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ROBERT NICOLL.

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was apprenticed to a grocer in Perth, and whilst in this position his first production appeared in print. It was a tale entitled "Il Ziuqara' and was published in Johnstone's Magazine. From this time until his twentysecond year he was extremely poor, and harassed himself very much because he was unable to free himself from debt. In 1836 he was appointed editor of the Leeds Times at a salary of £100 per annum. He was eminently successful in this capacity, and the circulation of the paper continued increasing from the time he undertook the post. But hard and incessant work, coupled with the confinement in a little office, had such an effect upon his health that he was ordered by the doctor to return to his native land if he meant to live. He did so, but consumption had already claimed him for its own, and after a few weeks' rest, during which he was gradually fading, the spirit of the gentle youth passed away on the 9th December, 1837. In the previous year he had married a young lady to whom he was ardently attached, Miss Alice Suter, of Dundee, but she was delicate likewise and did not long survive him. Ebenezer Elliott, who had become very friendly with Nicoll during his stay in Yorkshire, pays him this graceful tribute :-" Unstained and pure, at the age of twenty-three, died Scotland's second Burns; happy in this, that without having been a blasphemer, a persecutor, and infurious, he chose, like Paul, the right path; and when the terrible angel said to this youth, Where is the wise? where is the disputer, hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world? --he could and did answer, 'By the grace of God, I am what I am.'” Nicoll issued in 1835 a volume of poems entitled "Poems and Lyrics," which, with considerable additions, bave on several occasions been reprinted.

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The Bonnie Bieland Hills

OH! the bonnie Hieland hills,
Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,

The bonnie hills o' Scotland O!
The bonnie Hieland hills.

There are lands on the earth where the vine ever blooms,
Where the air that is breathed the sweet orange perfumes;
But mair dear is the blast the lane shepherd that chills
As it wantons along o'er our ain Hieland hills.

Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.

There are rich garden lands wi' their skies ever fair;
But o' riches or beauty we mak' na our care;
Wherever we wander ae vision aye fills

Our hearts to the bursting-our ain Hieland hills.
Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.

In our lone and deep valleys fair maidens there are,
Though born in the midst o' the elements' war;
O sweet are the damsels that sing by our rills,
As they dash to the sea frae our ain Hieland hills.
Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills.

On the moss-cover'd rock wi' their broadswords in hand,
To fight for fair freedom, their sons ever stand;
A storm-nursed bold spirit each warm bosom fills,
That guards frae a' danger our ain Hieland hills.
Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,

Oh! the bonnie Hieland hills,
The bonnie hills o' Scotland O!

The bonnie Hieland hills.

The Muir O' Gorse An' Broom.

I WINNA bide in your castle ha's,
Nor yet in your lofty towers;

My heart is sick o' your gloomy hame,
An' sick o' your darksome bowers;

An' oh! I wish I were far awa'

Frae their grandeur an' their gloom,
Where the freeborn lintie sings its sang
On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.

Sae weel as I like the healthfu' gale
That blaws fu' kindly there,

An' the heather brown, an' the wild blue-bell
That wave on the muirland bare;

An' the singing birds, an' the humming bees,
An' the little lochs that toom

Their gushing burns to the distant sea
O'er the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.

Oh! if I had a dwallin' there,
Biggit laigh by a burnie's side,
Where ae aik tree, in the summer time,
Wi' its leaves that hame might hide;
Oh! I wad rejoice frae day to day,
As blythe as a young bridegroom;

For dearer than palaces to me

Is the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.

In a lanely cot on a muirland wild,
My mither nurtured me;

O'the meek wild flowers I playmates made,

An' my hame wi' the wandering bee.

An' oh! if I were far awa'

Frae your grandeur an' your gloom,

Wi' them again, an' the bladden gale,
On the Muir o' Gorse an' Broom.

EDITOR

OSSIAN.

1738-1796.

BY JOSEPH IRVING, F.S.A.

"THE
DICTIONARY OF EMINENT SCOTSMEN," AUTHOR
"ANNALS OF OUR TIME," HISTORY OF DUMBARTONSHIRE.

OF

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JAMES MACPHERSON, translator of Ossian, or as some think, Ossian himself, was born in Badenoch, Inverness-shire, in 1738. In 1752, with a view of studying for the church, he entered King's College, Aberdeen. He afterwards proceeded to Edinburgh, printing there a poem in six cantos entitled "The Highlander.” Pressed by Home, Blair, and other friends, to translate certain pieces of ancient Gaelic poetry, of which he alleged he had become possessed, Macpherson commences the great literary controversy of the day by publishing a small volume of the "Fragments," with an introduction by Dr. Blair, 1760. Encouraged by Edinburgh critics, in whose judgment Macpherson would appear to have had confidence, he set out on a fresh tour of discovery through the Highlands, and in 1762 published the result of his mission dedicated to Lord Bute, in the form of Fingal" in six books next year; "Temora " appeared as another epic, in eight books, both professing to be compositions of Ossian, son of Fingal, a Gaelic Prince of the fourth century, and to be translated from the Gaelic. The controversy for a time was unusually bitter, Blair and Gregory being among the most prominent on one side, and later, Malcolm Laing, who was judged by many to have completed the case against the antiquity of the pieces. A Gaelic version by the Highland Society, was published in accordance with Macpherson's will, 1807. In 1764 he became private secretary to Captain Johnstone, and accompanied him to Pensacola; wrote afterwards " Antiquities of the Scottish Gael," 1771; a feeble translation of the "Iliad," a "History of Great Britain," two pamphlets defending Government against American colonists, and acted as agent for the Nabob of Arcot, obtaining in connection therewith a seat in the House of Commons for Camelford. Macpherson died at his residence, Belville, Inverness-shire, February 17th, 1796.

Extract from "Fingal."

BOOK VI.

The clouds of night came rolling down. Darkness rests on the steeps of Cromla. The stars of the north arise over the rolling of Erin's waves: they show their heads of fire through the flying mist of heaven. A distant wind roars in the wood. Silent and dark is the plain of death! Still on the dusky Lena arose in my ears the voice of Carril. He sung of the friends of our youth; the days of former years; when we met on the banks of Lego; when we sent round the joy of the shell. Cromla answered to his voice. The ghosts of those he sung came in their rustling winds. They were seen to bend with joy, towards the sound of their praise!

Be thy soul blest, O Carril! in the midst of thy eddying winds. Othat thou wouldst come to my hall, when I am alone by night! And thou dost come, my friend. I hear often thy light hand on my harp, when it hangs on the distant wall, and the feeble sound touches my ear. Why dost thou not speak to me in my grief, and tell when I shall behold my friends? But thou passest away in thy murmuring blast; the wind whistles through the gray hair of Ossian!

Now, on the side of Mora, the heroes gathered to the feast. A thousand aged oaks are burning to the wind. The strength of the shells goes round. The souls of warriors brighten with joy. But the king of Lochlin is silent. Sorrow reddens in the eyes of his pride. He often turned toward Lena. He remembered that he fell. Fingal leaned on the shield of his fathers. His gray locks slowly waved on the wind, and glittered to the beam of night. He saw the grief of Swaran, and spoke to the first of bards.

'Raise, Ullin, raise the song of peace. O soothe my soul from war! Let mine ear forget, in the sound, the dismal noise of arms. Let a hundred harps be near to gladden the king of Lochlin. He must depart from us with joy. None ever went sad from Fingal. Oscar! the lightning of my sword is against the strong in fight. Peaceful it lies by my side when warriors yield in war.'

ANDREW PARK,

1807-1863.

BY CHAS. F. FORSHAW, LL.D.

ANDREW PARK was born at Renfrew on March 7th, 1807. His preliminary tuition was received at Renfrew Parish Schools, after which he proceeded to Glasgow University. At the age of fifteen he was employed in a commission warehouse at Paisley, and whilst there he wrote his first poem, entitled "The Vision of Mankind." At the age of twenty he went to Glasgow and was engaged in the hat business. About this time he published several volumes of poems. Shortly after this he migrated to the metropolis, but returned in 1841 and having purchased the stock of the poet Dugald Moore, recently deceased, he became a bookseller in Ingram Street, Glasgow. This speculation was not successful and Park ultimately retired from the concerns of business. In 1856 he visited Egypt and other eastern countries, and the following year he published a volume entitled "Egypt and the East." Mr. Park died at Glasgow on December 27th, 1863. In all he issued twelve volumes of poetry, but one entitled "Silent Love," became the most popular. It was got up in a most lavish manner, utterly regardless of cost, and was illustrated by Sir Noel Paton, LL.D. [q.v.] Amongst his best known songs are "Hurrah for the Highlands," "Old Scotland, I Love Thee," and "The Banks of Clyde." They are either humorous, sentimental or patriotic, and possess such beauty and power as to make them highly popular. A handsome bronze bust has been erected in Paisley cemetery in honour of the poet's memory.

Let Glasgow Flourish.

LET Glasgow flourish by the word
And might of every merchant lord,
And institutions which afford

Good homes the poor to nourish;
A place of commerce, peace and power,
With wealth and wisdom as her dower,
May still her tree majestic tower—
Hurra! Let Glasgow Flourish.
Here's to the tree that never sprung,
Here's to the bell that never rung,
Here's to the bird that never sung,
And here's to the caller salmon !

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