:5V; : LOCHLEVEN, OTHER POEMS, MICHAEL BRUCE. WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR FROM ORIGINAL SOURCES, THE REV. WILLIAM MACKELVIE, i J3ALGEDIE, KINROSS-SHIRE. EDINBURGH : PUBLISHED BY M. PATERSON, 7 UNION PLACE. MDCCCXXXVII. 35Y 18. — Introduction to the University, 20. — Weav- ing spiritualized, a poetical letter to his brother, 21. — Mr Logan's life and character, 22. — Notice of Mr William Dryburgh, 23. — Occasion of the Poem " The Last Day," 24. — Occasion of the Fable of the Eagle, Crow, and Shepherd, 25. — Pecuniary difficulties, 27. — Application for ad- mission to the Antiburgher Moral Philosophy class, 28. — The Country Funeral, a letter to a friend, 30. — Success at College, 31. — Engages as teacher at Gairny Bridge, 32. — " Fall of the Table," a poetical letter to Mr Flockhart, 32.— Xll CONTENTS. Character as a teacher, 33. — Dialogue on school fees, 34. — Attachment to Miss Grieve, 35. — Pro- jected publication of his Poems, 36. — Admission to Divinity Hall, 37. — Reason for leaving Gairny Bridge, 39. — Removal to Forrest Mill, 40.— Writes Lochleven, 43. — Returns to Kinnesswood, 46.— Writes " Ode to Spring," 47.— Last letter to Pearson, 48. — Mr Lawson's visit, 50. — Bruce's death, 51. — Character, 52, 55. — Criticisms on Bruce's Poems, 58, 66.— Logan's visit to Kinness- wood, 67- — Evidence of Logan's appropriating Bruce's Hymns, 70, 76. — His father's visit to Edinburgh, 77- — Evidence of Logan's appropriat- ing Bruce's Ode to the Cuckoo, 79, 86. — Evidence that the Episode to Levina, and other pieces claimed for Logan, are not his, 87. — Lawsuit aris- ing out of the publication of Bruce's poems, 88, 99. — Strictures on Logan's prose works, 100, 102. Edmund Burke's visit to Logan, 103. — Lord Craig's paper in the Mirror, 104. — Mr Hervey's attentions to the poet's mother, 105. — Principal Baird's edition of Bruce's works, 106, 110. — Let- ter from Mrs Keir of Rhynds, 111. — Imposition of Dowie, 112.— Funeral of Mrs Bruce, 116.— Bruce's monument, 118.— Lord Chief Commis- sioner's letter to Mr Birrel, 119.— Reflections, 120, 122. Encomiums ox Bruce. Elegiac Yerses on his Death, . . .174 Verses addressed to the Mother of Michael Bruce ; by a Lady, 176 Lochleven, .177 Notes to Lochleven, 206 The Last Day, . 211 CONTEXTS. Xlll Odes and Hymns, To the Cuckoo, To a Fountain, Danish Ode, Danish Ode, To Paoli, The Complaint of Nature, Heavenly "Wisdom, The Millennium, Miscellanies, Alexis ; a Pastoral, An Epigram, . Damon, Menalcas, and Melibceus ; an Eclogue, Pastoral Song, Lochleven no More, .... Sir James the Ross ; an Historical Ballad, The Eagle, Crow, and Shepherd ; a Fable, The Musiad ; a Minor Epic Poem, Anacreontic ; to a Wasp, To John Millar, M.D., on recovering from a dangerous fit of Illness, .... Yerses on the Death of the Rev. Wm. M'Ewen, Philocles ; an Elegy on the Death of Mr Wil- liam Dryburgh, Daphnis ; a Monody to the Memory of Mr William Arnot, son of Mr David Arnot of Portmoak, near Kinross, .... Elegy ; written in Spring, . . . . * Eclogue ; in the manner of Ossian, The Vanity of our Desire of Immortality here; a Story in the Eastern Manner, 237 239 242 244 246 248 254 258 259 261 263 266 267 272 274 276 287 288 293 296 298 299 303 308 313 317 LIFE MICHAEL BRUCE. LIFE MICHAEL BRUCE. 1. The parentage of those who have been celebrated for their worth or genius, has not always been such as to allow their biographers to make it the subject of particular notice, although, in all cases, it is desirable to know what peculiar influences in the histories of such persons may have operated in forming or modify- ing their characters. In some instances these cannot be alluded to, even remotely, without making the party affected suffer by the contrast ; while survivors connected with them feel themselves injured by what they are apt to consider an unnecessary exposure. Happily such hinderances to a detailed account of our poet's parents do not exist ; whilst that account, in our opinion, is especially called for, in consequence of the erroneous impressions conveyed by the very brief state- ments which have hitherto been made respecting them. A 2 LIFE OF 2. Alexander Bruce, our poet's father, was by trade a weaver, in which vocation he is allowed to have ex- celled most others in his parish. It is, nevertheless, admitted, that in that vocation there were others more diligent than he ; not that he was idly disposed, for he was always busy ; but it was as often with his book as with* his loom, and it is conceded by his friends that it had probably been better for those dependent upon him if his business had called him to mental rather than manual labour. His education had been neglect- ed in his youth, or rather we should say that then, as is still too much the case, education was not sufficient- ly valued by the class to which he belonged, and he was therefore considered to have received enough when he had been only one or two quarters at school. But though, in the common acceptation of the phrase, he was an uneducated man, he was not so in fact ; for he was self taught, and, as is often the case, succeeded by this tuition in attaining more knowledge than many possessed of superior advantages. He was endowed by nature with a strong mind, which he enriched by ex- tensive reading and accurate observation. He was a pre-eminently pious man, and as such his presence was much sought after by the sick and the dying. Not- withstanding his very humble circumstances in life, he was chosen by popular election (as is always the case in the Secession Church), an elder of the congregation of Milnathort, under the pastoral superintendence of the Rev. Thomas Mair, consisting at the time of about two thousand members, many of whom were not only MICHAEL BRUCE. proprietors of land, and in otherwise comfortable cir- cumstances,, but were also remarkable for their intelli- gence and acquirements.'' 3. In the evening his house was the regular haunt of the young men of the parish who cared for rational entertainment or improvement. and several of the Octogenarians yet alive, whose knowledge and judicious thinking are generally ad- mitted are ready to acknowledge, that for much of their information, and peculiar modes of thought, they are indebted to Alexander Bruce. t The remark, there- fore, of Logan, which has been repeated by all the subsequent biographers of the poet, that fi he was de- scended from parents remarkable for nothing but the innocence and simplicity of their lives/' does not con- vey a correct idea of what they really were ; under- standing this remark to imply that the talents of Alex- ander Bruce were rather below than above mediocrity. * Mr John Miller, proprietor of the lands of Eallingall, and Mr David Arnot, proprietor of the lands of Portmoak, were both members of this congregation. Such was the public con- fidence in the scholarship and integrity of these gentlemen, that they were invited to take part in the examinations of candidates for parochial schools, in all the neighbouring pa- rishes, whenever an election took place. •j- " It may be affirmed, without flattery, that, to the pre- sent day, the inhabitants of that parish (Portmoak, in which Kinness-wood is situated) generally speaking are superior to many in respect to the attainments in Christian knowledge, and their marked veneration for godliness, sobriety, and ho- nesty." — Life of the Rev, Ebenezer Erskine, by Dr Donald Eraser.— P. 201. 4 LIFE OF Mr David Pearson, (of whom some account will be given in the sequel) was constrained to draw up a me- moir of him that appeared in the " Missionary Chro- nicle" for May 1797, in which he affirms that Bruce was familiar with the writings of the most eminent divines, both of his own and former times, extensively read in ancient and modern history, and cc mighty in the Scriptures/' This testimony of Pearson to the elder Bruce's intelligence only corroborates that of his son, for our poet is known to refer to his father in his poem of Lochleven, when he says " I knew an aged swain whose hoary head Was bent with years, the village chronicle, Who much had seen, and from the former times Much had received. He hanging o'er the hearth In winter evenings, to the gaping swains And children circling round the fire, would tell Stories of old, and tales of other times." In short, whilst Schiller, and Goethe, and Thomson, and Sir Walter Scott, have all ascribed much of their talents and genius to the early cultivation of their powers by their mothers, with Allan Cunningham* and Robert Bums,t Michael Bruce must be considered as greatlv indebted to his father. * "He (the father of Allan Cunningham) was, as all who have read the writings of his son will readily believe, a man of remarkable talents and attainments ; he was a wise and a good man."— LocMarfs Life of Burns.— P. 190. •j- " I have met with few," (said the poet after he had him- MICHAEL BRUCE. 5 3. It is not only insinuated of Alexander Bruce that he was illiterate, but also that he was illiberal— that as he was below others in point of intellect, so he was beyond them in point of bigotry. Had such a suspi- cion been thrown out against him in his own day it would have been regarded by most of those who knew him as intended for irony ; for he was considered by what was then deemed the sober thinking portion of the community, so liberal as to have become heretical. So little respect did he pay to the long received opi- nions of the religious denomination to which he origi- nally belonged, that he suffered himself to be ejected from it, along with the clergyman upon whose minis- trations he attended, for nonconcurrence in its creed.* The insinuation of illiberality on the part of the poet's father is founded on the postscript of a letter written by his son to Mr Arnot of Portmoak, his early friend and patron. " I ask your pardon/' says he, " for the trouble I have put you to by these books I have sent. The fear of a discovery made me choose this method. I have sent Shakspeare's Works, 8 vols., Pope's Works, self seen a good deal of mankind) "who understood men, their manners, and their ways equal to my father." — Letter of Burns to Dr Moore, as quoted by Lockhartin his Life of the Poet—V. 10. * The Rev. Thomas Mair, together with all who adhered to him, who were not less than two thousand examinable per- sons, besides children, were ejected from the Anti-burgher Synod for holding that " there is a sense in which Christ died for all men." O LIFE OF 4 vols., and Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds." The discovery which the poet feared is understood by his biographers to have been his father's coming to the knowledge of his having purchased such books.* But so far was Alexander Bruce from interdicting his son's perusal of the poets, that he borrowed or bought for his use every book of poetry that came in his way. It is a scene yet well remembered by those who witness- ed it when the father of our poet w r ent down to a book- stall, at one of the fairs in the place, with Michael, then a mere child, in his hand, and inquired for the poems of Sir David Lindsay, the Burns of his day. The vender of knowledge did not happen to have the book, but upon learning that it was intended for the child before him, was so surprised that he should wish it, that he took up a little volume entitled, " A Key to the Gates of Heaven," and promised to give it to him, on condition that he would read a portion of it * "But poverty was not the only difficulty with which the youthful Bruce had to contend. He had also the narrow pre- judices of worthy but illiberal parents, who seem to have regarded general learning as unnecessary, if not positively mischievous. Bruce could not but feel how unnatural these prejudices were — what injustice they did to those powers and aspirations with which he was endowed, and which glowed within him. He was too dutiful a son, however, to give his parents any offence, and accordingly, when about to return home from College he took the precaution of sending Mr Ar- not such volumes in his possession as he thought his father would disapprove of." — Penny Cyclopcedia, article Michael Bruce. MICHAEL BRUCE- 7 upon the spot, which being done to his satisfaction, he awarded him the prize. That it was not the fear of a discovery that he had been reading Shakspeare which led our poet to send the books to the house of his friend Arnot rather than to his father's residence, is rendered evident from the fact, that he did not hesitate to commend and vindicate the immortal dramatist in his father's presence, as he did one day to Mr John Birrel, who, having admitted that the poetry and fic- tions of Shakspeare were most excellent, objected to the profanity which often appears in his works, to which young Bruce replied, u It is the design of dramatic poetry to portray human character, and therefore the persons introduced must be made to speak in the lan- guage which is known to be common to them/' And as to Pope's works, iC the fear of a discovery" could not refer to them, for they formed a part of old Bruce's own library ; at least, an edition different from that referred to by Michael was found among his other books after his death, and sold by Mr Birrel along with his other effects. The fear of a discovery refers, we presume, not to the kind of books which our poet had purchased, but to their quality and the time of their purchase. Michael's taste was such, that he was impatient to furnish himself with the best editions of his favourite authors,* and he had good reason to be- lieve that the sound judgment of his father would dis- * Several of Bruce's Latin Classics are at present in pos- session of the writer. They are printed by Elzevir, and as such regarded valuable by classical scholars. 8 LIFE OP approve of his buying such books at such a time ; see- ing that it was with the greatest difficulty that the finances necessary for his support had been raised during the two sessions at College which he had now attended, and it was not known where funds could be procured for the further prosecution of his object. In order, therefore, to escape the censure which he felt he deserved, he committed his purchase and his secret to the safe keeping of one, whom he knew was not likely to speak of his folly to any but himself, and whose re- proofs, however severe, were not likely to pain him so much as those of a father whom he tenderly loved and highly esteemed. 4. Ann Bruce, our poet's mother, who, though not previously related to her husband, was of the same name, a name which, though it could not honour the poet, the poet, peasant as he was, has in no small de- gree honoured. Ann Bruce was possessed of as much piety as her husband, though not of so much discre- tion. She was as forward in pronouncing an opinion as he was cautious in forming one, as gay as he was grave. She seemed formed for action, he for contem- plation, and accordingly she was the mainspring of all the movements in the family. The mother's liveliness, together with the fathers reflection, and the piety of both, descended upon Michael, and constituted a cha- racter which commanded universal love and esteem. 5. These pious partners were the parents of eight children, of whom our poet was the fifth. Previous to the birth of Michael they adopted an amiable girl of MICHAEL BRUCE. V the name of Mary Miller, who had been left an orphan at the early age of ten, by the death of both parents. This child was Michael's nurse during his infancy, an office which he required somewhat longer than usual from the delicacy of his constitution. She was cherish- ed both by his father and mother with parental fond- ness, and they succeeded in imbuing her mind with pious feeling. After residing four years in the family, she died, pouring out blessings on the heads of her fos- ter parents. She was buried at their expense. All their own children were removed by death, at a com- paratively early age, except two, a son and a daughter. James, the last member of the family, with the excep- tion of one quarter at school, received no other educa- tion than what his father had been able to give him at home ; but his natural good sense made up for this de- ficiency, and enabled him to take his place among those who had been better educated. He, too, attempt- ed rhyme, and could string verses together with great facility. In this way he frequently furnished amuse- ment to the villagers, who would suggest a subject, and receive his thoughts upon it in verse before leav- ing his apartment. A number of these productions, chiefly in the Scottish dialect, and written after the manner of Ramsay and Fergusson, are still in circula- tion in the parish. Of these only one, entitled " The Farmer," consisting of about fifty stanzas, was printed, at the suggestion, we suppose, of some friend who must have valued it more for its wholesome advices than its poetry. It begins thus — 10 LIFE OF O happy lot ! in Britain's isle To dress the field, to bid the soil Forego its barrenness, and smile In plenty clad, Nane had mair joy at farmers' toil Than ance I had. Up wi' the dawn I've held the pleugh, Or sawn the field, or thrash'd the mou, Or shorn the rig, or yard filled fu' Wi' stacks well figured ; Nae turn came wrang ; to work I trow I was nae niggard. These days are gane ! oh ! weel I ween Now sixty-five times I hae seen Spring robe the Lamond Hill wi' green Awa I'm wearing But still to farmer lads a keen True love I'm bearin'. 6. Michael Bruce, the author of the following Poems, was bom at Kinnesswood, in the parish of Portmoak, a village mean in itself, but beautiful in its locality, being situated upon the south-west declivity of the Lomond Hills, and north-east banks of Loeh- leven. The house still stands in which he received his birth. It consists of two stories, with a thatched roof, in the centre of a narrow lane, which runs up the hill from the main street, the upper flat of which was oc- cupied by our poet's family. This flat consisted pro- perly only of one apartment, and served at once for a work-shop and a dwelling-house. No visitor to this MICHAEL BRUCE. 11 humble dwelling, acquainted with the writings of Washington Irving, will fail to apply his description of Shakspeares birth-place to that of Michael Bruce : " It is a true nestling place of genius, which delights to hatch its offspring in bye-corners." The interior of the house, and the adjoining garden, have been pathe- tically described by Dr Huie, himself a poet, in the " Olive Branch" for 1831. "On returning," says he, " to Kinnesswood (from Portmoak church-yard, where Bruce is buried), I attended my venerable guide to the lowly dwelling where the parents of the poet resided. We first entered the garden. ' This/ said Mr Birrel, ( was a epot of much interest to Michael. Here he used alternately to work and to meditate. There stood a row of trees which he particularly cherished, but they are now cut down/ added the good old man, and as he said this he sighed. c Here, again/ said he, e was a bank of soft grass on which Michael was accustomed to recline after he became too weak to walk ; and here his father would sit beside him in the evening, and read to amuse him/ We next entered the house. I expe- rienced an involuntary feeling of awe when I found myself in the humble abode where neglected worth and talents had pined away and died. The little square windows cast but a feeble light over the apartment, and the sombre shades of evening (for the sun had now set) were strikingly in unison with the scene. ' There/ said my conductor, c auld Saunders used to sit at his loom. In that corner stood the bed where the auld couple slept ; in this the bed which was occupied by 12 LIFE OF Michael,, and in which he died/ The good old man's eyes filled as he spake. I found it necessary to wipe my own. I was not ashamed of my tears. They were a tribute to departed genius,, and there was nothing unmanly in their flow." 7. From the moment that his children were capable of distinguishing the letters of the alphabet, it was the great object of Alexander Bruce to make them master of them. Under his father s instructions, Michael had acquired the power of reading with facility before he had reached his fourth year, at which age he was sent to the parish school, then only a few doors from his own home, with the Bible for his lesson book. The master was surprised at what he considered the stupi- dity of his parents, in furnishing their child with the sacred volume instead of the Shorter Catechism ; the sheet through the medium of which children were then initiated in the art of reading. His surprise, however, was transferred from the parents to the child, when, upon asking him to shew what he could do, he com- menced reading with fluency at the place pointed out to him. At the end of the first week, he was consi- dered by his instructor to have been long enough among the easy lessons of the Gospels, and was therefore en- joined to bring with him, upon his return, the book read by the more advanced class. Into the other branches of learning acquired in boyhood he was in- troduced proportionably early. That he was able to write by the time he was six years of age, appears from a letter of his own to his friend Pearson. " I could MICHAEL BRUCE. 13 write/' says he, u or, at least, scratch my name, with the year 1752 below it. In that year I learnt the ele- ments of pencraft, and now let me see — 1752 from 1766 leaves fourteen, a goodly term for one to be a scholar all that time." But although at the period at which he thus wrote Michael Bruce had been fourteen years a scholar, he had not been fourteen years at school. He was often unable to attend from ill health ; for the wasting disease which brought him to a prema- ture grave was engendered in his constitution at his birth, and was imperceptibly strengthening itself in his delicate frame. His appearance, even then, indicated his tendency to phthisis. He was slenderly made, with a long neck, and narrow chest ; his skin white, and shining ; his cheeks tinged with red, rather than ruddy ; his hair yellowish, and inclined to curl. Such is the description of him which we have received from some of those who were his schoolfellows, and upon whom his interesting appearance, and aptitude to learn, seem to have made an indelible impression. 8. But his attendance at school was more frequently prevented by the poverty of his parents than inter- rupted by disease. In order to procure the necessaries of life in greater abundance than their own personal abours admitted, they hired out each child to herd cattle as soon as it was capable of performing the task. In this service Michael was employed during six suc- cessive summers. His pastoral duties were chiefly performed on the Lomonds, the range of hills which rise behind his native village. Although deprived du- 14 LIFE OF ring this period of the benefits of a living instructor, his mind was schooling itself in the elements of poetry, by imbibing those impressions which Nature, when she presents herself in the sublime and beautiful, never fails to make upon susceptible minds. Cowper affirms, that "the love of nature's works is born with all." But few appear to possess an exquisite relish for its beau- ties. Michael Bruce, however, child as he was, even then " looked round on nature and on life with the eye which nature bestows only on a poet." The im- pressions which he imbibed thus early remained with him, and were the same upon which he fell back, when in afterlife he was shut out from the society of kindred spirits, and deprived of such scenery as his eye could rest upon with delight. He then placed himself in imagination upon the knoll on which he had often re- clined when tending his herd, and lived over again those delicious moments when life was new, and when nature, for the first time, presented to him some of her loveliest scenes. His poem on ei Lochleven" is wholly made up of these reminiscences, and ought to be re- garded by the reader as the impressions of the shep- herd boy, clothed in the language of the student and the scholar. 9. Most young persons feel the tending of cattle irk- some, as is manifested by their often-repeated question to passing travellers, " What is the time of day?" But Michael Bruce felt not thus. This mode of life seems to have comported with his feelings, especially MICHAEL BRUCE. 15 when the scene of his duties lay upon the higher por- tions of the hills — " Where he could trace the cowslip covered hanks Of Leven, and the landscape measure round," and whence his eye could " Wander o'er all the various chequered scene Of wilds, and fertile fields, and glittering streams." This capability of communing with Nature kept him as cheerful, though alone, as the urchin who had ne- glected his charge to join his fellow cowherds in their childish sports. For all those whom chance threw in his way in this solitude, he had his little joke ready ; and, if he found them intelligent and communicative, he would get them to sit down beside him, and tarry till he examined them upon all they knew. The late proprietor of Upper Kinneston, a small estate upon the south-west declivity of the Lomond Hills, used to re- late, with much feeling, the amusing stories told him, and the strange questions put to him by Michael when herding his father's cattle, and how he would offer his services to carry the boy's meals to the hill for the sake of having half an hour's conversation with this inte- resting youth. 10. Even thus early he manifested that his feelings were as deeply devotional as his mind was contempla- tive. His conversation was very generally about sacred things ; and the enjoyment he felt when any new thought connected with theology was suggested to him, was rendered obvious by his again reverting 16 LIFE OP to the topic after it had been dropt. When at any time his father was from home at the usual hour for family prayer, Michael, by the common consent of the household, led the devotions. It has been stated to the present writer, by a person who was once present upon an occasion of this kind, and was, besides, well qualified to judge of what was becoming in such cir- cumstances, that he was impressed with a sense of in- congruity in a child acting as the domestic minister in a family where there were at the time both a man and a matron ; but that, before the boy had concluded the service, he was so struck with the propriety of his language, the variety of scriptural allusions, the suit- ableness of the petitions, and the solemnity of the manner, that he could hardly permit himself to be- lieve that the boy whom he saw uttered the prayer which he heard. 11. That our poet's progress in learning was greatly hindered by his frequent and long- continued absence from school, will be readily supposed by the reader ; but it is known that he was as diligent in the prose- cution of his studies when upon the hill-side, or by the c farmers ingle/' as when upon the form at school, or under his father's eye, with the task of the succeeding day prescribed to him. When attending upon a mas- ter's instructions, he had often to wait for his class- fellows to come up to him ; but, upon his return after a six months' absence, they did not require to wait till he should come up to them. Before a fortnight had elapsed, he was uniformly at the top of his class. Nor MICHAEL BRUCE. 17 did this precedence at which he so speedily arrived, and which he so constantly maintained, excite any jealousy among his rivals, or suspicion that partiality was shewn to him. The greatest deference was un- hesitatingly rendered him, not only by those who had been more recently introduced to the school, but also by those who contended with him for the place of honour in his own class. Michael's word was of as great authority in the school as the master's. His presence quelled all quarrels, — to him the injured fled for protection, — and to him the disputant made his ap- peal. For this precedence, so universally conceded to him, it is not easy to account. Some boys fight their way to supremacy ; others, without either bravery or talent, appropriate it as belonging to them of right ; but Michael Bruce was too good-natured ever to at- tempt ascendency by conquest, and too modest ever to put forth claims to it of right. His peculiarity of man- ner was in all probability the cause of this deference ; for already he began to display individuality of char- acter, and might have served as the prototype of Beattie's Minstrel, although it is not likely that his existence was known to that bard. " Silent when glad, affectionate though shy, And now his look was most demurely sad, And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why, And neighbours star'd, and sigh'd, and bless'd the lad ; Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad." The same deference was paid him at home as at B 18 LIFE OF school. All the family looked up to him as one in whose sagacity they had confidence, and whom they did well to consult in all their movements. His deli- cate frame stood out in strong contrast with their ro- bust persons, and constrained them to cherish him with all possible intensity of interest, as something pecu- liarly valuable, which they were in danger of losing. His dress was somewhat finer in texture than that of his brothers, and he paid some attention to its becom- ing adjustment. He is accordingly spoken of by those who still retain the recollection of him, as a pet, but not a spoiled child ; and he appears to have been the Joseph of the family, without provoking, which very rarely happens, the envy of his brethren. 12. Michael Bruce was not more beloved by his re- lations, than by some of those whom the tide of life had thrown into the current along with him. Of two of these it is necessary, for reasons which will after- wards appear, that we take particular notice. David Pearson was apprentice to Brace's father, and continued some time to work with him as journeyman, sleeping in the house with Michael as his bedfellow. He was the poet's senior only by a year. He is justly described by Dr Anderson, in his Life of Bruce, as u a man of strong parts, and a serious, contemplative, and inqui- sitive turn, who had improved his mind by a diligent and solitary perusal of such books as came within his reach." He had almost no education, understanding by that term training at school ; but, like the subject of our narrative, he had a natural taste for poetry, MICHAEL BRUCE. 19 which the older Bruce encouraged him to cultivate, and which he and the younger Bruce stimulated in one another. The whole of Pearson's manuscripts have been preserved, and are in possession of the writer of this narrative. It appears from these, that he and Bruce wrote upon the same subjects, for he has also a poem on Lochleven, an Ode to Spring, Thoughts on Weaving, &c. &c. A perusal of these manuscripts has recalled to our mind the following beautiful lines in Wordsworth's " Excursion," and impressed us with a deep conviction of their truth :— " Oh many are the poets that are sown By nature ; men endowed with the highest gifts — The vision, and the faculty divine ; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse, Which, in the docile season of their youth, It was denied them to acquire, through lack Of culture, and the inspiring aid of books, Or, haply, by a temper too severe, Or a nice backwardness, afraid of shame." To this person Bruce was in the habit of repeating his poetical pieces while they were in progress, so long as they continued together, and of transmitting them to him in letters after he had left home. Notwith- standing the superior acquirements of the friends with whom Bruce became acquainted at the University over those of Pearson, he still cherished him with all tiie ardour which he felt towards him at the commence- ment of their friendship, and continued to address epistles to him till within a few weeks of his death.. 20 LIFE OF No person had better opportunities than Pearson to know what our poet wrote, and, consequently, no one could be better able to give evidence on the subject, when evidence was wanted. The estimate which has been formed of his talents, shews that he was a com- petent witness, and his sterling integrity is still the subject of eulogium in the parish of Portmoak.* When no longer able to support himself, through the infirmi- ties of age, he had a comfortable provision afforded him by Mr White, one of the proprietors of the lands of Balgedie, by whom, as well as by all others who knew him, he was held in the highest respect. 13. Another person, whom it is here necessary to introduce to the reader's notice, as one of whom he re- quires to know something in consequence of the fre- quent reference which will be made to him in these pages, is Mr John Birrel. This gentleman was the junior by a few years of Bruce and Pearson, but was very early in life admitted into the intimacy of both. He afterwards became the eider Bruce' s most intimate friend, and, by his intimacy with him, learned many of the particulars which will be detailed in the course of this narrative. Mr Birrel received a somewhat li- beral education, and followed land-surveying as his profession. He is the person referred to in Dr Huie's * " The friends of Logan think I have paid too much atten- tion to Mr Pearson's testimony ; but I think he is not disqua- lified from giving his testimony on this point by his want of learning. His integrity is admitted on all hands.''' — Letter from Dr Anderson to Mr John Birrel. MICHAEL BRUCE. 21 paper, which we have quoted, and Dr Anderson, in his life of Bruce, acknowledges himself indebted to him for a portion of the materials which he employed in drawing up his memoir of the poet. The Rev. Dr Fraser has also made public acknowledgment of obli- gation to him for information of which he availed him- self, when preparing the lives of Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine. Mr Birrel contributed several papers to the " Edinburgh Magazine," conducted by Dr Anderson ; as also to the u Perth Magazine/* the " Christian Re- pository/' " Christian Monitor/' and other periodicals. He is regarded as a man of sound judgment and un- doubted piety. Previous to the formation of the con- gregation at Balgedie, he was an elder of the Secession Church in Milnathort, under the pastoral superinten- dence of the Rev. Mr Porteous, since which, he has been senior member of session in the congregation of which the writer of this narrative is minister.* Mr Birrel is himself a poet, and has publicly appeared in this character in the periodicals to which we have re- ferred. Dr Anderson was so pleased with some spe- cimens of his poetical talents, that he pressed him to publish a volume of poetry, offering to assist him in the correction of his pieces. The original letter is now * Mr Birrel died whilst these sheets were preparing for the press, and among the last acts in which he was engaged, was furnishing the writer with evidence of the truth of some of the statements which he finds himself called upon to make in drawing up a new Life of Michael Bruce. 22 LIFE OF beiore the editor, in which Mr Birrel declines compli- ance with this suggestion, giving as his reason, that his attention must bs called away for the present from poetry, to the performance of duties which he owed to a rising family.* 14. By the time Michael Bruce had reached his eleventh year, his mind was so matured as to enable him to discuss with his friends what profession he should choose, and the means by which the qualifica- tions necessary for the discharge of its duties were likely to be obtained. It was his father's wish,' so soon as he perceived his aptness to learn, to educate him for the ministry ; but he despaired of being able to raise the funds requisite for so expensive an under- taking. But the son was even more bent upon the prosecution of this object than the father, and his de- termination defied all the hardships which he was ap- prised he would have to encounter, and all the priva- tions he would have to endure. It is certain, that he could not then form any adequate notion of what these hardships and privations would be ; but there is rea- son to conclude, from his perseverance, when he did come to know them experimentally, that his determi- nation would have been the same, although he had been able from the first to form the most distinct con- * The editor takes this opportunity of expressing his obliga- tions to the daughter of the late Dr Anderson, for the origi- nal letters of Messrs Pearson and Birrel to her father, with which she readily and kindly furnished him, upon request- MICHAEL BRUCE. 23 ception of them, and that he did not choose this pro- fession, as is too often the case, from a mistaken no- tion that it is an easy, as well as a respectable occupa- tion. 1 5. It happened that the parochial schoolmaster had a son of much the same age with our poet, whom he wished to educate for the ministry, and who was after- wards ordained as pastor of the Presbyterian congre- gation in Maryport, Cumberland, in connection with the Church of Scotland. There were also some other children of portioners in the parish, whose parents wished them to be instructed in the elements of Latin. Of these, a class was formed, and Bruce joined it, by his master's desire as well as his own. The books re- quired during his study of this language at school, were either lent him b} 7 friends interested in his suc- cess, or purchased at second hand. It can readily be supposed that Mr Dun, who is known to have been an excellent classical scholar and an enthusiastic teacher, would bring his energies to bear upon a class in which his own son was a pupil, especially as he had resolved that he should pass immediately from his own school to the University, without receiving instructions from any other master. Of this class, Michael Bruce was uniformly at the top. The acqui- sition of the Latin language seemed to cost him about as little effort as the acquisition of his mother tongue ; and if his master had no reason to lament his de- ficiency of talent, neither had he to complain of his want of diligence. 24 LIFE OF 15. With the other four scholars, besides himself, who composed this class, he was upon terms of intima- cy; but to one of them in particular he formed the warm- est attachment. This youthful friend was the son of Mi- David Arnot, proprietor of Portmoak. William Arnot was a boy of lively parts, studious habits, and warm heart. In addition to a liberal education at school, he enjoyed at home the instructions of a father, who combined a highly improved taste with great intelli- gence and piety. Reared amidst scenery calculated to inspire the mind with poetic sentiment, and asso- ciated from his earliest years with youths who had been favoured by the muse, he could hardly fail to be operated upon by such influences, and to become intelligent, poetic, and pious. This congeniality of sentiment and feeling, which characterized Bruce and Arnot, led them to cherish each other with even more than fraternal fondness, and, accordingly, rendered them inseparable companions. This friendship, so pure and warm, was suddenly and prematurely broken up by the death of Arnot, whilst yet a boy at school, This breach gave the first of many shocks to Bruce's feelings, which, during his brief career on earth, he re- ceived, and which threw over his natural cheerfulness a tinge of sadness. Visiting the spot, some four years after, where this most intimate companion of his boy- hood is interred, he wrote a monody to his memory, and inclosed it in the following letter to Arnot's father : — "Gairney Bridge, May 29. 1765. Walking lately by the church-yard of your town, which inspires a MICHAEL BRUCE. 25 kind of veneration for our ancestors, I was struck with these beautiful lines of Mr Gray, in his c Elegy written in a country church-yard/ 6 Perhaps, in this neglected spot is laid, Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire,' and immediately I called to mind your son, whose memory will be ever dear unto me ; and, with respect to that place, put the supposition out of doubt. I wrote the most part of this poem the same day, which I should be very sorry if you look upon as a piece of flattery : I know you are above flattery, and if I know my own mind, I am so too. It is the language of the heart ; I think a lie in verse and prose the same. The versification is irregular, in imitation of Milton's Lyci- das." The manner in which Bruce speaks of his friend, a boy of fifteen, will perhaps appear to our readers like flattery, when they find him writing thus of him :— " Oft by the side of Leven's crystal lake, Trembling beneath the closing lids of light, With slow, short-measured steps, we took our walk ; Then he would talk Of argument far far above his years ; Then he would reason high, Till from the east, the silver queen of night, Her journey up heaven's steep began to make, And silence reigned attentive in the sky." But it is considered by all who knew Arnot, that Bruce has not overrated him, for he was a youth of 26 LIFE OF great attainments, considering his years, and gave pro- mise of pre-eminence in whatever profession he might have chosen. It is believed that our poet's early com- panionship with this youth was useful to him ever af- terwards, by stimulating him to the greatest efforts of which he was capable, from seeing in his friend what effort could accomplish. 16. But his early friendship with this youth was productive of another kind of benefit to Bruce. The farm of Portmoak, the property and residence of Ar- not's father, is situated on the very margin of Lochle- ven, which forms part of its boundaries, and is fully two miles from rvinnesswood, where the parish school then was. Thither our poet would often accompany his companion in the summer evenings, and as the road by which he had to return lay through an extensive morass, not easily traversed at mid-day, much less at twilight, he was often induced to remain with him over the night. In this way, the father of his friend was afforded abundant opportunities of dis- covering his talents and dispositions, Few parents can perceive the excellence which gains approbation, in the competitors with their children for praise, and most of them are disposed to deny that it exists. But Mr Arnot was not only sufficiently just to allow that Michael Bruce possessed both intellectual and moral excellence, but he was sufficiently generous to commend and reward it. The feeling of a less liberal-minded man would have been, that it was most presumptuous in this boy to aim at any higher profession than that MICHAEL BRUCE. 27 followed by his father, and equally presumptuous in the father to think of putting his child upon an equa- lity with those above him. But the proprietor of Portmoak was not only willing that talent should rise to equality with wealth, its just position, but he was disposed to assist in its elevation. With this de- sire, he encouraged Bruce to frequent his house, till he might be said to be a member of the family. In this way, he relieved his parents, to a great extent, of the burden of his support, which was still farther lightened by Mr White, proprietor of Pittendreich, a farm further to the west, who was a distant relative of Bruce's, with whom he also frequently resided. But Arnot was a patron much more to his mind than his own relation, and, accordingly, he made him his sole confidant and adviser ; and, from all that we can learn, Arnot was one of few persons from whom a noble mind would willingly accept an obligation. Bruce has him- self thus portrayed the character of his friend : — " Learned, but not fraught With self-importance, as the starched fool Who challenges respect by solemn face — By studious accent, and high sounding phrase, Enamoured of the shade, but not morose — Politeness raised in courts, by frigid rules, With him spontaneous grows. Not books alone, But man, his study, and the better part To tread the ways of virtue, and to act The various scenes of life with God's applause. Deep in the bottom of the flowery vale With blooming sallows, and the twine 28 LIFE OF Of verdant alders fenced, his dwelling stands Complete in rural elegance. The door, By which the poor, or pilgrim never passed, Still open, speaks the master's bounteous heart." Mr Arnot's library still remains in possession of his grandson, the present proprietor of the farm, and af- fords sufficient proof of his love of learning, and taste in literature. To this library Bruce had at all times the freest access. Its owner directed his attention to such books as would afford him information upon the topics which had been introduced in conversation, and pointed out to him such passages as he thought good models of composition. He not only heard him re- hearse his Latin lessons when he was at his house, but continued to correspond with him in that language, with the view of promoting his improvement. He suggested to him subjects for his muse, and proposed emendations on what he had written. With the so- licitude of a father he laboured to cultivate his under- standing, improve his taste, and fortify his heart. Af- ter the death of his son, he seems to have regarded him as his own child, and his letters ever after were more those of a parent than of a patron. 17. By the time our poet had entered his fifteenth year, the class to which he belonged at school was broken up ; Arnot had entered upon that state in which the student no longer "sees as through a glass darkly ;" Dun had gone to college, and the other pupils had com- menced the active employment of life. The question was therefore pressed upon Bruce — What course he MICHAEL BRUCE. 29 should follow? He was without funds., though not wholly without friends, but he did not know how far these were to be depended upon ; besides, he seems to have had a strong dislike to be indebted to others for his support, if there was a possibility of providing it himself. His first intention was, to offer himself as a candidate for a bursary in St Andrew's College, and, if mere scholarship would have secured it, he would have been certain of success ; but a youth of his ac- quaintance had been refused admission, after examina- tion, and Bruce, suspecting that his connection with the Secession church had operated against him, resolv- ed, rather than hazard rejection, not to make the ap- plication. 18. Whilst thus waiting for some event in provi- dence to indicate the course he should adopt, he em- ployed himself in transcribing large portions of Milton and Thomson's poetry ; a task which presupposes a matured judgment and polished taste, as a previous condition ; for these are authors which are seldom un- derstood, much less relished, in very early life. The familiarity which he thus acquired with the style and sentiments of these master geniuses, tended to improve his diction, but also in some measure to hinder his ori- ginality of thought. His memory was at once ready and retentive, and the phraseology with which he had so thoroughly embued it, was frequently recurring to his mind, and forcing itself into his compositions. Co- incidences of thought and expression are thus occasion- ally to be met with in his works, which a mind con- SO LIFE 0? versant with " Paradise Lost" and u The Seasons" will readily trace to their source. Holding, with the great biographer of the English poets, that iC what is borrowed is not to be enjoyed as ourown, and that it is the business of critical justice to give every bird of the muse his proper feather/' we have in this edition marked all the coincidences which we have been able to detect, and, considering the age and circumstances of the writer, they will be found fewer than might have been expected. His images are always beauti- ful if they are not all his own. His thoughts are na- tural and consecutive ; and if his phrases be some- times those which have been framed by others, they are generally equalled by those which have been fram- ed by himself. Whilst it is allowed that he imitated the style, and even adopted the sentiments, of the poets that preceded him, yet no one who reads his pro- ductions, and is capable of forming a proper estimate of them, will deny that he is a poet from inspiration. 19. We have not been able to learn with accuracy when Bruce first commenced writing original verses. In his poem of " Lochleven," when referring to his re- sidence at Gairney Bridge, he says — " First on thy banks the Doric reed I tuned." But he cannot mean that it was when domiciled there that he first wrote poetry ; for it is well known that his f.*.■■• *—M. I still think that the la-- MICHAEL BRUCE. 55 bour you expect me to bestow upon your son Tobias, is worth two shillings a quarter. — Q. Two shillings ! verily, friend, thou art an extortioner, yea, thou grind- est the face of the poor, thou lovest filthy lucre. Thou hast respect unto this present world/' — Ccetera desunt. 35. But although Bruce' s emoluments at Gairney Bridge appear to have been only at the rate of L. 1 1 a-year ; yet he was in other respects comfortable. It had been agreed, by the few more wealthy persons, whose children he taught, to board the teacher by turns; and he was accordingly received by Mr Grieve, farmer in Classlochie, by whom he was treated as one of the family, and who would not suffer him to remove from his house during the whole time he taught in this place. This gentleman had a daughter, younger than our poet by about a year, to whom he became most warmly attached. Magdalene Grieve, afterwards the wife of Mr David Low, proprietor of Cleish Mill and Wester Cleish, was a young woman of modest appearance and agreeable manners, with a large portion of natural good-sense. The poet's fancy, however, decked her out with fascinations sufficiently numerous and striking; and had she been as he de- scribes her, she must not only have been his, but every other person's favourite who saw her. " In the flower of her youth — in the bloom of eighteen. Of Virtue the goddess — of Beauty the queen ; One hour in her presence, an era excels Amid courts, where ambition with misery dwells. SO LIFE OF When in beauty she moves, by the brook of the plain, You would call her a Venus new sprung from the main, When she sings, and the woods with her echoes reply, You would think that some angel was warbling on high." Besides the ic Pastoral Song/' from which these verses are quoted,, our poet has celebrated this lady by the name of u Eumelia/' and " Peggy/' in his " Loehle- ven," '< Alexis/' and u Lochleven No More/' Were we to judge from some expressions which he has em- ployed in these pieces, we would conclude that Miss Grieve received his addresses with coldness; but it is known from her own testimony, often and solemnly repeated, that he never declared his passion to herself. She was not so ignorant of Cupid's lore, but that she could read, in his sayings and doings, a language suffi- ciently intelligible to a girl of her age, but there was a re- serve about him which she thought incompatible with real attachment, and her good sense would not permit her to impose a definite meaning upon a look or a word, when she was not certain such meaning was intended. She continued through life to cherish his memory with great fondness, and manifested a particular interest in any of his relatives who visited her. Whether if Bruce had been spared, and settled in the ministry, he would have chosen Magdalene Grieve for his wife, is a question which, of course, we cannot answer. We know that he continued his attachment to her till death, and we believe he was deterred from declaring his passion, partly from excessive modesty, and partly from a presentiment that it was not the will of hea- MICHAEL BRUCE. 57 ven that he should be either a pastor or a husband, He sung thus of her after he had left her father's house, and when the fell disease, which laid him prostrate in death, was preying upon his vitals. * Though from her far distant, to her I'll prove true, And still my fond heart keep her image in view. ! could I obtain her, my griefs were all o'er — - 1 would mourn the dear maid and Lochleven no more, But if fate has decreed that it ne'er shall be so, Then grief shall attend me wherever I go, 'Till from life's stormy sea, I reach death's silent shore, Then I'll think upon her and Lochleven no more." 36. While at Gairney Bridge, with a view, if pos- sible, to increase his finances, Bruce entertained the project of publishing a volume of his poems, but could not command courage to appear in the character of an author* His friends, confident of his success, urged him in vain to the execution of this design. An ori- ginal letter addressed to him by his old schoolfellow Dim, who, as already stated, was the son of his paro- chial teacher, is now before the writer, in which he presses upon him the publication : — u Edinburgh, January 25. 1766. I received yours," says he, " and am surprised that you say you have nothing to write. Have the Muses forsaken you ? Have the tuneful sisters withdrawn from the banks of Lochleven ? It is impossible you can have offended them ? No, they will yet exalt your name as high as ever they did Ad- dison's or Pope's. My dear friend, I long to see you 58 LIFE OP appear in public. I hope I shall be freed from sus- pense ere long. Do not Jail to do it soon." But, if we are to regard the few pieces published after Bruce's death as all he ever wrote, it is manifest that, at the period to which this letter refers, he could not possibly have made up a volume, for the poem of " Lochleven," which occupies more than half of the book, small as it is, was not written for many months after. But it has been reported by persons who had opportunity of seeing his manuscripts, that he had composed several poems of considerable length besides, and a vast num- ber of shorter pieces, before he became a student of divinity. This report is indirectly confirmed by two letters at present in our possession. The one is from Mr George Lawson to Bruce, and dated from Bog- house, Feb. 20. 1766, in which he says, " Pray in- form me when Mr Swanston proposes to begin his course of lectures, and whether you design to attend them. I would have been glad to have seen your criticism on Moirs pamphlet, or some of your new compositions, unless so large that they cannot be con- veyed!' The other is a letter from Bruce himself to his friend David Pearson, in which he had enclosed his beautiful ballad of " Sir James the Ross." i( Let me see some of your papers — at least, a little more of something new, for really I cannot afford such cart- loads of stuff as you have every day from me, if it were to my brother, at the rate you return." But more of this at a subsequent stage in our narrative. 37. Bruce had now finished his literarv conrsp «<■ MICHAEL BRUCE. 59 college, and was about to enter upon the study of di- vinity ; but, before he could do so, it behoved him to be in communion with the church. The question was therefore pressed upon him, with what body of Chris- tians he should connect himself? The clergyman upon whose ministrations he had hitherto attended was un- connected with any religious body, and he had no rea- son to expect he would succeed him in office. His predilections would naturally be in favour of the Anti- burgher section of the Secession Church, to which his father and Mr Mair had belonged previous to their ejection ; but it is probable, that the refusal of his ap- plication to be admitted to their philosophical class deteraiined him, together with his approbation of the peculiarities that distinguished the one branch of the Secession from the other, in favour of the Burgher, or Associate Synod, He was accordingly admitted to the communion of the church by the Rev. John Swanston of Kinross, who had been recently appointed Professor of Theology by the Synod to which he belonged, and into whose class Bruce was afterwards enrolled as a student. It mattered not what difference in age, rank, or attainments, subsisted between Bruce and the per- sons with whom he came in contact. Love him they must, if they were capable of affection. Our poet had not been long known to his minister and professor till he was regarded by him with the feelings of a brother, and an intercourse was henceforth maintained between them, with a familiarity which most persons would deem inexpedient between a minister and a member 60 LIFE OF of his church, and especially between a professor and his pupil. 37. It is somewhat singular, that the first theolo- gical exercise, both of Logan * and of Bruce, in their respective Halls, should have disappointed the expecta- tion of their professors and fellow-students. It was anticipated that our poet's homily would be charac- terized by floridness of style and amplitude of illustra- tion, the common errors of minds of his cast, as illus- trated in the cases of Thomson and Pollok, whereas there appeared to his critics a deficiency of both. That he was in ill health at the time appears from a letter addressed to him by his friend Dry burgh, which is now before the writer, dated Dysart, 1st April 1766: — " I was very sorry to learn from Mr George Henderson, who spent a night with us last week, that you thought yourself worse since you were here. Nothing, be as- sured, would be more agreeable to me than to hear of your recovery. I heard, also, that Mr Swanston has been advising you to give over your studies altogether. I really think it your duty to comply with this advice, at least, till you see how you are/' This fact would at once account for his discourse being so different from what was anticipated, did we not know that the acti- vity of his mind was never affected by his disease, and that he wrote " The Ode to Spring," one of the * " The first theological exercise of Logan at the Hall was not such as his other literary exhibitions gave reason to ex- pect." — Life of Logan prefixed to his Poems. MICHAEL BRUCE. 6l most beautiful poems in our language, in the last stage of consumption. The failure, if failure it was, arose, we presume, from Bruce's strict adherence to what, in the phraseology of Presbyteries, constitutes a homily ; an exercise designed to shew the writer's capability of logically dividing and subdividing a text or subject ; for the discourse was made up of a series of heads, with as many particulars, and as brief illustrations as possible. In our day, conformity with this definition is not so rigidly demanded ; and the student, there- fore, has a better opportunity of displaying the charac- ter of his mind. 38. In the time of Bruce, the number of students attending the Divinity Hall of the Burgher Synod was few compared with that now attending the Hall of the United Secession Church. In Mr Swanston's congre- gation there were a great number of persons who were proprietors of land, and in otherwise comfortable cir- cumstances. These received the students into their houses in the character of friends, expecting no remu- neration for their attention to them but what arose from the satisfaction of being serviceable to deserving men and the church. Bruce resided, during his at- tendance at the Hall, with Mr Henderson, proprietor of Turf hills, whose son had been his companion at col- lege, and whom he afterwards celebrated in his poem of Lochleven, under the name of " Lelius." 39. Upon his settlement at Gaimey Bridge, Bruce became acquainted with a young man of the name of Campbell, in whom he took a lively interest, in con- 62 LIFE OF sequence of his ardent desire for learning, and the po- verty of his circumstances. Campbell was an open, sanguine, imaginative youth, and, by these qualities, attracted our poet to him, who thought him, at least moral, if not pious. His education had been neglected in his boyhood ; but by the gratuitous labours of Bruce, and his own exertions, he more than remedied this neglect. From his master he also acquired a re- lish for poetry, and made numerous attempts in verse.* Several of his poetical epistles to Mr David Pearson are at present in our possession. They are character- ized by smoothness of versification, and aptness of al- lusion. They are all of an amorous kind. Bruce em- ployed this youth to teach for him during his attend- ance at the Divinity Hall. When about to return to * It is perhaps necessary to inform the reader, in or- der to explain how so many persons in such very humble situations in life as have been mentioned in this narrative, should have been induced to write poetry, and engage in other literary exercises, that a society for mutual im- provement had been instituted in Kinnesswood, and was kept up with spirit for a long series of years. A manu- script volume is at present in possession of the writer, con- taining an essay contributed by each member once a month, under the signatures of " Varro, Damon, Philo, Philenor, Lycidas, Theander," &c. &c, and in which such questions are discussed as " Who is the person who has best ground for joy? "What are the characteristics of man as distinguished from the lower orders of creatures ? What is it that makes an action good ? How are the motions of the Holy Spirit to be distinguished from the suggestions of Satan, " &c. &c. The members also often wrote poetical letters to one another, as well as other kinds of epistles. MICHAEL BRUCE. t>3 Gairney Bridge at the end of the session, he found a scandalous report in circulation against Campbell, which turned out to be but too well founded. He felt so vexed on this account, that he resolved to abandon the school in that place, and endeavour to procure an- other elsewhere. One was offered him at Forrest Mill, a place about fifteen miles to the south-west of Kin- ross, which he immediately accepted.* 40. When on his way to this place, the horse upon which he rode stumbled in fording the Devon, and im- mersed him in the stream. He remounted, and rode forward to his intended lodgings with his clothes drenched. Upon his arrival he had to be put to bed, and from that time the symptoms of pulmonary con- sumption became every day more confirmed. The cot- tage in which he kept his school was most unfavour- able to him as diseased. It was low-roofed, damp, and close. One of the daughters of the family with whom he lodged, whose name was Mill, - 6 with that pity that dwells in womankind," took care that the school-room was sufficiently warmed every morning before he entered it, and that boards were laid where his feet rested to keep them from the cold earthen floor ; but the destroyer laughed at her assiduities, for * Campbell shewed contrition in after life for the criminal act of his youth, and regained some measure of respect, al- though he was never restored to the intimacy of Bruce. He "became clerk to Mr Young, distiller in Hattonhurn, and af- terwards removed to a similar situation in Montrose, where he died, unmarried. 64 LIFE OF he had already secured his victim. Bruce did not seek to conceal his conviction of this mournful fact, either from himself or his friends. Writing to Mr David Pearson, he says, c< The next letter you receive from me, if ever you receive another, will be dated 1767. *** I lead a melancholy kind of life in this place. I am not fond of company. But it is not good that man be- still alone ; and here I have no company but what is worse than solitude. If I had not a lively imagina- tion, I believe I should fall into a state of stupidity and delirium. I have some evening scholars, the at- tending on whom, though few, so fatigues me, that the rest of the night I am quite dull and low-spirited. Yet I have some lucid intervals, in the time of which I can study pretty well." 41. What expectations he had formed respecting the situation at Forrest Mill, we are unable to deter- mine ; but whatever they were, it appears from the following letter addressed to Mr Arnot, that they were disappointed : — u It is an observation of some of our philosophers, that it is better for man to be ignorant of, than acquainted with, the future incidents of his life ; for, if he were apprized of the evils which await- ed him, he would be as miserable, if not more so, in fearing as in suffering. When we are in expectation of any thing, we paint it to ourselves as most agree- able ; nor can we be convinced, but by experience, that every thing here is of a mixed nature. When this long-expected convenience arrives, we can scarce be- lieve it is the thing we hoped for, and, in truth, soon MICHAEL BRUCE. 65 find it very different. Many a disappointment .of this kind have I met with. What I enjoyed of any thing was always in the hope, not in the possession of it. I ■expected to be happy here, but I am not ; and my sanguine hope is the reason of my disappointment. The easiest part of my life is past, and I was never happy, I sometimes compare my condition with that of others, and imagine if I was in theirs it would be well. But is not every body thus ? Perhaps he whom I envy thinks he would be glad to change with me, and yet neither would be better for the change. Since it is so, let us, my friend, moderate our hopes and fears, resign ourselves to the will of Him who doeth all things well, and who hath assured us that he careth for us. " Si res sola potest facere et servare beaturn, Hoc primus repetas opus, hoc postremus omitas." Things are not very well in this world, but they are pretty well. They might have been worse ; and, as they are, may please us who have but a few short days to use them. This scene of affairs, though a very per- plexed, is a very short one, and in a little while all will be cleared up. Let us endeavour to please God, our fellow-creatures, and ourselves. In such a course of life we shall be as happy as we can expect in such a world as this. Thus, you who cultivate your farm with your own hands, and I who teach a dozen blockheads for bread, may be happier than he who, E 66 LIFE OF having more than he can use, tortures his brain to invent new methods of killing himself with the super- fluity." * 42. But besides poverty, disease, and the want of intercourse with congenial spirits, each of which was sufficient to have fretted most minds, there was a cir- cumstance connected with this new situation by which he was peculiarly affected, and that was the total want of scenery on which his eye could rest with pleasure. (i The sweet winding Devon/' since rendered classical by the genius of the Ayrshire bard, ran, indeed, at no great distance ; and " the lofty Ochil," as Bruce him- self has styled the mountainous range, brought up the background of the view northwards : but a more dreary, sterile tract of country than that which lay in the immediate vicinity of his school, is not easily to be found. The place, even yet, is better known by the designation of " The Thieves," than by that of the c * Forrest Mill/' as having afforded, by its solitariness and wildness, a resort and hiding-place for the vagrant tribe, who choose rather to appropriate the fruits of other men's labours than to earn a supply for them- * The latter part of this letter, as well as the whole of the preceding one, and another that is still to follow, have already appeared in Dr Anderson's Life of Bruce. As the originals are before us, we insert the part omitted by Dr A. in this epistle, which consists of the sentences preceding that begin- ning. " What I enjoyed of any thing," &c, and then from the acknowledgment, " I was never happy," down to "Things are not very well," &c. MICHAEL BRUCE. 67 selves. To this combination of unfavourable circum- stances the poet himself most touchingly refers. " Thus sung the youth, amid unfertile wilds And nameless deserts, unpoetic ground, Far from his friends he strayed, recording thus The dear remembrance of his native fields To cheer the tedious night, while slow disease Preyed on his pining vitals, and the blasts Of dark December shook his humble cot." 43. But the beauty which he could not find in the scenery around Forrest Mill, he found in his recol- lections of the landscape which had delighted his vision in boyhood, and thus he enlivened his feel- ings by recording his reminiscences of Lochleven, <( with all its wilds, and fertile fields, and glitter- ing streams/' Of this poem he gives the following account in a letter to Mr Arnot : — " I have writ- ten a few lines of a descriptive poem, cui titalns est Lockleven. You may remember you hinted such a thing to me, so I have set about it, and you may ex- pect a dedication. I hope it will soon be finished, as I every week add two lines, blot out six, and alter eight. You shall hear of the plan when I know it myself/' 44. The general excellence of this poem may be judged of from the fact, that Campbell in his " Speci- mens of the English Poets," Drake in his i{ Literary Hours/' Chambers in his " Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen/' and Forsyth in his " Beauties of 68 LIFE OP Scotland/' have each quoted different portions of it as beautiful passages, and in this way have nearly divided the whole poem amongst them. It is not our purpose to enter into a formal criticism of Bruce' s poetry, either in whole or in part. This Dr Anderson has already done ; and to what he has advanced little can be added. We shall therefore avail ourselves of his remarks in their proper place. Meanwhile, we cannot avoid adverting to what we consider omissions in this poem ; and, after the high testimony to its excellence, implied in the fact which we have just stated, we think it can afford, without losing by it, that reference be made to « them. 45. We have thought it somewhat singular, that, whilst Bruce calls his poem ec Lochleven," the lake, properly considered, should come in for so small a share of his description. It might surely have been expected that a poet would have adverted to the variety of .aspects in which Lochleven, in common with other lakes, presents itself; as, for example, at break of day, when, as a more recent poet has sung of another lake, " The summer's dawn-reflected hue To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ;* or, as when presaging a storm, " The clouds are met ; The lowering scowl of heaven An inky hue of lurid blue To the deep lake was given;" MICHAEL BRUCE. 69 or, as when the zephyrs play upon its bosom, and " Mildly soft the western breeze Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees ; And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled, but dimpled not for joy." To those residing upon its banks, who are so familiar with its general appearance as to have their attention otherwise seldom called to it, these varieties of aspect impart all the interest which they come to feel in the scene. We mean not, by these illustrations, to insti- tute a comparison between the author of u The Lady of the Lake" and the author of " Lochleven," for we are well enough aware, that " Not alike to every mortal eye Is nature's scene unveiled." And we know, too, that the poet, no more than the painter, i( can imitate motion,, sound, the momentary variations of light and shade, and all those accidental circumstances which so greatly contribute to give pic- turesque effect to a landscape/'* But we do think there is a deficiency in the poem of Lochleven in these re- spects, and this is the more to be regretted, since the poet has shewn himself capable of giving such descriptions in a manner in which they have been seldom given. Bu we must not forget, that when Bruce wrote this poem Descriptive Views of the Northern Lakes. 70 LIFE OP he did not command an actual survey of his subject, — • that he wrote from recollection, not inspection, — and that he was therefore led to describe it rather in its essentia] than its accidental — in its permanent than its varying aspects — rather as he had generally, than as he had occasionally, seen it. It will be allowed, by those who know the Vale of Kinross in all its details, that in this poem they not only have a poetical de- scription, but an accurate topographical account of its localities ; whilst those who do not know it other- wise than as a portion of a small county in Scotland, must acknowledge that Bruce has succeeded in an attempt in which most others have failed, that of making the description of local scenery interesting. 46. Another circumstance which appears to us as a still more striking omission than the varying aspects of the lake, is, that the poet should have adverted both to the past and present state, " Of high Loclileven Castle, famous once, The abode of heroes of the Bruce's line/' without making the most remote allusion to the fact that it was the prison of the beautiful, but unfortunate, the imprudent, but ill-advised, Mary Queen of Scots. This is the more remarkable, seeing that when refer- ring to the ruins of a Monastery, upon another island in the lake, he adverts to the nameless devotees of Popery who sought in it a retreat, " The world forgetting, and by the world forgot ." MICHAEL BRUCE. 71 Byron, whose works indicate a greater admiration of the beauties of nature than sympathy in human suffering, overlooks the loveliness of Geneva's Lake, and the grandeur of the Alps which surround it, when his attention was called to the Castle of Chillon rising from among its waters, and he was told it had been the prison-house of some who contended " for the faith once delivered to the saints." K Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if the cold pavement were a sod, By Bonivard ! May none those marks efface, For they appeal from tyranny to God." But as to Brace's motives for describing Lochleven Castle without deigning to take the least notice of its once royal prisoner, we will not venture a conjecture. It was certainly possible to have stated the fact, and even expressed some pity for her sufferings, without insinu- ating either censure or commendation of her character or conduct. Interesting as the poem of u Lochleven" is, it would have been still more so had the imprison- ment of Mary in its castle been the subject, and the description of its scenery a part of its illustration and embellishment, and this plan might have been pursu- ed under the same title with even more propriety than the one adopted. 46. The effort of mind which the composition of " Lochleven" had called forth seems to have been too much for Brace's shattered frame, for he was compelled 72 LIFE OP almost immediately after it was finished to relinquish his school. Having intimated this necessity to his em- ployers, he took farewell at once of Forrest Mill and his hopes of life. But even then he had sufficient strength remaining to walk home to Kinnesswood, a distance of nearly twenty miles, resting only for a brief spaee at Turf hills, the residence of his friend Hender- son.* Whilst the cottage of his parents was no doubt the place of ail others where he was likely to meet with those kind attentions so necessary to a consump- tive invalid, yet from its locality it was one of the worst for a person labouring under his disease. The vapours which rise from the lake keep the atmosphere almost constantly moist, whilst in the mornings and evenings, especially of spring, the u Eastern Haars," as the fogs which come up from the sea are called by the inhabitants, come rolling down the hills, and hang suspended over Kinnesswood, like a dripping curtain. When writing his poem of Lochleven, he thought the descent of these vapours an incident worthy of notice in the scene. " The twilight trembles o'er the misty hills Trinkling with dew." But as a consumptive patient, exquisitely sensitive to the variations of the atmosphere, he now felt them to be a serious inconvenience. Here, again, he was disappointed of that alleviation of distress which he * Letter from John Henderson, Esq. Turfhills, to the Edi- tor. MICHAEL BRUCE. Jd had expected from change of scene and release from labour. 47. It was under this disappointment that he sat down and wrote his " Ode to Spring/' which, when finished, he addressed to his friend, Mr George Hen- derson,* with a view to apprize him that even his hopes of temporary relief were gone, and that in a shorter space than either of them had anticipated he should be at repose in the silent grave. u Now spring- returns, but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known ; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown. Starting and shivering in the inconstant wind, Meagre and pale, the ghost of what I was, Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclined, And count the silent moments as they pass. The winged moments, whose unstaying speed No art can stop, or in their course arrest ; Whose flight shall shortly count me with the dead, And lay me down in peace with those that rest. : ' 4-8. Having intimated his persuasion of his ap- proaching dissolution to his friend Henderson in verse, he hastened to do the same to his friend Pearson in prose, taking one of the verses of the same ode as his starting point. * The original MS. of this beautiful poem is still in posses- sion of this gentleman's familv. Letter from John Hender- son, Esq, to the Editor. 7^ LIFE OF " If morning dreams presage approaching fate, And morning dreams, as poets tell, are true, Led by pale ghosts, I enter death's dark gate, And bid this life and all the world adieu. " A few mornings ago as I was taking a walk on an eminence which commands a view of the Forth, with the vessels sailing along, I sat down, and taking out my Latin Bible, opened by accident at a place in the book of Job, ix. 23, ' Now my days are passed away as the swift ships/ Shutting the book I fell a musing on this affecting comparison. Whether the following happened to me in a dream or waking reverie, I can- not tell ; but I fancied myself on the bank of a river or sea, the opposite side of which was hid from view, being involved in clouds of mist. On the shore stood a multitude, which no man could number, waiting for passage. I saw a great many ships taking in passen- gers, and several persons going about in the garb of pilots, offering their service. Being ignorant and curious to know what all these things meant, I applied to a grave old man, who stood by, giving instructions to the departing passengers. His name, I remember, was the Genius of Human Life. ' My son/ said he, ' you stand on the banks of the stream of Time. All these people are bound for Eternity, that ' undiscovered country from whence no traveller ever returns/ The country is very large, and divided into two parts, the one is called the Land of Glory, the other the Kingdom of Darkness. The names of these in the garb of pilots are Religion, Virtue, Pleasure. They who are so wise MICHAEL BRUCE. 75 as to choose Religion for their guide,, have a safe though frequently a rough passage ; they are at last landed in the happy climes where sighing and sorrow for ever flee away ; they have likewise a secondary director, Virtue, but there is a spurious virtue who pretends to govern by himself; but the wretches who trust to him, as well as those who have Pleasure for their pilot, are either shipwrecked, or are cast away on the kingdom of dark- ness. But the vessel hi which you must embark ap- proaches, you must begone. Remember what depends upon your conduct/ No sooner had he left me than I found myself surrounded by those pilots I mentioned before. Immediately I forgot all that the old man said to me, and seduced by the fair promises of Pleasure, chose him for my director. We weighed anchor with a fair gale. The sky serene, the sea calm. Innumer- able little isles lifted their green heads around us, covered with trees in full blossom ; dissolved in stupid mirth, we were carried on, regardless of the past, of the future unmindful. On a sudden the sky was darken- ed, the winds roared, the seas raged ; red rose the sand from the bottom of the troubled deep. The angel of the waters lifted up his voice. At that instant a strong ship passed by ; I saw Religion at the helm. e Come out from among these/ he cried. I and a few others threw ourselves out into his ship. The wretches we left were now tost on the swelling deep. The waters on every side poured through the riven vessel. They cursed the Lord ; when lo ! a fiend rose from the deep, and, in a voice like distant thunder, thus spoke — ' I am 76 LIFE OF Abaddon, the first born of death ; ye are my prey, open thou abyss to receive them/ As he thus spoke they sunk, and the waves closed over their heads. The storm was turned into a calm, and we heard a voice saying, c Fear not, I am with you. When you pass through the waters, they shall not overflow you/ Our hearts were filled with joy, I was engaged in dis- course with one of my new companions, when one from the top of the mast cried out, < Courage, my friends, I see the fair haven, the land that is yet afar off/ Look- ing up I found it was a certain friend who had mount- ed up for the benefit of contemplating the country be- fore him. Upon seeing you I was so affected that I started and awaked. Farewell, my friend, farewell."* 49. With a view, as he confessed to his friends, to keep his thoughts fixed upon that dread tribunal before which he was shortly to stand, he abandoned writ- * The germ of the above allegory is contained in the fol- lowing fragment in Bruce's handwriting, now in our posses- sion, to which we call the reader's special attention, as we purpose in the sequel to adduce it as evidence in favour of some claims to another piece published by his first Editor as his own. " The hoar-frost glitters on the ground, the frequent leaf falls from the wood, and tosses, to and fro down in the wind. The summer is gone with all his flowers ; summer ! the season of the Muses, yet not the more cease I to wander where the Muses haunt near spring or shadow grove, or sunny hill. It was on a calm morning while yet the darkness strove with the doubtful twilight, I rose and walked out under the open- ing eyelids of the morn. I bent my steps over the hill till I came to a place where an echo is given foith by a concave Tock, and there began repeating Mark Antony's soliloquy MICHAEL BRUCE. 77 Ing upon other subjects, and confined himself to the improvement of his poem on the " Last Day/' to which, it is known, he added a number of verses, the greater part of which, in its improved state, he transferred into his volume of MSS., but he was not allowed to finish it. His bodily strength was com- pletely exhausted, and he was now almost wholly confined to bed. There he occupied himself in commit- ting portions of Scripture to memory, which he would repeat and comment upon to the friends who visited him. 50. Mr George Lawson being called to preach as a candidate for the congregation of Mr Mair at Milna- thort, which had joined the Burgher Synod after the death of their minister, hastened upon his arrival to Kinnesswood to see his friend Bruce. He found him in bed, as noticed above, with his countenance pale as death, while his eyes shone like lamps in a sepulchre. The poet was delighted to see him, and spoke with as much ease and freedom as if he had been in the most perfect health. Mr Lawson remarked to him that he was glad to see him so cheerful. <£ And why/' said he, " should not a man be cheerful on the verge of heaven," " But/' said Mr L. " you look so emaciated, I am afraid you cannot last long." a You remind me," over the murdered body of Caesar, till I came to these words, ' Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived, in the tide of time.'' This metaphor had escaped me before.'" 78 LIFE OF he replied, $ Classical Dictionary, Arti- cle. Athos. THE LAST DAY. 219 Ye heavens and earth, attend ! while I declare The will of the Eternal. By his name Who lives, and shall for ever live, I swear That time shall be no longer."* He disappear d. Fix'd in deep thought I stood, At what would follow. Straight another sound ; To which the Nile, o'er Ethiopia's rocks Rushing in one broad cataract, were nought. It seem'd as if the pillars that upheld The universe, had fall'n ,* and all its worlds, Unhing'd, had strove together for the way, In cumbrous crashing ruin. Such the roar ! A sound that might be felt ! It pierc'd beyond The limits of creation. Chaos roar'd ; And heav'n and earth return'd the mighty noise. — iC Thou hearst," said then my heav'nly guide, " the sound Of the last trumpet. See, where from the clouds Th' archangel Michael, one of the seven That minister before the throne of God, Leans forward ; and the sonorous tube inspires With breath immortal. By his side the sword Which, like a meteor, o'er the vanquished head Of Satan hung, when he rebellious rais'd War, and embroil'd the happy fields above." A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale. And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood ; * Revelations x. 5, 6. 220 THE LAST DAY. While dim eclipse impair'd his beam : the earth Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. All was confusion. Heartless,, helpless,, wild, As flocks of timid sheep, or driven deer, Wandering, th' inhabitants of earth appear d : Terror in every look, and pale affright Sat in each eye ;* amazed at the past, And for the future trembling. All calFd great, Or deem'd illustrious, by erring man, Was now no more. The hero and the prince, Their grandeur lost, now mingled with the crowd ; And all distinctions, those except from faith And virtue flowing : these upheld the soul, As rib'd with triple steel. All else were lost ! Now, vain is greatness ! as the morning clouds. That, rising, promise rain : condens'd they stand, Till, touched by winds, they vanish into air. The farmer mourns : so mourns the helpless wretch, Who, cast by fortune from some envied height, Finds nought w T ithin him to support his fall. High as his hopes had rais'd him, low he sinks Below his fate, in comfortless despair. 1 " The overthrown he raised, and as a herd Of goats and timorous flock together throng'd, Drove him before him thunderstruck, pursued With terrors and with furies to the bounds And crystal wall of heaven.'" " Horror rose fierce, rage and pale affright Varied each face." Milton. THE LAST DAY. 221 Who would not laugh at an attempt to build A lasting structure on the rapid stream Of foaming Tigris,* the foundations laid Upon the glassy surface ? Such the hopes Of him whose views are bounded to this w r orld : Immers'd in his own labour' d work, he dreams Himself secure ; when, on a sudden down, Torn from its sandy ground, the fabric falls ! He starts, and, waking, finds himself undone. f Not so the man who on religion's base His hope and virtue founds. Firm on the Rock Of ages his foundation laid, remains, Above the frowns of fortune or her smiles ; In every varying state of life, the same. Nought fears he from the world, and nothing hope?., With unassuming courage, inward strength Endu d, resigned to Heaven, he leads a life superior to the common herd of men, Whose joys, connected with the changeful flood Of fickle fortune, ebb and flow with it. Nor is religion a chimera : Sure 'Tis something real. Virtue cannot live, Divided from it. As a severed branch It withers, pines, and dies. Who loves not God, That made him, and preserv'd, nay more — redeemed. * The river Tigris (i. e. Sagitta) is so called from its rapi- ity. ■f Matthew viii. 24. 1^22 THE LAST DAY. Is dangerous. Can ever gratitude Bind him who spurns at these most sacred ties ? Say, can he, in the silent scenes of life, Be sociable ? Can he be a friend ? At best, he must but feign. The worst of brutes An atheist is ; for beasts acknowledge God. The lion, with the terrors of his mouth, Pays homage to his Maker ; the grim wolf, At midnight, howling, seeks his meat from God. Again th' archangel rais'd his dreadful voice. Earth trembled at the sound. " Awake, ye dead ! And come to judgment.' ' At the mighty call, As armies issue at the trumpet's sound, So rose the dead. A shaking first I heard,* And bone together came unto his bone, Though sever' d by wide seas and distant lands. A spirit liv'd within them, j He who made, Wound up, and set in motion, the machine, To run unhurt the length of fourscore years, Who knows the structure of each secret spring ; Can He not join again the sever' d parts, And join them with advantage ? This to man Hard and impossible may seem ; to God Is easy. Now, through all the darken'd air, The living atoms flew, each to his place, And nought was missing in the great account, Down from the dust of him whom Cain first slew, * Ezekiel xxxvii. 7. *r Spiritus intus olit — Hor. THE LAST DAY. 223 To him who yesterday was laid in earth, And scarce had seen corruption ; whether in The bladed grass they cloth* d the verdant plain. Or smil'd in opening flowers ; or, in the sea, Became the food of monsters of the deep, Or pass'd in transmigrations infinite Through ev'ry kind of being. None mistakes His kindred matter ; but. by sympathy Combining, rather by Almighty Pow'r Led on, they closely mingle and unite But chang'd: for subject to decay no more. Or dissolution, deathless as the soul, The body is ; and fitted to enjoy Eternal bliss, or bear eternal pain. As when in spring the sun's prolific beams Have wak'd to life the insect tribes, that sport And wanton in his rays at ev'ning mild, Proud of their new existence, up the air, In devious circles wheeling, they ascend, Innumerable ; the whole air is dark : So, by the trumpet rous'd, the sons of men, In countless numbers, cover' d all the ground, From frozen Greenland to the southern pole : All who ere hVd on earth. See Lapland's sons, Whose zenith is the pole : a barb'rous race ! Rough as their storms, and savage as their clime, UnpolishM as their bears, and but in shape Distinguish'd from them : Reason's dying lamp Scarce brighter burns than instinct in their breast. With wand'ring Russians, and all those who dwelt 22.4 THE LAST DAY. In Scandinavia, by the Baltic Sea ; The rugged Pole, with Prussia's warlike race : Germania pours her numbers, where the Rhine And mighty Danube pour their flowing urns. Behold thy children, Britain ! hail the light : A manly race, whose business was arms, And long uncivilized : yet, train'd to deeds Of virtue, they withstood the Roman power, And made their eagles droop. On Morven's coast, A race of heroes and of bards arise ; The mighty Fingal, and his mighty son, Who launch'd the spear, and touch'd the tuneful harp; With Scotia's chiefs, the sons of later years, Her Kenneths and her Malcoms, warriors fam'd ; Her generous Wallace, and her gallant Bruce. See, in her pathless wilds, where the grey stones Are rais'd in memory of the mighty dead. Armies arise of English, Scots, and Picts ; And giant Danes, who, from bleak Norway's coast. Ambitious, came to conquer her fair fields, And chain her sons : But Scotia gave them graves ! — - Behold the kings that filTd the English throne ! Edwards and Henries, names of deathless fame, Start from the tomb. Immortal William ! see, Surrounding angels point him from the rest, W^ho sav'd the state from tyranny and Rome. Behold her poets ! Shakspeare, fancy's child ; Spenser, who, through his smooth and moral tale, Y-points fair virtue out ; with him who sung Of man's first disobedience. Young lifts up THE LAST DAY. 225 His awful head, and joys to see the day, The great, th' important day, of which he sung. See where imperial Rome exalts her height ! Her senators and gowned fathers rise ; Her consuls, who, as ants without a king, Went forth to conquer kings ; and at then' wheels In triumph led the chiefs of distant lands, Behold, in Cannae's field, what hostile swarms Burst from th 5 ensanguined ground, where Hannibal Shook Rome through all her legions : Italy Trembled unto the Capitol. If fate Had not withstood th' attempt, she now had bow'd Her head to Carthage. See, Pharsalia pours Her murder d thousands ! who, in the last strife Of Rome for dying liberty, were slain, To make a man the master of the world, All Europe's sons throng forward ; numbers vast ! Imagination fails beneath the weight. What numbers yet remain ! Th' enervate race Of Asia, from where Tanais rolls O'er rocks and dreary wastes his foaming stream, To where the Eastern Ocean thunders round The spicy Java ; with the tawny race That dwelt in Afric, from the Red Sea, north, To the Cape, south, where the rude Hottentot Sinks into brute ; with those, who long unknown Till by Columbus found, a naked race ! And only skill'd to urge the sylvan war, That peopled the wide continent that spreads From rocky Zembla, whiteiid with the snow p 226 THE LAST DAY. Of twice three thousand years, south to the Straits Nam'd from Magellan, where the ocean roars Round earth's remotest bounds. Now, had not He, The great Creator of the universe, Enlarg'd the wide foundations of the world, Room had been wanting to the mighty crowds That pour'd from every quarter. At his word. Obedient angels stretch'd an ample plain, Where dwelt his people in the Holy Land, Fit to contain the whole of human race As when the autumn, yellow on the fields, Invites the sickle, forth the farmer sends His servants to cut down and gather in The bearded grain : so, by Jehovah sent, His angels, from all corners of the world, Led on the living and awaken'd dead To judgment ; as, in th' Apocalypse, John, gather'd, saw the people of the earth, And kings, to Armageddon. -Now look round Thou whose ambitious heart for glory beats ! See all the wretched things on earth call'd great, And lifted up to gods ! How little now Seems all their grandeur ! See the conqueror, Mad Alexander, who his victor arms Bore o'er the then known globe, then sat him down And wept, because he had no other world To give to desolation ; * how he droops ! * -' Where the hot brain'd youth Who the tiara at his pleasure tore THE LAST DAY. ~* ' He knew not, hapless wretch ! he never learn'd The harder conquest — to subdue himself. Now is the Christian's triumph, now he lifts His head on high ; while down the dying hearts Of sinners helpless sink : black guilt distracts And wrings their tortur'd souls ; while every thought Is big with keen remorse, or dark despair. But now a nobler subject claims the song. My mind recoils at the amazing theme : For how shall finite speak of infinite ? How shall a stripling, by the Muse untaught, Sing Heaven's Almighty, prostrate at whose feet Archangels fall. Unequal to the task, I dare the bold attempt : assist me Heaven ! From Thee begun, with Thee shall end my song ! Now, down from th ? opening firmament, Seated upon a sapphire throne, high rais'd Upon an azure ground, upheld by wheels Of emblematic structure, as a wheel Had been within a wheel, studded with eyes Of flaming fire, and by four cherubs led ; I saw the Judge descend. Around Him came By thousands and by millions, Heaven's bright host. About him blaz'd insufferable light, Invisible as darkness to the eye. From kings of all the then discover'd globe And cried, forsooth, because his arm was hampered And had not room enough to do its work." Blair's Grave, 228 THE LAST DAY. His car above the mount of Olives stay'd Where last with his disciples He convers'd, And left them gazing as He soar'd aloft. He darkness as a curtain drew around ; On which the colour of the rainbow shone, Various and bright ; and from within was heard A voice, as deep-mouth'd thunder, speaking thus : iC Go, Raphael, and from these reprobate Divide my chosen saints ; go separate My people from among them, as the wheat Is in the harvest sever'd from the tares : Set them upon the right, and on the left Leave these ungodly. Thou, Michael, choose, From forth th' angelic host, a chosen band, And Satan with his legions hither bring To judgment, from Hell's caverns ; whither fled, They think to hide from my awaken'd wrath, Which chas'd them out of Heaven, and which they dread More than the horrors of the pit, which now Shall be redoubled sevenfold on their heads." Swift as conception, at his bidding flew His ministers, obedient to his word. And, as a shepherd, who all day hath fed His sheep and goats promiscuous, but at eve Dividing, shuts them up in different folds : So now the good were parted from the bad ; For ever parted; never more to join And mingle as on earth, w r here often past For other each ; ev'n close Hypocrisy Escapes not, but, unmask'd, alike the scorn THE LAST DAY. 229 Of vice and virtue stands. Now separate, Upon the right appealed a dauntless, firm, Composed number: joyful at the thought Of immortality, they forward look'd "With hope unto the future ; conscience, pleas'd, Smiling, reflects upon a well-spent life ; Heaven dawns within their breasts. The other crew, Pale and dejected, scarcely lift their heads To view the hated light : his trembling hand Each lays upon his guilty face ; and now, In gnawings of the never-dying worm, Begins a hell that never shall be queneh'd. But now the enemy of God and man, Cursing his fate, comes forward, led in chains, Infrangible, of burning adamant, Hewn from the rocks of Hell ; now too the bands Of rebel angels, who long time had wahVd The world, and by their oracles deceived The blinded nations, or by secret guile Wrought men to vice, came on, raging in vain, And struggling with their fetters, which, as fate, CompelTd them fast. They wait their dreadful doom. Now from his lofty throne, with eyes that blazM Intolerable day, th* Almighty Judge Look'd down awhile upon the subject crowd. As when a caravan of merchants, led By thirst of gain to travel the parch'd sands Of waste Arabia, hears a lion roar, The wicked trembled at his view; upon The ground they roll'd, in pangs of wild despair, 230 THE LAST DAY. To hide their faces, which not blushes mark'd But livid horror. Conscience, who asleep Long time had lain, now lifts her snaky head, And frights them into madness ; while the list Of all their sins she offers to their view : For she had power to hurt them, and her sting Was as a scorpion's. He who never knew Its wound is happy, though a fetter'd slave, Chain'd to the oar, or to the dark damp mine Confin'd ; while he who sits upon a throne, Under her frown, is wretched. But the damn'd Alone can tell what 'tis to feel her scourge In all its horrors, with her poison'd sting Fix'd in their hearts. This is the Second Death. Upon the Book of Life He laid his hand, Clos'd with the seal of Heaven ; which op'd, he read The names of the Elect. God knows his own.* ie Come (looking on the right, he mildly said), Ye of my Father blessed, ere the world Was moulded out of chaos — ere the sons Of God, exulting, sung at Nature's birth : For you I left my throne, my glory left, And, shrouded up in clay, I weaiy walk'd Your world, and many miseries endured : Death was the last. For you I died, that you Might live with me for ever, and in Heav'n sit On thrones, and as the sun in brightness, shine For ever in my kingdom. Faithfully * 2 Timothy, ii. 19. THE LAST DAY. 231 Have ye approv'd yourselves. I hungry was, And thirsty, and ye gave me meat and drink ; Ye clothed me, naked ; when I fainting lay In all the sad variety of pain, Ye cheer' d me with the tenderness of friends ; In sickness and in prison, me reliev'd. Nay, marvel not that thus I speak : whene'er, Led by the dictates of fair charity, Ye help'd the man on whom keen poverty And wretchedness had laid their meagre hands, And for my sake, ye did it unto me."* They heard with joy, and, shouting, rais'd their voice In praise of their Redeemer ! Loos'd from earth, They soar'd triumphant, and at the right hand Of the great Judge sat down ; who on the left Now looking stern, with fury in his eyes, Blasted their spirits, while his arrows fix'd Deep in their hearts, in agonizing pain Scorched their vitals, thus their dreadful doom (More dreadful from those lips which us'd to bless) He awfully pronoimc'd. Earth at his frown Convulsive trembled ; while the raging deep Hush'd in a horrid calm his waves. " Depart, (These, for I heard them, were his awful words !)