Till baith at length impatient grown To be mair fully blest, In yonder vale they leaned them downLove only saw the rest. What passed, I guess was harmless play, For ganging hame I heard him say Quoth Mary, "Love, I like the burn, And aye shall follow you." ROBERT BLAIR. 1699-1746. Of an equal boldness with Ramsay in departing from the conventions of the school of Pope, but at the same time of a very different spirit from the author of "The Gentle Shepherd," was Robert Blair. As Ramsay was the chief exponent of Scottish humour of the time, Blair may be regarded as the apostle of melancholy. His work, with its rude pathos, strength, and keen feeling for nature, remains typical of the darker side of the Scottish spirit. 66 Grandson of Robert Blair, the celebrated Covenanter, and eldest son of a minister of the same name in Edinburgh, the poet was educated at Edinburgh University, and travelled for a time on the continent, before settling as minister of Athelstaneford in Haddingtonshire in 1731. His first printed verses appeared in the Edinburgh Miscellany in 1720, and he was the author of several pieces, but his sole title to remembrance is his chief poem, The Grave." This was begun before his settlement at Athelstaneford, but was not published till 1743. The poem was long popular, and if the rhythm does not always appear entirely harmonious, the imagery is vigorous and unhackneyed, and the style in admirable keeping with the subject. In more than one of the passages, as that on the gravedigger and on the question of a hereafter, the inspiration appears obviously Shakespearean; but the main conception is entirely original, the number of quoted phrases in a piece of no more than 750 lines is remarkable, and the final passage, the best thing Blair wrote, expresses worthily the spirit of triumphant Christian philosophy-"O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?" One of Blair's lines, that of visits "like those of angels short and far between," remains familiar in the form in which it was repeated and spoiled by Campbell. The poet died of fever on February 4, 1746, and was succeeded in his charge by John Home, author of the tragedy of "Douglas.' Blair's wife was a daughter of Mr. Law of Elvingston, Professor of Moral Philosophy at Edinburgh University, a lovely and amiable woman, by whom he had five sons and a daughter. His fourth son afterwards became President of the Court of Session. Among numerous editions of Blair's work, that illustrated by William Blake, and published by Cromek in 1808, remains specially notable. THE GRAVE. WHILST some affect the sun, and some the shade, The keys of hell and death. The Grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature, appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness. Ah, how dark Thy long-extended realms and rueful wastes, night,. Dark as was chaos ere the infant sun Was rolled together, or had tried its beams And only serves to make the night more irksome. Cheerless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell See yonder hallowed fane! the pious work Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird, Rooked in the spire, screams loud. The gloomy aisles, Black-plastered and hung round with shreds of scutcheons And tattered coats of arms, send back the sound, Laden with heavier airs from the low vaults, The mansions of the dead. Roused from their slumbers, In grim array the grisly spectres rise, Grin horrible, and, obstinately sullen, Pass and repass, hushed as the foot of night. Again the screech-owl shrieks-ungracious sound! I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood run chill. [The supernatural terrors of the churchyard are described, the pangs of widowed love, and the dear memories of friendship.] Dull Grave! thou spoil'st the dance of youthful blood, Strik'st out the dimple from the cheek of mirth, Before she was aware? Ah, sullen now, And dumb as the green turf that covers them! From kings of all the then discovered globe, And cried, forsooth, because his arm was hampered And crammed into a space we blush to name! [A royal funeral is described, and the futility of human fame descanted on. In turn the grave is made to furnish a lesson to beauty, strength, and learning; the orator, the physician, and the hoarder of wealth are each warned of the end that waits them. The soul is brought to face the eternal gulf, and the question asked of a hereafter. The folly of pride is pointed out, for |