The following sketch seems to be one of a Series intended for a pro.ected work, under the title of "The Poet's Progress." This character was sent as a specimen, accompanied by a letter to Professor Dugald Stewart, in which it is thus noticed. "The fragment beginning, "A little, upright, pert, tart, &c." I "have not shewn to any man living, 'till now I send it to you. 't forms the postulata, the axioms, the definition of a character, "which, if it appear at all, shall be placed in a variety of lights. "This particular part I send you merely as a sample of my "hand at portrait sketching.” SKETCH. A little, upright, pert, tart, trippling wight, Still making work his selfish craft must mend. SCOTS PROLOGUE, For Mr. Sutherland's Benefit Night, Dumfries. What needs this din about the town o' Lon'on, Nor need he hunt as far as Rome and Greece There's themes enough in Caledonian story, Is there no daring bard will rise, and tell How here, even here, he first unsheath'd the sword To draw the lovely, hapless Scottish Queen! One Douglas lives in Home's immortal page, As ye hae generous done, if a' the land For us and for our stage should ony spier, "Whose aught thae chiels maks a' this bustle here?" My best leg foremost, I'll set up my brow, We're your ain bairns, e'en guide us as ye like, AN EXTEMPORANEOUS EFFUSION. On being appointed to the Excise. Searching auld wives barrels Och, ho! the day! That clarty barm should stain my laurels; These muvin' things ca'd wives and weans TO THE OWL-By John M'Creddie.* Sad bird of night, what sorrow calls thee forth, Threat'ning to nip the verdure of thy bow'r? * Burns sometimes wrote poems in the old ballad style, wh.ch for reasons best known to himself, he gave to the world as songs of the olden time. That famous soldier's song in particular, first printed in a letter to Mrs. Dunlop, Dr. Currie's ed. vol. ii, No. LX, beginning Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, An' fill it in a silver tassie; A service to my bonie lassie; has been pronounced by some of our best living poets an inimitable relique of some ancient Minstrel! Yet I have discover Is it, sad owl, that autumn strips the shade, Or friendless melancholy bids thee mourn? Shut out, lone bird, from all the feather'd train, Sing on, sad mourner! I will bless thy strain, Is beauty less, when down the glowing cheek Ah no, sad owl! nor is thy voice less sweet, That sadness tunes it, and that grief is there; That spring's gay notes, unskill'd, thou canst repeat; That sorrow bids thee to the gloom repair: ed it to be the actual production of Burns himself. The ballad of Auld lang syne was also introduced in this ambiguous manner, though there exist proofs that the two best stanzas of it are indisputably his; hence there are strong grounds for believing this poem also to be his production, notwithstanding the evidence to the contrary. It was found among his MSS. in his own hand writing, with occasional interlineations, such as occur in all his primitive effusions. It is worthy of his muse; but it is more in the style of Gray or Collins. Should there however, be a real author of the name of John M'Creddie, he will not be displeased at the publication of his poem, when he recollects that it had obtained the notice of Burns, and had undergone his correction. A a E. Nor that the treble songsters of the day, Are quite estranged, sad bird of night! from thee, From some old tow'r, thy melancholy dome, There hooting; I will list more pleas'd to theė, Or drooping wretch, oppress'd with misery, ON SEEING THE BEAUTIFUL SEAT OF LORD Q. What dost thou in that mansion fair? Flit G and find Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave, ON THE SAME. No Stewart art thou G The Stewarts all were brave; ON THE SAME. Bright ran thy line O, G Thro' many a far-fam'd sire! So ran the far-fam'd Roman way, |