The want of culture, and propitious fate.
And oft indulgent fortune, and the toil
Of painful labour, struggle but in vain,
Whilst nature, with a sparing hand, appears
To yield her lovely treasures. Still in all
Nature is chief; and of all goodly works
Hers are the comliest; but thro' fharp'ning toil,
Thro' gen'rous struggles lies man's destin'd road
To happiness, whilst nature's faithful voice
Calls him to virtue as his final good.

Still with our years up-shoots a sep❜rate set Of froward passions. When with gladsome foot The tender child stamps the firm earth, and forms Artic'late sounds with pretty prattling tongue; How many a fervent bus'nefs still engage His happy faculties, whilst ev'ry hour The passion varies, with incessant change!

From grievous tutorage escap'd, the boy Springs to his sport as various fancy points, Pliant to vice, impatient of reproof, Careless, inconstant, overbearing, loud.

The idle froward youth contemns th' advice Of sober age; and from its guardian eye Remov'd, now triumphs in his own free range. Now by love-haunted streams and groves he wastes In idte raptures all his blooming years;

Or gives the first beginnings of his strength

To what has slain the mightiest, and brought down Innumerable mourners to the dust.

The prime of manhood, on a worthier plan Studies to act. Fair honour now exalts His gen'rous views; and now for virtuous fame His bosom burns. For these he braves the flood; He braves the hostile field; for these he dares In full afsembl'd senates to oppose Corruption's num'rous sons, and plead the cause Of liberty, tho' single; whilst the love Of dearest country, and th' immense desire Of fame still urges on to mightiest deeds.

Old age by many a weight is sore oppress'd.
Now beauty's bloom is wither'd; to the ground
Strength bends with tott'ring step; the spirits sink,
And fertile fancy fails; a just concern
Degen'rates to anxiety; the air

Of chearfulness and ease is marr'd by keen
Corrosive cares; innumerable fears

Beset their path; whilst, like a treach'rous friend,
Pleasure forsakes their footsteps. Virtue, alone,
Such pow'r is giv'n her by the Mighty God,
With her delightful song charms ev'ry woe.

Joy to the parents who their darling son
Thro' childish years have happily up-rear'd!
Taught him a pleas'd obedience; set to work
A worthy emulation; and betimes
Form'd virtuous habits in his pliant soul!
Them a rich harvest of rewarding joy
Awaits! Whilst painful culture still bestows
Her close attendance on his precious hours,
What pity game or idleness devour

His op'ning bloom, when nature, now in prime,
Shoots her full vigour thro' his flow'ring spring!
Now hist'ry to his op'ning mind recounts
The deeds of heroes. Now in her retreats
Divine philosophy reveals the laws
That rule this graceful universe, and points,
O man! thy destin'd happiness;-how blest
If with unerring constancy pursu❜d!
How many a scene in science and fair art
Before him lie to blefs his hours, and save
From vice and folly his unguarded heart!

Let travel next, and foreign courts improve
His home-bred taste. Whate'er deserves regard
Abroad, of laws, of learning, commerce, arts,
Genius and manners, with what else may fit
For public station, or adorn the scenes
Of private life, and bless each smiling hour,
Let his attentive eye and ear observe.

Ye gen'rous youths who tread th' inchanted ground

Of foreign cities, and each polish'd court
Visit in search of wisdom, when the song
Of syrens warbles in your ear, O guard
Your easy heart! nor to your country's voice,
Your friends impatient wishes, long defer
Your glad return. The best of human life
First países off; diseases and old age
Succeed; and death, amid our fondest schemes,
Lays his arrest. Oh do not, then, devote
Your prime of days to gallantry; to game;
Mad frolic; or whate'er may make your heart.
Mourn at the last. But on your happy hours
May peaceful conscience, and celestial hope,
Sweet nourishers of age, for ever smile!

Does harmony of tuneful sound awake
A sense of sweetest melody? In forms,
And colours of external things, perceives
The mind an image of thy lovely form?
Mysterious beauty! In the poet's song
Of love disastrous; in the patriot's speech,
By liberty inspir'd, and injur'd laws,

10

Feel we emotions tender or sublime?
Do characters e'er charm us? Glows our heart
With gen'rous friendship? Feel we e'er the pant
For virtue and perfection? Onward still
Where beauty's footsteps lead us; nor remit
The rapt'rous search, till uncreated good
And sov'reign beauty fill the ravish'd soul.

From charm to charm; from beauty onward still
To higher beauty, raptur'd taste pursues
Her heav'nward path, still gen'rously intent
On what is best and highest, upward led
By nature, her instructress, tho' unseen,
And guided by her voice! From reg'lar forms,
And symmetries of simplest kind, to those
Of architecture and the finer arts;

To nature's lovely landscapes; and from these
To higher nature, the celestial orbs,
Their perfect orders, their amazing laws
Of beauty and simplicity divine.

In polish'd cities, and well govern'd states
She chief delights, where shines the godlike train
Of patriots and of heroes, where the voice
Of orators and poets draws her ear
Enraptur'd; and the loveliest forms of just
And equal policies attract her love.
Full oft the gentlest forms of wedded love,
And kindred charities her heart allure
To mildest raptures; now for native land,
Now for mankind, and now for virtue pants
Her swelling bosom, and now onward bears
To SOV'REIGN GOOD. These are her purer
This the mysterious beauty taste pursues,
Where native genius, and auspicious art,
Rear to perfection man's high destin'd pow'rs.

A cock employ'd in quest of food,
A sparkling diamond spied;
"How glad a jew'ler would have been,
At such a sight!" he cried.

A FABLE.

THIS attempt to turn into rhyme, with simplicity, a well known fable, is humbly offered to the Editor of the Bee by

C. J.

"His fortune made!-The giddy joy
Perhaps had turn'd his brain.
For me were gems with barley mix'd,
I should prefer the grain."

loves.

BIOGRAPHICAL CATALOGUE OF EMINENT SCOTTISH ARTISTS.

For the Bee.

Ja
a B

George Jamesone of Aberdeen, painter.

THE present earl of Orford was furnished by Mr Carnegy, town clerk of Aberdeen, with several particulars relating to Jamesone, from whom Mr Carnegy is descended, and these are inserted in Walpole's Lives of British Painters.

I might, therefore, dismifs this article without further notice, were it not to make some remarks upon Jamesone's manner of painting; and to enumerate a few of his most capital performances.

Jamesone's manner of painting resembled more that of his master, Sir Peter Paul Rubens, than any other of his disciples, or fellow scholars at Antwerp.

He painted in the broad thin transparent manner; and when he was hurried, he charged with varnish, both for expedition and mellownefs of colour. He had drawn much from academy figures, and fine statues, and models, when he was a student in Italy and Antwerp; and his lines declare every where his masterly proficiency. I have heard of some bozzos of his in Italy, and some drawings and pictures at Antwerp, but from no immediate, or descriptive authority. He was introduced at London by the laird of Glenorchy, and lord Marischal, his patron; but finding Paul Van Somer, Cornelius Jansen, and afterwards Vandyke, in po session of the vogue, he never could establish himself the metropolis. So, partly at Balloch castle, now Taymouth, at lord Marr's and Marischal's, and his other illustrious protectors, he passed most

of his time in the the country, painting family portraits, most of which were only heads or kit-kats.

Of his full lengths, with finished back grounds, there are but few to be met with, even in the collections of the most illustrious families.

Lord Buchan has one very beautiful and well preserved, of his great grand uncle, who was blown up at Dunglafs castle.

Stuart of Grandtully has one of Lindesay lord Spinzie, of the family of Craufurd, very fine and spirited; and there are a few others. All of them may be hung in apartments with those of Vandyke; with exception (perhaps) to the matchlefs pictures of the Holland family in the collection of lord Breadalbane, and a few in that of the empress of Rufsia, (once, to the disgrace of England,) in the Orford collection at Houghton hall in the county of Norfolk.

His grandfather by the mother was David Anderson, known and spoken of to this day at Aberdeen, by the name of Davie doe aw things; because he was a man of singular ability in mechanical invention.

He it was who first contrived machines for lifting and conveying large blocks of stone for the pier at Aberdeen, and other similar works, in the then low state of the arts in the remote parts of Scotland; and it would be a research not unworthy of an intelligent citizen of Aberdeenshire who had leisure, to hand down the authenticated particulars of this village Archimedes to posterity.

It is a singular circumstance, and worthy of deep reflection, that all the descendants of Davie doe aw things, have been ingenious and remarkable. I have traced them to a great extent without disappointment.