STORM---Shipwreck. Yes, rage ye winds-I love to hear Howl on-the timber's rending creak And wrapt in seeming bliss my soul; R. G FAREWEEL, BE HAPPY, ANE AN' A'. To the S of the E Them wha it liked, as soon's I saw : Ye ne'er had bruised could ye hae seen; Your faeship yet may melt awa: Or nursed a hate o' you ava➡ A BOOK. A poring wight, who, being wed, * It has been remarked by persons who have been nearly drowned, that after the pain of suffocation was past, a pleasing feeling stole over the senses; but the pain felt on returning to life is described as dreadful, occasioned by the blood resuming its circulation. NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. The author of the piece signed A. I. will see from the description of a Storm, that his subject was an ticipated, this piece being first on our list. We shall be glad to hear from him on some other subject. Amicus will please to observe that his article cannot be inserted for the like reason. We are sorry that we have offended the incipient rhymer, Juvenis, by honouring his lines with a place in the Melange of last week, we take this opportunity of informing him, that they really were not inserted on account of merit, but as an encouragement to early genius, he having assured us of their being the first fruits of his muse; indeed we were confident of their being the production of some pretty little Juvenal at school, who, under the eye of his papa, or mamma, had strung together a few bad rhymes: we never imagined that we were printing the lucubrations of a critic in definition and accentuation. If he continues to rhyme, let him avoid such pedantic words, as that to which wỡ objected. We hope this will be a sufficient apology for our error. We have yet to learn, that Editors must not make alterations in the communications of anonymous correspondents. The Language and Poetry of Scotland; Evening; and Lines signed Endymion, are under consideration. Printed, published and sold, every Wednesday, by GEORGE PURVIS & Co. Successors to W. Tait, ON THE LANGUAGE AND POETRY OF SCOTLAND. PRICE 31d. of the Southern Kingdom. If Scotland had possessed poets between the period of James VI. and Anne, and if these poets had written in their native tongue, with the genius of a Burns, the language would have acquired stability, and defied the efforts of innovation and time. But with the solitary exception of Buchanan, who lived in the beginning of the reign of James, and who wrote in a different tongue, Scotland had no such bards. The imaginative genius of the country was dried up, and every species of intellect turned intensely to polemical divinity. The final union of the two kingdoms under Queen Anne, was nearly fatal to the vernacular dialect of this country. Long before that period, Scotland was without a court, and the language of course fell into some desuetude; but while the Parliament remained, it still continued the standard tongue, forming the medium of communication, not only between the lower, but between the higher classes. What the want of a court contributed In fact, the genius of the times was unto weaken, the want of a Parliament favourable to poetry. The disciples nearly overthrew. The higher orders, of Knox drew their stores, not from instead of confining themselves as for- the heart, but from the understanding. merly to the capital of their own coun- They appealed to reason, and not to try, hastened to London; and, as the fancy. Beneath the stern severity court was formed on an English model, which clouded them over, they were they naturally adopted the manners, too much agitated with their own the language, and the peculiarities of passions to attend to the purer and England. This change descended to more ethereal feelings of poetry. the inferior classes of society; and al- There were indeed many ballads and though the strongly-rooted prejudices songs of exquisite beauty then, and of the Scots disputed every inch of long before, peculiar to Scotland. ground against innovation, yet the patriots of that country foresaw, with grief, that these antipathies must abate, and that not merely the manners, but likewise the language of Scotland, must gradually wear out, and be lost in those Traditional and legendary tales existed almost from time immemorial, and Hamilton of Bangor, and Drummond of Hawthornden gave an evanescent and short-lived popularity to Scottish poetry. But, after the reign of Anne, 6 Scotland was fast loosing her peculi- the love verses of Hammond, were arities, and though the Flowers of tame, compared with the Gentle the Forest,' and various other pieces Shepherd.' Their Corydon's,' and showed what a pure spirit might breathe Delia's,' and Amyryllis's,' were fanin the northern idiom, they were but tastic, unnatural conceptions, when set wild and scattered gems in the desert beside the warm well-drawn characters -gems whose brightness would last of the Scottish bard. for ever, but would be inevitably hid The appearance of Ramsay in the by others less beautiful than themselves! world of imagination, was hailed with But a few scattered songs, by nameless delight by his countrymen. A new bards, could never restore the language life was breathed upon the language. of Scotland. She wanted a poet to It spoke of things it had long forgotten spread over it an enduring vigour to to exhibit, and diffused itself like a rescue it from the odium of vulgarity | fresh current over a channel, which which, as a provincial speech, it began was on the eve of becoming dry.to acquire. Even among the Scots, The Gentle Shepherd' found its way poetical, national, and enthusiastically into every cottage, and we might say fond as they are, of their native poetry, into every palace. In the simple detheir songs, beautiful as they were, tails of the pastoral drama every one failed in reviving a language which recognised Scottish manners, as they I was fast wearing away. To restore then existed among the shepherds. this diminished energy, a new stimulus was required. A new spirit had to be born. A fresh popularity and impulse were all demanded to reanimate the Scottish muse. This, Scotland had the fortune to find in Allan Ramsay—a man whose genius would have honoured any age, and who is justly considered the restorer of the poetry Ramsay then was the restorer of of his native land. Had Allan Ram- the Scottish tongue, but when we consay not existed, the Scottish dialect sider the long era between his death, would have been lost irretrievably and the appearance of another, deservlost. At the time of his appearance, ing the name of a Scottish poet, we it was sinking every day lower and will not be surprised, that even his . lower. Every one who laid claim to writings, beautiful as they are, should polish and learning endeavoured to get fail in giving it lasting stability. The rid of it as fast as possible, but Ramsay causes which prompted the eradication arrested the current. He showed that of the dialect still existed: he deadhis native tongue had a purity-an ened their force by showing the beauty 1. expressiveness—a simplicity and pathos of the language; but a solitary bard of its own. He exhibited its beauties could not contend with time: the in strains, which neither Addison, nor beating enthusiasm his writings at first Pope, nor Gay, or any of his great excited could not endure for ever.contemporaries could surpass, and in He had impeded the current, but he fact, produced a poem which, in its had not stopped it. It still went on, kind, has no equal in the English though more slowly, and swept the language. The polished pastorals of reluctant dialect of Scotland along with Pope, Shenstone, and Phillips, and it. The language of the north, in And, it is to be hoped, as they still exist. It forced itself into unparalelled popularity by faithfulness, heightened with the legitimate art of poetry There was no meretricious ornament. Every incident was such as might have happened, and every character drawn with the truth of nature itself. truth, was so rapidly wearing out, have achieved with longer and happier that Dr. Johnson, in 1771, remarked-life, it is needless to conjecture; but it was seldom heard in polished society, except from the mouth of an old lady. excellent as these talents were, they produced nothing equal to Ramsay's poems The Gentle Shepherd,' The Vision,' The Monk and Miller's Wife,' and the continuation of 'Christ's Kirk on the Green.' We may say then, that, for nearly half a century, the dialect of Scotland stood without literary support. It merely floated on the breath of the people. Except the writings of Ramsay and the unequal 'Evergreen,' published by him and his associates, it had nothing to which it could refer for na Between the time of Ramsay and Burns, Scotland possessed many men of high poetical genius. Thomson, Beattie, Home, and Mickle, had ranked themselves among the first order of classic poets, and Smollet had written verses, worthy of Collins himself. But although the north had the honour of giving birth to these eminent men, yet they were not, properly speaking, Scottish poets. Though with the birth and feelings of Scotsmen, tive excellence. But at the very time, they did not write in the language.- when it was again sinking fast into Their works were written for no age, vulgarity-at the very time, when the or country; they suited equally the high and the learned were banishing it soil of England; and all that Scotland from their speech, as an impure dialect peculiarly derived, was the pride of the wonderful ploughman of Ayrbeing parent to such illustrious sons. shire made his appearance. Gifted Robert Fergusson made his appear with boundless enthusiasm ardent ance shortly before Burns rose into national feelings intense depth of celebrity, and wrote many pieces of character-a rich vigorous intellect, and great merit in the Scottish dialect; matchless facility of expression, Burns but his influence in restoring it was entered the field. Rivalry was at an feeble, compared to that of his great end. The highest poets of the day successor. His works laid claim to stood rebuked in the presence of the elegance, to ease, and to occasional wonderful ploughman the poetasters touches of pathos and humour; but threw down their pens in despair, and they possessed none of the broad un-criticism surveyed his performances with bridled excellence of the bard of Ayr. delight and awe. Cowper and BeatThe spirit that breathed upon them tie, who held the sceptres of poetry in was blander, but infinitely less diver- England and Scotland, felt them tremsified. His humour drew forth the ble in their grasp, as they looked on smile, Burns's produced the laugh.—this new rival. His touches of the pathetic made the The dialect required such a man gentle heart of woman thrill; but those as Burns to inspire it with new vigour. of Burns drew tears, even from the What Ramsay performed sixty years more unwilling eyes of man. He before, he had now to repeat; but in touched the harp with the graceful proportion as the task was more diffihand of a stripling; but Burns threw cult, he was gifted with greater powers. along its strings; the hand of a giant. He seemed, in truth, one of the anPosterity, the ultimate and legitimate cient minstrels of Scotland restored; judge of all literary merit, has done for his poems had not the laboured right in placing Fergusson behind Al- melody and grace of modern prolan Ramsay. What his talents might ductions, but possessed the freshness, however, I attributed to a rather strong breeze that had sprung up. My dog, who had since his entrance into the boat lain pretty quiet, began to disturb me with his renewed barkings, fawnings, and supplicating gestures. I imagined that he wished to land, and as the air was becoming chill, I felt no objection to comply with his wishes. On looking around, however, and secing no fit place of landing, I continued my course, hoping shortly to find some more commodious spot. Very great, however, was the dissatisfaction of Carlo at this arrangement; but in spite of his unwillingness he was obliged to submit, and we sailed on. that the autumn of our existence lingers but a moment for the winter of death which shall close it for ever. The light winds that blew over the waters curled its surface in waves, that, breaking as they fell, dashed their sparkling foam in showers around.The sun was sinking behind the mountains in the west, and shone from amidst the surrounding clouds. His last rays glit tered on the waters, and tinged with a mellow sombre lustre the umbered foliage of the trees. The whole scene spoke of peace and tranquility; and I envy not the bosom of that man who could gaze upon it with one unholy thought, or let one evil feeling intrude upon his meditations. As I proceeded, the beauty of the surrounding Shortly, however, my ears were assailed objects increased. Immense oaks twisted by a distant rumbling noise, and the agitaabout their gigantic branches covered with tion of my companion redoubled. For moss; lofty evergreens expanded their dark some time he kept up an interrupted howland gloomy tops, and smaller trees, and ing, seemingly under the influence of great thick shrubs, filled up the spaces between fear or of bodily pain. I now remarked, the larger trunks, so as to form an almost that though the wind had subsided, the raimpervious mass of wood and foliage.- pidity of the boat's course was not abated. As the evening advanced, imagination took Seriously alarmed by these circumstances, a wider range, and added to the natural I determined to quit the river as soon as embellishments. The obscure outline of possible, and sought, with considerable the surrounding forests assumed grotesque anxiety, for a place where I might by any forms, and fancy was busy in inventing means land. It was in vain; high banks improbabilities, and clothing each ill-defined of clay met my view on both sides of the object in her own fairy guises. The blasted stream, and the accelerated motion of the and leafless trunk of a lightning-scathed boat presented an obstacle to my taking pine would assume the form of some hun-advantage of any irregularities in them, by dred-headed giant about to hurl destruction which I might otherwise have clambered on the weaker fashionings of nature. As up to land. In a short time, my dog the motion of the boat varied the point of sprang over the side of the boat, and I saw view, the objects would changetheir figure; him with considerable difficulty obtain a which again, from the same cause, would safe landing. Still be looked at me wistgive way to another, and another, in all fully, and seemed undecided whether to rethe endless variety of lights and distances.tain his secure situation or return to his Distant castles, chivalric knights, captive damsels, and attendants, dwarfs and squires, with their concomitant monsters, griffins, dragons, and all the creations of romance, were conjured up by the fairy wand of phantasy. On a sudden, the moon burst forth in all her silvery lustre, and the sight of the reality effectually banished all less substantial visions. Thin transparent clouds, so light and fragile that they seemed scarce to afford a resting place for the moon-beams that trembled on them, glided along the sky; the denser masses that skirted the horizon were fringed with the same radience; while, rising above them, the evening star twinkled with its solitary rays. In the meantime the boat sailed rapidly onwards, with a velocity so much increased that it awakened my attention. This, master. Terror had now obtained complete dominion over me. The rush of the stream was tremendous, and I now divined too well the meaning of the noise which I have before mentioned. It was no longer an indistinct murmur; it was the roar of a cataract, and I shuddered, and grew cold to think of the fate to which I was hurrying without hope or succour, or a twig to catch at to save me from destruction. In a few moments, I should in all probability be dashed to atoms on the rocks, or whelmed amid the boiling waves of the waterfall. I sickened at the thought of it. I had heard of death. I had seen him in various forms. I had been in camps where he rages; but never till now did he seem so terrible.— Still the beautiful face of nature which had |