In 1784. Poems by David Robertson, were printed at Edinburgh, for William Creech. These poems shew the dawnings of a true poetical genius. They are, doubtless, incorrect, yet, in them are displayed many beauties, that recommend them to the reader of taste and feeling. I recollect the author with much pleasure. He went, soon after the publication of his poems, somewhere abroad, it is believed to the West Indies, but whether he be dead or alive, I know not. He appeared to me, to be modest, and unassuming in his deportment, amiable in his manners, and virtuous in his conduct.