While from above the owl, musician dire!
Screams hideous, harsh, and grating to the ear.

Equal in age, and sharers of its fate,
A row of moss-grown trees around it stand.
Scarce here and there, upon their blasted tops,
A shrivell'd leaf distinguishes the year;
Emblem of hoary age, the eve of life,
When man draws nigh his everlasting home,
Within a step of the devouring grave;

When all his views and towering hopes are gone, And every appetite before him dead.

The extracts and observations now given,

that in loco-descriptive ion of Mr. Bruce holds a, rank; were I, indeed, to

will, I hope, prove,
poetry, this pr
t disti
e it

D

SO

s, I know not,

rits well consiThat it has dedenied; the dic

ated, nor

upon the ponderate, the sources, dy and faith

at he must be a

very fastidious critic, indeed, who should suffer these minutiæ to divert his attention, or deteriorate his pleasure.

On the smaller poems of our author, it will not be expected, after the extensive survey already taken of his principal production, that I should enter into any particular criticism; the Elegy written in Spring, however, the Danish Odes, and the Ballad of Sir James the Ross, cannot be dismissed in silence. The circumstances under which the first of these pieces was composed, render it more than ordinarily impressive. "A young man of genius," observes Lord Craig, "in a deep consumption, at the age of twenty-one, feeling himself every moment going faster to decline, is an object sufficiently interesting; but how much must every feeling on the occasion be heightened, when we know that this person possessed so much dignity and compo sure of mind, as not only to contemplate his approaching fate, but even to write a poem on the subject." It should be remembered, also, that this production, as an elegy, merits great praise for the elegance and simplicity

of its language, for the adoption and arrangement of its imagery, for the piety and pathos of its sentiment.

The Danish Odes, which form a fine contrast with the plaintive melody of the Muse of Sorrow, breathe much of the martial ardor and festivity of the heroes of Scandinavia. They are evidently built on the model of Gray's celebrated Norse Lyrics, and, like them, glow with enthusiasm, and display some striking features of the wild mythology of the North. The fourth and fifth stanzas* of the first ode, are particularly entitled to commendation.

Bruce appears to have been well qualified to excel in Legendary Poetry, and to have formed a very accurate idea of its principles and peculiarities. His ballad of Sir James the Ross, is well told, the incidents are art fully managed, and the whole strongly inte rest's the heart. That it was formed on a just conception of this style of poetry, and' composed, to use an Italian phrase, con amore, are evident from his own account; 66 it was written," he observes to Mr. Pearson, "in

one afternoon, began about four, and finished before I went to bed. I never tried any thing which fell in with my inclination so. The Historical Ballad is a species of writing by itself. The common people confound it with the Song, but, in truth, they are widely different. A Song should never be historical. It is founded, generally, on some one thought, which must be prosecuted and exhibited in every light, with a quickness and turn of expression peculiar to itself. The Ballad, again, is founded on some passage of history, or, what suits its nature better, of tradition. Here the poet may use his liberty, and cut and carve as he has a mind. I think it a kind of writing, remarkably adapted to the Scottish language."

This opinion of our poet, relative to the adaptation of the Scottish dialect to Legendary poetry, is certainly well founded, and has been since confirmed by several very learned and adequate judges.* In fact, the two finest Ballads that British poetry has to produce are of Scottish growth, namely,

Vide Beattie, Pinkerton, Currie, &c. &c.

Hardyknute and Tam O'Shanter, the former uniformly grand, sublime, and awful; the latter uniting the wild and terrific imagery of Shakspeare, with the humour, simplicity, and näivete of Fontaine.

On the pastoral poetry of Bruce I can bestow little commendation; it has the too frequent insipidity of productions of this kind. The Daphnis, as an imitation of Milton, is infinitely inferior to its prototype, and for the Alexis, if we except harmony of versification, I know not that any thing can be said. A few words will likewise suffice as to his efforts in ludicrous composition, for which, perhaps, he had no great talent, when of his Mousiad and his Anacreontic it has been asserted, that they may amuse, and are not altogether deficient in pleasantry and humour, all that he can claim has probably been granted.

Concerning the authenticity of the pieces which have been added to the last edition of our author's poems, much dispute has arisen. Logan, very injudiciously, on first publishing the works of his friend, intermingled poems