From that blank look of thine I gather no sign Of thy life-tale, its shame or its glory; Proud Philip’s great son And his slave are as one When a skull is the sum of their story. The poem called _Winter_ begins in this manner:— The summer has ended, The winter is nigh us; The foe of all living Comes to spoil and to try us; Mars all that is lovely, And tramples it under— Full ruthless to all things, He rages for plunder. His wings he spreads o’er us, The sun behind pushing; While fiercely to scourge us His brood is forth rushing; The white-pinioned snow from The sky is forth flying, The hailstones like shot From the stormy north hieing. When he breathes upon it, Its soul leaves the flow’r; His lips the proud bloom Of the garden devour; The robes of the uplands And forests he tears them; His ice-flags of azure— The choked streamlet wears them. His breast’s frozen whistle Wakes loud the commotion Of the waves as they surge O’er the barm-swollen ocean! The sleet he congeals O’er the moors in their whiteness, Clean scouring the stars Till they dazzle with brightness. The poet, after this introduction, goes on to moralise at great length, drawing his lessons from the seasons and their changes. His poems are eight in number, and altogether constitute but a very small volume. The titles of the other poems not referred to above are—_The Dream_, _The Hero_, and _Prayer_. An excellent sketch of his life and conversion written by the author himself in good English, has been translated into Gaelic, and is found frequently prefixed to the Hymns. This account the author solemnly signs, and prays that this transaction of his signing himself as the Lord’s consecrated servant on earth may be ratified in heaven. Buchanan tells us that he was an anxious hearer at one of the sermons which the distinguished evangelist George Whitefield preached at Cambuslang on the occasion of the latter’s visit to Scotland. Buchanan, in conception and utterance, shows more than the other Gaelic bards the effects of his acquaintance with English literature. The religious subjects which were the theme of his poetry partially account for this. When in Edinburgh Buchanan became acquainted with several distinguished men in the Scottish capital—among others, the celebrated David Hume, who was much impressed by the culture and character of the Sacred Bard of Rannoch. [Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)] CHAPTER XIII. BARDS OF THE ANGLO-GAELIC ERA. “Here one thing springs not till another die, Only the matter lives immortally.” —SYLVESTER’S DU BARTAS.