ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
C. T., "To the Author of Tartana, or The Plaid" Ramsay, Poems (1720) 43-44.
1719: William Hamilton of Gilbertfield
1720: C. T.
1722: David Mallet
1725: William Hamilton of Bangour
1728 ca.: William Somervile
1729: Joseph Mitchell
1753: Rev. John Werge
1758: Rev. James Grainger
1761: William Shenstone
1762: Robert Lloyd
1770 ca.: Adam Smith
1772: Dr. John Aikin
1773: Samuel Johnson
1774: William Richardson
1774: T. V.
1776: James Beattie
1778: J. H.
1778: J. O.
1780 ca.: Alexander Fraser Tytler
1783: Rev. Hugh Blair
1786: John Pinkerton
1787: Robert Burns
1790 ca.: Rev. Alexander Geddes
1791: John Learmont
1791: Robert Cumming
1791: Alexander Wilson
1791: Ebenezer Picken
1794: Joseph Ritson
1794: Robert Alves
1796: Gavin Turnbull
1797: George Dyer
1800 ca.: George Chalmers
1802: Anna Seward
1806: Charles Brockden Brown
1809: J. M'D.
1816: George Colman the Younger
1817: Leigh Hunt
1819: Thomas Campbell
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1825: Allan Cunningham
1830: Rev. George Barrell Cheever
1832: John Wilson
1851: Dr. David Macbeth Moir
1860: George Gilfillan
1880: William Minto
1882: Epes Sargent
1882: Edmund Gosse
1720: Allan Ramsay
1811: Richard Cumberland
Accept of my kind Wishes, with
The same to Dons Buttler and Smith;
Health Wit and Joy, Sauls large and free,
Be a' your Fates, — sae God be wi' ye.
As once I view'd a rural Scene,
With Summer's Sweets profusely wild;
Such Pleasure sooth'd my giddy Sense,
I ravish'd stood, while Nature smil'd.
Straight I resolv'd and chose a Field,
Where all the Spring I might transfer;
There stood the Trees in equal Rows,
Here Flora's Pride in one Parterre.
The Task was done, the Sweets were fled,
Each Plant had lost its sprightly Air,
As if they grudg'd to be confin'd,
Or to their Will not matched were.
The narrow Scene displeas'd my Mind,
Which daily still more homely grew:
At length I fled the loathed Sight,
And hy'd me to the Fields anew.
Here Nature wanton'd in her Prime;
My Fancy rang'd the boundless Waste.
Each different Sight pleas'd with Surprise,
I welcom'd back the Pleasures past.
Thus some who feel Apollo's Rage,
Would teach their Muse her Dress and Time,
Till hamper'd so with Rules of Art,
They smother quite the vital Flame.
They daily chime the same dull Tone,
Their Muse no daring Sallies grace,
But stifly held with Bit and Curb,
Keeps heavy Trot, tho equal Pace.
But who takes Nature for his Rule,
Shall by her gen'rous Bounty shine;
His easy Muse revells at Will,
And strikes new Wonders every Line.
Keep then, my Friend, your native Guide,
Never distrust her plenteous Store,
Ne'er less propitious will she prove
Than now; but, if she can, still more.