The localities of those early patrons
he has celebrated in his poetry. Another patron, the Chief of Glengarry,
supplied funds to enable him to proceed to the university, and he was
fortunate in gaining, by competition, a bursary or exhibition at King's
College, Aberdeen. For a Greek ode, on the generation of light, he
gained the prize granted for competition to the King's College by the
celebrated Dr Claudius Buchanan. Having held, during a period of years,
the office of librarian in King's College, he was in 1819 elected
master of the grammar school of Old Aberdeen. His death took place on
the 29th March 1822. To the preparation of a Gaelic dictionary he
devoted the most important part of his life. Subsequent to his decease,
the work was published in two quarto volumes, by the Highland Society,
under the editorial care of Dr Mackay, formerly of Dunoon. The chief
amusement of Maclachlan's leisure hours was executing translations of
Homer into Gaelic. His translation of the third book of the Iliad has
been printed. Of his powers as a Gaelic poet, an estimate may be formed
from the following specimens in English verse.

A MELODY OF LOVE.

The first stanza of this song was the composition of a
lady. Maclachlan completed the composition in Gaelic,
and afterwards produced the following version of the
whole in English.

Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore,
Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore:
Not so white is the new milk that flows o'er the pail,
Or the snow that is shower'd from the boughs of the vale.

As the cloud's yellow wreath on the mountain's high brow,
The locks of my fair one redundantly flow;
Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display
When they glitter with dew on the morning of May.

As the planet of Venus that gleams o'er the grove,
Her blue rolling eyes are the symbols of love:
Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays,
Like the moon when the stars are bedimm'd with her blaze.

The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn,
Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn:
But the mavis is tuneless, the lark strives in vain,
When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain.

When summer bespangles the landscape with flowers,
While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bowers,
Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I 'll rove,
And feast unrestraine