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Not merely to delight, but mend the heart..
Than other poets happier may'st thou prove,
More blest in friendship, fortunate in love,

Whilst fame, who longs to make true merit known, Impatient waits to claim thee as her own.

Scorning the yoke of prejudice and pride,
Thy tender mind let truth and reason guide;
Let meek humility thy steps attend,

And firm integrity, youth's surest friend.

So peace and honour all thy hours shall bless,
And conscious rectitude each joy increase;
A nobler meed be thine than empty praise-
Heaven shall approve thy life, and Keith thy lays.

THE

FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

I'VE seen the smiling of fortune beguiling,
I've felt all its favours and found its decay:
Sweet was its blessing,

Kind its caressing,

But now 'tis fled, 'tis fled far away.

I've seen the forest adorned the foremost,
With flowers of the fairest, most pleasant and gay;
Sae bonnie was their blooming,

Their scent the air perfuming;

But now they are withered, and are a' wede away.

I've seen the morning with gold the hills adorning, And the dread tempest roaring before parting day; I've seen Tweed's silver streams,

Glitt'ring in the sunny beams,

Grow drumlie and dark as they rolled on their way.
O fickle fortune! why this cruel sporting?

O why thus perplex us, poor sons of a day?
Thy frowns cannot fear me,

Thy smiles cannot cheer me,

For the Flowers of the Forest are withered away.

JOHN WILSON.

1720-1789.

Youngest son of a small farmer on the estate of Corehouse, in the parish of Lesmahagow, the author of "Clyde" began the battle of life at the early age of 14. In 1746 he obtained the permanent situation of schoolmaster in his native parish, and five years later he married. His culture and humour appear to have made him very acceptable to the society of his neighbourhood; and on the publication of his first poetical essay, a sketch afterwards enlarged into his tragedy of "Earl Douglas," he was invited to an interview with the Duke of Douglas. The story of that interview, told by Leyden, forms one of the two outstanding incidents in Wilson's life. The Duke, it appears, desired the poet to sit down and drink wine with him. At the second glass his Grace suddenly leapt to his feet, produced a pair of pistols, and with stern features walked three times round his astonished guest. Wilson, however, gave no sign of alarm, whereupon the Duke sat down, replaced the pistols in their case, and with a smile returned to his wine. The singular conduct, he said, had been assumed to try the courage of his visitor, and to ascertain whether the latter had been infected by the popular notion of his Grace's insanity. During the interview the Duke expressed a warm interest in education and learning, and offered his visitor his furtherance in any way that would benefit him. These kind expressions, however, remained without fruit, as the eccentric Duke, last of the lineal descent of the old Earls of Angus and Douglas, died shortly afterwards.

While at Lesmahagow Wilson developed his dramatic sketch into a tragedy entitled "Earl of Douglas"; and a descriptive sketch of the Nethan which he had written he expanded into his other and more famous poem of "Clyde." Both of these were printed at Glasgow in 1764, and inscribed to Margaret, Duchess of Douglas. In the same year the poet received a better paid appointment as classical teacher at Rutherglen, and there he devoted his leisure to the perfecting of his chief work. He had issued proposals for its re-publication when he was nominated to the position of master of the Grammar School of Greenock. Here occurred the second conspicuous incident in the poet's life. So deeply were the magistrates of Greenock still imbued with

the narrow spirit of the early Calvinistic reformers that before they conferred the appointment they stipulated that Wilson should sign a paper promising to abandon the "profane and unprofitable art of poem-making." By this time Wilson was father of a family of nine, and the instincts of affection prevailed over the fire of poesie. He accepted the situation, loyally kept to his bond, and from that time, except for a casual improvization or two, sang no more. He died in 1789. In 1803 the poem of "Clyde" was edited, with the author's unpublished emendations, by Dr. John Leyden, and printed in a volume of Scottish Descriptive Poems.

The poem on which Wilson's fame rests is of the locodescriptive character, of the same class as Denham's "Cooper's Hill" and Pope's "Windsor Forest." Its chief fault probably

is that it contents itself with the mere enumeration of natural objects, instead of bodying forth the human feelings which they inspire. For this reason the traditional and historical passages are apt to be perfunctory and uninteresting. Wilson's descriptions, however, are invariably true to nature, and again and again he has a picturesque passage well worthy of enduring remembrance.

CLYDE.

A SUMMER DAY.

WHEN Lucifer, unrivalled, marks his way
Through fainting stars, to usher in the day,
And soft-awakening morn, serenely bright,
Pours from her opening eyes the silver light,
Less huge the hills, the steeps less dreadful seem,
O'er dewy valleys shoots a silver gleam,
Brighter and wider dart the reddening rays,
Till the pale stars expire amidst the blaze,
And all the east, the veil of clouds unrolled,
Flames bright in purple and celestial gold.

Then, glorious as a hero drest for war,
Forth issues Phoebus in his radiant car,

Inflames the heavens, and, rushing on his way,
O'erflows the world with blazing, boundless day.
Each blushing flower, tinged cloud, and gilded field
In various lustres grateful tributes yield.

Glad swarm the insects forth, the fishes play,
The cattle wanton, mankind bless his ray.
Healthful and gay the shepherd leaves his rest
As early morn first streaks the ruddy east ;
His dogs attending, bounds the mountains o'er,
Explores, collects, and counts his fleecy store,
Then tunes his pipes, and with a cheerful lay
Joins the grand hymn to welcome rising day.
The towering lark ascends on pinions strong,
And as she mounts improves the varying song;
Sweeter and sweeter modulates the sound,
Till song and songster are in ether drowned.
Her numbers clear the shepherd's mind employ
Who sucks the soul of harmony and joy;
His harmless flock and tender lambs conspire
To feed humanity's refining fire.

Smooth glide his days in innocence and ease,
The half of earth, and more of heaven he sees;
As on the airy hill he lies reclined

Each prospect swells his self-illumined mind.

At dawn the sprightly milk-maid band appears, Whose distant laugh strikes his delighted ears, All fresh as morn, as early summer gay, And sweetly fragrant as the breath of May. Health decks their comely cheeks with rosy grace, And innocence plays cheerful o'er their face. Love lends his pinions, swift the shepherd springs,

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