That was to him by serious labour made
A science, which to many is a trade;

Who purchase lands, build houses by their tongue,
And study right, that they may practise wrong.
His books were his rich purchases; his fees
That praise which fame to painful works decrees:
His mem'ry hath a surer ground than theirs
Who trust in stately tombs or wealthy heirs.

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

BORN 1585; DIED 1649.

DRUMMOND-of Hawthornden, as he is commonly styled-united in an eminent degree the characters of poet and historian. He wrote the history of his country during the reigns of the five first Jameses: his poems consist of Sonnets, Epigrams, Epitaphs, and some larger pieces; of which many are on moral and sacred subjects. In the latter, genuine feeling and a natural sweetness and simplicity maintain a successful struggle with the artificial manner fashionable in his time. His sonnets have received the highest praise from critics of distinguished taste and judgment; who have ranked them among the most perfect specimens of this kind of composition.>

Drummond maintained, in his retreat at Hawthornden, a friendly correspondence with some eminent English Roets; in particular, with Jonson; among the best-known occurrences of whose life is his journey on foot into Scotland, to visit his friend, in 1618. He was a good man, a sound patriot, and a sincere Christian.

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

SONNETS.

I.

O! IT is not to me, bright lamp of day,
That in the east thou show'st thy golden face;
O! it is not to me thou leav'st that sea,
And in those azure lists beginn'st thy race.
Thou shin'st not to the dead in any place;
And I dead from this world am past away,
Or if I seem, a shadow, yet to stay,
It is a while but to bewail my case.
My mirth is lost, my comforts are dismay'd,
And unto sad mishaps their place do yield;
My knowledge represents a bloody field,
Where I my hopes and helps see prostrate laid.
So plaintful is life's course which I have run,
That I do wish it never had begun.

II.

TRIUMPHING chariots, statutes, crowns of bays, Sky-treat'ning arches, the rewards of worth,