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had but one drawback from the happiness of life: his pecuniary circumstances were by no means prosperous towards the close of it; and he left a widow and five children in poverty. He died on the 21st of November, 1835.

Hogg visited London in 1833;-although accustomed to the comparatively rude society of mountaineers, he was perfectly easy and self-possessed-because natural-in the polished circles into which he was eagerly welcomed. His glowing and kindly countenance, his cheerful smile, his rousing and hearty laugh, the origi. nality of his remarks, his gentle satire, his continual flow of wit, the rough but becoming manner in which he sang his own ballads, gained for him, personally, the "golden opinions" which had previously been accorded to his genius. He was somewhat above the middle height,—of a muscular frame; he had a sharp, clear, gray eye, an expansive forehead, and sandy hair; and the soundness of his constitution was evident from the fresh and ruddy colour of his cheeks. He was kind and liberal to a degree; and, although he manifested, occasionally, the irritability of his “ class," all his friends loved him.

If we are to class James Hogg among uneducated Poets, he must undoubtedly rank at the head of them. But as he had lived thirty years before he made the world acquainted with his powers, we can scarcely consider his productions as the mere offspring of his mind, unformed by knowledge and unaided by experience. He was unquestionably a man of fine original genius; and he confined himself to those topics with which his early habits and associations rendered him familiar. His happiest and most popular poems are those which dwell most on the scenes and legends of the hills and valleys of his native land. There is perhaps a national tone and feeling in his writings, in which we Southrons do not wholly sym. pathize; but in his own country we must consider him to be rather under than overrated. Born in the very humblest condition of life, reared under circumstances most adverse to the growth and developement of mind, he obtained a popularity second only to that of Burns ;-he has written his name on enduring tablets in the literary annals of Great Britain, and it will go down to posterity with that of the most eminent of his many eminent countrymen. Such is the triumph which genius, even unaided, can achieve.

HOGG.

THE STRANDED SHIP.

My spirit dreams of a peaceful bay
Where once a ship in beauty lay,
Floating between the waves and air
Each glad to claim a thing so fair.
Her white wings to the sunshine gleaming
In anchored rest,-bright ensigns streaming,
As if they wished away to fly

From the proud ship which they glorify.

Alas! her wings no more expanded,
High on the beach the ship is stranded;
And, reft of motion, never more
Must walk above the ocean roar !
Yet the creatures of the deep, too blest
Within their sunless caves to rest,
In the genial warmth of upper day
Are rolling in unwieldy play;
Or shooting upwards through the light
With arrowy motion silvery bright,
The silent summer air employ
For their region of capricious joy!
While fairy shells in myriads lying,
The smooth, hard sand in lustre dyeing,
Encircle with a far-seen chain

Of glory, the most glorious main!

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THE WEE HOUSIE.

I LIKE thee weel, my wee auld house,
Though laigh thy wa's an' flat the riggin';
Though round thy lum the sourock grows,
An' rain-draps gaw my cozy biggin'.
Lang hast thou happit mine and me,

My head's grown gray aneath thy kipple; And aye thy ingle cheek was free

Baith to the blind man an' the cripple.

What gart my ewes thrive on the hill,
An' kept my little store increasin'?

The rich man never wish'd me ill,

The poor man left me aye his blessin'.
Troth I maun greet wi' thee to part,
Though to a better house I'm flittin';
Sic joys will never glad my heart
As I've had by thy hallan sittin'.

My bonny bairns around me smiled,
My sonsy wife sat by me spinning,—
Aye lilting o'er her ditties wild,

In notes sae artless an' sae winning.
Our frugal meal was aye a feast,

Our e'ening psalm a hymn of joy; Sae calm an' peacefu' was our rest, Our bliss, our love, without alloy.

I canna help but haud thee dear,
My auld, storm-batter'd, hamely shieling;
Thy sooty lum, an' kipples clear,

I better love than gaudy ceiling.

Thy roof will fa,' thy rafters start,

How damp an' cauld thy hearth will be! Ah! sae will soon ilk honest heart,

That erst was blithe an' bauld in thee!

I thought to cower aneath thy wa',
Till death should close my weary een;
Then leave thee for the narrow ha',

Wi' lowly roof o' sward sae green.
Farewell, my house an' burnie clear,

My bourtree bush an' bowzy tree! The wee while I maun sojourn here, I'll never find a hame like thee.

THE BROKEN HEART.

Now lock my chamber-door, father,
And say you left me sleeping;
But never tell my step-mother
Of all this bitter weeping.
No earthly sleep can ease my smart,
Or even awhile reprieve it;

For there's a pang at my young heart
That never more can leave it!

O, let me lie, and weep my fill

O'er wounds that heal can never; And O, kind Heaven! were it thy will, To close these eyes for ever:

For how can maid's affections dear

Recall her love forsaken?

Or how can heart of maiden bear

To know that heart forsaken?

O, why should vows so fondly made,
Be broken ere the morrow-

To one who loved as never maid
Loved in this world of sorrow!
The look of scorn I cannot brave,
Nor pity's eye more dreary;
A quiet sleep within the grave
Is all for which I weary!

Farewell, dear Yarrow's mountains green,
And banks of broom so yellow!
Too happy has this bosom been
Within your arbours mellow.
That happiness is fled for aye,

And all is dark desponding-
Save in the opening gates of day,
And the dear home beyond them!

MARY GRAY.

SOME say that Mary Gray is dead,

And that I in this world shall see her never;

Some say she is laid on her cold death-bed,
The prey of the grave and of death for ever!
Ah, they know little of my dear maid,
Or kindness of her spirit's Giver;
For every night she is by my side,-

By the morning bower, or the moonlight river.

My Mary was bonny when she was here,
When flesh and blood was her mortal dwelling;
Her smile was sweet, and her mind was clear,
And her form all virgin forms excelling.

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