The steer and lion at one crib shall meet, And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. REV. ROBERT BLAIR. (1699-1746.) THE life of a Scottish country clergyman seldom presents materials for biography beyond the record of his active virtues. Blair was minister of Athelstaneford in Haddingtonshire, and was an accomplished gentleman as well as an amiable man. His poem The Grave has been one of the most popular in the English language, at least among the people of Scotland. Its stern tone of reflection, its vigorous and hard-featured diction, so different in its unforced simplicity from the strained grandeur of Young; and its sepulchral and terrible imagery,-rank it among the most impressive of religious poems. 1 Is. ix. 4, &c. Sabea, Arabia Felix. Idumea, Arabia Petren. Ophir, see note 11, P. 216. 2 Is. li. 6; liv. 10. FROM "THE GRAVE." Sure 'tis a serious thing to die! My soul To tell what's doing on the other side! Death's shafts fly thick :-Here falls the village swain, Tis long since Death had the majority; Yet, strange, the living lay it not to heart. The Sexton, hoary-headed chronicle, Of hard unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole A gentle tear, with mattock in his hand, Digs thro' whole rows of kindred and acquaintance, More willing to his cup. Poor wretch! he minds not JAMES THOMSON. (1699-1746.) It is refreshing, amidst the artificial glare of the eighteenth century, to meet with a poet who unites to its splendid and glittering diction the fresh feelings and enthusiasm of nature; and such was the poet of the Seasons. Thomson was born at Ednam near Kelso in Roxburghshire, of which pa 1 The strength and effect of Blair's language lie in the Saxon elements of which it is mainly moulded. rish his father was minister. men. A poet from his boyhood, he abandoned the ecclesiastical profession, to which he had been destined, and, in 1725, went to seek in London a sphere for his more congenial pursuit. The publication of his "Winter" raised him to the greatest celebrity, and acquired him the friendship of patrons,-of Pope and other distinguished literary But his celebrity did not enrich his poverty; he was rescued from severe embarrassment by being employed to travel with the son of Chancellor Talbot, who rewarded him with a sinecure office, which his indolence lost at his patron's death. The sentiments of some of his pieces, and his connection with the opposition party, particularly with Mr (afterwards Lord) Lyttleton,1 excluded him from prospects of court patronage. Lyttleton procured for him, however, a pension from the Prince of Wales, the patron of the opposition against Walpole's ninistry. On the fall of that statesman, Thomson's friend, now in power, conferred on the poet a situation which, while it yielded him a competent revenue, he could execute by proxy, so that the concluding years of his life were spent in luxurious ease in a comfortable cottage in the neighbourhood of London. He died in 1748 of a fever contracted by a cold. Few have been more lamented by friendship than James Thomson. His benevolent nature, and his numberless admirable qualities, independent of his shining genius, endeared him to all. Besides the "Seasons," he left a long and somewhat tedious poem, "Liberty;" some tragedies, the most successful of which was "Tancred and Sigismunda ;" several elegies and smaller pieces; and the "Castle of Indolence," a composition replete with beauty of imagery and melody of verse. แ FROM SPRING." DOMESTIC BLISS. But happy they! the happiest of their kind! Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, That binds their peace, but harmony itself, Attuning all their passions into love; Where friendship full exerts her softest power, Perfect esteem, enliven'd by desire Ineffable, and sympathy of soul; Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, * What is the world to them, Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all! 1 He is to be distinguished from his infamous son. Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. Yonder comes the powerful king of day, And sheds the shining day, that burnish'd plays On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams, High gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer Light! Of all material beings first, and best! Meantime th' expecting nations, circled gay A common hymn: while, round thy beaming car, Herbs, flowers, and fruits; till kindling at thy touch, Then comes the father of the tempest forth, Wrapt in black glooms. First joyless rains obscure Drive through the mingling skies with vapour foul; Dash on the mountain's brow, and shake the woods, That grumbling wave below. Th' unsightly plain Lies a brown deluge, as the low-bent clouds Pour flood on flood, yet unexhausted still Combine, and deepening into night, shut up The day's fair face. The wanderers of Heaven, Each to his home, retire; save those that love To take their pastime in the troubled air, Or skimming flutter round the dimply pool. The cattle from th' untasted fields return, And ask, with meaning low, their wonted stalls, Or ruminate in the contiguous shade. Thither the household feathery people crowd, The crested cock, with all his female train, Pensive, and dripping; while the cottage hind Hangs o'er th' enlivening blaze, and taleful there Recounts his simple frolic: much he talks, And much he laughs, nor recks the storm that blows Without, and rattles on his humble roof. Wide o'er the brim, with many a torrent swell'd, And the mix'd ruin of its banks o'erspread, At last the rous'd-up river pours along : D d |