JAMES BEATTIE was born in 1735, in the parish of Lawrence-Kirk, Kincardineshire; where his father kept a small shop and rented a little farm. Having been educated at a parochial school, he obtained a bursary at the Marischal College, Aberdeen; and in 1753 was appointed schoolmaster of a parish near his native village, at the foot of the Grampian mountains; here he continued during four years, nursing, in his solitude, the thoughts that were to become the property of mankind. In 1758, he became usher in the grammar school of Aberdeen; and in 1760 published a volume of “Original Poems and Translations." At the age of 26, he obtained the chair of Moral Philosophy, in the Marischal College,-an appointment which he held for forty years. His "Essay on Truth," published in 1770, obtained a rapid and extensive popularity; soon afterwards appeared the first part of the "Minstrel;" the second part of which was not issued until 1774. Its merit was at once appreciated; it immediately raised the author into the first ranks of fame. Soon after its publication he paid a visit to London his society was eagerly sought; the University of Oxford conferred upon him the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws; and the King having honoured the Poet with an audience, bestowed upon him a pension of 2007. a year. Thus distinguished, having realized his early dreams of glory, having climbed "the steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar," esteemed by his friends, admired by all, and possessed of an "elegant competence," the author of the Minstrel was far from happy. The worm had long been gnawing at his heart. His home was one of entire sadness. His wife was afflicted with mental derangement; in 1790, he lost his eldest son, a young man of rare promise, who had been conjoined with him in the Professorship; in 1796, his only remaining son died; these successive shocks not only ruined his constitution, but affected his mind. He was released from life in 1803.

The character of Dr. Beattie is almost without a blemish; and it received ample justice from his contemporaries.

"The Minstrel" may be classed among the most popular of our English poems. Of all the works of Dr. Beattie it is unquestionably the best, whether we consider the plan or the execution: the language is extremely elegant; the versification harmonious; it exhibits the richest poetic imagery, with a delightful flow of the most sublime, delicate, and pathetic sentiments; it breathes the spirit of the purest virtue, the soundest philosophy, and the most exquisite taste. The praise of his friend and biographer, Sir William Forbes, has been echoed by critics less biassed by personal affection; Gray lauded it with a warm and disinterested energy; it was stamped with the approval of all who in his own day sate in the seats of literary judgment; and posterity has sanctioned the verdict which gave to it immortality.

It is written in the Spenserian stanza, and is avowedly an attempt to imitate the author of the Fairy Queen, not only in the measure of his verse, but in the "harmony and simplicity, and variety of his composition." According to the author, “his design was to trace the progress of a poetical genius, born in a rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a Minstrel." There is no question (indeed he admits as much) that in the character of Edwin he desired to picture his own early thoughts, impressions, and aspirations; and thus in describing his own, pictured those of all who are born poets-born, that is to say, with those talents and sensibilities which, with the assistance of even a very slight education, invariably find vent in poetry. Edwin is but one of that "certain cast" to which the writer refers-and those who can comprehend the poetic temperament will be at no loss to understand how it was that a boy "should take pleasure in darkness or a storm, in the noise of thunder or the glare of lightning; should be more gratified with listening to music at a distance than with mixing in the merriment occasioned by it." In the second part of the poem, the Poet still manifests a disposition to identify his hero with himself; takes him out of the school of nature and places him in his own-that of moral philosophy: and it is perhaps difficult to say how he would have succeeded if he had carried out his original design, by adding a third canto "introducing some foreign enemy as invading his country, in consequence of which the

FROM THE MINSTREL.

WHEN the long-sounding curfew from afar
Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale,
Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star,
Lingering and listening, wander'd down the vale.
There would he dream of graves, and corses pale;
And ghosts that to the charnel- dungeon throng,
And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail,
Till silenced by the owl's terrific song,

own early thoughts, impressions, and aspirations; and thus in utstriving pictured those of all who are born poets-born, that is to say, with those talents and sensibilities which, with the assistance of even a very slight education, invariably find vent in poetry. Edwin is but one of that "certain cast" to which the writer refers-and those who can comprehend the poetic temperament will be at no loss to understand how it was that a boy "should take pleasure in darkness or a storm, in the noise of thunder or the glare of lightning; should be more gratified with listening to music at a distance than with mixing in the merriment occasioned by it." In the second part of the poem, the Poet still manifests a disposition to identify his hero with himself; takes him out of the school of nature and places him in his own-that of moral philosophy: and it is perhaps difficult to say how he would have succeeded if he had carried out his original design, by adding a third canto "introducing some foreign enemy as invading his country, in consequence of which the

WHEN the long-sounding curfew from afar
Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale,
Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star,
Lingering and listening, wander'd down the vale.
There would he dream of graves, and corses pale;
And ghosts that to the charnel- dungeon throng,
And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail,
Till silenced by the owl's terrific song,

Or, when the setting moon, in crimson dyed,
Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep,
To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied,
Where fays of yore their revels wont to keep;
And there let Fancy rove at large, till sleep
A vision brought to his entranced sight.
And first, a wildly murmuring wind 'gan creep
Shrill to his ringing ear; then tapers bright,

With instantaneous gleam, illum'd the vault of night.

Anon in view a portal's blazon'd arch
Arose; the trumpet bids the valves unfold;
And forth an host of little warriors march,
Grasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold.
Their look was gentle, their demeanor bold,
And green their helms, and green their silk attire;
And here and there, right venerably old,

The long-rob'd minstrels wake the warbling wire,
And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire.

With merriment, and song, and timbrels clear,
A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance;
The little warriors doff the targe and spear,
And loud enlivening strains provoke the dance.
They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance;
To right, to left, they thrid the flying maze;
Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance
Rapid along with many-colour'd rays

:

Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze.

But who the melodies of morn can tell?

The wild brook babbling down the mountain's side ;
The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell;

The pipe of early shepherd dim descried
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide;
The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love,
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.

The cottage-curs at early pilgrim bark;
Crown'd with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings;
The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark!