TO MISS CRUIKSHANK, A VERY YOUNG LADY, WRITTEN ON THE BLANK-LEAF OF A BOOK PRESENTED TO HER BY THE AUTHOR. BEAUTEOUS Rose-bud, young and gay, Never mayst thou, lovely flower, Never Boreas' hoary path, Riot on thy virgin leaf, Nor even Sol too fiercely view Mayst thou long, sweet crimson gem, And resign to parent earth The loveliest form she e'er gave birth. WHERE BRAVING ANGRY WINTER'S STORMS. TUNE-Neil Gow's Lamentation for Abercairny. The two following songs, in honor of Miss Margaret Chalmers, were designed for publication in the second volume of Johnson's Museum. Of the personal at tractions of Miss Chalmers, it could at the utmost be said, as Burns did say, that they were above the me dium. She was, however, a woman of spirit, talent, and boundless love of things literary. WHERE, braving angry winter's storms, Far in their shade my Peggy's charms Astonished, doubly marks its beam, Blest be the will, sequestered shade, The tyrant Death, with grim control, May seize my fleeting breath; MY PEGGY'S FACE. TUNE- My Peggy's Face. My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form, The lily's hue, the rose's dye, ADDRESS TO MR. WILLIAM TYTLER SENT WITH A SILHOUETTE PORTRAIT. REVERED defender of beauteous Stuart,1 But now 'tis despised and neglected. Though something like moisture conglobes in my eye, Let no one misdeem me disloyal; A poor friendless wanderer may well claim a sigh, Still more, if that wanderer were royal. My fathers that name have revered on a throne: My fathers have fallen to right it; Those fathers would spurn their degenerate son, That name should he scoffingly slight it. Still in prayers for King George I most heartily join, The Queen, and the rest of the gentry; Be they wise, be they foolish, is nothing of mine, Their title's avowed by my country. 1 Mr. Tytler had published, in 1759, An Inquiry, Historical and Critical, into the Evidence against Mary Queen of Scots. But why of that epocha make such a fuss, If bringing them over was lucky for us, But loyalty truce! we're on dangerous ground I send you a trifle, a head of a bard, But accept it, good sir, as a mark of regard, Now life's chilly evening dim shades on your eye, And ushers the long dreary night; But you, like the star that athwart gilds the sky, Your course to the latest is bright. ON A YOUNG LADY RESIDING ON THE BANKS OF THE SMALL RIVER DEVON, IN CLACKMANNANSHIRE, BUT WHOSE INFANT YEARS WERE SPENT IN AYRSHIRE. Addressed to Miss Charlotte Hamilton, and intended for publication in Johnson's Museum. The |