say, I am a poor country man; I was bred up at the school of Kilmarnock;
I understand no languages but my own; I have studied Allan Ramsay and
Ferguson. My poems have been praised at many a fireside; and I ask no
patronage for them, if they deserve none. I have not looked on mankind
_through the spectacle of books_. An ounce of mother-wit, you know, is
worth a pound of clergy; and Homer and Ossian, for any thing that I have
heard, could neither write nor read.' The author is indeed a striking
example of native genius bursting through the obscurity of poverty and
the obstructions of laborious life. He is said to be a common ploughman;
and when we consider him in this light, we cannot help regretting that
wayward fate had not placed him in a more favoured situation. Those who
view him with the severity of lettered criticism, and judge him by the
fastidious rules of art, will discover that he has not the doric
simplicity of Ramsay, nor the brilliant imagination of Ferguson; but to
those who admire the exertions of untutored fancy, and are blind to many
faults for the sake of numberless beauties, his poems will afford
singular gratification. His observations on human characters are acute
and sagacious, and his descriptions are lively and just. Of rustic
pleasantry he has a rich fund; and some of his softer scenes are touched
with inimitable delicacy. He seems to be a boon companion, and often
startles us with a dash of libertinism, which will keep some readers at
a distance. Some of his subjects are serious, but those of the humorous
kind are the best. It is not meant, however, to enter into a minute
investigation of his merits, as the copious extracts we have subjoined
will enable our readers to judge for themselves. The Character Horace
gives to Osellus is particularly applicable to him.

_Rusticus abnormis sapiens, crassaque Minerva._

[Quotes _Address to the Deil_, from the _Epistle to a Brother Bard_,