Douglas must not be named with Dunbar in strength and grandeur of genius. His power is more in expression than in conception, and hence he has shone so much in translation. His version of the 'Aeneid' is the first made of any classic into a British tongue, and is the worthy progenitor of such minor miracles of poetical talent--all somewhat more mechanical than inspired, and yet giving a real, though subordinate glory to our literature-as Fairfax's 'Tasso,' Dryden's 'Virgil,' and Pope's, Coper's, and Sotheby's 'Homer.' The fire in Douglas' original verses is occasionally lost in smoke, and the meaning buried in flowery verbiage. Still he was an honour alike to the Episcopal bench and the Muse of Scotland. He was of amiable manners, gentle temperament, and a noble and commanding appearance. MORNING IN MAY. As fresh Aurore, to mighty Tithon spouse, Ished of[1] her saffron bed and ivor' house, In cram'sy clad and grained violate, With sanguine cape, and selvage purpurate, Unshet[2] the windows of her large hall, Spread all with roses, and full of balm royal, And eke the heavenly portis crystalline Unwarps broad, the world to illumine; The twinkling streamers of the orient Shed purpour spraings,[3] with gold and azure ment;[4] Eous, the steed, with ruby harness red, Above the seas liftis forth his head, Of colour sore,[5] and somedeal brown as berry, For to alighten and glad our hemispery; The flame out-bursten at the neisthirls,[6] So fast Phaeton with the whip him whirls. * * While shortly, with the blazing torch of day, Abulyit[7] in his lemand[8] fresh array, Forth of his palace royal ished Phoebus, With golden crown and visage glorious, Crisp hairs, bright as chrysolite or topaz; For whose hue might none behold his face. * * The aureate vanes of his throne soverain With glittering glance o'erspread the oceane; The large floodes, lemand all of light, But with one blink of his supernal sight. For to behold, it was a glore to see The stabled windis, and the calmed sea, The soft season, the firmament serene, The loune[9] illuminate air and firth amene. * * And lusty Flora did her bloomis spread Under the feet of Phoebus' sulyart[10] steed; The swarded soil embrode with selcouth[11] hues, Wood and forest, obumbrate with bews.[12] * * Towers, turrets, kirnals,[13] and pinnacles high, Of kirks, castles, and ilk fair city, Stood painted, every fane, phiol,[14] and stage,[15] Upon the plain ground by their own umbrage. Of Aeolus' north blasts having no dreid, The soil spread her broad bosom on-breid; The corn crops and the beir new-braird With gladsome garment revesting the yerd.[16] * * The prai[17] besprent with springing sprouts disperse For caller humours[18] on the dewy night Rendering some place the gerse-piles[19] their light; As far as cattle the lang summer's day Had in their pasture eat and nip away; And blissful blossoms in the bloomed yerd, Submit their heads to the young sun's safeguard. Ivy-leaves rank o'erspread the barmkin wall;