TO LUCY.

Now, farewell, my dearest Lucy!
Far from thee I haste away;
Since I know my presence grieves thee,
Where thou art I will not stay.

Well I know thou must not love me,
Never dare I ask one smile;
Rather than thy peace endanger,
Will I rove, a lone exile!

For the wild parade of grandeur
Never should I feel desire,

If I in my lowly station,

Could to Lucy's love aspire.

But were I the world's monarch,
Then I at your feet would fall;
And on thee to share my glory,

Would in trembling accents call.

But such wild aspiring fancies,
Serve but more to rack my mind
What's my portion-Prudence dictates-
To that portion I'm resign'd.

Give thy last command unto me,
I the mandate will fulfil;
Though it be to cease to love thee-
No! that's what I never will.

May within thy bosom flourish
Peace and Innocence divine!
Ah! I fear that Grief and Anguish,
Shall forever grow in mine!

Now, I go, my dearest Lucy,

Far from thee, and far from home;
In some distant land a stranger,
All unblest to lonely roam!

THE

DESTRUCTION OF TOWIE HOUSE,
Anno Domini, 1571.

NOVEMBER had nature divested of bloom,
Our atmosphere cover'd with thick sullen gloom,
When fierce Adam Gordon a strong band led on,
Whose armour refulgently gleam'd in the sun.

Like beast of the forest, he rush'd on his preyThe fair house of Towie-in warlike array! Unhappily, Towie! thy master was gone,Save Lady and children, to guard thee were none.

From the walls of her castle the Lady espied The army approaching in grandeur and pride; With rapture she hail'd the glad sight from afar, Expecting her lord from the dangers of war.

In robes of the richest she soon was array'd; The glance of her eye her emotion betray'dMy husband returns from the battle's alarms,Fly, open the gates!-let me into his arms!"

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The awful reality burst on her sight,

As fire-ships spread death and despair in the fight! She knew cruel Gordon, her Lord's direst foe, Incited by vengeance, no mercy would show.

My children," she wildly exclaim'd "we must die!

The Foe has enclosed us-no way can we fly; But rather we'll fall by the rude ruffian's hands, Than basely surrender our dwellings and lands !"

The tyrant call'd, proudly, to open her gates, And own him the lord of her house and estates; Or else, by the flames, he would level the pile, And she and her children amid them should broil!

His boastful menaces were wasted in vainThe brave Lady treated them all with disdain! "Begone, thou vile traitor, for rather we'll die, Than basely consent in thy bondage to lie !"

By wild desperation her courage was raised,
She seized on a pistol, and aim'd at his breast;
The bullet his heart miss'd, and wounded his knee,
But, Towie, 'twas instant destruction to thee!

I

The wound kindled Gordon's horrible ire,
His mandate was given the house blazed on fire
The volumes of smoke thickly floated on high,
And, spreading through æther, ensabled the sky

The children, all franticly, scream'd with affrigh Their mother, in agony, gazed on the sight; Her sufferings were told by her looks, wild and pale,

And her silence express'd what words cannot tell

Her daughter, in terror, leapt over the wall; The Gordon's vile spear intercepted her fall! The monster, in triumph, dash'd her to the ground[wound The last of life's current soon sprung from her

The rest of the inmates were smother'd or burn'd
The fair house of Towie to ruins was turn'd!
O, how felt its master when he came again,
And look'd for his home and his dearest in vain

Like bolt from the bow after Gordon he sped, His spear in the gore of his heart soon was red! But this could not lighten his grief-harrow'd mind,

In a fit of wild frenzy his life he resign'd!