style, prefacing them with an exclamation of"Sir, we deists." When Gibbon the historian was dismissed from Oxford for embracing Popery he took refuge in Mallet's house, and was rather scandalized, he says, than reclaimed by the philosophy of his host. Wilkes mentions that the vain and fantastic wife one day lamented to a lady that her husband suffered in reputation by his name being so often confounded with Smollett; the lady wittily answered, "Madam, there is a short remedy: let your husband keep his own name." There is a good anecdote told of the way in which Mallet tricked Garrick into the performance of his play of "Elvira," that great actor being opposed to its representation. He made him believe that in the Life of Marlborough, with which he always pretended to be so busy, he had not failed to make honourable mention of Garrick's name. The vanity of the theatrical hero was flattered by the compliment, and there was nothing at that moment which he would not do "to serve his good friend Mr. Mallet." When Pope published his "Essay on Man," but concealed the authorship, Mallet entering one day, Pope asked him what there was new. Mallet told him that the newest piece was something called an "Essay on Man," which he had inspected, and seeing the utter inability of the author, who had neither skill in writing nor knowledge of the subject, had tossed it away; whereupon the little poet, who has been said to have resembled an interrogation point, to punish Mallet's self-conceit, told him he wrote it. In conclusion, we will quote the words of Dr. Johnson, who says, Mallet's conversation was elegant and easy; his works are such as any writer, bustling in the world, showing himself in public, and emerging occasionally, from time to time, into notice, might keep alive by his personal influence; but which, conveying but little information, and giving no great pleasure, must soon give way as the succession of things produces new topics of conversation and other modes of amusement." A new edition of Mallet's ballads and songs, with notes and illustrations and a memoir of the author by Frederick Dinsmore, was published in 1857. The work bears evidence on every page that its preparation was a labour of love. Why did you swear my eyes were bright, Yet leave those eyes to weep? How could you say my face was fair, And yet that face forsake? Why did you say my lip was sweet, That face, alas! no more is fair, Those lips no longer red; Dark are my eyes, now closed in death, And every charm is fled. The hungry worm my sister is; This winding-sheet I wear: But, hark! the cock has warned me hence; The lark sung loud; the morning smiled He hied him to the fatal place Where Margaret's body lay; And stretched him on the green-grass turf And thrice he called on Margaret's name, THE BIRKS OF INVERMAY.1 The smiling morn, the breathing spring, 1 Three other stanzas sometimes appear with Mallet's song, which was a great favourite with poor Fergusson. They are generally attributed to the Rev. Alexander Bryce, 1713-1786.-ED. For soon the winter of the year, A FUNERAL HYMN. Ye midnight shades, o'er nature spread! On this pale ground, Through all this deep surrounding gloom, The sober thought, The tear untaught, Those meetest mourners at a tomb. Lo! as the surpliced train draw near In holy musings wrap the mind! Attending tapers faintly dart, Each mouldering bone, Each sculptured stone, Strikes mute instruction to the heart! Now let the sacred organ blow, With solemn pause, and sounding slow: Now, let the voice due measure keep, In strains that sigh, and words that weep; Till all the vocal current blended roll, Not to depress, but lift the soaring soul To lift it to the Maker's praise, Who first informed our frame with breath, And, after some few stormy days, Now, gracious, gives us o'er to death. No king of fears Receives him on her flowery shore; Where pleasure's rose Immortal blows, And sin and sorrow are no more! AS SYLVIA IN A FOREST LAY. As Sylvia in a forest lay, To vent her woe alone: Her swain Sylvander came that way, You vow'd the light should darkness turn, In shades now may creation mourn, To ev'ry oath you swore! 'Tis plain your drift was all deceit, The practice of mankind; Alas! I see it, but too late, My love had made me blind. But oh! with grief I'm fill'd, This said all breathless, sick, and pale, But ere the word was given. The heavy hand of death she felt. A YOUTH ADORN'D WITH EVERY ART. A youth, adorn'd with every art His face and shape exprest. In moving sounds he told his tale, That wakes the flowery year. At morn he left me-fought, and fell, YE WOODS AND YE MOUNTAINS UNKNOWN. Ye woods and ye mountains unknown, Beneath whose dark shadows I stray, To the breast of my charmer alone These sighs bid sweet echo convey. Wherever he pensively leans, By fountain, on hill, or in grove, His heart will explain what she means, Who sings both from sorrow and love. More soft than the nightingale's song, O waft the sad sound to his ear; And say, tho' divided so long, The friend of his bosom is near. I felt when I liv'd in his sight! ALEXANDER MACDONALD. BORN 1701 - DIED 1780. ALEXANDER MACDONALD, Second son of the Episcopal clergyman of Ardnamurchan, was born at Dalilea, in Moidart, in the first year of the eighteenth century. His father wished him to follow his own profession, and ga him a classical education, while the Clanrana of that day desired young Alexander, of whe great hopes were entertained, to be educat for the bar. Like many a wayward son of polis he prepared for the press and published the Muse he disappointed both his chief and by subscription a volume of Gaelic poems, conhis father. While at college he inconsiderately taining nearly all his best productions. Remarried Mary Macdonald, on whom he had turning to his native district he attempted composed several songs; and without com- farming, but his efforts, as in the case of a pleting his course, he, to support himself and greater Scottish bard-Robert Burns—were his young wife, became a teacher. It is said not attended with success, and for several that he was first employed as such by the years before his death at Santaig, about 1780, Society for the Propagation of Christian Know- he was chiefly dependent for support on the ledge; afterwards as parochial schoolmaster liberality of his more prosperous relations. at Ardnamurchan, residing in a romantic Some Gaelic scholars esteem Macdonald's situation on the Sound of Mull, directly oppo-"Blessing of the Biorlinn" as equal to Ossian's site to Tobermory. While in this agreeable | poems of the same length, and pronounce the position he prepared a vocabulary for the use force of thought and energy of poetical ardour of Gaelic schools, the first work of the kind in with which he the language. It was published at Edinburgh in 1741. When Prince Charles landed he laid down the ferule and took up the sword. He was the Tyrtæus of the Highland army, and his warlike strains aroused the greatest enthusiasm among the followers of the ill-fated Stuart. At the close of the rebellion, in which he bore an officer's commission, Macdonald and his elder brother Angus escaped pursuit, and for a time sought shelter in the woods and caves of Borradale, in the district of Arasaig. After a time Jacobite friends invited the poet to Edinburgh to take charge of the education of their children. While residing in the metro "Hurls the Biorlinn through the cold glens," unsurpassed, if indeed it has been equalled, by any modern Highland poet. His poem in praise of Mòrag contains many lofty and impassioned lines, and his Odes to Spring and Winter are indicative of high poetic power. Collections of his poems were published in 1751 and 1764, and a third volume of his poetry appeared in 1802. It is asserted by Mackenzie that but a small portion of this bard's poems have been preserved in print. His son Ronald, having published a volume, and not meeting with encouragement for a second, destroyed all his father's manuscripts. THE LION OF MACDONALD. Awake, thou first of creatures! indignant in their | O'er crested chieftaincy thy state, O thou of frown, right assuming! Let the flag unfold the features that the heather I see thee, on thy silken flag, in rampant3 glory To living thing may not concede thy meed and A following of the trustiest are cluster'd bythy side, actions glorious; How oft thy noble head has woke thy valiant men to battle, And woe, their flaming visages of crimson, who shall bide? As panic o'er their spirit broke, and rued the foe The heather and the blossom are pledges of their their mettle. Is there thy praise to underrate, in very thought presuming 1 The Macdonald badge is a tuft of heather. faith, And the foe that shall assail them is destined to the death. The clan claimed the right wing of the battle. 3 A lion rampant is the Macdonald cognizance, Was not a dearth of mettle among thy native kind, | What limbs were wrenched, what furrows They were foremost in the battle, nor in the chase behind. And thick the life-blood's reek ascends of the downfallen and the dying. Clandonuil, still my darling theme, is the prime of every clan; How oft the heady war in has it chased where thousands ran. O ready, bold, and venomful, these native warriors brave, Like adders coiling on the hill, they dart with stinging glaive; Nor wants their course the speed, the force-nor wants their gallant stature This of the rock, that of the flock that skim along the water. Like whistle-shriek the blows they strike, as the torrent of the fell; So fierce they gush, the moor-flames' rush their ardour symbols well. Clandonuil's root,3 when crowd each shoot of sapling, branch, and stem, What forest fair shall e'er compare in stately pride with them? Their gathering might what legion wight in rivalry has dar'd, drench'd, in that cloud-burst of steel, That atoned the provocation, and smok'd from head to heel; While cry and shriek of terror break the field of strife along, And stranger notes are wailing the slaughter'd heaps among. When, from the kingdom's breadth and length, might other muster gather, So flush in spirit, firm in strength, the stress of arms to weather? Steel to the core, that evermore to expectation true, Like gallant deer-hounds from the slip, or like an arrow flew, Where deathful strife was calling, and sworded files were closed, Was sapping breach the wall in of the ranks that stood oppos'd, And thirsty brands were hot for blood, and quivering to be on, And with the whistle of the blade was sounding many a groan. O, from the sides of Albyn, full thousands would be proud, The natives of her mountains gray, around the tree to crowd; Where stream the colours flying, and frown the features grim Of yonder emblem Lion, with his staunch and crimson limb. Up, up, be bold, quick be unroll'd the gathering of your levy, Let every step bound forth a leap, and every hand be heavy; The furnace of the mêlée, where burn your swords the best, Eschew not; to the rally, where blaze your streamers, haste! That silken sheet, by death-strokes fleet and strong defenders mann'd, Dismays the flutter of its leaves the chosen of the land. ADDRESS TO THE MORNING. Son of the young Morn! that glancest How gay on the wild thou advancest Where the streams laugh as onward they fare, Or to ravish from their Lion's face a bristle of his And the trees, yet bedewed by the shower, beard? 1 Coll, or Colla, is a common name in the clan. 2 Themire chatta," or battle dance, 3 The clan consisted of several septs, as Clanranald Glengarry, Keppoch, &c. Elastic their light branches raise, While the melodists sweet they embower, Hail thee at once with their lays. 4 The Macdonald armorial bearings are gules. 5 Prince Charles Edward was then expected. |