Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth! Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,1 1 Points to the parents fondling o'er their child? But now the supper crowns their simple board! That 'yont the hallan 6 snugly chows her cood: To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd' kebbuck, fell,9 The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell, How 'twas a towmond 10 auld,11 sin 12 lint was i' the bell.13 His lyart 16 haffets 17 wearin' thin an' bare; They chant their artless notes in simple guise; 1 Mercy, kind feeling 5 Beyond. 2 Oatmeal-pudding. 6 A partition wall in a cottage. 3 Sauce, milk. 4 A pet-name for a cow 7 Carefully preserved. 8 A cheese 9 Biting to the taste. 11 Old. 12 Since. 13 Flax was in blossom. 14 This picture, as all the world knows, he drew from his father. He was himself, in imagination, again one of the "wee things" that ran to meet him; and "the priest-like father" had long worn that aspect before the poet's eyes, though he died before he was threescore. "I have always considered William Burns," (the father,) says Murdoch, "as by far the best of the human race that I ever had the pleasure of being acquainted with, and many a worthy character I have known. He was a tender and affectionate father, and took pleasure in leading his children in the paths of virtue. I must not pretend to give you a description of all the manly qualities, the rational and Christian virtues of the venerable Burns. I shall only add, that he practised every known duty, and avoided every thing that was criminal." The following is the "Epitaph" which the son wrote for him: O ye, whose cheek the tear of pity stains, Draw near, with pious reverence, and attend! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, The tender father, and the generous friend: The pitying heart that felt for human woe; The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride; "For e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side." 16 The great Bible kept in the hall. 18 Chooses 16 Gray. 17 The temples, the sides of the head 19 The names of Scottish psalm-tunes. The priest-like father reads the sacred page, With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land: Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. May hear, well-pleased, the language of the soul; And in His book of life the inmates poor enrol. Then homeward all take off their several way; The parent-pair their secret homage pay, For them and for their little ones provide; From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 9 An island in the Archipelago, where John is supposed to have written the book of Revelation. Priestly vestment. And certes,1 in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind: What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human-kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined! O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand, a wall of fire, around their much-loved isle. O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd through Wallace's 2 undaunted heart O never, never, Scotia's realm desert: But still the patriot, and the patriot bard, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! 1 Certainly. MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. When chill November's surly blast I spied a man, whose aged step Seem'd weary, worn with care; His face was furrow'd o'er with years, Young stranger, whither wanderest thou? (Began the reverend sage ;) Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, Or haply, prest with cares and woes, To wander forth, with me, to mourn The sun that overhangs yon moors, * Sir William Wallace, the celebrated Scottish patriot. O man! while in thy early years, Which tenfold force give Nature's law, Look not alone on youthful prime, But see him on the edge of life, A few seem favorites of fate, In pleasure's lap carest; Yet, think not all the rich and great But, oh! what crowds, in every land, Many and sharp the numerous ills More pointed still we make ourselves, And man, whose heaven-erected face Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn! See yonder poor, o'erlabor'd wight, If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave- If not, why am I subject to His cruelty or scorn? Or why has man the will and power Yet, let not this too much, my son, This partial view of human-kind The poor, oppressed, honest man, O Death! the poor man's dearest friend, Welcome the hour my aged limbs Are laid with thee at rest! The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, But, oh! a blest relief to those That weary-laden mourn! EDMUND BURKE. 1730-1797. THIS most distinguished writer and statesman was born at Dublin on the 1st of January, 1730. On his mother's side he was connected with the poet Spenser, from whom, it is said, he received his Christian name. He was educated at Ballitore in the county of Kildare, at a classical academy under the management of Abraham Shackleton, a Quaker of superior talents and learning. Here, according to his own testimony, Burke acquired the most valuable of his mental habits; he ever felt the deepest gratitude for his early instructor, and with his only son, Richard, the successor in the school, he preserved an intimate friendship to the end of his life. In 1744 he entered Trinity College, Dublin, and in 1750 he was entered as a law-student at the Middle Temple, London: but his thoughts were soon entirely turned to literature and politics, to which, henceforth, all his time, and talents, and energies were devoted. His first publication was anonymous, entitled, "A Vindication of Natural Society, in a Letter to Lord —, by a Noble Lord." It was such an admirable imitation of the style of Lord Bolingbroke, that many were deceived by it, and deemed it a posthumous publication of that nobleman, who had been dead but five years. It was ironical throughout, endeavoring to prove that the same arguments with which that nobleman had attacked revealed religion, might be applied with equal force against all civil and political institutions whatever. In the next year, Burke published his "Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful," which, by the elegance of its language, and the spirit of philosophical investigation displayed in it, placed him at once in the very first class of writers on taste and criticism. His object is to show that terror is the principal source of the sublime, and that beauty is the quality in objects which excites love or affection. The fame acquired by this work introduced the author to the best literary acquaintances, among whom were Sir Joshua Rey. nolds and Dr. Johnson. In 1758 he suggested to Dodsley the plan of the Annual Register, and engaged, himself, to furnish the chief historical matter, which he continued to do for very many years, and which has made that work the most valuable repository of historical knowledge of the times. In 1765, on the accession to power of the Marquis of Rockingham, he was appointed by that minister his private secretary, and was brought into parliament for the borough of Wendover. It would be impossible, in the limited space assigned to these biographical sketches, to give an outline of his subse |