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Thou know'st how soon we felt this influence bland,

And sought the brook and coppice, hand in hand,
And shaped rude bows, and uncouth whistles blew,
And paper kites (a last, great effort) flew ;
And, when the day was done, retired to rest,
Sleep on our eyes, and sunshine in our breast.

For not the liveried tribes which wait
Around the mansions of the great,
Can keep, my friend, aloof,
Fear, that attacks the mind by fits,
And care that, like a raven, flits
Around the lordly roof.

"O well is he !" to whom kind heaven
A decent competence has given !
Rich is the blessing sent;

He grasps not anxiously at more,
Dreads not to use his little store,
And fattens on content.

"O well is he !" for life is lost
Amid a world of passions toss'd;
Then why, dear Jack, should man,
Magnanimous ephemera! stretch
His cager views beyond the reach
Of his contracted span ?

Why should he from his country run,
In hopes beneath a foreign sun
Serener hours to find?

Was never one in this wild chase,
Who changed his nature with his place,
And left himself behind.

Lo! wing'd with all the lightning's speed,
Care climbs the bark, care mounts the steed,
An inmate of the breast:

Nor Barca's heat, nor Zembla's cold,
Can drive from that pernicious hold
The too tenacious guest.

He whom no anxious thoughts annoys,
Grateful, the present hour enjoys,

Nor seeks the next to know;
To lighten every ill he strives,
Nor ere misfortune's hand arrives,
Anticipates the blow.

Something must ever be amiss:
Man has his joys; but-perfect bliss-
A phantom of the brain!

We cannot all have all we want

And Chance, unask'd, to this may grant
What that has begg'd in vain.

Wolfe rush'd on death in manhood's bloom,
Paulet crept slowly to the tomb;

Here breath, there fame was given; And that wise power, who weighs our lives, By contras and by pros contrives

To keep the balance even.

To thee she gave two piercing eyes,

A body just of Tydeus' size,

A judgment sound and clear;

A mind with various science fraught,

A liberal soul, a threadbare coat,
And forty pounds a year.

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In riper years, again together thrown, Our studies, as our sports before, were one. Together we explored the stoic page

Of the Ligurian, stern though beardless sage.
Or traced th' Aquinian through the Latine road,
And trembled at the lashes he bestow'd.
Together, too, when Greece unlock'd her stores,
We roved, in thought, o'er Troy's devoted shores,
Or follow'd, while he sought his native soil,
"That old man eloquent," from toil to toil;
Lingering, with good Alcinöus, o'er the tale,
Till the east redden'd, and the stars grew pale.
So pass'd our life, till fate, severely kind,
Tore us apart, and land and sea disjoin'd,
For many a year: Now met, to part no more,
Th' ascendant power, confess'd so strong of yore,
Stronger by absence, every thought controls,
And knits, in perfect unity, our souls.

O, IRELAND! if the verse, which thus essays
To trace our lives "e'en from our boyish days,"
Delight thy ear, the world besides may rail-
I care not at th' uninteresting tale;

I only seek, in language void of art,

To ope my breast, and pour out all my heart;
And, boastful of thy various worth, to tell
How long we loved, and, thou canst add, HOW WELL!
Thou too, MY HOPPNER!* if my wish avail'd,
Shouldst praise the strain that but for thee had fail'd;

Since this edition was prepared for the press, the country has been deprived of this distinguished and enlightened artist, whose hard destiny it was to struggle with many difficulties through the intermediate stages of an arduous profession, and to be snatched from the world at the moment when his greatness was a ripening," and the full reward of his labours and his genius securely within his grasp. His art, by his untimely fate, has sustained a loss which will not easily be repaired; for he was, in all respects, a very eminent man, and, while he lived, most vigorously supported by his precept, as well as by the example of his own productions, those genuine principles of taste and nature which the genius of Rey nolds first implanted among us. But though Mr. Hoppner well knew how to appreciate that extraordinary person, and entertained the highest veneration for his professional powers, he was very far from his copyist; occasionally, indeed, he imitated his manner, and formed his pictures on similar principles; but what he thus borrowed he made his own with such playful ingenuity, and adorned and concealed his plagiarism with so many winning and original graces, that his pardon was sealed ere his sentence could be pronounced. The prevailing fashion of the times, together with his own narrow circumstances in early life, necessarily directed his atten. tion, almost exclusively, to the study of portrait-painting: in a different situation, the natural bent of his genius, no less than his inclinations, would probably have led him to landscape, and the rural and familiar walks of life; for when he exercised his talents upon subjects of this nature, he did it with so much ease and pleasure to himself, and was always so eminently successful, that it furnishes matter for regret, that the severe and harassing duties of his principal occupation did not allow him more frequent opportunities of indulging his fancy in the suit of objects so congenial with his feelings and disposition. Of his exquisite taste in landscape, the backgrounds which he occasionally introduced in his portraits will alone afford sufficient evidence, without considering the beautiful sketches in chalk, with which he was accustomed to amuse his leisure hours. These are executed with a vigour and felicity peculiar to himself, and discover a knowledge and comprehension of landscape which would do honour to a Gainsborough. Indeed, in several

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respects, there appear to have been many points of simi-
larity between these extraordinary men, not only in
particular parts of their art, but also in their conversa-
tion, disposition, and character.

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and distinct, yet so artfully an it requires an experienced eye cess by which the effect is acc his best female portraits, in p which has rarely been surpa of airiness with substance, of h original hand, which, in the f

In portrait, however, Mr. Hoppner was decidedly su perior, and so far outstripped Gainsborough in this department of art, that it would be the highest injustice to attempt a comparison of their powers. The distinguish-work," rendered all chance of ing characteristic of Mr. Hoppner's style is an easy and unaffected elegance, which reigns throughout all his works: his naturally refined taste appeared to have given him almost intuitively an aversion from every thing which bordered on affectation and vulgarity; and enabled him to stamp an air of gentility and fashion on the most inveterate awkwardness and deformity. Few men ever sacrificed to the graces more liberally or with greater success: at his transforming touch, harshness and asperity dimpled into smiles, age lost its furrows and its pallid hues, and swelled on the sight in all the splendour of youthful exuberance. This power of improving what was placed before him, without annihilating resemblance, obtained him a decided preference to all the artists of his day among the fairer part of fashionable society, with whom, it is probable, even Sir Joshua himself was never so great a favourite. Reynolds was too apt to be guilty of the sin of painting all he saw, and now and then would maliciously exaggerate any little defect, if he could thereby increase the strength of the character which he was depicting. Mr. Hoppner pursued a different plan: he painted his beauties not always exactly as they appeared, but as they wished to appear; and to those whose charms were "falling into the sear, the yellow leaf," his pictures were the most agreeable, and consequently the truest of all mirrors. The same qualities which rendered him so highly successful in his portraits of women, did not, perhaps, afford him equal advantages in those of the other sex, in which strength and character ought to take the lead of almost every other consideration; his portraits of men were generally, if the expression be allowable, too civilized and genteel to be very striking and forcible; and in his constant wish to represent the gentleman, he sometimes failed to delineate the man. tion, however, it must be acknowledged, that many of his best works form very splendid exceptions; and those who have viewed and attentively examined his admirable portraits of the Archbishop of York, Lord Spencer, Dr. Pitcairn, Mr. Pitt, &c., may rather feel inclined to regret that the prevailing fashion of the day should, in this instance, have produced a misapplication of his powers, than to lament their natural deficiency.

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allowed Mr. Hoppner to turn The absorbing quality of his the more elevated department cere respect for the noble p schools, and the writer of the with pleasure the enthusiastic upon first entering the Louvr gances of life he possessed in of that magnificent collection. It formed the distinguishing f shone alike conspicuously, exercised upon music or pain sation. His colloquial powe been excelled; for, in his ha fertility of invention, which a a novelty of thought, a playful stamp of originality and hearer.-Sometimes, indeed, 1 sarcasm, which, to such as a ings of genius, appeared to pa allowances for the quick per of bitterness and asperity; mixed society, this notion mi of foundation; but they who his company under differen tranquil scenes of rural reti free from the little cares an world, and his character and full scope, will ever rememb gled sorrow and delight, the the sentimental tenderness, breathed throughout his dis been neglected: such, howev to the few who were in hab To this observa-vity of his mind, that this orig judgment: the best English a with him. He read much, a and there was scarcely a topi he could not enter with adva remote from his ordinary pu not embellish, and his know

In his portraits of children he was peculiarly fortunate: he entered completely into the infantine character, and arranged his compositions of this species with that unaf. fected ease and playful grace which so pleasingly mark the early periods of human life. One great charm of his pictures arises from the air of negligence and facility which pervades them; their production appears to have cost no effort, and the careless boldness of his handling, equally removed from insipidity and handicraft, stamps the hand of a master upon the most trifling of his performances. His colouring is natural, chaste, and powerful, and his tones, for the most part, mellow and deep; the texture of his flesh is uniformly excellent, and his penciling rich and full. kis

doubtful disease, at the age He died on the 23d of Janu early progress of his comp entertain the slightest idea o the following affecting incide a few months previously to h ble of his approaching diss of autumn, as he was walkin James's-square, which, from it tion, he was in the habit of fr for a short distance, prepared near relation of the writer, wh go yet," said he, "my good fell

turn or

Where saving wisdom yet had placed no screen,
And every word, and every thought was seen,
To darken all thy life.Tis past: more bright,
Through the disparting gloom, thou strikest the
sight;

While baffled malice hastes thy powers to own,
And wonders at the worth so long unknown!
Itoo, whose voice no claims but truth's e'er moved,
Who long have seen thy merits, long have loved,
Yet loved in silence, lest the rout should say,
Too partial friendship tuned th' applausive lay,
Now, now that all conspire thy name to raise,
May join the shout of unsuspected praise.

Go then, since the long struggle now is o'er,
And envy can obstruct thy fame no more,
With ardent haud thy magic toil pursue,

And pour fresh wonders on the raptured view.-
One sux is set, one GLORIOUS SUN, whose rays
Long gladden'd Britain with no common blaze:
O mayst THOU Soon (for clouds begin to rise)
Assert his station in the eastern skies,
Glow with his fires, and give the world to see
Another REYNOLDS risen, MY FRIEND, in THEE!
But whither roves the muse? I but design'd
To note the few whose praise delights my mind;
But friendship's power has drawn the verse astray,
Wide from its aim, a long but flowery way.
Yet one remains, ONE NAME for ever dear,
With whom, conversing many a happy year,

24

I mark'd with secret joy the opening bloom
Of virtue, prescient of the fruits to come,
Truth, honour, rectitude.—O! while thy breast,
My BELGRAVE! of its every wish possess❜d,
Swells with its recent transports, recent fears,
And tenderest titles strike yet charm thy ears,
Say, wilt thou from thy feelings pause a while,
To view my humble labours with a smile?
Thou wilt: for still 'tis thy delight to praise,
And still thy fond applause has crown'd my lays.
Here then I rest; soothed with the hope to prove
The approbation of "the few I love,"
Join'd (for ambitious thoughts will sometimes
rise)

To the kind sufferance of the good and wise.
Thus happy, I can leave, with tranquil breast,
Fashion's loud praise to Laura and the rest,
Who rhyme and rattle, innocent of thought,
Nor know that nothing can proceed from naught.
Thus happy, I can view, unruffled, Miles
Twist into splay-foot doggrel all St. Giles,
Edwin spin paragraphs with Vaughan's whole
skill

Este, rapt in nonsense, gnaw his gray goose quill,

Merry in dithyrambics rave his wrongs,
And Weston, foaming from Pope's odious songs,
"Much injured Weston," vent in odes his grief,
And fly to Urban for a short relief.

Mr. Murdoch having been in consequence of some in directed against Dr. Dalry himself undertook, for a t family. When Robert, how years of age, his father sent about, during the summer school, by which means the themselves in writing, and in the labours of a small fa

the sin of rhyme a little be sixteenth year. The inspir the object of which he descri sonsie lass," whose charms brate in verse. "I was not says, " as to imagine that I printed ones, composed by n Latin; but my girl sung a s be composed by a small cou of his father's maids, with and I saw no reason why I n as he: for, excepting that he cast peats, his father living i no more scholar-craft than i began love and poetry." The production alluded commencing

ROBERT BURNS, the son of William Burnes, or Burness, was born on the 25th of January, 1759, in a clay-built cottage, about two miles to the south of the town of Ayr, in Scotland. His father, who was a gardener and small farmer, appears to have been a man highly and deservedly respected, and Burns' description of him as "the saint, the father, and the husband," of the Cotter's Saturday Night, attests the affectionate reverence with which he regarded him. At the age of six years, Robert was sent to a small school at Alloway Miln, then super-poet's own account, he, as intended by a teacher named Campbell; but who, retiring shortly after, was succeeded by a Mr. John Murdoch. Under the tuition of this gentleman, the subject of our memoir made rapid progress in reading, spelling, and writing; and though, to use his own words," it cost the schoolmaster some thrashings," he soon became an excellent English scholar. A love of reading and a thirst for general knowledge were observable at an early age; and before he had attained his seventeenth year, he had read Salmon's and Guthrie's Geographical Grammars, the Lives of Hannibal and Wallace, The Spectator, Pope's Works, some of Shakspeare's Plays, Tull and Dickson on Agriculture, Tooke's Pantheon, Locke's Essay on the Understanding, Stackhouse's History of the Bible, The British Gardener's Directory, Boyle's Lectures, Allan Ramsay's Works, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, Hervey's Meditations, and a Collection of Songs. These works formed the whole of his collection, as mentioned by himself in a letter to Dr. Moore; but his brother Gilbert adds to this list Derham's Physico and Astro-Theology, and a few other works. Of this varied assortment," the Collection of Songs," says the poet himself, "was my vade-mecum. I pored over them, driving my cart, or walking to labour, song by song, verse by verse; carefully noticing the true tender and sublime, from affectation or fustian; and I am convinced I owe to this practice much of my critic-"The great misfortune of craft, such as it is."

O! once I loved a

which Burns himself charac rile and silly performance;" it contains, here and there, hardly have been ashamed a "In my seventeenth year, my manners a brush, I wen school. My father had an u against these meetings, and this moment I repent, in op Then, referring to his views

aim. I had felt early some but they were the blind gr clops round the walls of his openings by which I could e tune, were the gate of nig path of little chicaning barg is so contracted an aperture

With Mr. Murdoch, Burns remained for about two years, during the last few weeks of which the preceptor himself took lessons in the French lanquage, and communicated the instructions he rereived to his pupil, who, in a short time, obtained ■ sufficient knowledge of French to enable him to read and understand any prose author in that lan-myself into it: the last I al quage. The facility with which he acquired the contamination in the very French induced him to commence the rudiments of doned to no view or aim in Latin, but whether from want of diligence or of tite for sociability, as well i time, or that he found the task more irksome than from a pride of observation he anticipated. he soon abandoned his design of ac- | tutional melancholy, or bynd

where I visited, or any great wonder ere two or three met together, there them." In this state of mind he sly upon a dissipated career, giving ssions, and indulging his taste for as much irregularity and skill as he to the plough, the scythe, and the To use his own expression, "Vive e la bagatelle," were his sole prin. In his nineteenth year, he passed school, where he learnt mensuration, , and also improved himself in other cularly in composition; which he ly to a perusal of a collection of letters, Queen Anne's reign.

nty-third year, partly, as he says, 1, and partly that he wished to set mething in life, he entered the service er, at Irvine, for the purpose of learnbut an accidental fire, which burnt , put an end to his speculations. After ath, which occurred in February, 1784, rm of Mossgiel, in conjunction with lbert. "I entered on it," says Burns, resolution, Come, go to, I will be d farming books; I calculated crops; arkets; and, in short, in spite of the rld, and the flesh,' I believe I should wise man; but, the first year, from buying bad seed, the second, from t, we lost half our crops. This overset m, and I returned like the dog to his he sow that was washed to her walmire."" In other words, he resigned the farm to his brother, and returned ntemperance and irregularity. It was cupation of the farm of Mossgiel, that became acquainted with Jane Armour, fe. This lady was the daughter of a reson, in the village of Mouchline, where he time the reigning teast. The conthis acquaintance, which quickly rimutual love, was soon such that the uld no longer be concealed; and, though of this story are, perhaps, as yet but known, it seems, at least, certain, that nxious to shield the partner of his im

some trouble, he agreed with Dr. Douglas, who had an estate in Jamaica, to go thither as overseer. Before sailing, however, he was advised, by his friends, to publish his poems by subscription, in order to provide him with necessaries for the voyage, and he consented to this expedient, as an experiment which could not injure, and might essentially benefit him. Subscribers' names were obtained for about three hundred and fifty copies, and six hundred were printed. The collection was very favourably received by the public, and the author realized, all expenses deducted, a profit of about twenty pounds. "This sum," says he," came very seasonably; as I was thinking of indenting myself, for want of money to procure my passage. As soon as I was master of nine guineas, the price that was to waft me to the torrid zone, I took a steerage passage in the first ship that was to sail from the Clyde; for

Hungry ruin had me in the wind."

"I had been some days skulking from covert to covert, under all the terrors of a jail; as some illadvised people had uncoupled the merciless pack of the law at my heels. I had taken the last farewell of my few friends; my chest was on the road to Greenock; I had composed the last song I should ever measure in Caledonia-The Gloomy Night is Gathering Fast; when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes, by opening new prospects to my poetic ambition." This was a recommendation to him to proceed to Edinburgh, to superintend the publication of a second edition of his poems; and he accordingly turned his course to the Scotch metropolis, which he reached in September, 1786. He had already been noticed with much kindness by the Earl of Glencairn, the celebrated Professor Stewart and his lady, Dr. Hugh Blait, and others; and his personal appearance and demean our exceeding the expectation that had been formed of them, he soon became an object of general curiosity and interest, and was an acceptable guest in the gayest and highest circles. He also received, from the literati of the day, every tribute of praise which the most sanguine author could desire.

Edinburgh, says Dr. Currie, contained, at this the utmost in his power. It was, there-period, many men of considerable talents, who were between them, that he should give her not the most conspicuous for temperance and reguknowledgment of marriage, and then larity. Burns entered into several parties of this sail for Jamaica, and push his fortune description with the usual vehemence of his chahat she should remain with her father racter. His generous affection, and brilliant imaghted husband had the means of support- gination, fitted him to be the idol of such associa. This arrangement, however, did not tions; and, by indulging himself in these festive ady's father; who, having but a very recreations, he gradually lost a great portion of pinion of Burns's general character, was his relish for the purer pleasures to be found in the peased, and prevailed on his daughter circles of taste, elegance, and literature. He saw ne document, which was the only evi- his danger, and, at times, formed resolutions to guard marriage. Under these circumstances, against it; but he had embarked on the tide of dis

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