Not merely to delight, but mend the heart.. Whilst fame, who longs to make true merit known, Impatient waits to claim thee as her own. Scorning the yoke of prejudice and pride, And firm integrity, youth's surest friend. So peace and honour all thy hours shall bless, THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. I'VE seen the smiling of fortune beguiling, Kind its caressing, But now 'tis fled, 'tis fled far away. I've seen the forest adorned the foremost, 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 why thus perplex us, poor sons of a day? 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 Then, glorious as a hero drest for war, Inflames the heavens, and, rushing on his way, Glad swarm the insects forth, the fishes play, Smooth glide his days in innocence and ease, 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, |