LIFE OF WILSON. clxxv 
it is not trite; none but an attentive observer of nature could 
have conceived it, and expressed it so naturally. 
It appears to have been his intention to concentrate all his 
poetical powers in his ‘‘Foresters,” resting his hope of fame 
chiefly upon this production. That the time spent in construct- 
ing it, might have been better employed in writing a simple 
prose narrative of a journey, which was fruitful of interesting 
events, must be obvious to many of the readers of this poem, 
who are acquainted with the author’s talents for description, 
and his appropriate diction, of which we are presented with ex- 
amples in his letters and his Ornithology. On first reading this 
production such was my impression, and a re-perusal has not 
induced me to change my opinion. 
In his exordium he is not very happy: 
“ Sons of the city! ye whom crowds and noise 
“Bereave of peace, and Nature’s rural joys.” 
The noise of a crowded city may bereave its inhabitants of 
peace, but it is difficult to conceive how it can have a tendency 
to deprive them of the delights of^the country. 
In the account of his companions and himself he is too cir- 
cumstantial, details of this kind correspond not well with the 
dignity of poetry : 
“ An oilskin covering glittered round Ws head.” 
“ A knapsack crammed by Friendsliip’s generous care 
“ With cakes and cordials, drams and dainty fare; 
“ Flasks filled with powdei’, leathern belts with shot, 
“ Clothes, colours, paper, pencils, — and what not.” 
Also in another place: 
“ Full loaded peach trees drooping hung around, 
“ Their mellow fi’uit tliick scatter’d o’er tlie ground; 
“ Six cents procured us a sufficient store, 
“ Our napkins crammed and pockets running o’er. 
Many of his rhymes are bad, particularly in the latter part 
of the poem, from the carelessness of the composition of which. 
