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Urit me Glycerse nitor, 



Spleiideiitis Pario marinore purius, 



Urit grata protervitas, 



Et vultus piiniuin lubricus aspici." — 



The fields of UUin were as green, and the health of Morven as 

 gloomj, in the days of the real Ossian as of his pretended trans- 

 lator, " the blue waves of Erin" presented then as brilHant 

 a prospect, " when they rolled in the hght of the morning," 

 and the interval of ages has certainly not rendered " the grey 

 mountains" more capable of producing a train of melan- 

 choly ideas. It may be said that the store of nature is in- 

 exhaustible, and that a true poet will always find something 

 there, which though it had escaped the notice of his prede- 

 cessors, is capable of being used to advantage, as an apt 

 illustration of his sentiments, and a valuable ornament of his 

 composition. That this is true in a philosophical sense, there 

 can be little room for doubting, it is certain that we may be 

 for ever approaching to a more intimate ac(iuaintance with 

 the works of the Creator, without ever arriving at complete 

 knowledge ; He alone, who made them, can perfectly compre- 

 hend the design, utility, and extent of His own stupendous 

 performance; but its truth in that sense in which only it is 

 considered advantageous to the poet, will appear, on a little 

 consideration, to be extremely questionable It must be 

 granted, that bj' a close and minute examination of sur- 

 rounding objects, several ideas will suggest themselves, which 

 would escape the transient glances of a more careless ob- 



