[16] this must have been no relief from his ordinary
toils, for Sir Walter was at his task from early morning till almost
evening, excepting only two short spaces for meals. When _Chambers's
Edinburgh Journal_ was commenced, Hogg was asked by his former
schoolfellow, Mr Robert Chambers, to undertake the duties of assistant
editor, on a salary superior to that which he then received; but this
office, from a conscientious scruple about his ability to give
satisfaction, he was led to decline. He was an extensive contributor,
both in prose and verse, to the two first volumes of this popular
periodical; but before the work had gone further, his health began to
give way, and he retired to his father's house in Peeblesshire, where he
died in 1834. He left a young wife and one child.

Robert Hogg was of low stature and of retiring manners. He was fond of
humour, but was possessed of the strictest integrity and purity of
heart. His compositions are chiefly scattered among the contemporary
periodical literature. He contributed songs to the "Scottish and Irish
Minstrels" and "Select Melodies" of R. A. Smith; and a ballad, entitled
"The Tweeddale Raide," composed in his youth, was inserted by his uncle
in the "Mountain Bard." Those which appear in the present work are
transcribed from a small periodical, entitled "The Rainbow," published
at Edinburgh, in 1821, by R. Ireland; and from the Author's Album, in
the possession of Mr Henry Scott Riddell, to whom it was presented by
his parents after his decease. In the "Rainbow," several of Hogg's
poetical pieces are translations from the German, and from the Latin of
Buchanan. All his compositions evince taste and felicity of expression,
but they are defective in startling originality and power.[17]

FOOTNOTES:

[16] See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott."

[17] We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr Robert Chambers for
many of the particulars contained in this memoir.

QUEEN OF FAIRIE'S SONG.

Haste, all ye fairy elves, hither to me,
Over the holme so green, over the lea,
Over the corrie, and down by the lake,
Cross ye the mountain-burn, thread ye the brake,
Stop not at muirland, wide river, nor sea:
Hasten, ye fairy elves, hither to me!

Come when the moonbeam bright sleeps on the hill;
Come at the dead of night when all is still;
Come over mountain steep, come over brae,
Through holt and valley deep, through glen-head