The ode may be divided into three parts. The | poet sets out with a brief address to Independence, imploring his protection. He sees, in idea, the high object of his adoration, and transported by an ardent and irresistible impulse, he rehearses his birth, education, and qualities. He proceeds, in the second place, to celebrate his office and most renowned achievements; and returns, at the end of the third strophe, to acknowledge with gratitude the protection he had requested, and the power of Independence in preserving him untainted by the debasing influences of grandeur, and the admiration of vain magnificence. Animated with this reflection, and conscious of the dignity annexed to an independent state of mind, he inveighs against those "minions of Fortune" who would impose upon mankind by the ostentation of wealth, and the parade of pageantry. "In Fortune's car behold that minion ride, With either India's glittering spoils opprest: So moves the sumpter-mule, in harness'd pride, l'hat bears the treasure which he cannot taste. For him let venal bards disgrace the bay; And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string: Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay; And all her jingling bells fantastic Folly ring; Disquiet, Doubt, and Dread, shall intervene; And Nature, still to all her feelings just, In vengeance hang a damp on every scene, Shook from the baleful pinions of Disgust.” These lines, embellish'd by fancy, and recommended to the heart by harmony, are the invective of truth and honest indignation. In the last antistrophe the poet descends from his enthusiasm; he is less impetuous; the illustrious passions that animated and impelled him are exhausted; but they leave his mind full of their genuine and benign influences, not agitated and disordered, as if their tendency had been vicious, but glowing with self-approbation, soft, gentle and composed. THE LIFE OF WILLIAM HAMILTON. BY MR. CHALMERS. Of this poet so little is upon record that an apology would be necessary to the reader, if the blame did not rest with those who, with every opportunity to collect information, neglected his personal history while it was within reach. Part of his life appears to have been spent in gaiety, and part in the dangers of civil war; and as he became an exile for an unpopular cause, and passed his latter days in a foreign country which he visited in quest of health, and where he died about half a century ago, little remains among the descendants of his admirers, if we except the information lord Woodhouslee has given, but an indistinct remembrance of a man of a polished mind, of social virtues, and elegant manners. His father was a man of fortune and family in Airshire, where he was born in 1704. He received a liberal education, to which he joined the accomplishments of the man of the world; and amidst the higher dissipations of society cultivated a taste for poetry, of which he exhibited frequent specimens for the amusement of his friends. In 1745 he joined the unfortunate cause of the Pretender, and conceived great hopes from the temporary success of the rebels at Preston-pans: but after the battle of Culloden, which terminated the struggle, he was obliged to provide for his safety in flight; and after many narrow escapes, reached the continent, where he remained until he received a pardon, and was enabled to visit his native land. To recruit his health, however, he was obliged to return to the more genial climate of France, where he died in 1754. Among the revivers of his fame, professor Richardson and lord Woodhouslee are entitled to the highest respect. The latter in his elaborate Life of Lord Kames furnishes what, it is hoped, will atone in some measure for the present scanty article. "With the elegant and accomplished William Hamilton of Bangour, whose amiable manners were long remembered with the tenderest recollection by all who knew him, Mr. Home (lord Kames) lived in the closest habits of friendship. The writer of these memoirs has heard him dwell with delight on the scenes of their youthful days: and he has to regret, that many an anecdote to which he listened with pleasure was not committed to a better record than a treacherous memory. Hamilton's mind is pictured in his verses. They are the easy and careless effusions of an elegant fancy and a chastened taste: and the sentiments they convey are the genuine feelings of a tender and sus ceptible heart, which perpetually owned the dominion of some favourite mistress; but whose passion generally evaporated in song, and made no serious or permanent impression. His poems had an additional charm to his contemporaries, from being commonly addressed to his familiar friends of either sex, by name. There are few minds insensible to the soothing flattery of a poet's record. I question whether his friend Home was ever more highly gratified by the applause he gained for his talents on the success of a legal argument, than by the elegant lines addressed by Hamilton, To H. H. in the Assembly. "Hamilton's letters are, like his verses, the transcript of his feelings. Mr. Home had sent him a few remarks on Horace; of the same tenour, as it would seem, with those observations which, many years afterwards, he gave to the world in his Elements of Criticism. In a letter dated Sept. 1738, to Mr. Home, then passing the autumn vacation at Kames, Hamilton thus writes- I am entirely of your opinion with respect to your observations on Horace. He certainly wanders from his text-but still they are the wanderings of Horace. Why we are never contented with our lot, but still envy the condition of others, was a noble subject, and it were to be wished he had adorned it, as well he could, from his own experience: satisfied, as he seems to have been, with his own pursuits, and the fame they had acquired him. Let me put Horace's question to myself, Why don't I acquiesce in the determination of Heaven, to which I have my self so much contributed? Why don't I rest contented with that, small perhaps indeed, but sincere portion of happiness furnished by my poetry, and a few kind friends? Why concern myself to please Jeanie Stewart, or vex myself about that happier man to whom the lottery of life may have assigned her? Qui fit, Mecenas, qui fit? Whence comes it? Alas, whence indeed? 'Too long by love, a wandering fire, misled, My better days in vain delusion fled: Day after day, year after year withdrew, Yours, &c.! "To seek the aid of wisdom for the cure of love, is no doubt a prudent resolution: but here the question may be put (as of Glendower's spirits), will Wisdom come when the lover calls for her? His friend Home, who had a deeper knowledge of human nature, saw a better cure for a frivolous and idle passion. The lady mentioned in the letter above quoted had complained to Mr. Home, that she was teased with Hamilton's dangling attentions, which she was convinced had no serious aim, and hinted an earnest wish to get rid of him: You are his friend,' said she, 'tell him he exposes both himself and me to the ridicule of our acquaintance.' 'No, madam,' said Mr. Home, you shall accomplish his cure yourself; and by the simplest method. Dance with him at to-night's assembly, and show him every mark of your kindness, as if you |