’Hei mihi! quantos patior dolores,
Dum procul specto juga ter beata;
Dum ferae Barrae steriles arenas
Solus oberro. 
’Ingemo, indignor, crucior, quod inter
Barbaros Thulen lateam colentes;
Torpeo languens, morior sepultus,
Carcere coeco.’

After wishing for wings to fly over to his dear country, which was in his view, from what he calls Thule, as being the most western isle of Scotland, except St. Kilda; after describing the pleasures of society, and the miseries of solitude, he at last, with becoming propriety, has recourse to the only sure relief of thinking men,—­Sursum corda[719]—­the hope of a better world, disposes his mind to resignation:—­

’Interim fiat, tua, rex, voluntas: 
Erigor sursum quoties subit spes
Certa migrandi Solymam supernam,

          Numinis aulam.’

He concludes in a noble strain of orthodox piety:—­

’Vita tum demum vocitanda vita est. 
Tum licet gratos socios habere,
Seraphim et sanctos TRIADEM verendam

          Concelebrantes.’

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29[720].

After a very good sleep, I rose more refreshed than I had been for some nights.  We were now at but a little distance from the shore, and saw the sea from our windows, which made our voyage seem nearer.  Mr. M’Pherson’s manners and address pleased us much.  He appeared to be a man of such intelligence and taste as to be sensible of the extraordinary powers of his illustrious guest.  He said to me, ’Dr. Johnson is an honour to mankind; and, if the expression may be used, is an honour to religion.’

Col, who had gone yesterday to pay a visit at Camuscross, joined us this morning at breakfast.  Some other gentlemen also came to enjoy the entertainment of Dr. Johnson’s conversation.  The day was windy and rainy, so that we had just seized a happy interval for our journey last night.  We had good entertainment here, better accommodation than at Corrichatachin, and time enough to ourselves.  The hours slipped along imperceptibly.  We talked of Shenstone.  Dr. Johnson said he was a good layer-out of land[721], but would not allow him to approach excellence as a poet.  He said, he believed he had tried to read all his Love Pastorals, but did not get through them.  I repeated the stanza,

     ’She gazed as I slowly withdrew;
        My path I could hardly discern;
      So sweetly she bade me adieu,
        I thought that she bade me return[722].’

He said, ‘That seems to be pretty.’  I observed that Shenstone, from his short maxims in prose, appeared to have some power of thinking; but Dr. Johnson would not allow him that merit[723].  He agreed, however, with Shenstone, that it was wrong in the brother of one of his correspondents to burn his letters[724]:  ’for, (said he,) Shenstone was a man whose correspondence was an honour.’  He was this afternoon full of critical severity, and dealt about his censures on all sides.  He said, Hammond’s Love Elegies were poor things[725].  He spoke contemptuously of our lively and elegant, though too licentious, Lyrick bard, Hanbury Williams, and said, ’he had no fame, but from boys who drank with him[726].’