Ye powers that haunt the woods and plains, PEGGY, I MUST LOVE THEE. Beneath a beech's grateful shade Young Colin lay complaining; Say, Peggy, what has Colin done, If love's a fault, 'tis that alone 'Twas thy dear self first rais'd this flame, For thee I leave the sportive plain, That beauteous breast, so soft to feel, Nor Colin's care e'er move thee, ALEXANDER ROSS. BORN 1699-DIED 1784. 66 ALEXANDER ROSs was born at Torphins, in | poet. So early as his sixteenth year he had the parish of Kincardine O'Neil, Aberdeen shire, April 13, 1699. He was the son of Andrew Ross, a small farmer in easy circumstances, and received his education at Marischal College, Aberdeen, where he took the degree of Master of Arts in 1718. Soon after leaving the university he was engaged as tutor in the family of Sir William Forbes, of Craig ievar and Fintray, and then as teacher at the parish school of Aboyne, subsequently at that of Laurencekirk. In 1726 he married Jane Catanach, the daughter of an Aberdeenshire farmer, and descended by her mother from the old family of Duguid of Auchinhove. In 1732 he was appointed schoolmaster of Lochlee, a wild and thinly-peopled district in Forfarshire, where he spent the remainder of his simple and uneventful life in the discharge of the duties of his humble office. It was not until he had resided here for thirty-six years, that, in the year 1768, when he was nearly seventy, Ross appeared before the public as a commenced writing verse; a translation from "O Ross, thou wale of hearty cocks, To ape our guid plain countra folks In the north of Scotland, where the Buchan dialect is spoken, "The Fortunate Shepherdess" continues to be as popular as the productions of Ramsay and Burns, while some of his lyrics are universal favourites. In 1779, when eighty years of age, he was invited by the Duke and Duchess of Gordon to visit them at Gordon Castle. He accepted the invitation, extended to him through his friend Dr. Beattie, remaining at the castle some days. Says his grandson and biographer, "he was honoured with much attention and kindness both by the duke and duchess, and was presented by the latter with an elegant pocket-book, containing a handsome present, when he returned to Lochlee, in good health and with great satisfaction." The next year he lost his wife, who died at the advanced age of eighty-two, and to whose memory he erected a tombstone with a poetical epitaph. He himself did not long survive her: on May 20th, 1784, out with age and infirmity, being in his eightysixth year, he breathed his last, with the com 66 worn posure, resignation, and hope becoming a Christian." He left in manuscript eight small volumes of poems and other compositions, an account of which is given in Campbell's Introduction to the History of Poetry in Scotland. Ross's reputation must, however, rest upon his "Fortunate Shepherdess," and the songs which were published with it, rather than upon his unpublished writings, which his friend Beattie advised should be suppressed. Burns has written of our author, "Our true brother Ross of Lochlee was a wild warlock;" and the celebrated Dr. Blacklock, says Irving, "as I have heard from one of his pupils, regarded it (The Fortunate Shepherdess') as equal to the pastoral of Ramsay." On the first appearance of Ross's principal poem Beattie predicted "And ilka Mearns and Angus bairn Thy tales and sangs by heart shall learn." The prediction has been verified, and a hope which he expressed in one of his unpublished poems has been fully realized:— "Hence lang, perhaps, lang hence may quoted be, THE ROCK AND THE WEE PICKLE TOW. There was an auld wife had a wee pickle tow, She sat and she grat, and she flat and she flang, and wrang, And she chokit and boakit, and cried like to mang, I've wanted a sark for these aught years and ten, For never since ever they ca'd as they ca' me, I've keepit my house now these threescore years, But our women are now-a-days a' grown sae braw, In the days they ca' yore, gin auld fouks had but won To a surcoat, hough-syde, for the winnin' o't, Of coat-raips weel cut by the cast o' their bum, They never socht mair o' the spinnin' o't. A pair o' gray hoggers weil cluikit benew, Of nae other lit but the hue of the ewe, With a pair o' rough mullions to scuff through the dew, Was the fee they socht at the beginnin' o't. But we maun ha'e linen, and that maun ha'e we, And some other things that the ladies ca' smocks; ROBERT BLAIR. BORN 1699 The gifted author of "The Grave" was a son of the Rev. David Blair, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, and grandson of the Rev. Robert | Blair, chaplain to Charles I., and one of the most zealous and distinguished clergymen of the period in which he lived. Robert was born in the year 1699 at Edinburgh; was educated for the church at the university of his native city, and afterwards travelled for pleasure and improvement on the Continent. In January, 1731, he was ordained minister of Athelstaneford, in East Lothian, where he passed the remainder of his life, "bosomed in the shade." He was an animated preacher, an accomplished scholar, and a botanist and florist, as well as a man of scientific and general knowledge. His first poem was one dedicated to the memory of Mr. William Law, professor of moral philosophy in the University of Edinburgh-whose daughter Isabella he afterwards married which was first published in Dr. Anderson's collection. Possessing a private fortune independent of his stipend as a parish minister, Blair, we are told, lived in the style of a country gentleman, associating with the neighbouring gentry, among whom were Sir Francis Kinloch, and the lamented Colonel Gardiner, who was killed at the battle of Prestonpans in 1745;-both Blair's warmest friends. It was Gardiner who appears to have been the means of his opening a correspondence with the celebrated Isaac Watts-a name never to be uttered without reverence by any lover of pure Christianity or by any well-wisher of mankind—and Dr. Doddridge, on the subject of "The Grave.” February 25, 1741-42, Blair addresses a letter to the latter, the following extract from which contains interesting information as to the composition and publication of his poem:-"About ten months ago Lady Frances Gardiner did me the favour to transmit to me some manuscript hymns of yours, with which I was wonderfully delighted. wish I could on my part contribute in any measure to your entertainment, as you have I DIED 1746. sometimes done to mine in a very high degree. And that I may show how willing I am to do so, I have desired Dr. Watts to transmit to you a manuscript poem of mine, entitled 'The Grave,' written, I hope, in a way not unbecoming my profession as a minister of the gospel, though the greatest part of it was composed several years before I was clothed with so sacred a character. I was urged by some friends here, to whom I showed it, to make it public; nor did I decline it, provided I had the approbation of Dr. Watts, from whom I have received many civilities, and for whom I had ever entertained the highest regard. Yesterday I had a letter from the doctor signifying his approbation of the piece in a manner most obliging. A great deal less from him would have done me no small honour. But, at the same time, he mentions to me that he had offered it to two booksellers of his acquaintance, who, he tells me, did not care to run the risk of publishing it. They can scarcely think, considering how critical an age we live in with respect to such kind of writings, that a person living 300 miles from London could write so as to be acceptable to the fashionable and polite. Perhaps it may be so, though at the same time I must say, in order to make it more generally liked, I was obliged sometimes to go cross to my own inclinations, well knowing that whatever poem is written upon a serious argument must, upon that very account, be under peculiar disadvantages; and, therefore, proper arts must be used to make such a piece go down with a licentious age, which cares for none of these things. I beg pardon for breaking in upon moments precious as yours, and hope you will be so kind as to give me your opinion of the poem." It was first printed in London, "for Mr. Cooper," in 1743, and again in Edinburgh in 1747. Blair died of a fever, February 4, 1746, and was succeeded at Athelstaneford by John Home, the author of "Douglas." He left a numerous family; and his fourth son, |