Let fragrant birks in woodbines drest,
My craggy cliffs adorn;

And, for the little songster's nest,
The close embow'ring thorn.

So may old Scotia's darling hope,
Your little angel band,

Spring, like their fathers, up to prop
Their honour'd native land!
So may thro' Albion's farthest ken,
To social-flowing glasses,

The grace

be-" Athole's honest men,

"And Athole's bonnie lasses,

ON

ON

SCARING SOME WATER FOWL,

IN LOCH-TURIT,

A wild scene among the hills of Oughtertyre.

WHY, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your wat'ry haunt forsake?
Tell me fellow-creatures, why
At my presence thus you fly?
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties ?—
Common friend to you
and me,

Nature's gifts to all are free:
Peaceful keep your dimpling wave,
Busy feed, or wanton lave;

Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
Bide the surging billow's shock.

5

Conscious,

Conscious, blushing for our race,
Soon, too soon, your fears I trace.
Man, your proud usurping foe,
Would be lord of all below:

Plumes himself in Freedom's pride,
Tyrant stern to all beside.

The eagle, from the cliffy brow,
Marking you his prey below,
In his breast no pity dwells,
Strong necessity compels.

But man, to whom alone is giv'n
A ray direct from pitying heav'n,
Glories in his heart humane-
And creatures for his pleasure slain.

In these savage, liquid plains, Only known to wand'ring swains, Where the mossy riv'let strays; Far from human haunts and ways; All on Nature you depend,

And life's poor season peaceful spend.

On the lofty ether borne,

Man with all his pow'rs you scorn;

Swiftly

Swiftly seek, on clanging wings,
Other lakes and other springs;
And the foe you cannot brave,

Scorn at least to be his slave.

WRITTEN

WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL

Over the Chimney-piece in the Parlour of the 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, Th' 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;

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