in a letter to Before I received your letter, I sent inclosed a sonnet by Miss Williams, a young poetical lady which she wrote on reading your Mountain Daisy; perhaps it may not displease you.* I have been trying to add to the number of your subscribers, but find many of my acquaintance are already among them. I have only to add, that with every sentiment of esteem, and the most cordial good wishes, I am, Your obedient humble servant, J. MOORE. *The sonnet is as follows: WHILE Soon "the garden's flaunting flowers" decay, The "Mountain Daisy," cherish'd by the ray Ab, like that lonely flower the Poet rose! 'Mid penury's bare soil and bittter gale; He felt each storm that on the mountain blows, Nor ever knew the shelter of the vale. By genius in her native vigour nurst, On nature with impassion'd look he gazed; His heaven-taught numbers Fame herself will guard. No. 19. To DR. MOORE. Edinburgh, 15th. February, 1787. REVEREND SIR, PARDON my seeming neglect in delaying so long to acknowledge the honour you have done me, in your kind notice of me, January 23d. Not many months ago I knew no other employment than following the plough, nor could boast any thing higher than a distant acquaintance with a country clergyman. Mere greatness never embarrasses me; I have nothing to ask from the great, and I do not fear their judgment; but genius, polished by learning, and at its proper point of elevation in the eye of the world, this of late I frequently meet with, and tremble at its approach. I scorn the affectation of seeming modesty to cover self-conceit. That I have some merit I do not deny; but I see with frequent wringings of heart, that the novelty of my character, and the honest national prejudice of my countrymen, have borne me to a height altogether untenable to my abilities. For the honour Miss W. has done me, please, sir, return her in my name my most grateful thanks. I have more than once thought of paying her in kind, but have hitherto quitted the idea in hopeless despondency. I had never before heard of her; but the other day I got her poems, which for several reasons, some belonging to the head, and others the offspring of the heart, give me a great deal of pleasure. I have little pretensions to critic lore; there are I think two characteristic features in her poetry-the unfettered wild flight of native genius, and the querulous, sombre tenderness of " time settled sorrow." 66 I only know what pleases me, often without being able to tell why. No. 20. FROM DR. MOORE. DEAR SIR, Clifford-street, 28th. February, 1787. YOUR letter of the 15th. gave me a great deal of pleasure. It is not surprising that you improve in correctness and taste, considering where you have been for some time past. And I dare swear there is no danger of your admitting any polish which might weaken the vigour of your native powers. 1 am glad to perceive that you disdain the nauseous affectation of decrying your own merit as a Poet, an affectation which is displayed with most ostentation by those who have the greatest share of self-conceit, and which only adds undeceiving falsehood to disgusting vanity. For you to deny the merit of your poems would be arraigning the fixed opinion en of the public. As the new edition of my View of Society is not yet ready, I have sent you the former edition, which I beg you will accept as a small mark of my esteem. It is sent by sea to the care of Mr. Creech, and along with these four volumes for yourself. I have also sent my Medical Sketches in one volume, for my friend Mrs. Dunlop, of . Dunlop this you will be so obliging as to transmit, or if you chance to pass soon by Dunlop, to give to her. I am happy to hear that your subscription is so ample, and shall rejoice at every piece of good fortune that befalls you. For you are a very great favourite in my family; and this is a higher compliment than perhaps you are aware of. It includes almost all the professions, and of course is a proof that your writings are adapted to various tastes and situations. My youngest son, who is at Winchester school, writes to me, that he is translating some stanzas of your Hallow E'en into Latin verse, for the benefit of his comrades. This union of taste partly proceeds, No. 2. 11 no doubt, from the cement of Scottish partiality, with which they are all somewhat tinctured. Even your translator, who left Scotland too early in life for recollection, is not without it. I remain, with great sincerity, Your obedient servant, J. MOORZ No. 21. TO THE EARL or GLENCAIRN. MY LORD, Edinburgh, 1787. I WANTED to purchase a profile of your Lordship, which I was told was to be got in town; but I am truly sorry to see that a blundering painter has spoiled a "human face divine." The enclosed stanzas I intended to have written below a picture or profile of your Lordship, could I have been so happy as to precure one with any thing of a likeness. As I will soon return to my shades, I wanted to have something like a material object for my gratitude; I wanted to have it in my power to say to a friend, there is my noble patron, my generous benefactor. Allow me, my Lord, to publish these verses. I conjure your Lordship by the honest throe of gratitude, by the gener |