284 NOVEMBER. 



wintry months, I habitually cast my eyes upon 

 a small recess, filled with books, and, amongst 

 them, upon Ossian ; and if I remember any 

 hours of peculiar enjoyment, I do those thus 

 occupied. The days and feelings of my boy- 

 hood are at once brought back again. I con- 

 nect the scenes and the heroes of the " Voice 

 ofCona" in some mysterious manner with the 

 memory of those" with whom I was wont to 

 admire them ; and am snatched from a world 

 of cold calculation and selfishness, in which we 

 all too willingly participate, to one of glory and 

 generosity. We are often asked wherein con- 

 sists the peculiar charm of Ossian. It is in the 

 graceful delicacy and refined affection of his fe- 

 male characters ; the reckless bravery, lofty sen- 

 timent, and generous warmth of his warriors, 

 and the wildness of the scenery in which they 

 dwell. We are delighted to find his lovely and 

 noble beings on their rude heaths, or in their 

 rude halls, exhibiting a poetical refinement of 

 mind, far transcending the tone of modern so- 

 ciety, with all the beautiful set-off of the sim- 

 plicity of ancient manners. And then, what a 

 pathos is in their sorrows. The harp of Ossian 

 is truly a " harp of sorrow." It breathes per- 

 petually of melancholy tenderness. It is the 

 voice of age lamenting over departed glory ; 

 over beauty and strength cut down in their 



