Now As It Is Well Known That Smith Did Not Possess Sufficient
Poetic Power To Produce Any Imitation Of Macpherson's
Ossian, with
a tenth part the merit which the "Sean Dana" possess, and that even
if he had possessed it,
His principles would not have allowed him
to attempt to deceive the world by imposing forgeries upon it, as
the authentic poems of another, he being a highly respectable
clergyman, the necessary conclusion is that the Ossianic poems
which both published are genuine, and collected in the manner in
which both stated they were."
After a little more discourse about Ossian, the old gentleman asked
me if there was any good modern Gaelic poetry. "None very modern,"
said I: "the last great poets of the Gael were Macintyre and
Buchanan, who flourished about the middle of the last century. The
first sang of love and of Highland scenery; the latter was a
religious poet. The best piece of Macintyre is an ode to Ben
Dourain, or the Hill of the Water-dogs - a mountain in the
Highlands. The master-piece of Buchanan is his La Breitheanas or
Day of Judgment, which is equal in merit, or nearly so, to the
Cywydd y Farn, or Judgment Day of your own immortal Gronwy Owen.
Singular that the two best pieces on the Day of Judgment should
have been written in two Celtic dialects, and much about the same
time; but such is the fact."
"Really," said the old church clerk, "you seem to know something of
Celtic literature."
"A little," said I; "I am a bit of a philologist; and when studying
languages dip a little into the literature which they contain."
As I had heard him say that he had occasionally given lessons in
the Welsh language, I inquired whether any of his pupils had made
much progress in it. "The generality," said he, "soon became tired
of its difficulties, and gave it up without making any progress at
all. Two or three got on tolerably well. One, however, acquired
it in a time so short that it might be deemed marvellous. He was
an Oxonian, and came down with another in the vacation in order to
study hard against the yearly collegiate examination. He and his
friend took lodgings at Pengwern Hall, then a farm-house, and
studied and walked about for some time, as other young men from
college, who come down here, are in the habit of doing. One day he
and his friend came to me, who was then clerk, and desired to see
the interior of the church. So I took the key and went with them
into the church. When he came to the altar he took up the large
Welsh Common Prayer-Book, which was lying there, and looked into
it. 'A curious language this Welsh,' said he; 'I should like to
learn it.' 'Many have wished to learn it, without being able,'
said I; 'it is no easy language.' 'I should like to try,' he
replied; 'I wish I could find some one who would give me a few
lessons.' 'I have occasionally given instructions in Welsh,' said
I, 'and shall be happy to oblige you.' Well, it was agreed that he
should take lessons of me; and to my house he came every evening,
and I gave him what instructions I could.
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