All this the raven saw with pain
And strove his credit to regain.

Quoth he, The solo which ye heard
In publick should not have appear'd:
The trifle of an idle hour,

To please my mistress once when sour:
My voice, that's somewhat rough and strong,
Might chance the melody to wrong,
But, try d by rules, you'll find the grounds
Most perfect and harmonious sounds.
He reason'd thus; but to his trouble,
At every word the laugh grew double :
At last o'ercome with shame and spite,
He flew away quite out of sight.

JAMES GRÆME.

Carnworth, Lanarkshire. 1749-1772.

Græme is indebted to the partial friendship of Dr. Anderson for a place among the English Poets.

In one of his pieces a very curious passage is to be found. It is debated in Heaven how to reward the distinguished virtue of Archibald Hamilton, Esq. son of the Reverend Mr. Hamilton, Minister of Douglas.

'Shall he at onee our happy mansions tread,
From life's low cares and flesh's fetters freed?
Or rather with some kindred spirit know

All that can be conceived of heaven below?

'Tis fix'd; and who shall question Heaven's award?
Be Miss Dinwiddie his divine reward.

The Student.

REMOTE from schools, from colleges remote,
In a poor hamlet's meanest, homeliest cot,
My earliest years were spent, obscurely low;
Little I knew, nor much desired to know

My highest wishes never mounted higher,
Than the attainments of an aged sire ;
Proverbial wisdom, competence of wealth,
Earn'd with hard labour, and enjoy'd with health,
Blest, had I still these blessings known to prize!
More rich I sure had been; perhaps more wise.

One luckless day, returning from the field,
Two swains, the wisest that the village held,
Talking of books and learning, I o'erheard,
Of learned men and learned men's reward:
How some rich wives, and some rich livings, got,
Sprung from the tenants of a turf-built cot:
Then both concluded though it ruin'd health,
Increase of learning was increase of wealth.

Fired with the prospect, I embraced the hint,
A grammar borrowed, and to work I went;
The scope and tenor of each rule I kept,
No accent miss'd me, and no gender scap'd;
I read whate'er commenting Dutchmen wrote,
Turn'd o'er Stobæus, and could Suidas quote ;
In letter'd Gellius traced the bearded sage
Through all the windings of a wise adage :
Was the spectator of each honest scar,
Each sophist carry'd from each wordy war;

Undaunted was my heart, nor could appal
The mustiest volume of the mustiest stall;
Where'er I turn'd, the giant-spiders fled,
And trembling moths retreated as I read;
Through Greece and Rome, I then observant
stray'd,

Their manners noted, and their states survey'd ;
Attended heroes to the bloody fields,

Their helmets polish'd, and emboss'd their shields;
With duteous hand the decent matron drest,
And wrapp'd the stripling in his manly vest;
Nor stop'd I there, but mingled with the boys,
Their rattles rattled, and improved their toys;
Lash'd conick turbos as in gyres they flew,
Bestrode their hobbies, and their whistles blew :
But still when this, and more than this, was done,
My coat was ragged and my hat was brown.

Then thus I commun'd with myself:

"Let all this learning in oblivion die,

"shall I

"Live in the haunts of ignorance, content "With vest unbutton'd, and with breeches rent? "None knows my merit here; if any knew, "A scholar's worth would meet a scholar's due. "What then? the college! ay, 'tis there I'll shine, "I'll study morals, or I'll turn divine;

"Struck with my letter'd fame, without a doubt,
"Some modern Lælius will find me out:
"Superior parts can never long be hid,

"And he who wants, deserves not to be fed."
Transported with the thoughts of this and that,
I stitch'd my garments, and I dyed my hat;
To college went, and found with much ado,
That roses were not red, nor violets blue;
That all I've learn'd, or all I yet may learn,
Can't help me truth from falsehood to discern.

All mere confusion, altogether hurl'd,
One dreary waste, one vast ideal world!

Where uproar rules, and do you what you will,
Uproar has ruled it, and will rule it still.
Victorious ergo, daring consequence,
Will even be a match for common sense!
To lordly reason every thing must bow,
The hero liberty, and conscience too;

The first is fetter'd in a fatal chain,

The latter gagg'd attempts to speak in vain. Locke! Malebranche! Hume! abstractions thrice abstract!

In reason give me what in sense I lack;

I feel my poverty, and in my eye,

My hat, though dyed has but a dusky dye,