their religious fervour, and which are flowered with the tombs of the Covenanters, have also been the most tuneful. In the West Country, for example, there is hardly a village that has not produced its bard; Paisley has been likened to an aviary of singing birds; and in the land of Wallace, Bruce, and Burns, No brook may pass along Or hillock rise, without its song." It does seem singular that the wild rose of song, which blooms so freely in rugged Scotland, is rarely to be met with in the garden of England. While superior education, and independent thought and action, which have been so long the heritage of Scotchmen, may in some measure account for the greater number of song writers here as compared with England, we believe that poets, like other gifted actors, are to the manner born. And no doubt such inspiring natural surroundings as rugged hills, swift flowing rivers, and brawling streams, inspire her sons. Many think poetry earns its title chiefly through a literary skill in stringing musical words to musical cadence, producing a soothing effect upon ear, which many consider sufficient charm without any suggestion of noble or pathetic thought. We like to see the combination of the artist and the poetthe inspirational idea being the centre, around which is thrown the robe of a delicate and musical wording. In every poem the thought should be first, while the artistic feeling suggests appropriate expression. Much has been of late written on the subject of the position poetry occupies in the Arts. Imagination is the spiritual eye, and if a poem fail to kindle it, though it may charm the senses or the intellect, it cannot touch the soul; and poetry which does not touch the soul is, it is needless to say, of quality below the highest. "The plastic Arts," says Stendhall, “appeal to the imagination through the senses, poetry to the senses of imagination." And this is at once the chief difference between poetry and all the other Arts, and the secret of poetry's superiority. Yet the outward sensuous picture which painting, for example, presents is infinitely more satisfying to the senses than anything to which poetry can attain; but the undercurrent of spirituality, the ideal intellectual beauty, which it is the aim of all true art to reveal, this is the domain in which poetry soars supreme, while painting toils after her with earth-laden wings. Principal Shairp, in reference to the power of poetic sentiment, recently said that, "in the movements of man's being, the first and deepest thing is the sentiment which possesses him, the emotional and moral atmosphere which he breathes. The causes which ultimately determine what this atmosphere shall be are too hidden, too manifold and complex, for us to grasp, but among the human agents which produce them none are more powerful than great poets. Poets are the rulers of men's spirits more than the philosophers, whether mental or physical. For the reasoned thought of the philosopher appeals only to the intellect, and and does not flood the spirit; the great poet touches a deeper part of us than the mere philosopher ever reaches, for he is a 'philosopher and something more-a master of thought, but it is inspired thought, thought filled and made alive with emotion. He makes his appeal, not to the intellect alone, but to all that part of man's being in which lie the springs of life. We sometimes feel inclined to think that the hope of being a poet animates more human breasts than any other aspiration. We see people of all ages, of all ranks, of all degrees of education, of all qualities of mental power, possessed by an irrepressible desire to express their thoughts in verse, when the truth is the thoughts are either not worth expression, or, if they are, they would be better stated in sober prose. It is fortunate that many of those who at one period of thei lives felt inclined to "rhyme" were never placed in circum stances favourable to the fulfilment of their desires. Readers generally would not be losers, and it would seem, according to the testimony of Robert Browning, that the embryo "poets" themselves have been the gainers. Writing to a contemporary a correspondent tells that when a boy he received half-a-crown with which he bought a small book. The possession of this treasure he determined to commemorate in 66 a 'copy of verses," in which the following lines occur :I bought it at Mister Cusson's, And it was picked out of dozens. The lines tickled the fancy of his father so much that he showed them to everybody who came to the house. Being shy and sensitive, this used to make the writer cry with vexation. The result was that he determined never to write any more verses. Meeting Robert Browning," he continues, "about a year ago I mentioned this to him, ending with, 'probably I also might have been a poet, if I had not been thus cruelly nipped in the bud.' He turned round with a bland smile, and replied, 'Ah, my friend, be very, very thankful to those who nipped you in the bud; you don't know what they have saved you from.'" It is an oft-repeated fact that the Scottish mind has a tendency to develop its overflowing tenderness and earnest passionateness in lyrical strains of simple beauty, which no literature and no age of the world have surpassed. It has a quaintness and a grace, an elegant simplicity, and an affectionate tenderness which are peculiarly its own. The influence James I. exercised upon Scottish song was strong and lasting, and he has been recognised as the father of Scottish melody, although Scottish music was little known to the world until Allan Ramsay, in the year 1724, collected the melodies of his country in his "Tea-Table Miscellany." He, however, gave little account of them, and Dr Robert Chambers tells us that "the Scottish people are more proud of their songs and music than of any other branch of literature, and they can tell very little regarding the origin and early history of these endeared national treasures." If Burns created no new taste among his countrymen, he developed, extended, and improved that which he found already existing. The beauty of Scottish song is its truth and simplicity, and Burns as well as his compeers and successors always appealed to the heart--expressing their feelings in the pithy language of real emotion, and it appears that the kind of literary talent most in request at present is that of writing songs suitable to music. Our leading musicians are anxious to get hold of verses that are capable of being set to ballad tunes. We often find that the best poetry is the least susceptible of being wedded to music, and it must be remembered that the songs of Burns were in most cases written expressly to the airs to which they are sung. In the case of songs-as, indeed, in many other cases-genius is a disturbing element, and a delicate vein of sentiment or fancy is, so far as the composer |