Professor James Beattie (October 25, 1735 – August 18, 1803) was a Scottish scholar and writer.
Born: October 25th, 1735
Died: August 18th, 1803
Categories: 1800s deaths, Scottish poets, Critics, Essayists, Educators
Quotes: 14 sourced quotes total
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Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.
Ah, who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame’s proud temple shines afar?
Laws, as we read in ancient sages, Have been like cobwebs in all ages: Cobwebs for little flies are spread, And laws for little folks are made; But if an insect of renown, Hornet or beetle, wasp or drone, Be caught in quest of sport or plunder, The flimsy fetter flies in sunder.
By the glare of false science betray’d, That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind.
When squint-eyed Slander plies the unhallow'd tongue, From poison'd maw when Treason weaves his line, And Muse apostate (infamy to song!) Grovels, low muttering, at Sedition's shrine.
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.
He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.
Ah! when shall it dawn on the night of the grave!
What is a law, if those who make it Become the forwardest to break it?
Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free; Patient of toil, serene amidst alarms; Inflexible in faith, invincible in arms.
But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn? Oh when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?
At the close of the day when the hamlet is still, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill, And naught but the nightingale’s song in the grove.
Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down, Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrewn, Fast by a brook or fountain’s murmuring wave; And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave!
'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more; I mourn, but you woodlands I mourn not for you! For spring is returning your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance and glittering with dew. Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn, Kind nature the embryo blossom shall save; But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn?