The rising sun, owre Galston Muirs, In some instances Fergusson equals Burns; but it is the exception, for he had not the same capacity for sustained effort. What has been said of Shakespeare might be said of Burns, viz., that he improved and beautified everything that he touched, and it was no mean compliment to the genius of Fergusson that it had so large a share in quickening and vitalising the genius and talent of the greater Poet. When we remember that Fergusson passed away at the early age of twenty-four, before the poetical faculty in the ordinary way is sufficiently matured to gather inspiration from its native environment, it is well-nigh incomprehensible why he should have left so indelible a mark on the poetry of his country. By a different course of life, and a riper and more varied experience of human character, it is impossible to predict the poetic eminence to which Fergusson might have attained. So many of the scenes and incidents which subsequently found a fuller echo in Burns had kindled the poetic fire of Fergusson that it seems as if the Fates had decreed that the one Poet should be the complement and forerunner of the other. When Fergusson visited Dumfries, which but a few years afterwards was to play so important a part in the life and poetry of Burns, he paid a flattering tribute to the place where the greater Poet ended his life and work. In what a different spirit were the verses conceived from those with which he commemorated his visit to Fife. Indeed, one of the natives of the ancient kingdom was so incensed at the verses that he challenged the Poet to a duel. Fergusson, though confident in his ability to wield the pen, was not so sanguine about successfully wielding the sword, and so ignored the challenge. Fergusson, in the company of his friend Lieutenant Wilson, walked from Edinburgh to Dumfries to visit Charles Salmon, a brother poet and native of Edinburgh, who was well known for his Jacobite effusions, the best-known of which is the "Royal Oak Tree." In this poem Salmon makes a distinct reference to King Charles' Oak at Boscobel, as we gather from the following lines: "Old Pendril, the miller, at the risk of his blood, Hid the King of our Isle in the King of the Wood." Since Salmon's day Boscobel and its associations has been a fertile theme for quite a number of writers, one of the best-known being Harrison Ainsworth's fascinating historical romance entitled Boscobel. Fergusson's friend Salmon had come to Dumfries to a situation in a printing concern, the first of the kind established in that place. Previous to Fergusson starting on his return journey to Edinburgh he was requested to leave some memorial of his visit to Nithsdale, and he at once wrote the spirited little poem in which he says:— "The gods, sure in some canny hour To bonny Nith ha'e ta'en a tour, And sportive there ha'e shawn their pow'r Had Horace liv'd, that pleasant sinner, The drink wad round Parnassus rin her Nae mair he'd sung to auld Mæcenas The blinking een o' bonny Venus, His leave at ance he wud ha'e ta'en us, Which Jove and a' his gods sill rain us, It is greatly to be deplored that one who had given so rich a promise of rare natural gifts should have ended life so sadly. When Fergusson lost his mental balance, his mother was in such extreme poverty that she had no other way of disposing of him except to send him to the asylum, and a momentary awakening to his painful position plunged him deeper into darkness and despair. On his first crossing the threshold of the receptacle for the insane, by a flash of consciousness the hopelessness of his fate was revealed to him in all its naked reality, and he uttered a wild cry of despair which was at once responded to by a chorus of howls from the inmates of the asylum, among whom this young and gifted genius was to end his short and chequered career. This incident left an impression on the friends who attended him of inexpressible horror which haunted them till the end of their days. For some time before Fergusson finally lost his mental balance he was subject to fits of gloom and despondency that were obviously due to the highly-strung nervous constitution and artistic temperament which are frequently so closely identified with poetic genius. Marvellous powers of observation were united in Fergusson with quickness of impression and richness of fancy; his sensitive being vibrated to the ebb and flow of external circumstances in an uncommon degree. When he surveyed the face of Nature, it appears as if the whole image was impressed upon his soul with lightning speed. When he turned his eye upon mankind, he could penetrate to the innermost depths of human nature, gauging their every peculiarity with amazing exactness for one of his age and experience. As a scholar, he could draw inspiration from the perennial fountain of ancient genius which education and circumstances had placed beyond the reach of his great successor, Robert Burns. Let not Fergusson be judged by the limited. extent of his poetical work, or his unproductiveness in the purely lyrical sphere, but by the potent force which can be so clearly discerned in embryo. By his early death he was cut off before the flower of his natural genius had put forth its leaves. John Dunlop, 1755-1820. Between Fergusson and Burns several minor poets come within the range of our survey who contributed to the general bulk of Scottish song. John Dunlop was among that number, and one of the sweetest of the smaller fry, though now scarcely known. He was born in 1755, at Carmyle House, the residence of his father, in the parish of Old Monkland, near Glasgow, of which city he subsequently became Lord Provost. He was not only a poet, but a vocalist, and his powers were known and appreciated by his friends and acquaintances. He was the author of a considerable quantity of verse, two volumes of which were printed in 1817 for private circulation, and it is stated that he left four volumes of poetry in manuscript. His literary instincts were carried in his son to a higher degree, who wrote A History of Fiction, also A History of Roman Literature from the earliest period to the close of the Augustan age. In the capacity of Scottish Advocate and Sheriff of Renfrewshire he found much time for literary pursuits, and printed privately a small collection of his father's writings in 1836. This collection is now scarce, but the bestknown songs in it are, "O dinna ask me gin I lo'e thee and "The Year that's Awa." Four of Dunlop's songs are included in the Modern Scottish Minstrel of Dr C. Rogers, which appeared in 1857. Mrs Grant of Laggan, 1755-1838. Her But a much better known name than that of John Dunlop is Mrs Grant of Laggan, whose maiden name was M'Vicar. father was connected with the army, and was an officer in a Highland regiment which was sent to assist in the conquest of Canada. From ill-health he was compelled to resign his commission, and returned to Scotland in 1768 with the view of ending his days in retirement; but to his great misfortune he was deprived of his estate by the breaking out of the Revolutionary War, and had to take the office of barrack-master at Fort Augustus, in Glenmore. His daughter Anne was married to the Rev. James Grant, military chaplain, in 1779. After his marriage Grant became incumbent of the parish of Laggan, near Fort Augustus, where he remained till his death in 1801. By the death of her husband Mrs Grant was left with eight children, and many debts, which she determined to pay. Actuated by this high sense of honour, she first took a farm, and afterwards published a volume of poems in 1803, which enabled her to pay her deceased husband's debts. Released of this incubus, she removed to Stirling, and subsequently to Edinburgh, where she devoted herself entirely to literature. Her house became the favourite resort of men of letters, amongst whom were Lord Jeffrey, Henry Mackenzie, and Sir Walter Scott. Nor did she confine herself to poetry. In 1806 she published a collection of letters which were entitled Letters from the Mountains which gained her a considerable reputation. This work was succeeded by Memoirs of an American Lady, in 1808, and Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlands, in 1811. In 1825 she received a pension of one hundred pounds, which was ultimately augmented by several legacies from friends, added to which her prolific pen procured her a position of independence. No one among all the litterati of Edinburgh at that time had a more accurate knowledge of Highland customs, Highland character and legends, or wielded a more facile pen in depicting them. Indeed, it was believed for some time that Waverley and Rob Roy were the products of her pen. Her two most popular songs are "O where, tell me where, is your Highland Laddie Gone?" and "Could I find a Bonnie Glen." The former of the two songs has not only had a great vogue in Scotland but it has long been a favourite in England. "O'er the Muir amang the Heather" appears to be the only production of its authoress, Jean Glover, and its popularity has Jean Glover, 1758-1801. always been great. Of its authoress comparatively little is known, except that she was born at Townhead, Kilmarnock, and came of a respectable family. From the little that is known of her, however, the assumption is that she was one of those sympathetic, impressionable creatures who are but too apt to fall into those errors of life which usually end in misfortune and misery. Naturally romantic, with a strong inclination for the stage, she attended the performance of some strolling-players who visited Kilmarnock. Jean became enamoured of one of the sleight-of-hand performers of the company, and eloped with him, rapidly adapting herself to a vagrant life, with its excitement and its irregularities, and spent the rest of her days travelling the country with her Lothario. The song was taken down by Burns from the singing of its authoress. Her character Burns does not attempt to shield, evidently not from lack of charity towards his erring sister woman, but out |