IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // ^ >V 1.0 1.1 ■u B3.2 13.6 Ui 1.25 iu ■ 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ISOmin .% «P /, *> 9 /APPLIED J IIVUGE . Inc JBS 1653 East Main Street ^^1 Rochester, NY 14609 USA ^^^= Phone: 716/482-0300 ,^^^^= Fax: 716/268-5989 1993, Applied Image. Inc., All Rights Reserved A i\ ^ 4^ 1>. <^ 1^ ..* r .>^ ^V *;< 'i\ ^V^'.:-: ^r ;^.'^ ►^i. i >< ^m- 7*k^ .^1 ^ # >x \>> f iXV ^/>^ ^,^ POEMS. POKMS. ny ROBERT lUVIDSON, JEDBURIJH: ntlNTK.) Fr.K T.fE AUTUOR, Hy vv. y.AHToS 1825. PR ^5? 5 Ml See He7 Her Like Her Her Her Like Such Mak< See Teviotdale romantic charms display, He- past'ral lawns with groves and woodlands gav • Her crystal streams midst verdant glades are seen, ' Like lines of silver bright'ning landscapes green ; Her camp crown'd heights, where ancient warriors lav • Hor mould'ring towers, where poesy loves to stray ' Her lofty mountains look o'er lovely vales, Like giant cent'nels guarding fniry dales : ' Such scenes as the.e to fancy's eye pourtray'd, Make simple muses haunt the peasant's shed. keprinted fob Hon. John Robson, Nephew of the Author, Victora, B.C. June I<:«1. Tl El Th Ffi Se Si] Ep Lii Th A] Ad An Ttxi Th( Th« On To Lin The The Will Epil The Wal Son{ Son{ Song Song Cami The: CONTENTS. The Witch'B Cairn, - . . . . Elliot of Laristone, - . The Kirn Day, -..."'""' Fasten E'en, -...'*" " Sequel to Fasten E'en, -...'"" Sim and Sandy -..''*" Epistle to a Rev. Friend - ' " Ti°X."" '" r ^^'"'°«^ ^^^ «^«^« «' « ^««n« Friend -" The Beggar's Account of Himself, - A Mother's Lament for the Death of an Infant Son Address to Liberty, - . . . ' Anna aud Malcolm, -..""* The Fate of Edwin, --..'""" The Shepherd's Address to his Auld Dog," " Ihe Wmter's Day - - - . • On Visiting the Scenes of Early Days To the Shade of Wallace, . " " " '''' or rs^rB-ui:"""'-" ™ ^''"' -" '^ The Sodger and Shepherd, - . The Charms of Liberty, - . " " Will o' Bowment, .... " " " Epitaphs, --.._■■" The Gipsy's Rant, -..."'"' " Wallace's Farewell, -...""" Song,-'^ The bonnie banks where Teviot stravs " Song,-" On Waterloo's becrimson'd mould." " W~"T"^'''^f'^''^''°''^^''™°»^«^df'ree,'' -" .' Song,-" To wander lang in foreign lands » - Cameron's Address to his Clan, The Mountains of Spain, - '. " ' " 18 26 32 37 . 39 44 47 m 55 68 62 ii5 69 71 75 77 78 80 84 86 89 90 94 96 97 99 100 102 103 T JN T C A ^^ Ti Tl Bi POEMS. THE WITCH'S CAIRN. A TALE. Is there no old shepherd a story can tell About that old cairn on the edge of tjie fell ? ^idst all my researches, I never can know Who reared the pile, or who slumbers below • Perhaps some brave hero, whose daring and might Has turn'd for his country the balance of light • Perhaps some proud chieftain, -vhose fate we'll 'ne'er learn, Who soar'd at a kingdom and found but a cairn ! Not so, said a shepherd, this cairn keeps a name That better had dwelt with oblivion than fame • Nor hero, nor chieftian, in stoiy be-praised, ' lo Meg of the cavern this bourick was raised- Come sit ye down by me below this green tree, ^d I'll tell ye the tale as old shepherds told me : When done, ye shall see in yon lone glen so grey, The stream where she drank, and the cave where she Jay. This witch, for some time, kept the countr/ aghast. But vengeance o'erhied her and crushed her at lastl Twas when her bla^k cantrips n. more could be borne, u\ THE witch's OAIKN. The country iieKeml)lo(l by hundreds one mom ; Then some of the boldest seized i\[eg in her cell, B»>fore she luid leisure to practice her spell : Her Imndji they with saplings of i^ivvin tree bound, jf They bore her in triumph and shouted around ; The judge being seated upon a gray stone, The crowd ranged around him, the trial went on ; Some kept at a distance, and diirst not come near, Tlio' Me«T was in fetters, still e'ed her with fear. Anld Ikuldy, the blacksmith, Hrst Maggie accused- Says he, by her prankf I've been sadly abused, 1 met her at morn ere the sun came in view, That luckless encpunter I ever may rue ; The glance that she ehot from lier dark drumlie e'e, Forever has kipel'd misfortune and me— Nine times ere the e'enin, my knuckles I burnt, My bellows broke down, and the lum gaed alunt, 1 went to the fowling, and shot my ain drake ; Next morning, poor crummy vas cauld at the stake ; I gaed the last week to a tryst on the Tweed, But her cursed cantrips bewildered my head ; I missed the ford in the broad light of day. And near fand the bottom 'tween bunk or 'tween brae ; When dreepin' and chitterin' 1 took the road hame ; My beast fell beneath me as dead as a stane— To tiee frae misfortune 'tis needless to strive, We ne'er can be sinder'd while Maggie's alive Then Sandy, the shepherd, began a sad tale, His eye turn'd on Maggie, he paused and grew pale ; Says he, I've done nothing deserving her spite, THE witch's cairn. 11 Altliougli she's attempted to ruin me quite : She passed uie one duy as I tented my Hock, My immHnner'd colly but tugged at her cloak ; Hut poor luckless Yarrow I never saw mair, He ran to the mountains as wild as a hare-1 Before I came hame, she had witch'd my best cow r seized the hag, and drew blood on her brow ; I thought by the deed for to baffle the spell. But soon her dread vengence uas felt on the fell ' The sun had gone down, and the ev'r.ing was still, The flocks on the moorlands were wand'ring at will. No token of tempest was seen in the skies, And nothing but magic could make one arise ;— Soon, broken and dull grew the sound of the rills, And deep hollow i.uirmurs were heard on the hills, A thick murky gloom soon extinguish'd the day. And night seem'd impatient to witness the fray • So wild was the tempest that burst on the heath,' That all things that breathed were threaten'd with death ; The moor cock was choked ere a covert he found. The strong winged raven was dash'd to the ground The loud rolling thunder groan'd through the dark drift, The red winged bolt shook the mountain's grey clift The rocks, rent to splinters, their beds did forgo ' And roll'd with a crash to the valleys below ' Bent to the yird, by the hurricane's shock, I crawl'd on all four to a cave in the rock, There trembled in terror till midnight was past. Expecting each moment wouM count fenny last • Then in the dark cavern, 1 heara a deep grane— ' A hand touch'd my haffet, as eauld as a stane I 12 THE witch's CAIMN. My hair heaved my bonnet, — my breatlung grew low — My staff shook like aspln, and dropt on the snow — I sprang from the cavern as swift as the wind, And ne'er cast a look to the mountains behind ! When brambles or brushwood entangled my shins, I snapt them like threads that the gossamer spins, — My auld aunty Bess got a horrible fright, She's never done well since that terrible night ; She swears that she saw the auld beldam ride past, Astride on a broomstick, directing the blast — Many a storm I have faced in my day. But recon'd with this they seem'd breezes in May. Next morning, t]ve fragments of hirsels were found,- In wreath-choked torrents some hundreds were drown'd — Some, by the rude tempest, dash'd o'er the wide fens^ And some undiscover'd, lie yet in the glens — No doubt but the court will judge candid and fair, But if they spare Maggie, I'll never herd mair. Then Watty, the wabster, ran wild through the crowd. His plaint against Maggie was bitter and loud — Gae burn her, says Watty, and end her ill life, Tliat vile imp of satan's bewitched my wife : A' our guid neighbors can freely attest. That o' the good housewifes, my Elspeth was besi ; Sae cleanly, sae thrifty, in butt or in ben. Until this auld witch came to win in the glen — Dung diled, wi' her cantrips, she saunter'd away, And foUow'd the troopers for many a day ; TIIK WITCh'm CAIKN. la Now when she's retnrnM, she'll do nought fur the loon., She 8 never at rest when the ale caps are too.n ; She wakes the house echo wi' clamour and war She drinks like a souter, and swears like a tar •* I've spent n.y last plack for to pay c.T her scores JNow naked starvation has enter'd my doors, Nor comfort, nor Kindness, my sorrow relieves, tor Kispeth repays me wi' nought hut her neeves. ^ estreen, frae the ale-house, I hrought her hame fou, The bun.ps o' tlie pint stoup renmin on my brow : This hag is the cause of my sorrow and shame, liie person bewitched is naething to blame • I liope that your honours will grant my request, I ve brought twa tar barrels, we"ll kindle the best. The judge that presided was held in renown, He once was a chaplain, and served the crown • He fought at red Flodden, md never stain'd steel, But came off unrivall'd for swiftness of heel • Proud learning her treasures had shower'd on his head ; ^' Tweed ^' ''^''" ^''""^' '^'''''* '^'' ^^"' *"^ ^^'^ The wide fields of science he clearly could scan, His study was wonmn-I dare not say man,— Nor wit, worth, nor genius can shield from mishap, - He d twice been bewitched, and thrice had the < His tame as a judge flew o'er land and o'er sea, for none came before him that ever got free • Upon the rude rabble he turned his eyes Said little, or nothing, for wisdom's concise- Half bent with a burden of judgment and sense, He call d upon Maggie to make her defence. 14 THE WIT^'H 8 CAIKN. Says Ma'^gie, in inngic F never was skill'd, I Itbjnk it a weupdu no uuntnl cun w'wU\ ; Can lUor^ftl* makp toinpesta arise anU' \\ still, Or agitate m, Inro and soothe her at will ? Will mind and dull matter serve 'ueath their employ, Or sunshine and shadow, «tr sorrow and joy i Were fate for a moment the task to resign, It tits not an arm that is feeble like mine. — Some say, I'm deputed by demons to vent Their nudico on mortals that ne'er can be spent ; To mar each fair prospect, and tempt them to sin, And blast the f^w joys that are scatter'd so thin. — If demons have such a dread gift in their power, I would not receive it for worlds told o'er ; I feel for all hearts that's with sorrow opprest, Could wishing relieve them, they soon should be blest; For this was a lesson I learned from woe, To value a friend, and to pity a foe ; For long ere my day had begun to decline, Pale grief was a guest in this bosom of mine ; War, cruel war, was the cause of my pain. My heart's dearest partner in battle was slain ; He went with a foray, no more to return, And loft me bewilder'd in sorrow to mourn ; — He lel'i me a mother to valour and worth. From me, six brave yeomen derived their birth. When stately, and blooming in life's lovely spring, They all fell on Flodden, abreast with their king ; I hasted away to bedew their sad biers, With the tear of a mother — the saltest of tears — The victor;^., i^xulting, had buried the brave, Unshroudei , 'hej «ilept in one wide bloody grave 1 To life's fiwf iii " p;r3a8u. t!S I then bade adieu, TIIK WITCIi'h t'AIKN. lo TlK' hauU of H„. YHrrow ^rcsv hUomv, to vie^., • No mo,v tlK>y Hc.c.m\| lov.Iy, d..|i«l.tf„| HM.l guy,' 1 he flMwei-H tl.ut a,lur,.M th..„. uvn, nuh.l for aye • A vvivtdu.,! and hdplesH, k.,...av,Ml of fhu«e Who 8o<,th.d llf./. som,^^■., u,„l nholt.rM its doRo .Soon forced. l,y In.nrrcr, a n.orHoI to crave, I made n.) uhodo in that dark dreary cuvm. Wlien })it> duni.s nie, 1 wander forlorn. And pi.k the cold herrieH that's left on the thorn • My couch in the cavern, is flinty and hard— If V I.AKISTuXK. 25 Bcund fast with green willows and stuck on a pole • When, with its vast jaws, to inclasp him it strove, ' Down the throat of the monstei- tlie faggot he drove- Ifc wreathed in anguish, and backward did start, The smouldering fire soon scorched its heart ;— The crowd at a distance detained by fear, With loud shouts of victory, exulting drew near ; The echoes of Wornnngton caught the acclaim. And tore the wide welkin with Laristone's name ! THE KIRN DAY. Nae mair the sprightly sangeters greet the inovn, But pensive sit ])eneath the black'nlng siae ; The haw haiijjs crinisonVl on the leafless thorn : The nut-brown l)raken shades the distant brae ; While autumn from his verdure plenty shakes, Wide o'er the fertile fields profusion pours, For brose and bannocks to the land of cakes, When, o'er her mountains, angry winter lours Wi' a his bitter-biting with'ring powers. Before the distant sun had speel'd tHe heiglit. And hail'd the woodlands with a cheerful smile, Upon the furrow'd field, wi' hearts fu' light, A band of rustics plied their early toil ; Wi' sturdy hands they cow'd the noddin' grain. This day their rugged task they hope to end, When they shall ca' their hard won fees their ain ; With conscious joy their simple hearts distend, As o'er the sheaf-clad glebe their eyes they bend. The auld guidman stalks round wi mickle prid«, And e'es the gowden grain in clustering raws ; Let ruthless Boreas wildly sweep the glade, He's heedless now o' every blast that blaws. THK KIRN HAY. 27 A constant crack gaes round among the fair, A' deeply versed in fashion's varying law ; Ilk ane recounts her stock, wi' tentie care, O' breast knots, top knots, beads and bonnets bra', Or joins some envied beauty to misca'. The gatherers hover round in straggling bands. To them a scanty portion autumn yields ; Contented still they pick, with feeble hands, The little remnants of the stubble fields : Yet still they seem to share the comnK.n joy, That full this day in every face doth shine ; The aged matron tells the thoughtless boy, How many hairsts she'd seen and shorn langsyne, When she was brisk and bra' in yonthfn' prime. Wi' serious air she tells o' unco' deeds Perform'd by warlocks in the lonely glen ; Converting broomstick into stately steeds, To scour the wilds, unscared by marsh or fen • Or what mishaps befel on festive nights, In days of yore, of which our minstrels sing ; How unperceiv'd approach'd the fairy knights, And stole the boasted beauties from the ring. Then fled to fairy-land on Tiewless wing. Wi' themes like these, fu' fast the moments glide. Until the reekin' coggie's reach'd the field ; Wi' right guid will the heuk's are laid aside. And every hand a doughty horn doth wield : In firm array they hem the bowie's round ; C'word on the yird in circular ring they close ; :?« THK KIBN DAY. Then rural tulus juui «iinple jest* abound, When Mithely cluutin' at their cogs o' hrose— Sae fared the hearts wha fought w|' great Montroie. Perhaps 8oine puiuf)©r'd spark, u-eak, wan, and pale, Whose gentle stomach ne'er was edged wi' toil, May look disdainfn' uu the simple meal, The healthsome produce of their native soil : Though neither Indies lends its baneful aid, To fill these humble cups with viands rare. Yet on the cheek is rosy health pourtray'd Of hardy swaias and rural beauties fair, Fresh as the flow'rs which scent the morning air. The ca' of nature, styled loud clamVous din, Among the sportive youngsters soon arise ; Among the elder core the cracks begin, In full divan now met, like statesmen wise ; Behind a stook fu' snugly they recline. The pipe and mill they freely hand about, The kirk and state affairs they do deline, And solve each knotty point beyond a doubt, How dark intrigues and secret plots came out. Anticipation paints the festive night, The moments quick on rapid pinions flew. Till t\t the ca', with jovial hearts and light, They start, and do their former toils renew ; This wish'd for day, a wonted right they claim. Without restraint their boasted strength to try ; Wi' garrulous tongue began a windy wight. To stir some quarrels that had lang lain bye, 'Rien fierce defiance darts from eveiy eye. THE KIBK l»AV. gQ From right to left h furious fray l)eging, Each sober thought by tuad'ning rage exiled ; Frae rig to rig tlie bandster todliii rins, Aud a' ia havock and confusion wild : The auld guidnian, o' temper quite Inireft, His bonnet bhift«, and oft hi8 liaffek claws, To see the hard won crap in luindfu's left, A ready prey to cotters und to craws ; He riuM redwood, and shoreH them wi' the laws. The softer sex, whose facuK best beseem That witchitig smile which steals the heart away; But now their eyes shot forth a fiercer beam. And kindle into ardour at the fray ; Till saftly soundin' yont the briery knowe, The distant notes of music strike their ears ; Then slow, wi' bonnet blue and lyart pow, Their ancient minstrel, Clmv-the-thairm, appears, And is received wi' loud and jovial cheers. Though gentles may his uncouth touch deride. They roose liim here, and say he's deeply skill'd ; Into a calm their frenzies soon subside, Discord v\i sooty pinions left the field, Scared by the magic of those matchless airs That Caledonia proudly ca's her fiin ; Which oft have soothed the lover's bleeding cares. And cheer'd her warrior on the bloody plain. When pressing forward o'er re WajBBJB Beamnont lave& with limpid waves, That brigUt reflect the day ; Or dimpling deep, with eddying sweep, Down fertile valleys stray, A jovial core with social roar^ Was forra'd. in, phalanx, deep, In sport and- play to. pass the day, Their Fasten's e'en to keep^ Fu' blithe that day. , The ploughs stand idle down the dale, Fast frae the fell the shepherd hies, The barnman drops his weary flail. No more his task the ditcher plies ; The dusty miller sets his mill, The souter casts his apron, Through a' the town the loomo stand still, The Webster lads are vap'rin' Fu' crouse that day. The schoolboy trips wi' brisker pace. His heart loups light and cheerie ; Pleasure's Ulinkin' in his face, N&e tasks to make him eerie : Even hirplin' age new vigour gains. And seems mair brisk and sprightly ; He casts his lade o' cramps and pains. FA8TKN e'bN. And on his crutch leans lightly On sic a day. Then silly through the circle deep, That round the cocks are closin', Wi' anxious e'e the youngsters peep, The victor-bird supposin' : No leaders more suspense could know, Where kingdoms' fate depended. When front to front, at Waterloo, Renowned hosts contended. On sic a day. The ruthless rivals loot the ring, And a' their plumage staining, In deadly dint wi' beak and wing, The life drops freely draining ; Thoiigh hearts are barb'rous and profane That smile on life expiring, A virtue lurks beneath the stain. When valour they're admiring That unco day. When high in air the ba' was flung, Fu' lightly ofif they bounded, Then lang and loud the clamour rung, Till a' the hills resounded ; Whiles sweeping wildly cross the vale. Whiles o'er the uplands bending. Whiles struggling wildly down the dale, Like meeting streams contending, Fu' keen that day. 88 34 FASTEII E'liiJ. We see that ardent spirit blaze, Which o'er these hills presided, When deadly feuds of former days, Made sterner fields decided ; But now we share tliat quiet sweet, Which gentle peace imposes, Save when on Fasten's e'en we meet, Wi' broken shins or noses, On sic a day. Sin' first the glentin' morning sun Was o'er the hills appearing, Wi' dronthy comrades, Bumiewin^ Had kept the stoup a-steering ; When he had scared the cares away, That dogg'd him for a towmont, And sleggerin' for to join the play, Fell o'er the lugs in Beaumont, Fu' deep that day. The souter's wife hang by his hair, And sair misca'd her deary This day he'd spent a crown and mair, Her very tongue was weary ; He lap, and freed him frae her paw, But still retain'd the scar o't. He frisk'd away to chase the ba' ; And glad she made nae mair o't, On sic a day. When gloamin' keek't out o'er the hill, They wish'd for to retard her. FASTEN e'eH. The contest then grew sterner still. With keen redoubled ardour ; The ploughman laddies plied their heel«, To gain the gree they ettle, The manly limbs that Cheviot speels, Exerted a' their mettle On sic a day. Tam Copliu lang liad view'd the play, And laughed to see them roiling, But still he scorned to join tlie fray, His breeks ower braw for soiling : But oh, whatreck ! a moorland chiel Came friskin' by like fire, Wi' wicked tae tripp'd Taramie's heel, And turn'd him in the mire. Right o'er that day. When night's dull dusky wing at last Had hill and valley shrouded. Into the town they gather fast, Ilk change house nook is crowded ; Though doubtless now the game is changed, Yet still they're stoutly striving, In raws on forms and benches ranged, And at the dumplings driving Fu' fast that night. When fiddler Will had turn'd his pins, And tried her temper tightly. Each wight forgot his broken shins, And Jap both lang and lightly : Now rural beauties try their power, 35 86 FASTEN E'EN. And round the ring are shining, Who for to grace the social hour, Are a' their arts combining On sic a night. Here, sit some chaps that hae nae taste, Foi i.asic nor for lasses. Snugly round a bunker placed, Weel clad yvV jugs and glasses ; Their loud huzzas, and frantic shouts. And clam'rous bursts of laughter, Soon drown'd the liddler's feeble notes. And shook both roof and rafter Wi' din that night. Butt and ben the landlord flew. And vow, but he was happy. And still the tither rautchkin drew, Or stoups o' reamin' nappy ; Till stretch 'd beside the toddy stout. Low lay poor Dick the souter : The miller bore sir Hap^k out Just like a bag o' mu'ture, Sae drunk that night. SEQUEL TO FASTEN E'EN. Just was this picture once in days of yore, Now, rural sports and pastim*^ are no more ; Fled, ah, forever fled on wayward wing, Save in these lowly vales f which I sing. — Here, independence lingers, loath to part, Diffusing gladness o'er the peasant's heart- In vain's your loitering, dear celestial maid. On thy loved haunts, now field to field is laid ; The tinsell'd trash of gaudy grandeur waves, And haughty lordlings frown on servile slaves,— Who would not wish our father's happier lot, When every shed could claim its little spot ; Although no dainties crown'd the simple board. But what their native mountains did afford ! Poor and contented at the healtlisome plough, And from the spot they till'd, subsistence drew ; Warm in their breast the love of country burn'd. They had an interest in the soil they turn'd ! — Hail, independence ! nurse of every art Which brighten's life, or elevates the heart ! Beneath thy ray the virtues raise their head, Fair fertile source of every gen'rous deed ; Thy smile more noble makes the simple swain, Than all the fops in grandeur's .gilded train ; Thy pupil, Donald, on his mountains free. With two attendants, poverty and thee : Or when lie's sever'd from his hills afar. 88 FASTKN e'en. And marshali'd in the flaming front of war, Even there, he doth thy inbred fire display,' Which blazes bright on danger's darkest day • Where'er thy cheering influence ig found, There, rural mirth and manly sports abound ; But when unwieldy wealth, with baneful sway, Doth sweep the peasants from their oots away, In gloomy silence, o'er once cheerful plains, A dead'ning death-like melancholy reikis. SIM AND SANDY. Sim and Sandy, as our shepherds tell, Were old companions on the bentie fell ; They'd lived in friendship from their earliest day, Till restless time had turn'd their haffets grey : Nae langer fit to speel the mountain's side, And guard the hirsels in their wand'rings wide, By weakness forced to do an easier turn^ And tend the hawkies down the braken burn.— Twice forty times they'd seen the vernal gale Wave the lone wild-flowers on the banks of Kail ; As oft they'd seen the brown leaf quiv'ring fa', And stately Cheviot row'd in sheets o' snaw : ' The friends they had in former days were gane, And left them wand'ring li'e's rough road their lanel Dull wintry age few buds o' friendship yield?. They'd now grown strangers on tlieir native fields : To them the simmer sun had ceased to warm, And smiling nature tint her power to charm '; Sick of t*he world, that once to their young eyes Appear'd a flow'ring paradise of joys- Some shapeless heaps, with hemlocks wild between, Still mark'd the spot where cottages had been ; But now no longer tlie abodes of men ;— Lone silence slumber'd in tlie lovely glen : Near by the ruins, row'd a crystal burn. And half enclosed them with a circling turn ; Its waters shaded from the scorching beam, With weeping willows bending o'er the stream ;— 40 SIM AND 8ANDV. Some a^ed treeb, with fading branches bare, Shed o'er the scene a mehmclioly air ; Here oft they nxet to sootlie each other's vvaes, And tell the tales of long elapsed days, Upon the spot where their lirst breath they drew, And where the happy days of childhood flew : — One day they met npon their favourite spot, And traced the ruins of each well known cot ; Propt (in their staffs, they totter'd, wenk and wan, Then made a stand, when Sandy tiius began : SANDY. Ah ! waes my heart ! wliat desolation's here ! • Yet still to us these ruin'd heaps are dear ; Our tirst impressions leave a lasting trace, That a' the storms of life can ne'er deface — Foul fa' the ruthless hand that has erased The hearths on which the cheerful ingles blazed ; Where oft we join'd the happy circles bright. That ring'd them round to pass the winter's night; — When guileless sports no longer could engflge, We sat attentive to the tales of ase : How parted worth tyratmic pride defied. How warrioi's struggled, and how martyrs died ! — Yon aged hawthorn, once with blossoms gay. Which mocks the spring and hastens to decay, Reminds us where, on simmer gloamins sweet. The cheerful village train were wont to meet ; No children now in Joyful bands are seen, To pu' the wild flowers on the fairy green, No more they give their scents to human kind, But shed their odours on the senseless wind. SIM AND BANDY. 41 MM. The V. ry tliojicrht h like to hiind my <'e, To tliiiik what changes we have lived to Bce- A croft cvMiverted to a shei'p walk wild, Where twenty Hep.r.ite happy harvests s.niled ; Their owners, free fn.m servitude and strife. Found peace and plenty through the hli.dv of life ! But now these pleasing scenes have disappear'd. Around their f-.rmer haunts no sounds are heard. Save when the bittern wheels wi' dreary moans, Or lonely lapwing screams in plaintive tones- Such is the devastation splendour makes, And mis'ry wait» on every step she takes ; The peasant 's forced from his native shed. The njuch loved walks where his forefathers stray'd - In endless wand'rings round he's restless toss'd, Till in his breast the h»ve of country 's lost ; lie flies for shelter to far distint climes, Or crowded towns, to swell the tide of crimes. BANDY. Whrit ye have said ower plainly doth appear. Our braw new laird has made a desart here : VVi' Indian gowd he bought the birken cleugh. How e'er it cnme, it's there, and that's aneugh— These gow.ien countries maun be hapless pa'rts ; They're rowth o' gear, but scant o' gallant hearts To combat on their injured c<»untry'8 side. And form a bulwark 'gainst oppression's tide, Upon their shores each hungry harpy flocks, Aneugh to fleece them to the naked rocks : 4t SIM AND 8ANOT. By hook or crook his empty pouches fills, Returns to Scotland and buys half her hills - The fact is plain in our vain birkie's case, His canty aire was fiddler to his grace ; But now the son can with his patron vie, Nae duke or Marquis wears his cap sne high— Mair senseless pride I've seen his gowkship shaw, Than Scotland's nobles hae aniang tlurn a'.— Ae day he hunted in the bracken slack, Twa foreign flunkies cringing at his back ; I chanced to meet him as I turn'd the kye, And let sir Foplin strut unheeded bye— Likewise my luckless collie did neglect To pay to gtmtle dogs a due respect ; A suiiy hound salutes him wi' a smack, He seized it firm, and turn'd it on its back ; His honour storm'd, and aim'd a deadly shot, Which laid my collie sprawling on the spot- Some twa three breathings past ere 1 could speak. My wee drap bluid ran burning to my cheek : As I drew near him— off his gelding spiung, Or, by the powers aboon, he'd felt my rung. SIM. Lang sair'd by servile slaves ayont the seas, Wi' restless bonnets and wi' t*<)iiple knees, Where heartless man, debHsed, degraded, quakes,- At his return he bans the land o' cakes, Whose hardy sons, by blav'iy yet unbroke, . Have sauls as stubborn as their native oak, [Jntutor'd how to cringe, or prostrate la', To aught submissive but their counry's law ; . SIM AND 8ANDT. The mnnly aire that on their brows preside, Seem rustic riideneefi viewVl hy empty pride ; Vet they're the fairest fl„wer8 our country yields. And firmest jjrops on hard conttsted fields. They might hae clatter'd nonsense lung aneugh, Had not a cry re8<»unded down the dough ; Sent by a shepherd on a distant brae, To vrum them that their kye were gaun astray 48 EPISTLE TO A REV. FBIEND. Respected sir, this freedoin pray excuse. List to a simple, but no venal muse, While, in untutor'd strains, ehe artless sings The transient state of sublunary things ; Who looks on life with phihtsophic eye. And sees its gewgaws, but must heave the sigh ;- The present sinks in time's devouring stream, The past is but art unconnected dream : Hence mighty empires from their base are toss'd, And in the vortex of oblivion lost : What now remains of Greek or Roman fame, But mould'ring statues, or a sounding name ; Of those who struggled for their country's good In servile senates, or on fields of blood, Or gilded science with a bright'ning ray, All these like meteors blazed and pass'd away. - A haughty state, that some few years before Made Europe tremble to her farthest shore. Now humbled low, of hard-won glories shorn. And prostrate to the bands she held in scorn. — Hard strains and toils ambition's restless son. But ere the topmost tow'ring twig is won. The giddy height delirious turns his brain, . He tumbles headlong ne'r to rise atrain : — Each blood stain'd tyrant, grim with horrid crimes. Who shook the world and niarr'd its fairest climes. Devours a while-, then sinks to night at last : EHI8TLK TO A REV. FRIKKD. 40 We trace their actions as a tempest past ; — If these are perilous heights where storms are rife, Turn to the valley of domestic life ; Calm lowly walks, beneath ambition's range, Yet still there's nothing but perpetual change, — See weeping parents tend their children's bier, And helpless orphans wail their loss severe ; The guileless comrades of life's op'ning spring, That join'd in cheerful sports and f«»rm'd the riqg ; But e'er we climb to life's meridian height, Oft half their eyes are closed in lasting night. All things around us hasten to decay. Nor Would we wish this scene to last for aye ; It suits not virtue, that celestial fair. She seems not here as heaven's peculiar care. — In downy ease, see prosp'rous guilt repose, And goodness, struggling with a weight of woea ; O'ercaet with clouds this dark horizon loura. To clear these doubts the godlike part is yours ; And show to tear-worn eyes a fairer shore, Where pleasures last, and virtue pines no more ; To pour the balm that soothes the stounds of woe, A nobler task can generous natures know ! Although the world in these degenerate days, To different aims, a readier tribute pays. Oft to the hand that guides destruction's car, And o'er the nations rolls the storm of war, Awaits the signal by ambition given. Then sweeps to dust the noblest works of heaven ; Nor is the man denied his share of fame. Who teaches arts unworthy of the name, — Light frivolous aims, made pond'rous by the crime Of murder'd moment* or a waate of time ! 46 EPISTLE TO A REV. FRIKND. From onr perverted liearts few plaudits rise, To them that teach tlie science of the skies : Like pitieuts irt a fiery fever toss'd, We love the beverage best tliat hurts us most— Smce bounteous heaven ihy powerful tongue doth arm, With tire to rouse, with eloquence to- charm ; To show the truth, in pleasing hues array'd, ' And call the passions glowing to her aid ; Through ail the flock intrusted to thy care, Let every member claim an equal share ; To man alone the gospel gladness brings To deathless spirits, not to stars nor strings • For when we to the grave girt pile repair, The prince and peasant both are equal there ;— A few hhort years, on this uiigeuial shore, Thy brilliant useful labours will be o'er : Tis on the wing, though distant be that day, That lays thee lifeless with thy kindred clay ; To sleep secure in death's dark mansions lone,' Till nature wake thee with her parting groan ; When the vain transient things of time ars o'er And all is fix'd and change shaU be no more. LINES. WBITTEN ON ViSITING THE OBAVE OF A YOUNG FEIKND. Though cold in dust this mould'ring frame doth lie, The gen'rous soul that warm'd it ne'er can die • The mortal part is all th ,:..»ve can claim, It can't imprison pure f - .rtnl flame— The just, when sever'd from this world of woe, Receive a kindness from a conquer'd foe ; Death's icy arm, when life's last struggles cease. Unbars the gates of endless joy and peace ; Yet, such the weakness of our nature here. Our blind affections pour a bitter tear : For thee, dear shade, how my sad spirit grieved. What stounds of anguish in my bosom heaved ! When time essays to staunch heart-rending wounds. Or make their torrents flow in proper bounds, Surrounding objects etir the slumb'ring smart, And serve as prompters to the bleeding heart.— When the young bands repair to school at morn. With lightsome hearts, orgladlier home return, To spend in guileless sports their cheerful day, Thy part is vacant in their evening play. When round the cottage hearth the simple ring Present the tribute due t.. nature's king, The days and months that's past return to view, Thy seat is empty, and a sigh's its due ; 48 LINKS WKiriKN ON VISITING But here our 8> ^rows find a pliort repose, While hope exhulting trinriiplis over woes- A hope, thou jt»inVt in n-.bler songs of praise, Where raptured angels lofty anthems raise. Short gleams of sunshine on a stormy coast, Soon resignation's soothing powers are lost ! In the frail bosom, still to sense enslaved, Rememhrance turns o'er records deep engraved; No slight impression's soon to be forgot, But lasting as the minds on which they're wrote: When sad [ trace them downward fn.m thy birth. As circling years disclosed thy ujodest worth; And as each op'ning virtue rose to view, I count the hopes that round them fondly grew; But ah ! sad change— of all these joys bereft, My hopes are wither'd and my wi^he*s It-ft ! How vain's tion thit cor»Hde;ice y.elds • The scars on their features, wi„h steel deep engraved, Show'd them nu strangers to hard foughteir fields! Tlie number of fo^men were hourly increasincr; From stcel-cjverod squadrons the blended' blaze shone, Mirshah'd, conc9nterM. and vanwavd still pressincr, Till England's louJ bugle tiia b.ittle call'd on. 64 ANNA AND MALCOLM The hoarse sounding pibroch her daring sons cheered, When almost obscured 'neath the sulphur'ous shade" Through dark rolling vapour but dimly appeared The nod of the bonnet and wave oi' the piiu'd. The iegions, tho' laurei'd, unused to such welcome, Confounded, s^rft'f lish'd, nud shatter'd, recoil : In the moment cX vicf'r/ unfortirnate Malcolm lleceived a death aLok ivnd sunk on the soil 1 With gaze dim and tender, hia young son he eyed, Then beckon'd his comrades the infant to save ; His tried mates in danger alertly complied, Foi Pitj's loved haunt is the breast of the brave. " Companions ! " he faltered, " from Malcolm receive him, Unshelter'd and helpess — of kindred bereft — A.nd, when you return, to your country bequeath him. The last of his race that her battles have left ! " jheenui, 6 shade* ired : .■ lU. some, 1: n 1 eyed, ave ; brave, receive th him, ft I" THE FATE OF EDWIN. The dull and dreary mirky night Trode on the skirts of twilight gray • Nought but the Cheviot's distant height Retain'd the tinge of parting day ; When Edwin and his hapless train, Try'd oft a lodging for to win ; At many a door they call'd in vain, For none would let the wretched in. His helpless offspring by his side, For them his tortured bosojn bleeds : Nae shelter but the welkin wide, This night to screen their harmless heads. His mem'ry muster'd happier days- Hard was the fate he had to dree— Upon the partner of his waes He often turn'd a pitying e'e. His bosom raise, he cou'dna speak. Her lot he inly did bemoan ; How sunk the e'e, and pale the' check, Where once the beam's of beauty shone. t;(^ )() FATE OF EDWIK. That day slie made the bridal vow, IIow bright she beam'd in yonthfu' channn : Vet Edwin thought her lovelier now, With ragged infants in her arms. His bosom own'd no selfish smart, His part o' waes he weel could bear ; But ah, these objects wrung his heart ! Their mis'ry made them doubly dear. Indulgent heaven hath hid from man The fortune of the future day — Was that pourtray'd within his scan, Wliat would he gain but sad dismay ! To gaze upon the distant part, Would constitute a dread employ ; The dreams of hope would leave the heart. And dash each transient gleam of joy. The darksome night was closing fast, A tempest dimm'd each twinkling star ; The wand'rers sought to shun the blast Beneath a mined impending scaur. The fibres of the tangled thorn, Thick o'er their heads fantastic hang ; They there resolved to wait the morn. That night nae farther they could gang. In this mansion, dark and drear, Darkness veil'd the mournful scene FATK OF EDWIN. The shiv'riiig infants quaked witli fear, Till sleep in kindness closed their e'en. O'er them hung the pensive pair, Slow tlie mournful mother crept ; For them breathed a parent's prayer, And kiss'd them softly as they slept. Fast to her heart the pulses sped. Fondling o'er these pledges dear ; Stretch'd them on their flinty bed, And o'er them dropt a mother's tear. In their bosoms, worn and faint, They found the beams of hope arise, When they had pour'd their ardent plaint before the Ruler of the skies. Unto the plaintive cry of grief, He ne'er disdains his ear to bend ; With Him the wretched finds relief. And friendless virtue finds a friend. More favour from celestial powers, Receives the lowly humble cell, Than vaulted roof and stately towers, Where gilded vice and folly dwell. Though pent in miserv'^ qualid vale, Like wretched outcasts of the earth, Celestial solace ne'er will fail. To sooth the woes of suif'riag worth. 67 MM f)9 FATE or anvjx. From innocence n'l pleasure flows, When every vuvthly biiss is flown ; In rnirs it yieldw more hweet repose, Than guilt can give on heaps of '^owi When Edwin, free from care and pain, Wrapi m silken slumbers lay. The caver,!, soak'd with sapping rain, At once the faithless roof gave way ! Whelming in the dismal cell, The sire, his children, and his wife ; Quick the pond'rous masses fell. And dash'd the feel)le sparks of life. Pale misery scarce deserves a sigh, On earth so transient is its sway, And wealth and grandeur no envy. Those fleeting phantoms of a day. See Edwin at the ever ' my last morsel, liet or cauld, Ye'se Iiae a share. 71 THK WINTER'S DAY. The distant sun doth faintly peep Out o'er the cliff's of Cheviot steep ; The slumb'ring landscape cover'd deep, By winter's sway ; Stirr'd by ilk gust, the drifted heap Bedims the day. Xo spot the glittering scene beclouds, Except the dusky distant woods ; Or darksome trace of wand 'ring floods. Slow gurgling wide, Wliere'er the gath'ring shelvie shuds Doth stem the ti e. 72 WINTER 8 DAY. Tlie naked woods are bleak and lone, With glitt'ring loads their branches groan. And all their tunefnl inmates gone, No sounds we hear, Except the tempest's hollow moan, Sae dull and drear. The shiv'ring plowman puffs his neives, No more his share the furrow cleaves ; The plow stands rusting in the wreaths, Adown the dale ; With constant toil the thresher heaves The sounding flail. The nibbling flocks forsake the knowe. And inward seek the sheltered howe ; The sinking snaw they warsel through, In length'ning raws. To where the broom and brambles grow In bieldy shaws. The shepherd hastens to their aid, With change of seasons undismay'd ; lie flings about his bieldy plaid, Wi' manly mein ; Tho ;Th winter scowls, in frowns arrayM, lie braves his spleen. lie mocks the silken sons of ease. Placed round the sparkling ingle's bleeze ; Least that their wee drap bluid should frieze, Oft toasts their loof ; AVIN'J'ERB DAY. And starts to hear the rustling breeze liave round the roof. TJie trembling maukin skips the heatli, Stung wi' a constant dread of death ; — Starting at her panting breath, She'll list'ning stand, Her coward fears foreboding skaith From ilka hand. Tlie ragged poacher speels the fell, As easy scared as maukin's sel ; If prattling tongues his honour tell "What he's about, Ihe law's train'd blood hounds fierce and ."e'l. Wa,d find him out. nJ Ye poacher lowns, I fear, I fear This day will cost ye very dear ; When in the court it doth appear That 1 iatie bled ; Stern justice growls like ony bear, And mercy's fled. When the rude winds of winter roar'd, 'Tis vain to plead that hunger shoare'd A hapless offspring round your board Peace ! ne'er begin — Ye've marr'd the pastime of a lord Ah ! deadly sin. In this loved land, where freedom reigns, *^^e only blot her mantle stains ; 74 WINTEr'^8 day. These old despotic feudal chains O' Gothic days, Ooth gall her healthy hardy swains— Her pride and praise ! In danger's gloomy darkest day, They always prove their country's stay, On crimeon'd field or flood ; Their breasts against a haughty foe, On the proud plains of Waterloo, A brazen bulwark stood. Ve circles of the rich and gay, Whose bowers defy the winter day. Where wealth and warmth abound ; Planted around the mantling bowl, While mirth and music soothes the soul. And pleasure reigns around. Amid your revels, call to mind. The hapless partners of your kind, "Where various ills combine ; In poor misfortune's hovels, low, The bleak abodes of want and woe, Where age and poortith pine. m VISITING THE SCENES OF EAELl DA VS. Ye daisy'd glens and brierie braes, Haunts of my happy early days, Wliere oft I've pu'd the blossoin'd slaes, And flowerets fair, Before my heart was scathed wi' waes, Or worldly care. J^ow recollection's airy train Shoots through my heart with pleasing pain Each streamlet, mountain, rock or plain, Like friends appear, That's lang been lost, now found again. And doubly dear. But many a dauted object's fled, Low lies my once paternal shed ; Rank hemlock wild, and weeds o'erspread The ruin'd heap. UnstirrM by cheerfnl tongue or tread, The echoes sleep. Yon bonnie burn, whose limpid streams, When warm'd with summer's glowing beams. Has often laved my tender limbs, Wlien my employ Was chasing childhood's airy whims From joy to joy. ml Ml mi 7M •'.V rmTim the scenes of early days. I'pon yon green, at gloamin gray, I've often joined in cheerful play, Wi' comrades guileless, blythe and gay, Whose magic art, liemember'd at this distant day. Still warms the heart. Ah, cronies dear ! for ever lost ! Abroad on life's rough ocean toss'd, % adverse winds and currents cross'd, Ey watching M'orn, Some's landed on that silent coast. Ne'er to return. Ilowe'er the path of life may lie, If Doorly low, or proudly high, When scenes of childhood meet our eye Their charms we own, And yield the tribute of a sigh To days that's flown. TO THE SHADE OF WALI4CE. Heho of Ellersh-e ! thy umhaken .oul, Eao umnly boson, yields a fond applause To thee, g,vat Chan.pion, bold in f/eedonfs can.. • Wlnle n.^hty nobles, hi^h in bi.tb and power ' Forsook then- country in her darkest honr- ' Proud of the blood hat circled in their veins, 1 et basely slnml .er'd in ignoble chains ; Indignant then ye drew the vengeful sword Gaanst nngh.y England, and her haughty lord, W. h finn resolve thy country for to save, And rather perish than become a slave. Five hundred years have bid the world farewell Smce thou, a martyr, for thy country fell ; ' Ihough uo neglect can d^'m thy deathless fame. 1 e fecoth .d owes a statute to ihy name ! With lavish hand she squanders wealth away On insect names, that scarce will la.^ a day Wliom fate has dcom'd in darkness U^r ^omt lor, ere their pHe's complete their m..;.to,;:ot. lillone arose of genius, taste, and birth ' ' And nobly dares to honour parted worth' ; W^h generous hand thy mimic form uprears, Where Caladon and freedom mingle t.L 78 TO THE SHADE OF WALLACE. lu'ii.»\\iu-l Shade, on Caledonia smile, l-or Ikm< tlion struggled long with glorious toil ; M.'iy tl,y nnconqner'd fire, while ages run, (Jh>\v in tlie bosom of her latest son ! Should independence from onr country fly, And loM- of her in British bofoms dies ; Should Scotland morn amidst her patriots' graves, And hev rough mountains turn the haunt of slave' ; Then, even then, thy gen'rous worth, sublime, Can ne'er be tarnish'd with the wrecks of time, Mut will 8l)ine forth in unextinguish'd fame, While there's a heart that warms at freedom's name. LINES. ON HEARING THAT A MONUMENT WAS ERECTING OVER THE GRAVE OF ROBERT BURNS. Pledge to the hearts ! joy be their lot ! Wlio bids the sculptor column rise, To mark the sacred honour'd spot Where Colia's deathless poet lies ! In meiu'ry of the matchless bard, Who in the vale of poortith pined ; Though fame bestows a great reward, Too late to him his country's kind. LINKS ON HKABINO, AC. In fame's fair roll, a radiant blaze lucircles his immortal name— A monument to latest days Of Scotland's glory and her shame. She's now exulting in his lays, His soothing witching magic strain ; Ji-ach tongue is lavish in his praise, Like Scotsmen wise, when wisdom's vain. Misfortune, with perpetual howl' Involved him round in starless niore him on the points of death. With 8}x?ar8 and arrows deadly wounded. In the fierce and fatal fray, Witli the wrecks of war surrounded, Bleeding faint the hero lay, A Scottish knight his fall espied, And quickly flew to his relief ; He seized his hand, in blood deep dyed, And hung in anguish o'er the chief. " Knight," said Dorrflvs, "cease your sighing. Tears let whini;.. uiirtkness shed ; Why do ye morn a K.'sii.iier lying Stretch'd on honour's lofty bed. " With joy my lab'ring heart is lifting. That I have 'scaped a coward's grave ; Now when this mortal scene is shifting, I'll make my exit with the brave. " The parted shades of mighty warriors. Who have this course of glory run, From death's dark, dim and gloomy bai-riers. Look exulting on their son. " I know thou art to fear a stranger, O'er the field my banner cdl ; Proclaim that Douglas is in danger. But conceal your chieftain's fall. TnE SODOICR AJSJ» HHEPHKRM. - J3ut why am I your ear .'ngacriug, Wastinrr time i. useless words " Still the doubtful battle's raging, ' I hear the dang of deadly swords." Where the conflict hottest raged, Loud resounds the Douglas' name • It cheer'd his bands wliere'er enga.r.Ml, And fann'd their ardour into flame.' The Scottish spearmen onward bearincr, Through the southern battle broke ^' But Piercy, still in danger daring, ' Long withstood their dreadful skoclc. This gallant chief, to fly distainincr, Faint with wounds, and forced to yield, J5till his former fame retaining, Won on many a bloody iield. The queen of night her course pursuing, fehed^her pale and heatless beams And faintly mark'd the scene of ruin Mangled heaps and gory streams. ' I view'd the field whore horror lour'd. And saw the lifeless Douglas lie • ' The streams that froir his bosom pour'd, J^ow had drain'd their fountains dry. Of warriors brave, what goodly numbers, baw the shades of evening close ; But cold and hush'd, in lasting slumbers, When the morning sun arose. Ki .oS- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) LO I.I 1.25 13.6 1^ 1^ ■ 2.2 ■iH ■ 2.0 li U 11 1.6 Sr - 150mm V 7 >1PPLIED^ IIVMGE . Inc J^ 1653 East Main street ^=r ^ Rochester, NY 14609 USA J^sr^ Phone: 716/482-0300 .5^.^= Fax: 716/288-5989 O 1993. Applied Image, Inc., All Rights Reserved ^\' OT f Wis ^ 1^\'^o\ '%\ '4fS r o V % 4^ 1erty. From her dark zenith slavery frowns, Through her domains the war-note sounds. And loudly calls on cowls and crowns To quench the light of Liberty. Tin: CJIAKMS OK r.IHKKTV. The m WUA. (> HOWMONT. Make stately rivers landward glide, Make winter walk in miiiunerK pride ; And fix the ocean's restless tide, Ere they extinguish Lilierty. Lit banded despots, potent proud, Mecahu the stormy ttinipest loud. And chain the bolt that cuts the cloud. And then extinguish Liberty. WILL 0' BOWMONT. Upon the bonny banks o' Bowmont, Thick wi' herds and hirsels spread, In calm content for many a towmont, A shepherd held a hamely shed. He'd speel'd the brae o' life right wary. Where delusive phantoms glide ; Now he held his way right cheery, Sloping down the sunless side. He look'd on waning life wi' pleasure, He scarcely fand the tug o' time ; He had a son, his only treasure, Verging now on youthful prime. WIU. o'lKJWMoNT. Young Will, for manly shape and feature, Now stood peerless on the green ; Ilis mind was richly wroiight by nature, A' its movements quick and keen. He melted at a mornfu' story, Indignant, swell'd at stupid pride ; «ic minds are aye our nature's glory, While they stand on virtue's side. But .ih ! if vice perverts their current, They still retain their wonted forc<* ; Keinless, like the mountain torrent, Basiling wild a headlong course. A rumour raise about invading— ^ Our lads sae loyal true and itaunch, Flew to arms, and gaed parading, Busk'd in red, to fear the French. 'Twac in this time o' din and riot, Will got warning on the hill. To leave the haunts o' rural quiet. And to gang and 'tend the drill. Wlien first he frae his glens was parted, Like other ill bred country clowns. He look'd aghast, and often started At the '^-ays o' crowded towns. But lured at last wi' flowing glasst^s. Will ran headlong into vice ; He soon forsook his barefit lasses. For some beauties no sau nice. 87 ^^ WILL o'hoWMA.V. When lii« time drew to a iinie, Will returnM witliouten hciirrt ; llt'M loariiM indeed some tricks of Venus, lint little at the school of Mars. Ilk rnral joy luid now grown tasteless, Still in his lugs the music rang ; Tiie lee lang day he listen'd, listless, To the lark's or milkmaid's sung. In regimentals busked, belted, Weekly to the town he ran ; lie drank a hog or e'er he halted, And raise as dry as he began. Sic ways wi' grief the rake remembers, As soon as he getis time to think ; Ileflection fans up virtue's embers, Hafttins smoor'd, but not extinct. To good advice Will never harked, But scatter'd a' the pickle gear ; He gaed ae day to see the market, P^ell in, and drank the guid gray mare. Fn sic ways he still persisted, His kin to stop him strove in vain ; Till ruin'd quite, at last he listed, And joined reinforcements bent for Spain. EPITAPHS. Below this crreen truf, AVat o' Wimportrm I.\m A man wl.on, tl.e world .Iwn.M prudent and wis,- • He ne'er was an Athie.t, Lis ^M was his n„rse, JIi8 interest the macrnet that ruled hk course • To eteer hy this pole star he ne'er diiit waw clear, His ft'flinjfs were manly, his friendship sincere ;- He virtue revered, though in poverty's clutch. He 8Cornearn or byre ; Stretch'd wi' the liawkies on the liay, Fu' smijr and cozie oft we lay ; — Thoui^di pride may tons hor head aloft, Our beds by custom seom'd fu' soft ; On custom, puir folk comfort lungs, It tills the gap 'tween them and kings ; — Ambition's gewgaws, when possest. Can ne'er l)ring solace to the breast ; A kingly crown to pui-chase bliss, Is feckless as my atnous dish. When young, I sometimes triey tlie dint of magic spell I could their fates and fortunes tell ; Whae'er sic senseless stuff believed. They weel deserved to be deceived. There's inony a vain and lordly tyke Tin; (iri'Mv's rant. ThriveH hy tlio l.lin\vv niiiifin', And to ,<(.8t' tlu.in vviul l>,. Hklfiitiir; - Wlmu-Vr arf,.n,ju„cc forr.iii.. ^r,a,itK Jju.,,,, lu' !«""• '"Il^-H I.I.-sing K.l.lom l.uuntH th.m AKa.„.t ....,• ,.oru tl.n,„g|,o„t the nution, llu'iv lb an uiico (roiubiiiution ; Ilk kiMtrioM kt't'prV proudly «ti-uttiii\ Hit' f-" f-l"" ." f.'.t,.r. ,„ ,,,i„ i-,,, J. ""• I -«rM,.,l ,|„. ,..„, „f ,„„ ,„,,.,.. ., ^ ..^V"T"," '""'''' " '■""My. • t ,„r I „ ,|„„,.M „,„, i,^ „„,, • ' •""" """^ "'J"-"""'0-. 1"" -iKhVl f,„. ,1,0 sl„,„. '■'T,:V;;:;n:,Hr ''''''!*•"'■'' > - > '■■ I. n .„ ,i„. ,,„„i„„ ,„„. ,, ' ■;">:,. .v,,„r „,-,. i,y r..„.„, „„„„,„^^|^ i0Fr,»I, i„f,,„|„,„v,|,..| r,l,..|.rav,.. A„.l.,r„ei„,i„.v„„„f|,„„.„,..ik,/,.,,„, '"■■ A.„l «l„.r ,l,„ ,.„,! „,,„,^„ „„ 1^,,,^,^ ^^^^^^^^ ^|_^^J J*t „u, ,|,e |,r„,„l ,,„„„ „,„„ ^, AI .o„gl, „ l„„.. .aptive, „„ .h|., „,„, „,.,,, "■" • A,] „',: V'"' '"' ''■"«--''■«" fl."l ..... I .„„„.. L. t the hkak .nountai,,. ,.r„ lost ,„ „„. vi,;. Tl,at tjranny never ca„ sever fro,,, you. SONG. line honnip: banks where teviot strays. Air — The Wood of Cmglelee. ^'e l)oiuiie banks where Teviot strays, Ye bonnie banks where Teviot strays, I loe thee still, though far awa, Seats o' my happy early days. To canld Canada's gloomy woods, Misfortune's train has hunted me ; I cheerless view these giant floods, And think them ill exchanged for thee. Ye bonnie banks, &c. Thy lovely landscapes deck my dreams, While fancy floats in reverie, I wander by thy crystal streams, And nightly still revisit thee. Ye bonnie banks, &c. When day succeeds the dreary night, And morning lifts her sparkling e'e, I think her beams were twice as bright. When glintin o'er the Cheviot hie. Ye bonnie banks, &c. Here, tuneless groves nae concert pours To greet approaching spring wi' glee ; And simmer spreads nae lovely flowers 80N0. I^ike them IVe after, pu'd on thee. Te bonnie banks, &c. In every dime l)eneath the sun Fair friendship's ne'er a naked tree • Some friends in distant lands I've won i^ut nane like them I left on thee. ' Te bonnie banks, &c. A dear and ardent wish remains, May fortune grant the boon to me- In age to tread thy lovely plains, And spend life's gloamin hour on thee. Ye bonnie banks, &c. 07 SONG. Aju-Scots wha hae wV Wallace hied. On Waterloo's becrimson'd mould, Where red the tide of ruin roll'd i^atal to the brave and bold— ' For closed was many a martial e'e- A highland warrior low was laid, Though deadly wounded, undismay'd. Stretched on his bloody plaid, ' On the carnage covered lee! m SONG. Adieu, adieu, the hero cries, To life and all its tfender ties ; Xo more my Mary's lovely eyee Will shed their cheering beams on me. Go, hapless maid, with many a tear, Bedew the spot of parting dear ; The hand of death arrests me here, I'll never more return to thee. Hark ! the conflict swells again, Rushing squadrons shake the plain ; The bagpipe breathes a kindling strain, My comrades brave, it calls on thee. Though half their numbers press the plain, Th' undaunted remnant forms again ; To beat them back, the thought is vain, Its either death or victory. Where the combat fiercest rave. Still I see their tartans wave ; Still the deadly blast they brave — Not a single foot gives way. See Caledonia's glorious band, Midst wreck and ruin greatly stand. Firm as the rocks that girt lier strand. When ocean's madd'ning billows play. Swift to their aid the sabre gleams. And bright reflects the dazzling beams, While snowy steeds spout gory streams. Yet still they tempt the doubtful day. SONG. Xow Gallia's shatter'd squadrons fly, Scotland ! Scotland ! rends the sky ; The fainting hero join'd the cry, His faltring accents died away. ![»:> «ONG Air— ir»"'e»'""l % ""*' <■"? I '"patiently langnish'd J -JVC on ihe .nountaius of JSpain. 104 SONG. The last liappy hour that I pass'd witli my Billy, WaH where yon lone hawthorne standn low in the' vale; r.i beauty's full Moom was the primrose and lily, Sweet sang the mavis, and soft sigh'd the gale: In that hour of anguish, when witii him I parted, My beating heart hinted we'd ne'er meet again ; The chill pangs of anguish through my bosom darted And cold ran my blood when he sailed for Spain. Tiiough the fields du look gay with the flowers in full blossom, Admidst all the beauties of nature I pine; Each sweet little songster but wounds my sad bosom. It sings to its true love, and minds me of mine!- When in broken slumbers I sink on my pillow, My woes, unextinguishe'd, bewilder my brain, In wild wand'ring fancy I cross the green billow. And sit by his grave on the mountains of Spain. Tlie sons of ambition doth gloss a false story. To kindle young heroes in glory's career ; ' Pointing to fame in the proud path of glory, That phantom by many is purchased too dear ! O ! had I been there when my Billy was dying, I'd fearlessly sought him 'mid heaps of the slain • Aloft in my arras I had raised him when lying. And soothed his last sigh on the mountains of Spain END. VIOTOBIA, B. 0.: Printed by M. Miller. Jilly, rV in tJie lily, ^ale: rted, gain; darted, Spain. I in full bosont, line! — V, in, ow, pain. ir ! slain ; Spain