TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

SUSANNA,

COUNTESS OF EGLINTON.

MADAM,

THE love of approbation, and a desire to please the best, have ever encouraged the poets to finish their designs with cheerfulness. But, conscious of their own inability to oppose a storm of spleen and haughty ill-nature, it is generally an ingenious custom among them to chuse some honourable shade.

Wherefore I beg leave to put my pastoral under your ladyship's protection. If my patroness says, the shepherds speak as they ought, and that there are several natural flowers that beautify the rural wild, I shall have good reason to think myself safe from the aukward censure of some pretending judges that condemn before examination.

I am sure of vast numbers that will crowd into your ladyship's opinion, and think it their honour to agree in their sentiments with the countess of Eglinton, whose penetration, superior wit, and sound judgment, shine with an uncommon lustre, while accompanied with the divine charms of goodness and equality of mind.

If it were not for offending only your ladyship, here, madam I might give the fullest liberty to my muse to delineate the finest of women, by drawing your ladyship's character, and be in no hazard of being deemed a flatterer, since flattery lies not in paying what is due to merit, but in praises misplaced.

Were I to begin with your ladyship's honourable birth and alliance, the field is ample, and presents us with numberless great and good patriots, that have dignified the names of Kennedy and Montgomery: Be that the care of the herald and the historian. It is personal merit, and the heavenly sweetness of the fair, that inspire the tuneful lays here every Lesbia must be excepted, whose tongue give liberty to the slaves which their eyes had made captives; such may be flattered: but your ladyship justly claims our admiration and profoundest respect; for whilst you are possessed of every outward charm in the most perfect degree, the never-fading beauties of wisdom and piety, which adorn your ladyship's mind, command devotion.

"All this is very true," cries one of better sense than good nature, "but what occasion have you to tell us the sun shines, when we have the use of our eyes, and feel his influence?"-Very true, but I have the liberty to use the poet's privilege, which is, "To speak what every body thinks." Indeed there might be some strength in the reflection, if the Idalian registers were of as short duration as life; but the bard, who fondly hopes immortality, has a certain praise-worthy pleasure in communicating to posterity the fame of distinguished characters

I write this last sentence with a hand that trembles between hope and fear: but if I shall prove so happy as to please your ladyship in the following attempt, then all my doubts shall vanish like a morning vapour: I shall hope to be classed with Tasso and Guarini, and sing with Ovid,

"If'tis allow'd to poets to divine,
"One half of round eternity is mine.”

Madam, your ladyship's most obedient,
and most devoted servant,

ALLAN RAMSAY.

TO THE

COUNTESS of EGLINTON,

WITH THE FOLLOWING

PASTORAL

ACCEPT, O EGLINTON! the rural lays,
That, bound to thee, thy poet humbly pays!
The muse, that oft has rais'd her tuneful strains,
A frequent guest on SCOTIA's blissful plains;
That oft has sung, her list'ning youth to move,
The charms of beauty and the force of love,
Once more resumes the still successful lay,
Delighted, thro' the verdent meads to stray.
O! come, invok'd, and pleas'd, with her repair
To breath the balmy sweets of purer air;
In the cool ev'ning negligently laid,

Or near the stream, or in the rural shade,
Propitious hear, and, as thou hear'st, approve
The Gentle Shepherd's tender tale of love.

Instructed from these scenes, what glowing fires Inflame the breast that real love inspires! The fair shall read of ardors, sighs and tears, All that a lover hopes, and all he fears: Hence, too, what passions in his bosom rise! What dawning gladness sparkles in his eyes! When first the fair one, piteous of his fate, Cur'd of her scorn, and vanquish'd of her hate, With willing mind, is bounteous to relent, And blushing, beauteous, smiles the kind consent! Love's passion here in each extreme is shown, In CHARLOTTE's smile, or in MARIA'S frown.

WITH words like these, that fail'd not to engage,
Love courted beauty in a golden age,

Pure, and untaught, such Nature first inspir'd,
Ere yet the fair affected phrase desir'd.

His secret thoughts were undisguis'd with art,
His words ne'er knew to differ from his heart:
He speaks his love so artless and sincere,
As thy ELIZA might be pleas'd to hear.

HEAVEN only to the Rural State bestows
Conquest o'er life, and freedom from its woes:
Secure alike from envy and from care,
Nor rais'd by hope, nor yet depress'd by fear:
Nor want's lean hand its happiness constrains,
Nor riches torture with ill-gotten gains.
No secret guilt its stedfast peace destroys,
No wild ambition interrupts its joys.

Blest still to spend the hours that heav'n has lent
In humble goodness, and in calm content:
Serenely gentle, as the thoughts that roll,
Sinless and pure, in fair HUMEIA's soul.

BUT now the Rural State these joys has lost;
Even swains no more that innocence can boast:
Love speaks no more what beauty may believe,
Prone to betray, and practis'd to deceive.
Now happiness forsakes her blest retreat,
The peaceful dwelling where she fix'd her seat;
The pleasing fields she wont of old to grace,
Companion to an upright sober race.
When on the sunny hill, or verdant plain,
Free and familiar with the sons of men,
To crown the pleasures of the blameless feast,
She uninvited came, a welcome guest;
Ere yet an age, grown rich in impious arts,
Brib'd from their innocence uncautious hearts:
Then grudging hate, and sinful pride succeed,
Cruel revenge, and false unrighteous deed;
Then dow'rless beauty lost the power to move;
The rust of lucre stain'd the gold of love:
Bounteous no more, and hospitably good,

The genial hearth first blush'd with stranger's blood,
The friend no more upon the friend relies,

And semblant falsehood puts on truth's disguise":

The peaceful household fill'd with dire alarms;
The ravish'd virgin mourns her slighted charms:
The voice of impious mirth is heard around,
In guilt they feast, in guilt the bowl is crown'd:
Unpunish'd vi'lence lords it o'er the plains,
And happiness forsakes the guilty swains.

Он Happiness! from human search retir'd,
Where art thou to be found, by all desir'd?
Nun sober and devout! why art thou fled,
To hide in shades thy meek contented head?
Virgin of aspect mild! ah why, unkind,

Fly'st thou, displeas'd, the commerce of mankind?
O! teach our steps to find the secret cell,
Where, with thy sire Content, thou lov'st to dwell.
Or say, dost thou a duteous handmaid wait
Familiar at the chambers of the great?

Dost thou pursue the voice of them that call
To noisy revel and to midnight ball?

O'er the full banquet when we feast our soul,
Dost thou inspire the mirth, or mix the bowl?
Or, with th' industrious planter, dost thou talk,
Conversing freely in an evening walk?
Say, does the miser e'er thy face behold,
Watchful and studious of the treasur'd gold?
Seeks knowledge, not in vain, thy much-lov'd pow'r,
Still musing silent at the morning hour?
May we thy presence hope in war's alarms,
In Stairs's wisdom, or in Erskine's charms?

In vain our flatt'ring hopes our steps beguile,
The flying good eludes the searcher's toil:
In vain we seek the city or the cell,
Alone with virtue knows the power to dwell:
Nor need inankind despair these joys to know,
The gift themselves may on themselves bestow :
Soon, soon we might the precious blessing boast,
But many passions must the blessing cost;
Infernal malice, inly pining hate,

And envy, grieving at another's state;
Revenge no more must in our hearts remain,
Or burning lust, or avarice of gain.