My readers will
probably not be displeased to have a specimen of this ode:--

'Hei mihi! quantos patior dolores,
Dum procul specto juga ter beata;
Dum ferae Barrae steriles arenas
Solus oberro.
'Ingemo, indignor, crucior, quod inter
Barbaros Thulen lateam colentes;
Torpeo languens, morior sepultus,
Carcere coeco.'

After wishing for wings to fly over to his dear country, which was in
his view, from what he calls _Thule_, as being the most western isle of
Scotland, except St. Kilda; after describing the pleasures of society,
and the miseries of solitude, he at last, with becoming propriety, has
recourse to the only sure relief of thinking men,--_Sursum
corda_[719]--the hope of a better world, disposes his mind to
resignation:--

'Interim fiat, tua, rex, voluntas:
Erigor sursum quoties subit spes
Certa migrandi Solymam supernam,
Numinis aulam.'

He concludes in a noble strain of orthodox piety:--

'Vita tum demum vocitanda vita est.
Tum licet gratos socios habere,
Seraphim et sanctos TRIADEM verendam
Concelebrantes.'

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29[720].

After a very good sleep, I rose more refreshed than I had been for some
nights. We were now at but a little distance from the shore, and saw the
sea from our windows, which made our voyage seem nearer. Mr. M'Pherson's
manners and address pleased us much. He appeared to be a man of such
intelligence and taste as to be sensible of the extraordinary powers of
his illustrious guest. He said to me, 'Dr. Johnson is an honour to
mankind; and, if the expression may be used, is an honour to religion.'

Col, who had gone yesterday to pay a visit at Camuscross, joined us this
morning at breakfast. Some other gentlemen also came to enjoy the
entertainment of Dr. Johnson's conversation. The day was windy and
rainy, so that we had just seized a happy interval for our journey last
night. We had good entertainment here, better accommodation than at
Corrichatachin, and time enough to ourselves. The hours slipped along
imperceptibly. We talked of Shenstone. Dr. Johnson said he was a good
layer-out of land[721], but would not allow him to approach excellence
as a poet. He said, he believed he had tried to read all his _Love
Pastorals_, but did not get through them. I repeated the stanza,

'She gazed as I slowly withdrew;
My path I could hardly discer