Beattie never lost this keen delight in Nature. When he was schoolmaster at Fordoun, at the foot of the Grampian Hills, his greatest pleasure was found in the neighboring mountains and wooded glens. His biographer also says that he would frequently “pass the whole night among the fields, gazing on the sky, and observing the various aspects it assumed till the return of day.” Beattie’s poems bear conclusive evidence of his love of Nature in all her forms. Mountains, and the sea, wild scenes of various sorts, storms, torrents, night, clouds, the sky, streams, meadows, groves, summer and winter, wide views, are regarded with genuine delight. But there are certain curious limitations. There are almost no specific flowers, birds, or trees mentioned in all this abundant study of the external world. This use of the general instead of the specific is one element of an effect too often perceived, an indefiniteness of outline, a vague blurring of edges, the result of which is not mysterious suggestiveness but simply dimness and confusion. There is also an unexpected feebleness of vocabulary and lack of direct observation. The old word “murmur,” for instance, is applied with wearisome insistence to springs, rills, water, the ocean, pines, woods, groves, and gales. So the interest in wild Nature, when analyzed, shows a rather monotonous and undiscriminating succession of cliffs and precipices. But it would be unfair to press these limitations too far. There are many true observations happily presented, as in the following lines which are selected as illustrative: While waters, woods, and winds in concert join. The wild brook babbling down the mountain side. Torrents Heard from afar amid the lonely night. And now the storm of summer rain is over And cool and fresh and fragrant is the sky. When by the winds of autumn driven The scatter’d clouds fly ’cross the Heaven. Oft have we from some mountain’s head Beheld the alternate light and shade Sweep along the vale. The scared owl on pinions gray Breaks from the rustling boughs And down the lone vale sails away To more profound repose. He finds pleasure in old oak trees that from the stormy promontory tower And toss their giant arms amid the skies. In winter he watches The cloud stupendous, from the Atlantic wave High towering, sail along the horizon blue. Lines such as these show knowledge both fresh and close, and the expression is marked by picturesque effectiveness.