Dr. Johnson asked, in the evening, to see Dr. M'Lean's books. He took
down Willis _de Anima Brutorum_[850], and pored over it a good deal.
Miss M'Lean produced some Erse poems by John M'Lean, who was a famous
bard in Mull, and had died only a few years ago. He could neither read
nor write. She read and translated two of them; one, a kind of elegy on
Sir John M'Lean's being obliged to fly his country in 1715; another, a
dialogue between two Roman Catholick young ladies, sisters, whether it
was better to be a nun or to marry. I could not perceive much poetical
imagery in the translation. Yet all of our company who understood Erse,
seemed charmed with the original. There may, perhaps, be some choice of
expression, and some excellence of arrangement, that cannot be shewn in
translation.
After we had exhausted the Erse poems, of which Dr. Johnson said
nothing, Miss M'Lean gave us several tunes on a spinnet, which, though
made so long ago as in 1667, was still very well toned. She sung along
with it. Dr. Johnson seemed pleased with the musick, though he owns he
neither likes it, nor has hardly any perception of it. At Mr.
M'Pherson's, in Slate, he told us, that 'he knew a drum from a trumpet,
and a bagpipe from a guittar, which was about the extent of his
knowledge of musick.' To-night he said, that, 'if he had learnt musick,
he should have been afraid he would have done nothing else but play.
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