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"Cauld blew the bitter-biting North Upon thy early, humble birth; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. "The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield; But thou, beneath the random bield* O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane.
And now, without any further preface, we proceed to our next chapter. A short hint of what we can do in the sublime, and a description of Miss Sophia Western. Hushed be every ruder breath. May the heathen ruler of the winds confine in iron chains the boisterous limbs of noisy Boreas, and the sharp-pointed nose of bitter-biting Eurus.
The Christ, a poem on the Savior's Nativity, Ascension, and Judgment of the world at the last day, sometimes suggests Dante's Inferno or Paradiso, and Milton's Paradise Lost. We see the "Flame that welters up and of worms the fierce aspect, With the bitter-biting jaws school of burning creatures."
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