Andrews to Murray.
He could not say, like our other poet to Oxford, `Farewell, dear
city of youth and dream!' His whole nature needed the air, `like
wine.' He found, as he remarks, `health and happiness in the German
Ocean,' swimming out beyond the `lake' where the witches were
dipped; walking to the grey little coast-towns, with their wealth of
historic documents, their ancient kirks and graves; dreaming in the
vernal woods of Mount Melville or Strathtyrum; rambling (without a
fishing-rod) in the charmed `dens' of the Kenley burn, a place like
Tempe in miniature: these things were Murray's usual enjoyments,
and they became his indispensable needs. His peculiarly shy and, as
it were, silvan nature, made it physically impossible for him to
live in crowded streets and push his way through throngs of
indifferent men. He could not live even in Edinburgh; he made the
effort, and his health, at no time strong, seems never to have
recovered from the effects of a few months spent under a roof in a
large town. He hurried back to St. Andrews: her fascination was
too powerful. Hence it is that, dying with his work scarcely begun,
he will always be best remembered as the poet of The Scarlet Gown,
the Calverley or J.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30