I have depicted James MacPherson and Robert Burns as in some ways opposite poles, successful poets whose success is achieved by going in opposite directions. I have also tried to bring them as close together as I can. Poetry is something that they both do; the muse visits neither man. All poets have “poetic careers,” but the careers of these men are highlighted by their initial obscurity. They not only have poetic careers; they need them, and their subsequent rise is palpable and highly visible. The next poet I want to pull on stage will help illuminate accomplishment and ambition by the counterpoint of failure. James Hogg outdoes both Burns and MacPherson in initial obscurity, and in the end outdoes them, by far, in volume of literary output. In spite of his productivity, he attains neither MacPherson's material and social distinction nor the more simply poetic accomplishment of Burns. His constant difficulties not only indicate the superior coordination of his predecessors, but also demonstrate with agonizing clarity the traps set for the rustic poet ambitious of fame and fortune.

In 1807 James Hogg published a book about sheep called The Shepherd's Guide. Though its title makes it sound like various sorts of pastoral literature – Hogg himself later collected pieces under the title The Shepherd's Calendar – it is actually pastoral literature, pure and simple: it is a sheep-disease handbook.