Then down the sloping side It will slip with glassy slide, Gently welling, Till it gather strength to leap, With a light and foamy sweep, To the corrie broad and deep, Proudly swelling; Then bends amid the boulders, ’Neath the shadow of the shoulders Of the Ben, Through a country rough and shaggy, So jaggy and so knaggy, Full of hummocks and of hunches, Full of stumps and tufts and bunches, Full of bushes and of rushes, In the glen. Through rich green solitudes, And wildly hanging woods, With blossom and with bell, In rich redundant swell, And the pride Of the mountain-daisy there And the forest everywhere, With the dress and with the air Of a bride. The number and variety of Macintyre’s compositions is very large, all sorts of themes being regarded as fit for the exercise of his poetic fancy. Like those of the Highland bards, however, his subjects are generally more of local and personal than of the larger human interests—a fact which is not at all surprising when his education, calling, circumstances, and surroundings are considered. Personal satires and eulogies, as well as the ordinary events of Highland humble life and occupations, form the circle of themes with which his muse is occupied. But wherever he gets the opportunity of seizing upon new subjects he straightway rushes at them, and turns them over in the rural though rich alembic of his intellectual and ethical processes, with results which show shrewdness, sagacity, and poetic powers of observation of a high order. In the corrie, on the hillside, or after the chase, Duncan Bàn is at home, and his poetry then rises to the highest pitch of the true pastoral. Elsewhere his muse necessarily travels on lower planes. But, like all his countrymen, inspired by visions of the great bens and far-reaching valleys, he is ever eager to extend his sphere of observation as well as his horizon of knowledge. In his suggestive poem in _Praise of Dunedin_, or of Edinburgh, where the patriarchal poet died at the good age of eighty-nine, there is a current of pleasant and pawky observation which reminds us of the great changes that have come over the Scottish capital as over _Ben-Dorain_ of the poet’s “Farewell.” The following verses of a very literal rendering describes the author’s impressions of what usually attracted his gaze in “Bonnie Dunedin”:— There’s many a noble lady A poor man here may meet In gown of silk or satin That sweeps along the street; And every pretty thing wears stays, To keep her straight and spare; And beauty-spots on her fair face To make her still more rare.