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To develope the dawnings of Genius, and to pursue the progress of our own National Poetry, from a rude origin and obscure beginnings, to it's perfection in a polished age, must prove an interesting and instructive investigation.

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Authentic History informs us of no time when Poetry was not; and if the Divine Art has sometimes sung it's own nativity, it is in strains which confess, while they glorify ignorance. The Sacred Annals are silent, and the Heathens, by referring the invention of Verse to the Gods, do but tell us that the mortal inventor was unknown.

“Blackwood's EDINBURGH MAGazi NE,” November, 1828.

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