Benevolence, with mild, benignant air,

A female form, came from the tow'rs of Stair;
Learning and Worth in equal measures trode
From simple Catrine, their long-lov'd abode :
Last, white-rob'd Peace, crown'd with a hazel
To rustic Agriculture did bequeath [wreath,

The broken iron instruments of Death;
At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling

wrath.

LINES

Written with a pencil, standing by the Fall of Fyers,
near Loch-Ness.

AMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods;
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream re-
As high in air the bursting torrents flow, [sounds.
As deep recoiling surges foam below.

Prone down the rock the whit'ning sheet descends,
And viewless Echo's ear, astonish'd, rends.
Dim seen thro' rising mists and ceaseless show'rs,
The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, low'rs.
Still thro' the gap the struggling river toils,
An' still, below, the horrid cauldron boils-

LINES

Written with a pencil, over the chimney-piece, in the parlour of an inn at Kenmore, Taymouth.

ADMIRING Nature in her wildest grace,
These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;
O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,
The abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep,
My savage journey, curious, I pursue,
Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view.-
The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides,
The woods, wild-scatter'd, clothe their ample sides.

s Mrs. Stewart. See note c, P. 59.

Th' outstretching lake, embosom'd 'mong the hills,
The with wonder and amazement fills;
eye

The Tay meand'ring sweet in infant pride,
The palace rising on his verdant side;
The lawns wood-fring'd in Nature's native taste;
The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless haste;
The arches striding o'er the new-born stream;
The village glittering in the noon-tide beam-

Poetic ardours in my bosom swell,
Lone, wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell:
The sweeping theatre of hanging woods;
Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods-

Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-taught lyre,
And look through Nature with creative fire;
Here, to the wrongs of Fate half reconcil'd,
Misfortune's lighten'd steps might wander wild;
And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds,
Find balm to sooth her bitter, rankling wounds.
Here heart-struck Grief might heav'nward stretch
her scan,

And injur'd Worth forget and pardon man."

INSCRIPTION FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE,

At Kerroughtry, the Seat of Mr. Heron, Author of a Life of the
Poet, History of Scotland, &c. &c.; written in Summer, 1795.
THOU of an independent mind,

With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd;
Prepar'd pow'r's proudest frown to brave,
Who wilt not be, nor have a slave;

Virtue alone who dost revere,

Thy own reproach alone dost fear,

Approach this shrine, and worship here.

These two Fragments were composed in the Autumn of 1787, when the poet was on a tour to the Highlands with Mr. W Nicol, of the High School, Edinburgh.

ON PASTORAL POETRY.

HAIL, Poesie! thou nymph reserv'd!
In chase o' thee what crowds hae swerv'd
Frae common sense, or sunk enerv'd

'Mang heaps o' clavers;"

And och! o'er aft* thy joes hae starv'd,
'Mid a' thy favours!

Say, lassie, why thy train amang
While loud the trump's heroic clang,
And sock or buskin, skelp2 alang

To death or marriage;

Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang,
But wi' miscarriage?

In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives;
Eschylus' pen Will Shakspeare drives;
Weea Pope, the knurlin,b'tille him 'rives
Horatian fame ;d

In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives
Ev'n Sappho's flame.

But thee, Theocritus! wha matches?
They 're no herd's ballats, Maro's catches:
Squire Pope but buskse his skinklin' patches

O' heathen tatters:

I pass by hunders, nameless wretches,
That ape their betters.

In this braw age o' wit and lear,h
Will nane the shepherd's whistle mair
Blaw sweetly in its native air

And rural grace;

And wi' the far-fam'd Grecian, share

Yes, there is ane-a Scottish callan!1
There's ane come forrit, honest Allan!!
Thou need na joukm beyond the hallan,"
A chiel sae clever ;

The teeth o' time may gnaw Tamtallan,
But thou 's for ever!

Thou paints auld Nature to the nines,P
In thy sweet Caledonian lines:

Nae gowden stream thro' myrtles twines,
Where Philomel,

While nightly breezes sweep the vines,
Her griefs will tell!

In gowany glens thy burnies strays,
Where bonnie lasses bleach their claes ;t
Or trots by hazelly shaws and braes,
Wi' hawthorns gray,

Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays
At close o' day.

Thy rural loves are Nature's sel' ;"
Nae bombast spates o' nonsense swell;
Nae snap conceits, but that sweet spell
O' witchin' love,

That charm, that can the strongest quell,
The sternest move.

ON THE LATE

CAPTAIN GROSE'S PEREGRINATIONS Through Scotland, collecting the Antiquities of that Kingdoin.

HEAR, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,

Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;

If there's a hole in a' your coats,

i Boy.

I rede you tent it :

k Forward.

7 Allan Ramsay.

m To hang the head. n A party-wall in a cottage.
o The name of a mountain.

Exactly, to a nicety. . Rivulet.

q Golden.

r Daisied dales. Clothes. น Self. w Torrents. * Short. y I advise you to be cautious.

A chield's amang you takin' notes,

And, faith, he

prent it.

If in your bounds ye chance to light
Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight,
O' stature short, but genius bright,

That's he, mark weel

And wow! he has an unco slightb
O' cauk and keel.

By some auid houlet-haunted biggin',•
Or kirk deserted by its riggen,

It's ten to ane ye 'll find him snug in
Some eldritch part,

Wi' deils they say, L-d safe's! colleaguin'
At some black art.-

Ilk ghaists that haunts auld ha' or cham'er,h
Ye gipsey gang that deal in glamor,i
And you deep-read in hell's black grammar,
Warlocksk an' witches;

Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
Ye midnight b-es '

It's tauld he was a sodger bred,

And ane wad rather fa'n than fled;

But now he 's quat the spurtle blade,"

And dog-skin wallet,

And taen the Antiquarian trade,

I think they call it.

He has a fouth° o' auld nick-nackets :
Rusty airn capsP and jingling jackets,¶

z Pursy, bloated. a An exclamation of pleasure, or wondet.
b Great sleight, or dexterity. e Chalk and red clay.
e Building. See his Antiquities of Scotland.
f Frightful, ghastly. g Each ghost.

d An owl.

h Old hall, or chamber.

Fortune-telling, pretending to a knowledge of future events by

magic, &c.

m Did quit.

k Wizards.

Soldier.

n A sort of nickname for a sword.
Iron helmets.

Coats of mail, &c. See his Treatise on Ancient Armour.
A plenty.