annual toil                                95
And balmy roses in the gardens smile;
That flow’ry meads and infant buds appear—
The hope and glory of the circling year—
That frugal bees delicious fruits distill
And pleasant creams our spacious goblets fill;                        100
That swains returning as the day declines
Exult o’er prostrate oaks and burning pines,
A pleasure greater than the conqu’ror knows,
Whose doubtful triumph costs ten thousand woes.
But Britain’s precious gifts will nought impart                         105
To rouse to glory or amend the heart,
So long as mental pleasures cease to flow—
The chief delight of mortals here below—
For when a fertile field no culture knows,
The Sun his genial warmth in vain bestows.                            110
No gold harvest glades the lazy swain,
But weeds luxur’ant cover all the plain.
     Inquire the latent cause of each excess;
Of vicious deeds the secret motives trace.
In ignorance a certain cause you’ll find                                   115
That leads to vice from vacancy of mind.
’Tis yours to change the scene, bid Science rise
And cheer the prospects of these Northern skies,
Bid Science brighten each bewilder’d thought,
And speed the schemes with social pleasure fraught.              120
     What tho’ no columns, busts, or crumbling fanes
Exalt the pensive soul to classic strains,
What tho’ no Nymph o’er silvan scenes presides,
No wat’ry God the rapid river guides,
No woodland groves resound Diana’s name,                         125
Or artless shepherds Pan’s protection claim;
Here simple nature nobler thoughts inspires
And views of grandeur banish low desires.
Attend, your country calls. Delay no more
To plant instruction on Ontario’s shore;                                 130
Nor let your rising offspring wildly roam
To seek the knowledge they should find at home—
To change their patriot love for deadly hate
And wish the int’rests of a foreign state,
Corrupt the noble feeling nature gave                                     135
And find for filial love a speedy grave;
For when they see no parent’s tender cares
They quickly learn to mock their distant fears.
     At Kingston, bards may glow with Milton’s fire
Or seek a calmer bliss from Dryden’s lyre;                            140
A Bacon, too, may grace some future age,
Or Newton reading nature’s inmost page.
     Hail mighty Science! hail the fruitful cause
Of Commerce, order, liberty, and laws;
The passions gently move at thy control,                                145
And sweet compassion melts the rugged soul;
All cares and wants before thy footsteps fly:
Those teachest how to live and how to die.

Epilogue

James recited the first 66 lines and Andrew Stuart the remainder at the Examination September 10th 1802. The order of the Examination was first, Poole England read a speech on polite literature and recited part of Akenside’s ode on Science. John McAulay then recited "The Sword at Rennes" from Sterne’s Sentimental Journey. Richard Cartwright read an eulogy on Mathematics which I had dictated and in the middle demonstrated the 47 proposition concluding with a few appropriate lines of poetry in praise of Mathematics. Poole England was then examined on trigonometry, surveying, and bookkeeping. Spencer next recited the "Elegy of Moran" from Ossian and after him William McAulay repeated from Dodsley a satire on obstinacy and contradiction under the story of Sir Testy. James Cartwright then read a speech on Natural Philosophy and he and Andrew were examined on optics. John Spencer now repeated Falstaff’s humourous description of his prowess, and Sam Hamilton, Cowper’s fable of the Mohammedans eating swine. Poole and Dic were examined on Chronology. Tom Deacon repeated part of Collin’s Ecologue entitled "The Camel-driver." James Hamilton recited Sterne’s apostrophe on slavery. Andrew Stuart read a discourse on Moral Philosophy after which he and James were examined on happiness. They then recited as already noticed and John Robeson, who had been previously confined with sickness, concluded the whole with the following epilogue.

Tho’ lately sick, I wish’d to join the feast,
And bring my little dish as well’s the rest.
"You’re late" (my Tutor said) "too late, I fear;
The table’s full and there’s no room to spare."
"You’ll find some spot perhaps—my portion’s small                  5
I pray, Sir, try." "But there’s no room at all.
You see what num’rous dishes load the board,
A sight might please a gen’rous Polish Lord."
"It’s loaded truly, Sir, but don’t you want
Some little item. Bread, perhaps, is scant."                               10
"Bread scant, you fool! For that let me alone."
"Here’s mathematics crisp and dry’s a bone.
Behold that topping roast of English beef
From Ethics cook’d of meat the sov’reign chief.
A little sauce would much improve the taste;                            15
To make the proper sort I’ll do my best."
"Bring filthy sauce to beef in its own gravy!
You might as well give courage to the navy.
Here Physics of themselves become a feast—
An Hodge-podge grateful found to ev’ry taste."                       20
"But something’s wanting still, I humbly think.
You may have meat enough, but where’s your drink? "
"My Drink! don’t Poets say that wit is wine.
Then to the bards I shall my guests resign.
You hear the poet tells how Turks eat Pork,                            25
And poor Sir Testy now’s oblig’d to lurk.
Gay Falstaff teaches all to drink good sack,
And slav’ry’s grievous both to white and black.
Mix these ingredients well, and from the whole
You’ll make a smoking overflowing bowl                                30
I’d take you were there room, with all my heart."
"I thank you, Sir, but where’s your fine dessert?"
"Desserts can only serve for idle show.
We promised only Solids here, you know."
"Not altogether that, for some regard                                       35
Good pies and tarts the palate’s best reward."
"Stop then, my friend, since for a place you’re panting.
A good dessert alone, you say, is wanting.
I here command that this shall be your part.
Be active, then, to furnish something smart.                              40
As for myself, its use I can’t discover.
No matter, let it come since you’re the mover."
     This conversation pass’d some days ago,
And ever since, I’ve been o’erwhelmed with woe,
For tho’ I wish’d some little thing to say,                                 45
You may be sure I’d chose an easier way.
I thought he’d dictate something for the feast;
To get it pat had only been a jest.
O! what a silly lout was I to stickle.
Was ever forward fool in such a pickle?                                  50
Here I’ve been busy hunting day and night
For some convenient speech to give delight.
I’ve grop’d my empty noodle round and round,
But all in vain, for nothing there was found.
I asked a friend to lend some little aid.                                     55
He stretch’d his lantern jaws, and shook his head.
In vain I sought abroad, in vain at home,
And now before you unprepar’d I come,
But I’ll be well prepar’d ’gainst next occasion,
If you’ll be pleas’d with this my free confession.                       60
I see you smile; this drives away my tremor,
And all conclude the feast in pleasant humour.

Paphia call’d the Graces fair,
To deck with flow’rs her Auburne hair,
As far abroad today she goes
To see what vot’ries Jove bestows
In the wild Canadian woods                                                      5
Cover’d thick with fens and floods.
The Queen in splendid beauty shone,
Girded with her brilliant zone,
And swiftly cuts the liquid sky,
Till Laura’s form attracts her eye.                                            10
Admiring much in great delight,
To view her heart she wings her flight,
But started backward from the door,
On finding Pallas there before.
     The Goddesses with wonder gaz’d,                                    15
At their strange meeting were much amaz’d,
Till at last the blue-ey’d Maid
To the Cyprian Goddess said:
"Jove himself, forever kind,
To Laura grants a feeling mind,                                                20
A form with every beauty grac’d,
A soul improv’d above the rest.
This morning of her natal day
I came some presents to display,
But find, on the most careful view,                                           25
That Jove has left me nought to do,
And that the Maid can never want
The precious gifts that I can grant,
For gifts are useless, yours or mine,
To one so perfectly divine."                                                     30
     Venus with a smile replied,
"And why does Pallas thus decide?
I grant from me no gift she needs—
Such merit every hope exceeds—
But may we not her bliss improve                                            35
By pointing out the joys of love,
And make her tender heart rejoice
Since we have pow’r to bless its choice?"

1

The shades of night around me fall,
The lamps are gleaming in the hall
     To emulate the day,
While Elmsley’s Friends in silence stand
Upon yon distant point of land                               5
     To see him sail away.

2

Hark! Hark! they spread the swelling sails.
The ship receives the rising gales;
     How fast she leaves the shore.
And must they such a friend resign                       10
Because so the Ministers incline,
     A friend whom all adore.

3

If conscious worth, a lib’ral mind,
A feeling heart, a taste refin’d,
     Can happiness bestow,                                  15
Encircl’d with a blooming race,
A Partner deck’d with ev’ry grace,
     Sure Elmsley must it know.

4

O! may his happiness improve,
Protected by the Pow’rs above.                          20
     As fleeting years pass o’er,
May all the friends he leaves behind
Be present often to his mind
     Altho’ they meet no more.

5

Alas, no more in Shakespeare’s praise,               25
Or quoting Pope’s harmonious lays,
     With him they’ll spend the night,
No more admire his ample store
Of Attic wit and classic lore
     With exquisite delight.                                    30

6

When Cam and Oxford were the themes,
Their Fancy lost in pleasing dreams
     Saw youthful joys restored.
The dreary forests were forgot,
Nor felt they that they lived remote                      35
     When round his genial board.

7

Uncheer’d by hopes of his return,
While pensive they his absence mourn,
     Quebec may well rejoice,
Thrice happy if it only knows                               40
How great the gift our King bestows,
     And makes that gift its choice.

8

Away they turn with heavy hearts;
Resistless grief its force exerts.
     They drop some gen’rous tears,                     45
For now the Moon’s reflected light
From glist’ring waves obstructs the sight,
     The vessel disappears.

                    1

Near yon grove an altar stands;
Let us to the spot repair.
Philo, with uplifted hands,
To the Gods prefers his pray’r.

                    2

Is it Friendship? Is it love                  5
That incites your fervent strain?
Be assur’d the pow’rs above
Make no tender wishes vain.

                   3

For a beaut’ous Friend I pray,
Sister to the Nymph I love,             10
That each fleeting natal day
May her happiness improve.

1

An Englishman calls for plum pudding and beef,
Of Viands a Frenchman thinks soups are the chief,
For mealy potatoes an Irishman goes,
While Scotch delight in sweet castocks and brose.
      O the Kail-brose of Old Scotland!                                      5
      O the Old Scottish Kail-brose!

2

When honest St. Andrew arriv’d on our coast,
Of Converts the Father soon made a great host.
And these he commanded to plant a Kail-yard,
From hunger’s dire cravings a provident guard.                        10
                                       Etc.

3

Since then when our Fathers resort to a feast,
A dirk at the girdle, a plaid round their breast,
A good cutty spoon in their bonnets enclose
To sup the first dish, which is always Kail-brose.

4

The Proud Dionysius was bitterly wroth,                                  15
And curs’d like a pagan the Spartan black broth,
But had the Laconians given him brose,
The testy old Codger had ta’en a good dose.

5

When Fingal, the hero invincible, hurl’d
Defeat and disgrace on the King of the World,                        20
His Clans he recall’d from pursuing their foes,
And bade them refresh on a dish of Kail-brose.

6

The Sea Kings of Danemark, tho’ stalwart and brave,
In their raids on old Scotland reaped naught but a grave.
No longer their lives they swore they’d expose                        25
In battle with men always feeding on brose.

7

The English and Scotch with fanatic rage
For more than three centuries in war did engage,
And shall we the bone of contention disclose;
Faith one fought for beef and the other for brose.                     30

8

At last Simple Jamie, no lover of blows,
Who join’d in the Crown both the thistle and rose,
Proclaimed that his lieges might eat as they chose,
The English roast-beef and the Scotchmen Kail-brose.

9

The peace to establish, the King made a grand feast,               35
And each nation’s dishes were tastefully drest;
A gamey Sirloin with Plum pudding oppose
A sheep’s head, minc’d collops, plump haggis and brose.

10

Here’s then to St. Andrew who first gave us Kail
And valiant St. George who kicked Mahoun Satan to Hell.      40
Henceforth let the Thistle be wed to the Rose,
And Roast beef at dinner come after Kail-brose.
     O the Kail brose of Old Scotland!
     O the Old Scottish Kail brose!

1

Black be my fa’, gin I had been
At Bauldy’s house wi you yestreen,
Ye had na been sae crouse I ween
     Nor got sic sport.
I think I could hae blink’d your een                       5
     Wi keen retort.

2

Fan grew ye sae ponky smart?
Ye haina learnt the auld black art;
In faith that wad hae skairt your heart,
     I wot fu weel,                                                10
Fain Nick says ye maun act your part,
     My bonny Chiel.

3

Fat angers ye my winsome doe?
Deed I can never wed wi you,
For ye hae sic a muckle mou                               15
     An words nae stint,
Ay ready to pour out enow
     At the least hint.

4

Fat wist, said they, I was sayen,
Medling folks owr ready gayen                           20
Muckle dool and sorrow playen
     Twixt man and wife.
’Twad set them better to be prayen,
     As God’s my life.

5

Tut! Ark ye me ye donnart fool                           25
The tauntin cracks ye spake sae leal,
But I sall gar you fin ful smiel
     That we are sib,
Wi money a trample on the heel
     Tru your one rib.                                            30

6

Faith Meg, it maun at last be out.
Lang have ye rung baith in and out
In often gein the tither clout,
     Scur sair to bide,
My Nibours cry, see fat a cowt                           35
     In breeks to ride.

7

It’s money a day since ye forgot
What Mess. John tauts when we first met,
That we should ever air and late
     Be true and kin,                                             40
Live always in a friendly state,
     To faults be blin.

8

My patience is at last run out,
Advising maks the greater rout
An often brings a broken snout                            45
     Without remeid;
How oft I wish’d than sic a bout
     That I war dead.

9

Bit troth I sall nae langer snivel.
Kindness bit augments the evil.                            50
A Scolding Wife’s war than the Devil,
     As I well ken
Swyth hussey then and dinna drivel,
     I’s be a man!

10

O pardon, pardon, answer’d Meg.                      55
Ye sall rule I sanna plague.
Kiss me then my handsome Peg,
     Said the guide man.
He threw his arms around her craig,
     And glad tears ran.                                        60

 

 

Added to the end of it:

O Laura, may the coming year
To you in happy robes appear,
Effect the wish that’s next your heart                   55
Before its number’d weeks depart,
And if that dearest wish should prove
The sweet completion of our love,
As such a wish has long been mine,
Perhaps th’ auspicious pow’rs divine                   60
No longer on our hopes may frown
But grant us soon bright Hymen’s crown.

J.S.

* You must allow that the Lady deserves this sally of imagination and perhaps more directly than is given here. [back]

1

Today when ev’ry heart expands,
And pleasing hopes the prospects cheer,
When all extend their willing hands
To wish their friend a happy year,
What joys shall Philo on his friend                         5
Intreat th’ auspicious powr’s to send?

2

O Mira, may the balmy gales
On you their rosy health diffuse.
May sweetness, as the sun the vales
Adorn you with its radiant hues,                          10
And while you heal the pains of woe,
May you no private sorrows know.

3

On you let Fortune ever smile,
Content and gayness in her train,
With new delight each year beguile,                     15
Produce no fav’rite wishes vain,
And join your virtuous mind to raise
Above the wish of vulgar praise.

4

And may you get a Partner kind
Whose mind the justest motives rule,                   20
Whose gen’rous heart by love refin’d
Reflects the beauty of his soul,
While boys and girls in noisy glee
Like lambkins triumph round your knee.

5

Refrain or wish some new delight,                       25
For these have long been realiz’d.
Her Partner, cloth’d in Science bright,
For truth and honour’s justly priz’d.
Alas! how seldom can we find
So good a heart, so strong a mind.                      30

6

Behold, she sits with looks serene
Encircled by a little group
That hail her willingly their Queen,
To them the best and dearest hope:
Two daughters fair like flow’rs of May,               35
And four fine sons in brisk array.

7

That comely youth of modest grace
With knowledge beaming in his eye,
Such Moral beauties now can trace
As shall the shafts of vice defy.                            40
And all that view his early age
Great future eminence presage.

8

His brother from a diff’rent mold
Of merit claims a lib’ral share.
In him no vicious traits behold                             45
But open, gen’rous, and sincere.
The other two, tho’ young, inspire
The fondest hopes she can desire.

9

Let those who beg Elysian bow’rs,
With sweet Ambrosia to be fed,                          50
Confess that ease and crowns of flow’rs
Shall no such anxious pleasures shed,
As those that truth and goodness seal,
And Mira these must ever feel.

10

To wish for happy gifts is vain                             55
When life its sweetest cup bestows,
Yet new delight my Friend may gain
When Philo’s lasting wish she knows.
May Mira’s pleasure ne’er be less
But still, if possible, increase.

1

In silent joy at first we stand—
The sailors think the harbour nigh—
But seeing now th’expected land,
Our spirits sink; we faintly cry:
"Lo! yonder lies the gloomy coast.                         5
Alas for Caledonia lost!"

2

Our youthful pleasures all bewail;
Sad Fancy paints them o’er again:
The revels in the mossy vale,
The berry parties in the glen,                               10
The noisy meetings at the fair
The Maiden feasts that banish care.

3

When sent the dreary fold to watch
Amidst the heath or yellow broom,
How often did we blythely match,                       15
Regardless of the thick’ning gloom.
The darkness shunn’d, our sweet-heart’s smile
And songs of love the night beguile.

4

But present dangers soon awake
From former joys to what remains.                      20
The black’ning clouds with thunder shake
And terror thrills through ev’ry vein.
Forgetful now of Scotia’s shore,
Our Friends we grasp and heav’n implore.

5

The Genius of the clime descends.                       25
Around him splendid rainbows fold;
His head a sunny radiance sends
From starry wreaths entwined with gold,
And darting eyes sweet mildness speak,
And blooms celestial warm his cheek.                 30

6

The country that rejects her sons,
My Friends (he says) no more lament.
If happiness her borders shuns,
My hamlets nourish sweet content,
And soon shall pleasure’s downy wings               35
Remove the woes that exile brings.

7

Instead of hate or surly frowns,
Your coming kindest smiles await.
My daughters, deck’d with roseate crowns,
Convene to soothe your lonely state,                   40
For all to sordid wealth prefer
The bliss that grateful hearts confer.

8

Behold the train with lovely Grace
Approaching with benignant mien.
They come your mis’ries to redress,                    45
To ease your want, to heal your pain,
And, lo, their bright example leads
My lib’ral sons to virtuous deeds.

9

Let conquests made, a sounding name,
Or marble statues crown’d with bays,                 50
On those that covet lasting fame,
Bestow their vague and doubtful praise,
While they perform a nobler part
And grave their praises on the heart.

10

He mingled with the liquid air;                              55
The rising gales propitious blow.
We land! Behold the Fair appear.
Our tears in grateful torrents flow,
For words are wanting to reveal
The strong emotions that we feel.                        60

11

Accept, ye Fair, these humble lays;
Tho’ rough the numbers, bright the theme.
Our muse lock’d up from classic rays
Aspires to no Poetic fame
But, like the Sun-fish on the main,                        65
A moment flies and sinks again.

 

 

1

The Indian shivers at his fire,
The dazzling snow the eye-balls stun,
The skaters from the cold retire,
The water freezes in the sun,
And yonder cataract displays                                                    5
From columns Iris’ golden rays;
But Gratitude, sweet smiling guest,
The chilling wind expels and warms my throbbing breast.

2

Hail Gratitude, soft-blushing maid,
By gods and men alike belov’d,                                              10
Dispatch’d to gentle virtue’s aid,
To make her duties more approv’d;
With gladness tripping on before,
You guide her to the wretched’s door;
Again behind you hold her train,                                              15
Smile off her cautious fears and shake your golden chain.

3

Anon you lead the heavenly choir;
The sainted host in rapture gaze.
You strike with love th’ eternal lyre;
And sound the purest notes of praise,                                      20
While angels from on high proclaim
That men may join th’ ecstatic theme;
To Gratitude alone is given,
The thankful soul of man to raise from earth to heaven.

4

The off’rings of my grateful heart,                                            25
O waft, benignant Nymph divine,
To Brown some pleasure thou’ll impart,
At sacred truth’s refreshing shrine;
For there he studies Nature’s page,
Or saunters with Sicilia’s sage,                                                30
Admires the depth of Bacon’s mind,
And Newton lifting Nature’s veil that kept us blind.

5

Perhaps his mind illum’d portrays
From systems free the human race,
The native worth that man displays,                                         35
His various sources of distress,
By Freedom blest, a demi-god,
A beast when rul’d by Nero’s rod.
And all his frame with ardour glows,
To sooth with healing balm and banish mortal woes.                40

6

O Truth, enrob’d in snowy white,
Your fav’rite’s modest doubts dispel,
That he may spread your precious light,
And thus inspire a nobler shell
To sound aloud his glorious name,                                          45
To class him with the sons of fame,
While Gratitude, celestial guide,
Each heart inspires to hail their country’s boast and pride.

Once more I change! What prospects of delight?
Alas! unequal to the task sublime,
Tho’ taught to wish it in my native clime,
For who can reach th’ intellectual height
That fits to show the bliss of sacred light?                                  5
O little thought I, leaving Scotia’s shore,
St. Andrew’s Gothic walls to see no more,
And dearest friends, the mourners of my flight.
May Cornwall prove far more than Kingston kind,
Tho’ Cartwright’s smiles with truth and goodness fir’d.            10
Had they instead of coldness often shin’d,
My tedious days with joy could have inspir’d
A joy congenial to my sanguine mind,
While pains from frustrate hopes in haste retir’d.

A Robin once too fond of change,
Forsook his dearest friends to range
Through dreadful seas to distant skies,
Just to return when rich and wise,
But oft repentance comes too late.                        5
His travels rash had seal’d his fate,
And when he reach’d the foreign shore,
The want of friends corrodes him sore.
An eagle gen’rous, good, and great,
Receives him to his high retreat.                           10
Our Robin long his host admires
And to this friendship oft aspires.
In vain he toils with anxious care
Till almost ready to despair,
But perseverance always proves                         15
Sure of success, tho’ slow she moves,
And after several summers past,
Our anxious Robin gain’d at last
His long wish’d point. The Eagle bends
And from his lofty flights descends,                      20
And tho’ he nothing new profess’t,
A Friend in action stands confess’t,
And long had been most truly kind,
But bile had made the Robin blind.
Again observe his wayward lot.                           25
No sooner are his griefs forgot,
No sooner does he friendship feel,
And taste the bliss its joys reveal,
Then orders which no force withstand,
To change his place, severe command,                30
Where never, never, shall he find
A friend like him he leaves behind.

As Satan, the King, sat enthron’d in high state,
His Angels of darkness grew warm in debate.
The bone of contention that made the great din
Was what should be judg’d the most Devilish sin.
Some swore it was drinking and others said gaming,                  5
Cruelty, envy, or cursed defaming.
Ambition and av’rice were urg’d with great force,
But pleasures of sense were by many thought worse.
Now Lucifer rising (Great silence was made),
"What ignorant numskulls," his majesty said,                            10
"Who cannot the greatest of vices discover,
A problem soon solv’d by a poor cheated lover.
Perjury, Perjury, gives strength to our throne,
The perfect quintessence of all vices known.
First get your sweet prey to deride sacred truth,                      15
And, smack, we shall have them, men, women, or youth.
To my grand deception and Eve’s broken vows,
The world its sins and its misery owes.
Most vices come single with none at their back,
But round the false heart they cling all in a pack.                      20
Then welcome to deceivers and perjur’d; your lot,
Since companions in guilt, like ours will be hot.

The bard awakes the tuneful lyre
To rouse the nation to the war
And, as he kindles martial fire,
Each soldier boasts some rugged scar.
Again they long to meet their foes,                                             5
Forgetting all their former woes,
Demand the signal to engage,
For hostile blood alone can quench their burning rage.

2

O shall the Muses only raise
The trophies of the ensanguin’d plain,                                      10
Believe him worth immortal praise,
Whose glory rests on millions slain,
While peaceful themes they proudly shun,
The fairest themes beneath the Sun
To which more solid praise belongs                                         15
Than Homer e’er conferr’d by his unequall’d songs.

3

From yonder craggy ridge bewail
The gloomy scene that lies below.
How fruitful once that lonely vale,
But now deform’d by cureless woe.                                        20
Contrast the bones that white the plains
With chearful troops of sturdy swains,
The desert towns that burning lie
With splendid cities late the seats of wealth and joy.

4

O snatch me from the dismal scene                                          25
To where in peace we still may roam,
Where ancient woods of heavy green
At first afford a dreary home,
Till fall’n beneath the hardy stroke
The spreading beech and rugged oak,                                     30
Their golden fields so richly smile,
That exile’s num’rous ills their waving fruits beguile.

5

They grateful share the rude domains,
And former pleasures soon renew,
For plenty in their hamlet reigns,                                              35
And mirth and smiles their steps pursue
At night the busy cot to cheer
Where all reliev’d from toil appear.
O had they food to raise the mind
How pure their simple joys, no pleasing wish behind.               40

6

Nor shall they want this precious gift,
For see the sage approaching nigh
Who spreads with joy religious light,
And soothes with balm the contrite sigh,
Who boldly leaves his native shore                                          45
To trace and guide our sacred lore,
Such tidings through the wilds to bring
As Bethlehem’s shepherds heard Celestial Angels sing.

7

Behold his brethren round him press,
Array’d in stoles of sable hue,                                                 50
To hear pronounc’d with equal grace
More precious truths than Tully knew.
Blest prelate hail! thy fost’ring hand
To glorious labours still expand.
Bid Fanes their holy comforts shed                                          55
And O give learning’s seats that dulcet pleasures spread.

8

Her loudest trumpet Fame shall sound
The consecrated gifts to praise,
And Mountain’s comely brow surround
With wreaths of never fading bays,                                          60
While sacred warmth to feeling hearts
Enraptur’d gratitude imparts,
And calls bright Spirits from on high
To join with welling voice the choral Symphony.

Always let the gen’rous youth
Nurse an ardent love for truth,
Deem a free and virtuous mind
Richer far than gifts combin’d
Ever made blind Fortune’s child                            5
When wealth and greatness on him smil’d.
Science which forbids decay
Tho’ brass and marble melt away
Unison to all should give,
And widsom tell him how to live,                         10
Refine him with politeness true
To bring his merits more in view.

1

Health and joy to the Charmer I saw yesternight;
Her merits surpass Albion’s beauties so bright.
Innum’rable gifts on thee Nature bestows
Which, rang’d by thy wisdom, perfections disclose.

2

For certainly Nature to thee hath been kind,                              5
Whom she makes beauty’s queen with no follies to blind.
No pride, no conceit, not a fault we behold;
Among females you stand like a diamond in gold.

3

One third of thy beauties no words can express:
Thy white heaving bosom, thy shape, air, and face,                  10
Thy colour so lovely, tap’ring fingers so fair
Adapted to fancy work tasteful and rare.

4

While one Albion lives, thy dear mem’ry remains.
O! Fairest of damsels, high blood fills thy veins.
How sweet is thy breath and what fire in thy glance.                 15
How graceful to music thou mov’st in the dance.

5

Thy teeth like the chalk moisten’d coral surrounds,
Whence a voice more harmonious than organs resounds.
Unless there should lurk imperfections unseen,
Thy symmetry equals bright Venus the Queen.                         20

1

On Ythan’s sweet banks I have frequently stray’d,
Delighted with Jamie below the birch shade;
His eyes spoke the lover, our converse was sma’,
I little thought war could take Jamie awa’.

2

The last time I saw him was in yonder green bower.                   5
He gae me a rose sayen, look at this flower;
The colour, my dearest, is whiter than snaw,
An emblem of true love when I’m far awa’.

3

Its smell still remains when the colour decays,
And faithful love sweetens long life’s latest days;                      10
So think of the odour and colour sae braw,
And your thoughts shall embrace me when I’m far awa’.

4

I gae him my bracelet with looks of despair,
And sighing we niffer’d locks of our black hair;
My big heart was bursting, nae tears came ava.                       15
Alas! who shall sooth me when Jamie’s awa’.

5

Be cheerful my lassie, no dangers I fear,
The seraphs who guard us shall always be near
Our wishes to sanction and hear when you ca’
For their aid to protect me when I’m far awa’.                         20

6

Preserv’d from the wars and the storms of the sea,
I’ll return never more to be sever’d from thee;
Our bliss shall be damp’d by no pleasures ava,
And the purer for those that are past and awa’.

1

Some folks ca the Scots wand’ring fellows,
Inclin’d from their childhood to roam,
Yet blowing like any fu’ bellows
The sweets of their dear native home.

2

They tell you they herd sae together                       5
The right or the wrong to maintain,
That better be bound in a tether
Than come near the place where they fen.

3

"Vile slanner!" these curs will be barking
But compliments in it we find,                              10
And such, if you trust my remarking,
As please the most delicate mind.

4

For should not a sweetheart or brother
To Scotia some feeling hearts join,
And others a Father or Mother,                          15
Tho’ here at great distance we dine.

5

O who can remember the places
Where childhood laugh’d off the long day,
And who is not pleas’d while he traces
The games and the methods of play?                   20

6

The Scot that can think of brave Wallace,
The Bruces, great Douglas and Graham,
Derserves, my dear Fellows, the gallows
Unless he rejoice in their fame.

7

And if they are found much together,                   25
Shall any such friendliness blame?
The selfish who gen’rous hearts wither
Find yet no resource among them.

8

Lo, actions evince in a hurry
That brotherly love still remains,                          30
While others she flies in a flurry,
Inherent in true Scottish veins.

9

And the stranger who soothes life’s distresses,
Whose actions sweet virtue impart,
For a brother each Scotchman embraces             35
And hugs him at once to his heart.

1

But is it for my rosy cheeks,
My dark brown sparkling eye,
My ruby lips, my teeth like milk,
That lovers round me sigh?
     For numbers wish to marry me                         5
          numbers come to woo.
     For numbers wish to marry me
          numbers come to woo.

2

O sister can this fleeting form,
My flowing auburn hair,                                      10
My iv’ry neck, my tender voice
Produce their anxious care?

Chorus

3

Or look they farther than the smile
That lightens up the face,
And do the charms their hearts enthral,                15
Which mental virtues grace? 

Chorus

4

Or come they here in quest of gold,
Of faithful love the bane?
The sordid spawn of Mammon’s mould
My gen’rous thoughts disdain.                             20

Chorus

5

Yes, I will try each dying swain
If truth his lips impart.
And he that loves me for myself
Shall win my yielding heart.

Chorus

I dread that I who madly smil’d
At rueful lovers’ awkward sighs,
Or liken’d them to children spoil’d,
Now taste their pain—my spirit dies.
How shall I bear the wanton jeers,                        5
New-pierced with Cupid’s cruel dart,
No friend to ward their taunting fleers
And soothe with hope my weary heart?

2

Shall foolish fears my breast possess,
My breast that harbours such a flame,                 10
That dwells on Laura’s lovely face,
And throbs at mention of her name?
Retreat, ye fears! Sweet hope attend.
Convey my wishes to her heart
And Sire of love, thy slave befriend.                    15
Give her to feel thy searching dart.

3

Convince the fairest of her sex
In pleasing thoughts and gentle fires
How light the cares that lovers vex,
Link’d fast by truth and soft desires;                    20
And whisper in her circling ear,
Lost are the days not spent in love.
None feel the sweetest pleasures here
Till love their throbbing bosoms move.

1

My Fancy, oft roving across the wide main,
Sits perching on Scotia’s green hillocks again.
The scenes of my childhood she dares to renew,
And recalls the heart-achings that bade them adieu.

2

Be gone, wayward Fancy! To reason give place.                       5
How can you delight in the pangs of distress?
How can you the thoughts of past pleasures restore?
Youth’s sweet golden times we can never see more.

3

Contented we’ll live, tho’ remote and obscure,
For comforts, sweet comforts, shall bless every hour.              10
The smiles of soft beauty our firesides endear,
And the prattle of children calls forth a glad tear.

1

Thrice welcome, dearest pledge of love.
O may thy future merits prove
A sure reward for all the pain
Thy mother nobly did sustain,
Till nature quite exhausted lay                                5
Ere thou beheldst the light of day.

2

My griefs by thee are richly paid,
So when awake affection said,
And I, the partner of her woes,
Who felt new pangs at all her throes,                   10
Forget them all to look at thee,
Sweet cherub on thy mother’s knee.

3

Can heaven in lovely mercy drest
Behold her creatures so distrest?
Must racking pangs attend the birth                     15
Of all she ushers into earth?
Yes! for a joy these gifts bestow
That soon dispels the fleeting woe.

4

For Nature’s gen’rous laws ordain
That pleasure follows after pain.                          20
And see, the stream of gladness flows,
Sweet as the dew drops from the rose,
From lovely Anna’s ebon eyes,
As o’er her tender babe she sighs.

5

She joys her infant charge to rear.                       25
She feels a mother’s anxious care,
And in the laughing buntling’s face,
His father’s looks she tries to trace,
While I put up a fervent pray’r
That heaven will keep him in its care.                   30

6

United now by stronger ties
From which endearing duties rise,
The Wife and Husband change their names
To Sire and Mother’s warmer claims,
For simple love can ne’er bestow                        35
Its ripen’d fruits diviner glow.

To Hymen laughing Cupid says,
When once to you my vot’ries go,
Their rapt’rous looks and amorous lays
Are changed to looks and sighs of woe.

2

How comes it when two hearts of fire                    5
Have knelt before your awful shrine,
The flames that fed them soon expire,
The joys of love they soon resign?

 

3

Bright reason sleeps when passion reigns.
Your vot’ries like yourself are blind.                    10
They know not what true love sustains,
Nor prize the treasures of the mind.

4

As passion cools disgust succeeds;
Their mutual faults appear in view.
Each day new cause of hatred breeds;                 15
Each day their giddy vows they rue.

5

Tis not the light’ning of the eye,
The blooming face, the flowing hair,
That make life’s minutes sweetly fly,
That fills with joy the married pair.                       20

6

These charms decay or cease to move,
Unless the virtues tune the heart,
And tempers mild that cherish love
That new delights each hour impart.

7

Yon happy pair in wedlock join’d                       25
Increasing pleasure daily taste.
In mutual bliss they always find
The purest sunshine of the breast.

8

Not that with them perfection dwells
Or no harsh cares assail their ease,                      30
But that forbearance soon repels,
And this their mutual wish—to please.

9

Thus Hymen spoke, my dearest spouse,
And bade me tune my sweetest lay.
Could I the dear request refuse                           35
On this my Anna’s natal day?

10

And often, often, may you view
In sweet content this day return.
May all you wish your steps pursue,
Your love still unabated burn.                              40

11

And if some little spots remain,
As who from them’s entirely free,
Correct them or their force restrain
And centre all your joys in me.

The sun declines, the stars appear,
Time flies along with rapid wing.
Tomorrow marks another year;
May joys increasing from it spring.
O! may that happiness be mine,                             5
When seven lustrums run their race,
That cheers my Friend in life’s decline
That twines her in its sweet embrace.
     "Yes, age has pleasures. Why should I,
"Like others, of its ills complain?                          10
"If bloom and vig’rous manhood fly,
"The soul’s enlarged powers remain.
"We know some foolish men suppose
"No pleasures cheer the days of age.
"Disease, they think, with all her woes                 15
"Its weary moments still engage.
"The man indeed who early tastes
"The gilded poison vice prepares,
"Who spends his health, his fortune wastes,
"Gives pain to age and bitter cares;                      20
"But sweet reflexions cheer the soul
"When youth by virtue’s gentle chain
"Is taught the passions to control,
"And woo religion’s golden reign.
"Oft in the silence of the night,                             25
"My former steps I bring to view.
"The virtuous always give delight;
"They seem as if they still were new.
"What joyful feelings glad my breast,
"How did it throb with filial love                           30
"When in a Parent’s hand I prest
"The means that anxious cares remove,
"And still my throbbing bosom burns,
"And still my Father’s tears I see.
"These, these, he cries, are sweet returns.            35
"What parent does not envy me?
     "My diligence by success crown’d
"Next to my brothers aid imparts.
"In me a second sire they found,
"For dear affection join’d our hearts.                   40
"Oft have I tasted Friendship’s spring,
"The cordial soothing gloomy cares,
"And yet when griefs my bosom wring,
"A healing draught it soon prepares.
"Oft, too, the luxury’s been mine                         45
"To cheer the hopeless and distrest,
"To make their prospects brighter shine,
"To give the sunshine of the breast.
"These pleasing duties only share
"The busy days that I have spent,                        50
"For oft my times and talents were
"With pleasure to the public lent.
"Now love of knowledge time beguiles
"Health, wealth, and ease their charms unite.
"On what is past my conscience smiles,               55
"My future views to bliss invite.
     Such are the thoughts that often rise
To glad him in the dead of night,
And these, dear Virtue, are thy prize,
O beam of heaven’s benignant light.                    60
Respect from all his steps attend—
The rich, the poor, the old and young.
The orphan’s stay, the widow’s friend,
Compel his praise from ev’ry tongue.
O may that happiness be mine,                            65
When seven lustrums run their race,
That cheers my Friend in life’s decline,
That twines him in its sweet embrace.

Honorable Sir Francis J. Jackson

Most Honorable Sir:

I beg leave to present Your Excellency with a copy of verses on the subject of your Mission. As the Muses are not yet familiarized to the Woods of Canada the lines require much candour in the perusal.

I rejoice that I have had the honour of conversing for a few moments with Your Excellency whom I have long admired in secret. It is one of the happiest incidents of my life. Accept most Honorable Sir of my sincere prayers for the safe arrival of Your Excellency, your amiable Lady and Children in England, and a happy meeting with your numerous Friends and such a reception from Government as your transcendant abilities so richly deserve. I am Most Honorable Sir

With Profound Respect,
Your Excellency’s Most Obt. Humble Servant,

J. Strachan

1

A dark forboding chills my blood
As Henry sighs adieu.
That lovely form so wise, so good,
Again I’ll never view.

2

My tender sisters kindly try               5
My drooping soul to raise,
And some swift moments swiftly fly
While Mira sings his praise.

3

But gloom returns; a frightful dream
Fast seizes on my heart.                  10
Tho’ reason might its force disdain,
It bids meek hope depart.

4

Methinks, alas, that Henry dear
Lies weltering on the ground;
His corpse I see with quaking fear,  15
Deform’d by many a wound.

5

Some weeks my vision realize;
On glory’s crimson bed
With gallant Wolfe my Henry dies
As vict’ry rais’d her head.               20

6

Soon shall his once lov’d Mary go
Where Henry sure must be.
This world to them bliss may show;
It now has none for me.

Dear Madam:

I send Miss Lunn’s Album to your care and, tho’ sent to me by mistake, I have scratched some things in it. I fear rather dull for two causes. In the first place, my poetical vein, if ever I had one, is rapidly drying up from age and non-usage. In the second place, the little that remains stands frozen by the frost. I must put off Mrs. Monro till the spring thaw which may do much.

Yours Truly

J.S.

York, December 12th, 1831

This little book presumes to claim
A favour in its Mistress’ name,
From buoyant youth and sober age
Who look upon its varying page.
Gay, moral, witty, as they please—                       5
The product of some heart at ease—
A tiny sprig, a wreath, a flower,
Is fit to deck a Lady bower
In Proverb wise that shall impart
Instruction to the weary heart,                             10
In graver moral to control
The wand’rings of the craving soul,
Or higher still, some truth sublime
Which mocks at length of space and time,
Lifts far aloft this eye of clay                                15
To scenes where bliss is to obey.
A boon so just none may refuse
Who love to court the virgin Muse.

Dear Madam:

I had put away your Album so carefully as to have forgotten it till searching for a paper a few days ago. I now return it with a few lines. "The Sonnet" and "David’s Lamentation over Saul and Jonathan" will be found to have some merit, but I have so many duties on my hands that little time is left me for lighter matters. The subjects are serious but I supposed you would like them better on that account.

Yours Truly,

John Strachan

2

The feather’d songsters warbling love                    5
In every verdant bush are found.
The balmy zephyrs fan the grove,
And scatter rich perfumes around.

3

Here scenes like these crown ev’ry year,
And on that morning doubly shine,                       10
That whisper’d, banish love and fear;
Your Clara is forever thine.

4

New ties of union God bestows.
How dear the pledges he has given.
May every moment, as it flows,                           15
Bring them and us still nearer heaven.