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exterior was not the most promising ; his make being rather robust than graceful: though it is known that in his youth be had been thought handsome. His worst appearance was when you saw him walking alone, in a thoughtful mood; but let s friend accost him, and enter into conversation, he would instantly brighten into a most amiable aspect, his features no longer the same, and his eye darting a peculiar animated fire. The case was much alike in company; where, if it was mixed, or very numerous, he made but an indifferent figure ; but with a few select friends he was open, sprightly, and entertaining. His wit flowed freely but pertinently, and at due intervals, leaving room for every one to contribute bis share. Such was his extreme sensibility, so perfect the harmony of his organs with the sentiments of his mind, that his looks always announced, and half expressed, what he was about to say; and his voice corresponded exactly to the manner and degree in which he was affected. This sensibility had one inconvenience attending it, that it rendered him the very worst reader of good poetry: a sonnet, or a copy of tame verses, he could manage pretty well, or even improve them in the reading; but a passage of Virgil, Milton, or Shakspeare would sometimes quite oppress him, so that you could hear little else than some ill-articulated sounds, rising as from the bottom of his breast. He had improved his taste upon the best originals, ancient and modern ; but could not bear to write what was not strictly his own, what had not more immediately struck his imagination or touched his heart ; so that he is not in the least concerned in that question about the merit or demerit of imitators. What he borrows from the ancients he gives us in an avowed faithful paraphrase or translation ; as we see in a few passages taken from Virgil, and in that beautiful picture from Pliny the Elder, where the course and gradual increase of the Nile are figured by the stages of man's life. The autumn was his favourite season for poetical composition, and the deep silence of the night the time he commonly chose for such studies; so that he would often be heard walking in his library till near morning, humming over, in his way, what he was to correct and write out next day.-Murdoch. Life of Thomson, 30.

East BARNET, July 20, 1725.-Surgery is, as you cannot but know, the merest drug here in the world. Scotland is really fruitful of surgeons. They come here like flocks of vultures every day; and, by a merciful providential kind of instinct, transport themselves to foreign countries. Sept. - This country I am in is not very entertaining; no variety but

that of woods, and them we have in abundance. But where is the living stream, the airy mountain, and the hanging rock, with twenty other things that elegantly please the lover of nature ? Nature delights me in every form. I am just now painting her in her most lugubrious dress for my own amusement, describing winter as it presents itself. Being only a present amusement, it is ten to one but I drop it whenever another fancy comes across.Thomson to Cranstoun (Nichols, Notes), 46.

Now from the town, Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops From the beat bush, as through the verdant maze Of sweet-brier hedges I pursue my walk; Or taste the smell of dairy ; or ascend Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains, And see the country, far diffused around, One boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower Of mingled blossoms ; where the raptured eye Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies. -Spring

The north-east spends his rage, and now shut up
Within his iron caves,—the effusive south
Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven
Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent.
At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise, .
Scarce staining ether; but by fast degrees,
In heaps on heaps the doubling vapour sails
Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep,
Sits on the horizon round a settled gloom :
Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed,
Oppressing life; but lovely, gentle, kind,
And full of every hope and every joy,
The wish of Nature. Gradual sinks the breeze
Into a perfect calm ; that not a breath
Is heard to quiver through the closing woods,
Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves
Of aspen tall. The uncurling floods, diffused
In glassy breadth, seen through delusive lapse
Forgetful of their course. 'T is silence all,

And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks Drop the dry sprig, and mute-imploring, eye The falling verdure. Hush'd in short suspense, The plumy people streak their wings with oil, To throw the lucid moisture trickling off; And wait the approaching sign to strike at once Into the general choir. Even mountains, vales, And forests seem, impatient, to demand The promised sweetness. Man superior walks Amid the glad creation, musing praise, And looking lively gratitude. At last, The clouds consign their treasures to the fields; And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow, In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world. The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard, By such as wander through the forest-walks, Beneath the umbrageous multitude of leaves. But who can hold the shade, while Heaven descends In universal bounty, shedding herbs, And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap ? Swift fancy fired anticipates their growth; And, while the milky nutriment distils, Beholds the kindling country colour round. Thus all day long the full-distended clouds Indulge their genial stores, and well-shower'd earth Is deep enriched with vegetable life; Till, in the western sky, the downward sun Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush Of broken clouds, gay shifting to his beam. The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes The illumined mountain, through the forest streams, Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist, Far smoking o'er the interminable plain, In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems, Moist, bright, and green the landscape laughs around. Full swell the woods; their every music wakes, Mixed in wild concert with the warbling brooks; . Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills, The hollow lows responsive from the vales, Whence, blending all, the sweeten’d Zephyr springs.-id.

BEHOLD, yon breathing prospect bids the Muse Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint Like Nature ? Can imagination boast,

Amid its gay creation, hues like bers?
Or can it mix them with that matchless skill,
And lose them in each other, as appears
In every bud that blows ? If fancy, then,
Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task,
Ah, what shall language do ? ah, where find words
Tinged with so many colours; and whose power,
To life approaching, may perfume my lays
With that fine oil, those aromatic gales,
That inexhaustive flow continual round?
Yet, though successless, will the toil delight.
Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, whose hearts
Have felt the raptures of refining love ;
And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song!
Form’d by the Graces, loveliness itself!
Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet,
Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul,
Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix’d,
Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart:
Oh come! and while the rosy-footed May
Steals blushing on, together let us tread
The morning dews, and gather in their prime
Fresh blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, .
And thy loved bosom that improves their sweets.-id.

UP springs the lark,
Shrill-voiced and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse
Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush
Bending with dewy moisture, e'er the heads
Of the coy choristers that lodge within,
Are prodigal of harmony. . . .
'T is love creates their melody, and all
This waste of music is the voice of love ;
That even to birds and beasts, the tender arts
Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind
Try every winning way inventive love
Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates
Pour forth their little souls....
Should I my steps turn to the rural seat,
Whose lofty elms and venerable oaks
Invite the rook, who high amid the boughs,
In early spring, his airy city builds,

And ceaseless caws amusive ; there, well-pleased,
I might the various polity survey
Of the mix'd household kind. The careful hen
Calls all her chirping family around,
Fed and defended by the fearless cock,
Whose breast witb ardour flames, as on he walks,
Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond
The finely-chequer'd duck before her train
Rows garrulous. The stately sailing swan
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale;
And arching proud his neck, with oary feet
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier-isle,
Protective of his young. The turkey nigh,
Loud threatening, reddens; while the peacock spreads
His every-coloured glory to the sun,
And swims in radiant majesty along.
O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove
Flies thick in amorous chase, and wanton rolls
The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck.
While thus the gentle tenants of the shade
Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world
Of brutes, below, rush furious into flame,
And fierce desire. Through all his lusty veins
The bull, deep-scorch’d, the raging passion feels;
Of pasture sick, and negligent of food,
Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom,
While o'er his ample sides the rambling sprays
Luxuriant shoot; or through the mazy wood
Dejected wanders, nor the enticing bud
Crops, though it presses on his careless sense.
And oft, in jealous maddening fancy rapt,
He seeks the fight; and, idly butting, feigns
His rival gored in every knotty trunk.
Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins :
Their eyes flash fury; to the hollow'd earth,
Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds,
And groaning deep, the impetuous battle mix :
While the fair heiter, balmy-breathing, near,
Stands kindling up their rage. . . .
Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring
Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep.
::But this the theme
I sing, enraptured, to the British air,
Forbids, and leads me to the mountain-brow,

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