osed music for it;
and not only was it sung in Drury-lane, but published in a sheet as the
production of a real shepherd; yet it did not become popular in city
life. In the country it had been popular previous to this, where it is
so still, and where no effort whatever had been made to introduce it.

"About the time when I had concluded the whole of my college course, the
'Songs of the Ark,'[3] were published by Blackwood. These, as published,
are not what they were at first, and were intended only to be short
songs of a sacred nature, unconnected by intervening narrative, for
which R. A. Smith wished to compose music. Unfortunately, his other
manifold engagements never permitted him to carry his intention into
practice; and seeing no likelihood of any decrease of these engagements,
I gave scope to my thoughts on the subject, and the work became what it
now is. But I ought to mention that this was not my first poetic
publication in palpable shape. Some years previously I published
stanzas, or a monody, on the death of Lord Byron. I had all along
thought much, and with something like mysterious awe, upon the eccentric
temperament, character and history of that great poet, and the tidings
which told the event of his demise impressed me deeply. Being in the
country, and remote from those who could exchange thoughts with me on
the occurrence, I resorted to writing. That which I advanced was much
mixed up with the result, if I may not say of former experience, yet of
former reflection, for I had entertained many conjectures concerning
what this powerful personage would or might yet do; and, indeed, his
wilful waywardness, together with the misery which he represented as
continually haunting him, constituted an impressive advertisement to the
world, and served to keep human attention awake towards him.

"Those who write because it brings a relief to feeling, will write
rapidly: likely, too, they will write with energy, because not only the
head but also the heart is engaged. 'The Monody,' which is of a goodly
length, I finished in a few days; and though I felt a desire of having
it published, yet it lay over for a time, till, being in Edinburgh, a
friend shewed it to Dr Robert Anderson. I had been well satisfied with
the result, had the production accomplished nothing more than procured
me, as it did, the friendly acquaintance of this excellent, venerable
man. He knew more of the minutiae of literature, together with the
cha