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Still with sheep my memories go,
On our heath of knolls afar:
Oh, for red-streak'd rocks so lone!

Where in spring the young fawns leap;
And the crags where winds have blown-
Cheaply I should find my sleep.

DISAPPOINTED LOVE.1

Heavy to me is the shieling, and the hum that is in it,

Since the ear that was wont to listen is no more on the watch.

Where is Isabel, the courteous, the conversable, a sister in kindness?

Where is Anne, the slender-browed, the turret

Thou callest me not to thy side; but love is to me

for a messenger.

There is strife within me, and I toss to be at liberty;
And ever the closer it clings, and the delusion is
growing to me as a tree.

Anne, yellow-haired daughter of Donald, surely
thou knowest not how it is with me-
That it is old love, unrepaid, which has worn
down from me my strength;

That when far from thee, beyond many moun-
tains, the wound in my heart was throbbing,
Stirring and searching for ever, as when I sat
beside thee on the turf.

Now, then, hear me this once, if for ever I am to be without thee

My spirit is broken-give me one kiss ere I leave this land!

breasted, whose glossy hair pleased me when Haughtily and scornfully the maid looked upon yet a boy?

Heich! what an hour was my returning!

Pain such as that sunset brought, what availeth me to tell it?

I traversed the fold, and upward among the

trees

Each place, far and near, wherein I was wont to salute my love.

When I looked down from the crag, and beheld the

fair-haired stranger dallying with his bride,

I wished that I had never revisited the glen of my dreams.

Such things came into my heart, as that sun was going down,

A pain of which I shall never be rid, what availeth me to tell it?

me;

Never will it be work for thy fingers to unloose the band from my curls;

Thou hast been absent a twelvemonth, and six were seeking me diligently,

Was thy superiority so high that there should be no end of abiding for thee?

Ha! ha! ha!-hast thou at last become sick?

Is it love that is to give death to thee? Surely the enemy has been in no haste.

But how shall I hate thee, even though towards me thou hast become cold?

When my discourse is most angry concerning thy name in thine absence,

Of a sudden thine image, with its old dearness, comes visibly into my mind,

My sleep is disturbed-busy is foolishness within And a secret voice whispers that love will yet

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and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which was the book of life. . . . And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them; and they were judged every man according to their works."

led a rather irregular life for many years, but | place for them. And I saw the dead, small at length reformed, and in 1755 the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge appointed him schoolmaster and catechist at Kinloch Rannoch. In this secluded spot he laboured with diligence during the remainder of his days; and here he wrote various poems and hymns, which latter will render his name as lasting as the Gaelic in which they were written. Besides his sacred poems and lyrics, he wrote a diary, which has been published with a memoir of the author. He possessed a most felicitous style, and it is to be regretted that his poetical writings, which resemble those of Cowper, have never been properly translated. His "Day of Judgment," displaying great power of imagination, is among the most popular poems in the language; "The Dream" contains useful lessons on the vanity of human pursuits; and "The Skull" is a highly poetic composition.

He rendered very essential service to the Rev. James Stewart of Killin in translating the New Testament into Gaelic, and accompanied that gentleman to Edinburgh in 1766, for the purpose of supervising its publication. During his sojourn in the Scottish capital he attended the university classes in natural philosophy, anatomy, astronomy, and divinity. Among the men of distinction to whom Buchanan was introduced in Edinburgh was the celebrated David Hume, who kindly invited him to his house. While discussing the merits of various authors the historian observed that it was impossible to imagine anything more sublime than some of the passages in Shakspere, and in support of his assertion that they were far superior to any contained in the Bible he quoted the magnificent lines from "The Tempest

"The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve,
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Leave not a wreck behind."

The poet admitted the great beauty and sub-
limity of the lines, but said that he could fur-
nish a passage from the New Testament still
more sublime, and recited the following verses:
"And I saw a great white throne, and him that
sat on it, from whose face the earth and the
heaven fled away; and there was found no

Buchanan's beautiful hymns, which are sung in every Highland cottage, were first published in 1767. Since that time upwards of fifteen editions have been issued. "It may be truly said," remarks a recent writer, "that we have one hymn-writer, Dugald Buchanan, that has never yet been surpassed by any hymnpoet of any country, ancient or modern. The great characteristic of our hymns is their devotional and evangelical tone. A heterodox mist, or even an unscriptural or doubtful expression, is never met with. They have, however, one great fault in common- their length. The same fault characterizes all the popular songs of the Celts. The singing of fifty or one hundred stanzas with our ancestors seemed a common and quite a feasible thing.

Dugald Buchanan is perhaps the only modern (Gaelic) poet that possesses much sublimity: many verses of his minor pieces, and nearly the whole of his 'Day of Judgment,' are dramatically vivid and very sublime." Soon after the publication of his little volume of hymns the poet returned to his useful and pious labours at Rannoch, where he died, June 2, 1768. His many friends there desired that his remains should be buried among them, but his wife and children preferred that he should be interred in the burial-place of his ancestors at Little Leny, near Callander. A meeting was held there more than a century after the poet's death by the Dugald Buchanan Memorial Committee, when a large number of influential gentlemen were present. Suggestions were made about establishing a Dugald Buchanan bursary, and about placing a tombstone in Little Leny churchyard over the poet's grave, but the committee agreed to restrict their operations for the present to the erection of a monument in Strathire, where the poet was born and bred.

1 Remarks on Scottish Gaelic Literature, by Nigel M'Neill, Inverness, 1873.

THE SKULL.

As I sat by the grave, at the brink of its cave
Lo! a featureless skull on the ground:
The symbol I clasp, and detain in my grasp,
While I turn it around and around.

Alas! that thine aid should have ever betray'd
Thy hope when the need was thine own;
What salve or annealing sufficed for thy healing
When the hours of thy portion were flown?

Without beauty or grace, or a glance to express Or, wert thou a hero, a leader to glory,

Of the by-stander nigh a thought;

Its jaw and its mouth are tenantless both, Nor passes emotion its throat.

No glow on its face, no ringlets to grace

Its brow, and no ear for my song;

While armies thy truncheon obey'd;

To victory cheering, as thy foemen careering In flight, left their mountains of dead?

Was thy valiancy laid, or unhilted thy blade, When came onwards in battle array

Hush'd the caves of its breath, and the finger of The sepulchre-swarms, ensheathed in their arms,

death

The raised features hath flatten'd along.

The eyes' wonted beam, and the eyelids' quick gleam

The intelligent sight, are no more;

But the worms of the soil, as they wriggle and coil, Come hither their dwellings to bore.

No lineament here is left to declare
If monarch or chief wert thou;
Alexander the Brave, as the portionless slave
That on dunghill expires, is as low.

Thou delver of death, in my ear let thy breath
Who tenants my hand unfold;

That my voice may not die without a reply,
Though the ear it addresses is cold.

Say, wert thou a may, of beauty a ray,

And flatter'd thine eye with a smile? Thy meshes didst set, like the links of a net, The hearts of the youth to wile?

Alas! every charm that a bosom could warm
Is changed to the grain of disgust!
Oh! fie on the spoiler for daring to soil her
Gracefulness all in the dust!

Say, wise in the law, did the people with awe Acknowledge thy rule o'er them

A magistrate true, to all dealing their due, And just to redress or condemn?

Or was righteousness sold for handfuls of gold In the scales of thy partial decree;

While the poor were unheard when their suit they preferr'd,

And appeal'd their distresses to thee?

To sack and to rifle their prey?

How they joy in their spoil, as thy body the while Besieging, the reptile is vain,

And her beetle-mate blind hums his gladness to find

His defence in the lodge of thy brain!

Some dig where the sheen of the ivory has been, Some, the organ where music repair'd;

In rabble and rout they come in and come out At the gashes their fangs have bared.

.

Do I hold in my hand a whole lordship of land,
Represented by nakedness here?
Perhaps not unkind to the helpless thy mind,
Nor all unimparted thy gear;

Perhaps stern of brow to thy tenantry thou!
To leanness their countenances grew-
'Gainst their crave for respite, when thy clamour
for right

Required, to a moment, its due;

While the frown of thy pride to the aged denied
To cover their head from the chill,
And humbly they stand, with their bonnet in hand,
As cold blows the blast of the hill.

Thy serfs may look on, unheeding thy frown,
Thy rents and thy mailings unpaid;
All praise to the stroke their bondage that broke!
While but claims their obeisance the dead.

Or a head do I clutch whose devices were such
That death must have lent them his sting-
So daring they were, so reckless of fear,
As heaven had wanted a king?

Say, once in thine hour, was thy medicine of power Did the tongue of the lie, while it couch'd like a To extinguish the fever of ail?

And seem'd, as the pride of thy leech-craft e'en

tried,

O'er omnipotent death to prevail?

spy

In the haunt of thy venomous jaws, Its slander display, as poisons its prey The devilish snake in the grass?

That member unchain'd by strong bands is restrain'd,

The inflexible shackles of death;

And its emblem, the trail of the worm, shall prevail

Where its slaves once harbour'd beneath.

And oh if thy scorn went down to thine urn,
And expired with impenitent groan;
To repose where thou art is of peace all thy part,
And then to appear at the throne!

Like a frog, from the lake that leapeth, to take
To the Judge of thy actions the way,
And to hear from his lips, amid nature's eclipse,
Thy sentence of termless dismay.

The hardness thy bones shall environ,

To brass-links the veins of thy frame

Shall stiffen, and the glow of thy manhood shall grow

Like the anvil that melts not in flame!

But wert thou the mould of a champion bold
For God and his truth and his law?

Oh! then, though the fence of each limb and each sense

Is broken-each gem with a flaw

Be comforted thou! For rising in air
Thy flight shall the clarion obey;

And the shell of thy dust thou shalt leave to be crush'd,

If they will, by the creatures of prey.

THE DREAM.

As lockfasted in slumber's arms

I lay and dream'd (so dreams our race When every spectral object charms,

To melt, like shadow, in the chase),

A vision came; mine ear confess'd

Its solemn sounds: "Thou man distraught! Say, owns the wind thy hand's arrest,

Or fills the world thy crave of thought?

"Since fell transgression ravaged here, And reft man's garden-joys away, He weeps his unavailing tear,

And straggles, like a lamb astray.

"With shrilling bleat for comfort hie To every pinfold, humankind; Ah! there the fostering teat is dry,

The stranger mother proves unkind.

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"Thy wish has prosper'd;-has its taste Survived the hour its lust was drown'd; Or yields thine expectation's zest

To full fruition, golden-crown'd? "The rosebud is life's symbol bloom'Tis loved, 'tis coveted, 'tis riven; Its grace, its fragrance, find a tomb, When to the grasping hand 'tis given. "Go, search the world wherever woe Of high or low the bosom wrings, There, gasp for gasp, and throe for throe, Is answer'd from the breast of kings.

"From every hearth-turf reeks its cloud,
From every heart its sigh is roll'd;
The rose's stalk is fang'd-one shroud
Is both the sting's and honey's fold.

"Is wealth thy lust-does envy pine

Where high its tempting heaps are piled? Look down, behold the fountain shine,

And, deeper still, with dregs defiled!

"Quickens thy breath with rash inhale, And folds an insect in its toil? The creature turns thy life-blood pale,

And blends thine ivory teeth with soil.

"When high thy fellow-mortal soars,

His state is like the topmast nestIt swings with every blast that wars,

And every motion shakes its crest.

"And if the world for once is kind,
Yet ever has the lot its bend;
Where fortune has the crook inclined,
Not all thy strength or art shall mend.

"For as the sapling's sturdy stalk,

Whose double twist is crossly strain'd, Such is thy fortune-sure to baulk

At this extreme what there was gained.

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