otnote A: _Professor Wilson's Works_, vol. vi., page 224.]

This is the effect of all good poetry--according to its power--of the
poetry of Robert Bloomfield as of the poetry of Robert Burns. John
Clare, too, is well entitled to a portion of such praise; and therefore
his name deserves to become a household word in the dwellings of the
rural poor. Living in leisure among the scenes in which he once toiled,
may he once more contemplate them all without disturbance. Having lost
none of his sympathies, he has learnt to refine them all and see into
their source--and wiser in his simplicity than they who were formerly
his yoke-fellows are in theirs, he knows many things well which they
know imperfectly or not at all, and is privileged therein to be their
teacher. Surely in an age when the smallest contribution to science is
duly estimated, and useful knowledge not only held in honour but
diffused, poetry ought not to be despised, more especially when
emanating from them who belong to the very condition which they seek to
illustrate, and whose ambition it is to do justice to its natural
enjoyments and appropriate virtues. In spite of all they have suffered,
and still suffer, the peasantry of England are a race that may be
regarded with better feelings than pride. We look forward confidently to
the time when education--already in much good--and, if the plans of the
wisest counsellors prevail, about to become altogether good--will raise
at once their condition and their character. The Government has its
duties to discharge--clear as day. And what is not in the power of the
gentlemen of England? Let them exert that power to the utmost--and then
indeed they will deserve the noble name of "Aristocracy." We speak not
thus in reproach--for they better deserve that name than the same order
in any other country; but in no other country are such interests given
to that order in trust--and as they attend to that trust is the glory or
the shame, the blessing or the curse, of their high estate.

But let us retrace our footsteps in moralising mood, not unmixed with
sadness--to the Mausoleum of Burns. Scotland is abused by England for
having starved Burns to death, or for having suffered him to drink
himself to death, out of a cup filled to the brim with bitter
disappointment and black despair. England lies. There is our gage-glove,
let her take it up, and then for mortal combat with sword and
spear--only not on horseback--for, for reasons