TO THE READER. THE writer of the present Poem thinks it necessary to acquaint the public, that it is founded on a short traditionary story, which reached him by the following accidental circumstance. A gentleman in Perthshire, well known for his researches into antiquity and national character,* chancing, while on a tour to the Hebrides, to hear some person say, 'I'll never burn my harp for a woman,'t took occasion to ask the meaning of the proverb-He received for answer, a simple unadorned tale, somewhat similar to the ground-work of the present poem; the singularity of which struck him so forcibly, that he committed it to writing. On a visit some years ago, to a friend who had accidently seen the manuscript, he related this little artless story to the author, and, with his usual glow of colouring, diffused such an air of novelty and passion over it, as to suggest an idea that something interesting might be made of it in verse. The first part was written shortly after, but the author's sudden departure for Europe put a stop, for some time, to any further attempt; although he must confess, in * Mr. Ramsay, of Auchertyre. + Smeirg a loisgeadh a thiompan ria.' clination repeatedly disposed him to finish what he had begun. A tedious passage home furnished him with ample opportunities to gratify this propensity-his residence in Britain since his arrival, has enabled him to receive the opinion of his friends, and to avail himself of their strictures. Having given this short account of his Harp, the author now presents it to the world, with that mixture of hope and diffidence which the partiality of friends, and the uncertainty of public approbation naturally excite. Of its merits, he shall say nothing. In an age, and in a country, however, so highly cultivated as the present, one observation may not be improper. Should the poem in some instances appear too irregular and abrupt in its construction, the author begs that it may not be imputed to inadvertency, but design. His aim was to render his tale rather interesting than regular, and animated rather than correct. Nature and passion, indeed, were his chief objects; and as these can never derive such energy from descriptive as from dramatic composition, it is almost unnecessary for him to observe, that the Ancient Ballad has been his model. Edinburgh, THE HARP. PART 1. STILL'D is the tempest's blust'ring roar; 'Tis Col, wild raving to the gale, That howls o'er heath, and blasted lea; Still as he eyes the lessening sail, Cries Have I burnt my harp for thee!' -Bright was thy fame in Bara's isle, Sweet bard! where many a rival sung; Oft hadst thou wak'd the tear and smile As soft thy harp melodious rung: Oft hadst thou touch'd the female heart, The maid he priz'd above the throng The maid, who melted at the song, But trifled with a lover's pain: |