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THOMAS BLACKLOCK.
231

Exulting; and with wanton pride elate
Felicitates its own superior lot:

Inhuman triumph!"

A letter of Blacklock, written from Dumfries about the time when he received his licence as a preacher, admits us to a very near view of his remarkable sensibility of temperament. It does not appear what were the circumstances alluded to in this letter; but probably the connexion mentioned as having just been formed, was a declaration of mutual attachment and promise of marriage between our poet and his future wife, which he calls ill-fated, on account of his gloomy prospects, and his regret for having involved one whom he loved in his own unhappy fortunes. This letter is as follows:

"Dear Sir,—I received your last inclosed to Mr ——; and so far as my

situation was capable of being consoled, I was happy in the tenderness and sympathy which you express for me. Beneath those exalted pleasures which we are taught to expect in an eternal state; beneath the enjoyment of God himself; I know no happiness which deserves the attention of a wise man, but such as we derive from conscious virtue, benevolence, or friendship. These alone are at present the cordial drops with which heaven has thought proper to mix my cup of bitterness. Since every object of my former pursuit eludes my embrace, or grows insipid by enjoyment, it is time to anticipate such pleasures as are subject to neither of these misfortunes, and to cultivate a relish for them. Fate and nature tell me that I must quickly make my exit from this present scene; they never could send this information to a heart less intimidated by it. I approach the verge of my present existence, not with the reluctance of inexperienced youth, not with the horrors of guilt and superstition, but with the cheerfulness of a wearied traveller, in prospect of the chamber destined for his repose. From this account it will be easy to judge how much I would prize, or how eagerly pursue any civil or ecclesiastical employment were it in my power; but far from being so, it is beyond my remotest hopes;—all access to every resource whence these advantages are derived is denied to me. I have neither power nor influence in life, and am consequently incapable of interesting any who have it. There are evils which may be suffered without mortification; yet, let me confess it, there are others which I cannot think of without being melted to infantine weakness. In my former I told you that I had projected one last resource, and made one last effort for happiness: had I then foreseen the weakness of my constitution, and the unhappiness of my circumstances, sooner would I have run any hazard which this or any future scene can present, than have ventured to form such an ill-fated connexion. It is true that those who are interested in me, persuaded either by my looks, or the present degree of strength which I seem to possess, flatter themselves, or are willing to flatter me, that my present indisposition will not prove decisive; such is the opinion of the lady formerly mentioned. I have endeavoured to impress her with contrary sentiments, that the friendship between us might be dissolved without tearing: but I had reason to lament my success; for in proportion to her sense of my danger, which, after my return from Edinburgh, was pretty high, her whole manner, not to me only, but to all her other friends, appeared expressive of dejection and misery. I had not resolution to continue my former plan, but used every possible argument to persuade her of my returning health; and though conscious of acting a wrong part in this, I have not sufficient strength of mind to act a right one. This is my present situation of mind: 1 know it is what I ought not to have discovered to one of your humanity, nor can I pretend any other apology, but that I apply to the last and most natural resource of wretchedness, the sympathy of a friend. It is all I ask; it is all I hope; and it is what I am sure to obtain. Pray, tell me whether your bro-