Where saving wisdom yet had placed no screen, While baffled malice hastes thy powers to own, I too, whose voice no claims but truth's e'er moved, Go then, since the long struggle now is o'er, And envy can obstruct thy fame no more, With ardent hand thy magic toil pursue, And pour fresh wonders on the raptured view.One SUN is set, one GLORIOUS SUN, whose rays Long gladden'd Britain with no common blaze: ( mayst THOU Soon (for clouds begin to rise) Assert his station in the eastern skies, Glow with his fires, and give the world to see Another REYNOLDS risen, MY FRIEND, in THEE! But whither roves the muse? I but design'd To note the few whose praise delights my mind; But friendship's power has drawn the verse astray, Wide from its aim, a long but flowery way. Yet one remains, ONE NAME for ever dear, With whom, conversing many a happy year, 24 I mark'd with secret joy the opening bloom To the kind sufferance of the good and wise. Este, rapt in nonsense, gnaw his gray goose quill, Merry in dithyrambics rave his wrongs, ROBERT BURNS. Mr. Murdoch having been compelled to leave AуT, in consequence of some inadvertent expressions directed against Dr. Dalrymple, the elder Burns himself undertook, for a time, the tuition of his family. When Robert, however, was about fourteen years of age, his father sent him and Gilbert," week about, during the summer quarter," to a parish school, by which means they alternately improved themselves in writing, and assisted their parents in the labours of a small farm. According to our the sin of rhyme a little before he had attained his sixteenth year. The inspirer of his muse was love, the object of which he describes as a " bonnie, sweet, brate in verse. "I was not so presumptuous," he says, " as to imagine that I could make verses like printed ones, composed by men who had Greek and Latin; but my girl sung a song which was said to be composed by a small country laird's son, on one of his father's maids, with whom he was in love; and I saw no reason why I might not rhyme as well as he: for, excepting that he could shear sheep, and cast peats, his father living in the moorlands, he had no more scholar-craft than myself. Thus with me began love and poetry." ROBERT BURNS, the son of William Burnes, or Burness, was born on the 25th of January, 1759, in a clay-built cottage, about two miles to the south of the town of Ayr, in Scotland. His father, who was a gardener and small farmer, appears to have been a man highly and deservedly respected, and Burns' description of him as "the saint, the father, and the husband," of the Cotter's Saturday Night, attests the affectionate reverence with which he regarded him. At the age of six years, Robert was sent to a small school at Alloway Miln, then super-poet's own account, he, as he says, first committed intended by a teacher named Campbell; but who, retiring shortly after, was succeeded by a Mr. John Murdoch. Under the tuition of this gentleman, the subject of our memoir made rapid progress in read-sonsie lass," whose charms he was anxious to celeing, spelling, and writing; and though, to use his own words," it cost the schoolmaster some thrashings," he soon became an excellent English scholar. A love of reading and a thirst for general knowledge were observable at an early age; and before he had attained his seventeenth year, he had read Salmon's and Guthrie's Geographical Grammars, the Lives of Hannibal and Wallace, The Spectator, Pope's Works, some of Shakspeare's Plays, Tull and Dickson on Agriculture, Tooke's Pantheon, Locke's Essay on the Understanding, Stackhouse's History of the Bible, The British Gardener's Directory, Boyle's Lectures, Allan Ramsay's Works, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, Hervey's Meditations, and a Collection of Songs. These works formed the whole of his collection, as mentioned by himself in a letter to Dr. Moore; but his brother Gilbert adds to this list Derham's Physico and Astro-Theology, and a few other works. Of this varied assortment, "the" In my seventeenth year," says Burns, " to give Collection of Songs," says the poet himself, "was my vade-mecum. I pored over them, driving my cart, or walking to labour, song by song, verse by verse; carefully noticing the true tender and sublime, from affectation or fustian; and I am convinced I owe to this practice much of my critic-The great misfortune of my life was to want an craft, such as it is." With Mr. Murdoch, Burns remained for about two years, during the last few weeks of which the preceptor himself took lessons in the French lanquage, and communicated the instructions he reseived to his pupil, who, in a short time, obtained A sufficient knowledge of French to enable him to read and understand any prose author in that lanquage. The facility with which he acquired the French induced him to commence the rudiments of Latin, but whether from want of diligence or of time, or that he found the task more irksome than he anticipated, he soon abandoned his design of acquiring a knowledge of the language of the Romans. The production alluded to is the little ballad commencing O! once I loved a bonnie lass, which Burns himself characterized as " a very puerile and silly performance;" yet, adds Mr. Lockhart, it contains, here and there, lines of which he need hardly have been ashamed at any period of his life. my manners a brush, I went to a country dancingschool. My father had an unaccountable antipathy against these meetings, and my going was, what to this moment I repent, in opposition to his wishes." Then, referring to his views in life, he continues aim. I had felt early some stirrings of ambition, but they were the blind gropings of Homer's Cyclops round the walls of his cave. The only two openings by which I could enter the temple of fortune, were the gate of niggardly economy, or the path of little chieaning bargain-making. The first is so contracted an aperture, I never could squeeze myself into it: the last I always hated-there was contamination in the very entrance. Thus abandoned to no view or aim in life, with a strong appetite for sociability, as well from native hilarity as from a pride of observation and remark; a constitutional melancholy, or hypocondriacism, that made me fly from solitude; add to these incentives to 186 social life, my reputation for bookish knowledge, a certain wild logical talent, and a strength of thought something like the rudiments of good sense; and it will not seem surprising that I was generally a welcome guest where I visited, or any great wonder that always, where two or three met together, there was I among them." In this state of mind he entered recklessly upon a dissipated career, giving loose to his passions, and indulging his taste for literature with as much irregularity and skill as he applied himself to the plough, the scythe, and the reaping-hook. To use his own expression, "Vive l'amour, et vive la bagatelle," were his sole principles of action. In his nineteenth year, he passed some time at a school, where he learnt mensuration, surveying, &c., and also improved himself in other respects, particularly in composition; which he attributes chiefly to a perusal of a collection of letters, by the wits of Queen Anne's reign. In his twenty-third year, partly, as he says, through whim, and partly that he wished to set about doing something in life, he entered the service of a flax-dresser, at Irvine, for the purpose of learning his trade; but an accidental fire, which burnt down the shop, put an end to his speculations. After his father's death, which occurred in February, 1784, he took the farm of Mossgiel, in conjunction with his brother Gilbert. "I entered on it," says Burns, "with a firm resolution, 'Come, go to, I will be wise!' I read farming books; I calculated crops; I attended markets; and, in short, in spite of the devil, the world, and the flesh,' I believe I should have been a wise man ; but, the first year, from unfortunately buying bad seed, the second, from a late harvest, we lost half our crops. This overset all my wisdom, and I returned like the dog to his vomit, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire."" In other words, he resigned the share of the farm to his brother, and returned to habits of intemperance and irregularity. It was during his occupation of the farm of Mossgiel, that Burns first became acquainted with Jane Armour, his future wife. This lady was the daughter of a respectable mason, in the village of Mouchline, where she was at the time the reigning toast. The consequence of this acquaintance, which quickly ripened into mutual love, was soon such that the connexion could no longer be concealed; and, though the details of this story are, perhaps, as yet but imperfectly known, it seems, at least, certain, that Burns was anxious to shield the partner of his imprudence to the utmost in his power. It was, therefore, agreed between them, that he should give her a written acknowledgment of marriage, and then immediately sail for Jamaica, and push his fortune there, and that she should remain with her father until her plighted husband had the means of supporting a family. This arrangement, however, did not satisfy the lady's father; who, having but a very indifferent opinion of Burns's general character, was not to be appeased, and prevailed on his daughter to destroy the document, which was the only evidence of her marriage. Under these circumstances, Jane Armour became the mother of twins, and the poet was summoned by the parish officers to find security for the maintenance of children which he had thus been prevented from legitimatizing according to the Scottish law. In a state of mind bordering closely on insanity, Burns now resolved to fly the country; and, after some trouble, he agreed with Dr. Douglas, who had an estate in Jamaica, to go thither as overseer. Before sailing, however, he was advised, by his friends, to publish his poems by subscription, in order to provide him with necessaries for the voyage, and he consented to this expedient, as an experiment which could not injure, and might essentially benefit him. Subscribers' names were obtained for about three hundred and fifty copies, and six hundred were printed. The collection was very favourably received by the public, and the author realized, all expenses deducted, a profit of about twenty pounds. "This sum," says he, "came very seasonably; as I was thinking of indenting myself, for want of money to procure my passage. As soon as I was master of nine guineas, the price that was to waft me to the torrid zone, I took a steerage passage in the first ship that was to sail from the Clyde; for ""Hungry ruin had me in the wind.' "I had been some days skulking from covert to covert, under all the terrors of a jail; as some illadvised people had uncoupled the merciless pack of the law at my heels. I had taken the last farewell of my few friends; my chest was on the road to Greenock; I had composed the last song I should ever measure in Caledonia-The Gloomy Night is Gathering Fast; when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes, by opening new prospects to my poetic ambition." This was a recommendation to him to proceed to Edinburgh, to superintend the publication of a second edition of his poems; and he accordingly turned his course to the Scotch metropolis, which he reached in September, 1786. He had already been noticed with much kindness by the Earl of Glencairn, the celebrated Professor Stewart and his lady, Dr. Hugh Blair, and others; and his personal appearance and demeanour exceeding the expectation that had been formed of them, he soon became an object of general curiosity and interest, and was an acceptable guest in the gayest and highest circles. He also received, from the literati of the day, every tribute of praise which the most sanguine author could desire. Edinburgh, says Dr. Currie, contained, at this period, many men of considerable talents, who were not the most conspicuous for temperance and regularity. Burns entered into several parties of this description with the usual vehemence of his character. His generous affection, and brilliant imagination, fitted him to be the idol of such associations; and, by indulging himself in these festive recreations, he gradually lost a great portion of his relish for the purer pleasures to be found in the circles of taste, elegance, and literature. He saw his danger, and, at times, formed resolutions to guard against it; but he had embarked on the tide of dissipation, and was borne along its stream. After having sojourned for nearly a year in the Scottish metropolis, and acquired a sum of money "To twine The illustrious brow of Scotch nobility," more than sufficient for his present demands, he de- to gather a wreath of "henbane-nettles and nighttermined to gratify a desire he had long entertained shade," of visiting some of the most interesting districts of his native country. For this purpose he left Edinburgh on the 6th of May, 1787; and after visiting various places celebrated in the rural songs of Scotland, he returned to his family in Mossgiel, where he arrived about the 8th of July. The reception he met with at home was enthusiastic; and among those who were now willing to renew his acquaintance, was the family of Jane Armour, with whom Burns was speedily reconciled. After remaining for a few days only at Mossgiel, he made a short tour to Inverary, and afterward to the highlands, whence he returned to Edinburgh, and remained there during the greater part of the winter of 1787-8, again entering freely into society and dissipation. Having settled with his publisher, in February, 1788, he was delighted to find there was a balance due | to him, as the actual profit of his poems, of nearly 5007. At this juncture, he was confined to the house "with a bruised limb, extended on a cushion ;" but as soon as he was able to bear the journey, he rode to Mossgiel, advanced his brother Gilbert (who was struggling with many difficulties) the sum of 2004., married Jane Armour, and, with the remainder of his capital, took the farm of Elliesland, on the banks of the Nith, six miles above Dumfries. A short time previously to this, it should be mentioned, that Burns had obtained, through a friend, an appointment in the excise; but with no intention of making use of his commission except on some reverse of fortune. He now took possession of his farm; but as the house required rebuilding, Mrs. Burns could not, for some time, remove thither, a circumstance peculiarly unfortunate, as it caused him to lead a very irregular and unsettled life. The determination, which he had formed, of abandoning his dissipated pursuits was broken in upon, and his industry was frequently interrupted by visiting his family in Ayrshire. As the distance was too great for a single day's journey, he generally spent a night at an inn on the road, and on such occasions, falling into company, all his resolutions were forgotten. Temptation also awaited him nearer home he was received at the tables of the neighbouring gentry with kindness and respect, and these social parties too often seduced him from the labours of his farm, and his domestic duties, in which the happiness and welfare of his family were now involved. Mrs. Burns joined her husband at Elliesland, in November, 1788; and as she had, during the autumn, lain-in of twins, they had now five children-four boys and a girl. On this occasion, Burns resumed, at times, the occupation of a labourer, and found neither his strength nor his skill impaired. Sentiments of independence cheered his mind, pictures of domestic content and peace rose on his imagination, and a few "golden days" passed away, the happiest, perhaps, which he had ever experienced. But these were not long to last the farming speculation was soon looked on with despondence, and neglected; and the excise became the only resource. In this capacity, in reference to which beggarly provision for their bard, Mr. Coleridge indignantly calls pon his friend Lamb, poor Burns was necessarily brought into contact with low associates, and intemperance soon became his tyrant. Unable to reconcile the two occupations, his farm was in a great measure abandoned to his servants, and agriculture but seldom occupied his thoughts. Meantime, there were seldom wanting persons to lead him to a tavern; to applaud the sallies of his wit; and to witness at once the strength and degradation of his genius. The consequences may be easily imagined: at the expiration of about three years, he was compelled to relinquish his lease, and to rely upon his income of 701. per annum, as an exciseman, till he should obtain promotion. With this intention, he removed to a small house in Dumfries, about the end of the year 1791. In 1792, he contributed to Thomson's collection of Scottish songs; and, about the same time, formed a sort of book society in his neighbourhood. In the mean time, he appears to have given offence to the board of excise, by some intemperate conduct and expressions relative to the French revolution, particularly in attempting to send a captured smuggler as a present to the French convention; and an inquiry was in consequence instituted into his conduct. The result was, upon the whole, favourable; but an impression, injurious to Burns, was still left upon the minds of the commissioners, and he was told that his promotion, which was deferred, must depend on his future behaviour. This seems to have mortified him keenly, and to have made him feel his dependent situation as a degradation to his future fame. "Often," he says, in a letter to a gentleman, giving an account of the above circumstances, "in blasting anticipation, have I listened to some future hackney scribbler, with heavy malice of savage stupidity, exultingly asserting that Burns, notwithstanding the fanfaronade of independence to be found in his works, and after having been held up to public view and to public estimation as a man of some genius, yet quite destitute of resources within himself to support his borrowed dignity, dwindled into a paltry exciseman; and slunk out the rest of his insignificant existence in the meanest of pursuits, and among the lowest of mankind." It seems, however, that the board of excise did not altogether neglect Burns, who was, the year previous to his death, permitted to act as a supervisor. From October, 1795, to the January following, illness confined him to his house; but, going out a few days after, he imprudently dined at a tavern, and returned home about three o'clock in a very cold morning, benumbed and intoxicated. This occasioned a severe relapse, and he soon himself became sensible that his constitution was sinking, and his death approaching. He, however, repaired to Brow, in Annandale, to try the effects of sea-bathing; which, though it relieved his rheumatic pains, was succeeded by a fresh accession of fever, and he was brought back to his own house in Dumfries, on the 18th of July, 1796. He remained for three days in a state of feebleness, accompanied by occasional delirium, and expired on the 21st of Mr. Lockhart, in his life of Burns, gives several instances, which show that "he shrunk with horror and loathing from all sense of pecuniary obligation, no matter to whom." In answer to a letter from The poetry of Burns, who has acquired almost equal Mr. Thomson, enclosing him 51. for some of his songs, fame by his prose, is now too universally acknowhe says, "I assure you, my dear sir, that you truly ledged and appreciated, to require further analysis Fight, who will, about words and hurt me with your pecuniary parcel. It degrades or criticism. me in my own eyes. However, to return it would forms," says Byron, "Burns's rank is in the first savour of affectation; but, as to any more traffic of class of his art;" but, as Mr. Lockhart observes, that debtor and creditor kind, I swear, by that honour" to accumulate all that has been said of Burns, which crowns the upright statue of Robert Burns's integrity on the least motion of it, I will indignantly spurn the by-past transaction, and from that moment commence entire stranger to you."-The following anecdote is told of him in his character of exciseman, by a writer in the Edinburgh Literary Journal, who saw him at Thornhill fair. "An information," he says, "had been lodged against a poor widow woman, of the name of Kate Wilson, who had ventured to serve a few of her old country friends with a draught of unlicensed ale, and a lacing of whisky, on this village jubilee. I saw him enter her door, and anticipated nothing short of an immediate seizure of a certain gray beard and barrel, which, to my personal knowledge, contained the contraband commodities our bard was in quest of. even by men like himself, of the first order, would fill a volume." We shall conclude, therefore, with an observation of Mr. Campbell, that "viewing him merely as a poet, there is scarcely another regret connected with his name, than that his productions, with all their merit, fall short of the talents which he possessed." Burns's character is, upon the whole, honestly drawn by his own pen, in the serio-comic epitaph, written on himself, concluding with the following verse: "Reader, attend-whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, |