at
attracted us most was 'an Address to the Sons of _Burns_, after visiting
their Father's Grave.' Never was anything, however, more miserable. This
is one of the four stanzas.

'Strong bodied if ye be to bear
Intemperance with less harm, beware!
But if your father's wit ye share,
Then, then indeed,
Ye sons of Burns! for watchful care
There will be need.' II. p. 29.

The next is a very tedious, affected performance, called 'the Yarrow
Unvisited.' The drift of it is, that the poet refused to visit this
celebrated stream, because he had 'a vision of his own' about it, which
the reality might perhaps undo; and, for this no less fantastical
reason--

"Should life be dull, and spirits low,
'Twill soothe us in our sorrow,
That earth has something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow!" II. p. 35.

After this we come to some ineffable compositions which the poet has
simply entitled, 'Moods of my own Mind.' One begins--

'O Nightingale! thou surely art
A creature of a fiery heart--
Thou sing'st as if the god of wine
Had help'd thee to a valentine.' II. p. 42.

This is the whole of another--

'My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.' II. p. 44.

A third, 'on a Sparrow's Nest,' runs thus--

'Look, five blue eggs are gleaming there!
_Few visions have I seen more fair,_
_Nor many prospects of delight_
More pleasing than that simple sight.' II. p. 53.

The charm of this fine prospect, however, was, that it reminded him of
another nest which his sister Emmeline and he had visited in their
childhood.

'She look'd at it as if she fear'd it;
Still wishing, dreading to be near it:
Such heart was in her, being then
A little prattler among men,' &c., &c. II. p. 54.

We have then a rapturous mystical ode to the Cuckoo; in which the
author, striving after force and originality, produces nothing but
absurdity.

'O cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice?' II. p. 57.

And then he says, that the said voice seemed to pass from hill to hill,
'about and all about!'--Afterwards he assures us, it tells him 'in the
vale of visionary hours,' and calls it