[201]: The collection of songs was my vade-mecum. I pored over them driving my cart, or walking to labour, song by song, verse by verse, carefully noting the true, tender, sublime or fustian.

[202]: Never did a heart pant more ardently than mine to be distinguished.

[203]: There is scarcely any earthly object gives me more—I do not know if I should call it pleasure—but something which exalts me, which enraptures me more than to walk in the sheltered side of a wood or high plantation, in a cloudy winter day, and hear the stormy wind howling among the trees and raving over the plain.... I listened to the birds and frequently turned out of my path, lest I should disturb their little songs or frighten them to another station. Even the hoary hawthorn twig that shot across the way, what heart, at such a time, but must have been interested for his welfare?

[204]: Poor inconnu as I then was, I had pretty nearly as high an idea of myself and of my works as I have at this moment, when the public has decided in their favour.

Il avait le droit de penser ainsi; quand il se mettait à parler le soir dans une auberge, il causait de telle façon que les domestiques allaient réveiller leurs camarades.

[205]: How it will mortify him to see a fellow, whose abilities would scarcely have made an eight-penny taylor and whose heart is not worth three farthings, meet with attention and notice that are withheld from the son of genius and poverty?

[206]:

See yonder poor o'erlabour'd wight,
So abject, mean, and vile,
Who begs a brother of the earth
To give himself leave to toil;
And his lordly fellow-worm
The poor petition spurn,
Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife
And helpless offspring mourn.

[207]:

While winds frae off Ben Lomond blaw,
And bar the doors wi' driving snaw....
I grudge a wee the great folks' gift,
That live so bien an' snug:
I tent less and want less
Their roomy fire-side,
But hanker and canker
To see their cursed pride.
It's hardly in a body's pow'r
To keep at times frae being sour.
To see how things are shar'd;
How best o' chiels are whiles in want,
While coofs on countless thousands rant,
And ken na haw to wair't.