sublimity; a praise unknown to the ancients, and which, in modern times, is only due to Aristotle, to Shakespeare, and, perhaps, to Voltaire. Whether he strings his lyre to a moral and devotional theme, as in that sublimest of pastorals, The Cotter's Saturday Night, or to one humourous and fantastic, as in Tam o' Shanter, we see him running with the same ease from the lowest to the highest keys; and from the rare option which he possessed of using either the Scottish dialect or the purer English, as best suited his purpose, he may be said to have extended his scale by, at least, two additional notes beyond any poet that ever wrote.

We have seen that, in his dying moments, Burns was tremblingly apprehensive that much that he had unguardedly written and wished buried in oblivion would be revived to the injury of his future reputation. Hís fears have proved but too well founded; though in candour it must be allowed, that a veneration for every thing which can be traced to the pen of Burns has had as great a share in such revivals as any enmity that can be supposed to exist to his reputation. It will not, it is hoped, be regarded as erring in either sense, to present you with a small copy of verses by Burns, which have not, it is believed, yet found their way into any of the collections of his works. They were transmitted by Burns himself to the same newspaper which contained his letter on the commemoration of the revolution, in a letter, of which the following is a copy.

MR. PRINTER,

If the productions of a simple ploughman can merit a place in the same paper with

Sylvester Otway,* and the other favorites of the Muses who illuminate THE STAR with the lustre of genius, your insertion of the enclosed trifle will be succeeded by future communications from

Fair the face of orient day,
Fair the tints of op'ning rose;
But fairer still my Delia dawns,
More lovely far her beauty shews.

Sweet the lark's wild warbled lay,
Sweet the tinkling rill to hear;
But Delia, more delightful still,
Steal thine accents on mine ear.

The flower-enamour'd busy bee,
The rosy banquet loves to sip;
Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse
To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip.

But Delia, on thy balmy lips
Let me, no vagrant insect, rove;
O, let me steal one liquid kiss,

For oh! my soul is parch'd with love.

W. G.

* A name now lost to the lists of fame. Among the Memoirs of Ancient Scots, however, there is one of Sylvester Otway, which will be given in Part II. of this work.

A. S.

As it may be interesting to the reader to know something of the fortunes of the family of Burns, the following information is transcribed from a note appended by Mr. Gilbert Burns, the brother of the poet, to the last edition of Dr. Currie's "Works of Burns." "The profits of these volumes, so judiciously selected, and advantageously introduced to the world, by Dr. Currie, together with an additional subscription by some gentlemen in India, transmitted to Sir James Shaw, of London, (the indefatigable friend of Burns' family) increased by a very handsome addition from himself and some friends, in London, and vested in the funds, in the name of the magistrates of Ayr, as Trustees for the family, afforded the means of maintaining and educating the boys, and fitting them out for their several destinations, and leaving as much as produced a moderate annuity for the support of Mrs. Burns.

"Of the sons of the poet, Francis Wallace, the second, died in 1803; Robert, the eldest, was, in 1804, placed as a clerk in the Stamp Office, London, where he still continues.

"William Nicol, the third son, and James Glencairn, the youngest, went out in 1811 and 1812 as cadets in the India Company's service, where they still remain, William on the Madras, and James on the Bengal, Establishments. The conduct of all these young men has, hitherto, been creditable to themselves, and pleasing to those who take an interest in them. By the kindness of the Marquis of Hastings, James, three years ago, got a good appointment in the commercial department; and the first use he made of his good fortune, was to settle on his mo

ther an annuity, perhaps, more commensurate to his feelings of maternal regard, than to the selfish maxims of worldly prudence."

Let it be added, to the honor of a gentleman, who is a native of the town of Dumfries, and whose liberality to its institutions, and kindness to every one connected with it, are but incidental features of a generosity of disposition, never restrained by local limits where real good is to be done, that the cadetships, thus well bestowed on the two younger sons of Burns, were the unsolicited and spontaneous gift of Thomas Reid, Esq. present Chairman of the Honorable the Board of Directors of the East India Company.