he retained some of the manuscripts of Bruce, | Logan. The truth here seems to be that and his conduct throughout the whole affair was careless and unsatisfactory. Bruce's friends also claim for him some of the hymns published by Logan as his own, and they show that the unfortunate young bard had applied himself to compositions of this kind, though none appeared in his works as published by Bruce was the founder, and Logan the perfecter, of these exquisite devotional strains; the former supplied stanzas which the latter extended into poems, imparting to the whole a finished elegance and beauty of diction which Bruce does not seem to have been capable of giving them. A VISIT TO THE COUNTRY IN AUTUMN. 'Tis past! no more the summer blooms! And twilight consecrates the floods; O let me wander through the sounding Ah! well-known streams! ah! wonted groves, The wild flower strown on summer's bier, Alas! the hospitable hall Where youth and friendship play'd, Wide to the winds a ruin'd wall Projects a death-like shade! The charm is vanish'd from the vales; The fancied Eden fades with all its flowers. Companions of the youthful scene, Endear'd from earliest days! Snatch'd to the shadows of despair; I stretch my arms; ye vanish into air! My steps, when innocent and young, I mourn'd the linnet-lover's fate, Alas! misfortune's cloud unkind All human beauty blast! The wrath of Nature smites our bowers, In silence sad the mourner walks and weeps! Relentless power! whose fated stroke And friendship's covenant fails! The bleeding shade, the unlaid ghost? And everlasting longings for the lost? Yet not unwelcome waves the wood Their chequer'd leaves the branches shed; They sadly sigh that winter's near: And solemn sounds the death-bell of the year. Gone to the resting-place of man, The everlasting home, Where ages past have gone before, Where future ages come. Thus Nature pour'd the wail of woe, Ascended to the sky. The Almighty heard; then from his throne And from the heaven, that open'd wide, "When mortal man resigns his breath, And falls a clod of clay, "Prepared of old for wicked men The bed of torment lies; The just shall enter into bliss Immortal in the skies." THE REIGN OF MESSIAH. Behold! the mountain of the Lord To this the joyful nations round, All tribes and tongues, shall flow; Up to the hill of God, they'll say, And to his house we'll go. The beam that shines on Zion hill No strife shall vex Messiah's reign, To ploughshares soon they beat their swords, No longer hosts, encountering hosts, Their millions slain deplore; They hang the trumpet in the hall, Come then-O come from every land, HEAVENLY WISDOM. O! happy is the man who hears Instruction's warning voice, And who celestial Wisdom makes His early, only choice. For she has treasures greater far In her right hand she holds to view She guides the young, with innocence, According as her labours rise, So her rewards increase; THE DYING CHRISTIAN. The hour of my departure's come; Not in mine innocence I trust; And through my Saviour's blood alone I look for mercy at thy throne. I leave the world without a tear, I come, I come, at thy command, I hear the voice that calls me home; WHILE FREQUENT ON TWEED. While frequent on Tweed and on Tay, Their harps all the Muses have strung, Should a river more limpid than they, The wood-fringed Esk flow unsung? The poet with pastoral strains, O nature's most beautiful bloom May flourish unseen and unknown: And the shadows of solitude gloom A form that might shine on a throne. Through the wilderness blossoms the rose, In sweetness retired from the sight; And Philomel warbles her woes Alone to the ear of the night. How often the beauty is hid · Amid shades that her triumphs deny! How often the hero forbid From the path that conducts to the sky! An Helen has pined in the grove; A Homer has wanted his name; Unseen in the circle of love, Unknown to the temple of fame. Yet let us walk forth to the stream, Where poet ne'er wandered before; Enamour'd of Mary's sweet name, How the echoes will spread to the shore! If the voice of the Muse be divine, Thy beauties shall live in my lay; He promised me a wedding-ring,— Alas! his watery grave, in Yarrow! "Sweet were his words when last we met, My passion I as freely told him; Clasp'd in his arms, I little thought That I should never more behold him! Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost; It vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow; Thrice did the water-wraith ascend, And gave a doleful groan through Yarrow. "His mother from the window look'd, With all the longing of a mother; His little sister weeping walk'd The greenwood path to meet her brother: They sought him east, they sought him west, They sought him all the Forest thorough; They only saw the cloud of night, They only heard the roar of Yarrow! "No longer from thy window look, Thou hast no son, thou tender mother! No longer walk, thou lovely maid! Alas! thou hast no more a brother! No longer seek him east or west, And search no more the Forest thorough; For, wandering in the night so dark, He fell a lifeless corse in Yarrow. "The tear shall never leave my cheek, And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow." The tear did never leave her cheek, No other youth became her marrow; She found his body in the stream, And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. THE BRAES OF YARROW. "Thy braes were bonnie, Yarrow stream! When first on them I met my lover; Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream! When now thy waves his body cover! For ever now, O Yarrow stream! Thou art to me a stream of sorrow; For never on thy banks shall I Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow. "He promised me a milk-white steed, To bear me to his father's bowers; He promised me a little page, To squire me to his father's towers; THE LIGHT OF THE MOON. The day is departed, and round from the cloud I cannot when present unfold what I feel; Maria, my love! do you long for the grove? Your voice, when it vibrates so sweet through My heart thrills-my eyes overflow. Your name from the shepherds whenever I hear Shall heart spring to heart, and Maria be mine, ROBERT FERGUSSON. BORN 1750-DIED 1774. common powers of conversation which, in his more advanced years, fascinated the associates of his convivial hours. The study of poetry seems also to have attracted his regard more than the scholastic and mathematical branches of science. It was during his residence at St. Andrews that he first 'committed the sin of rhyme.' His juvenile verses were thought to possess considerable merit; and even the professors, it is said, took particular notice of them." ROBERT FERGUSSON, the story of whose life | his classical acquirements, and for those unis one of the saddest in Scottish literary annals, was born at Edinburgh, October 17th, 1750. His father was a clerk in the office of the British Linen Company, and his mother, Elizabeth Forbes, a very superior woman, from whom he inherited both his genius and virtues. After spending four years at the high-school of his native city, Robert was sent to an academy at Dundee, where he remained for two years. He was originally intended for the church, and his friends having procured for him one of two bursaries left by a gentleman of the name of Fergusson for the education of boys of that name at the University of St. Andrews, he entered that college at the age of thirteen, and soon became distinguished for a quickness of parts which superseded assiduity of application, united with a fondness for society and amusement which presaged a wayward life. Frank, kind-hearted, and frolicsome, he gained the love of his fellow-students, and in all their follies bore a leading part. One of their favourite resorts on winter nights was the porter's lodge, which has been made the subject of some pleasing reminiscences in his "Elegy on John Hogg, the Porter:" Say, ye red gowns! that aften here Ye'll ne'er again, in life's career, "At St. Andrews," says his biographer, "he became conspicuous for the respectability of His superior abilities and taste for poetry recommended him especially to the favour of Dr. Wilkie, author of the "Epigoniad," then professor of natural philosophy at St. Andrews, who occasionally employed him to transcribe his lectures. After a residence of four years at the university, his bursary having expired, Fergusson appears to have abandoned all thoughts of the ministry, and returned to his mother's roof, his father having died two years previous. His mother's poverty rendering it necessary that he should find some kind of employment, he paid a visit to a maternal uncle in affluent circumstances, residing a few miles from Aberdeen, in the hope of being assisted in this object through his recommendation. He was civilly received, and remained for some months his uncle's guest, without, however, being put in a way of providing for himself; at the end of this time, when his clothes began to assume a somewhat shabby appearance, he was no longer deemed fit to appear at his uncle's table, and was politely turned out of doors. This heartless conduct rankled deep in Robert's |