I am very happy to find that Dr. Blacklock's apparent uneasiness on the subject of Scepticism was not on his own account (as I supposed), but from a benevolent concern for the happiness of mankind. With respect, however, to the question concerning poetry, and composing a dictionary, I am confident that my state of Dr. Johnson's position is accurate. One may misconceive the motive by which a person is induced to discuss a particular topic (as in the case of Dr. Blacklock's speaking of Scepticism); but an assertion, like that made by Dr. Johnson, cannot be easily mistaken. And indeed it seems not very probable, that he who so pathetically laments the drudgery to which the unhappy lexicographer is doomed, and is known to have written his splendid imitation of Juvenal with astonishing rapidity, should have had as much pleasure in writing a sheet of a dictionary as a sheet of poetry. Nor can I concur with the ingenious writer of the foregoing letter, in thinking it an axiom as evident as any in Euclid, that "poetry is of easier execution than lexicography." I have no doubt that Bailey and the "mighty blunderbuss of law," Jacob, wrote ten pages of their respective Dictionaries with more ease than they could have written five pages of poetry. If this book should again be reprinted, I shall, with the utmost readiness, correct any errors I may have committed, in stating conversations, provided it can be clearly shown to me that I have been inaccurate. But I am slow to believe (as I have elsewhere observed) that any man's memory, at the distance of several years, can preserve facts or sayings with such fidelity as may be done by writing them down when they are recent: and I beg it may be remembered, that it is not upon memory, but upon what was written at the tim: that the authenticity of my Journal rests. No. II. VERSES, WRITTEN BY SIR ALEXANDER (NOW LORD) MACDONALD ; ADDRESSED AND PRESENTED TO DR. JOHNSON, AT ARMIDALE IN THE ISLE OF SKY. VIATOR, o qui nostra per æquora Undique conglomerantur oris. Donaldiani-quotquot in insulis Ciere fluctus siste, Procelliger, Nec te vicissim pœniteat virum Quidni! peremptum clade tuentibus Valete luctus; hinc lacrymabiles Fingaliæ memorantur aulæ Illustris hospes ! mox spatiabere Buccina qua cecinit triumphos; Audin? resurgens spirat anhelitu Vi solitâ redivivus horror. Ahæna quassans tela gravi manu Phersonius vigil ad favillam. |