Now, thank our stars! these Gothic times | He sang wi' joy the former day, are fled; For Right the third, our last, our best, our [tion! Most humbly own-'tis dear, dear admiraIn that blest sphere alone we live and move: There taste that life of life-immortal love. Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs, 'Gains't such an host what flinty savage With bloody armaments and revolutions, A Vision. As I stood by yon roofless tower (270), The stars they shot alang the sky; To the distant-echoing glens reply. The stream, adown its hazelly path, Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, Hasting to join the sweeping Nith, Whose distant roaring swells and fa's. Like fortune's favours, tint as win. His darin' look had daunted me; And frae his harp sic strains did flow, woe, As ever met a Briton's ear. He weeping wail'd his latter times; Liberty-A Fragment. THEE, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among, [lies! | To OF TERRAUGHTY, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, I see thy life is stuff o' prief, Scarce quite half worn. On thee a tack o' seven times seven If envious buckies view wi' sorrow Wi' mornings blythe and e'enings funny, Fareweel, auld birkie! Lord be near ye, If near'st my heart I dinna wear ye While BURNS they ca' me! On Pastoral Poetry. (271) HAIL Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd! Say, Lassie, why thy train amang, To death or marriage; Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives; In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives But thee, Theocritus, wha matches? O' heathen tatters: I pass by hundred, nameless wretches, In this braw age o' wit and lear, And rural grace ; Yes! there is ane; a Scottish callan- Thou paints auld nature to the nines, While nightly breezes sweep the vines, In goweny glens thy burnie strays, Thy rural loves are nature's sel'; Sonnet, WRITTEN ON THE 25TH JANUARY 1793, THE BIRTHDAY OF THE AUTHOR, ON HEARING A THRUSH SING IN A MORNING WALK. SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain, See aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign, At thy blythe carol clears his furrow'd brow. So in lone Poverty's dominion drear, Sits meek Content with light unanxious heart, [part, Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear. I thank thee, Author of this opening day! Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies! The Tree of Liberty. (272) Weel Europe kens the fame o't. Kept France in leading strings, man, Upo' this tree there grows sic fruit, He's greater than a lord, man, Wha pitied Gallia's slaves, man, Ard staw'd a branch, spite o' the deil, Frae yon't the western waves, man. Fair Virtue water'd it wi' care, And now she sees wi' pride, man How weel it buds and blossoms there. Its branches spreading wide, man, But vicious folk aye hate to see The works o' Virtue thrive, man; The courtly vermin's banned the tree, And grat to see it thrive, man, King Loui' thought to cut it down, When it was unco' sma', man; For this the watchman cracked his crown, A wicked crew syne, on a time, It ne'er should flourish to its prime, Like beagles hunting game, man, And wished they'd been at hame, man, For Freedom, standing by the tree, Which pleased them ane and a', man. By her inspired, the new-born race Soon drew the avenging steel, man; The hirelings ran-her foes gied chase, And banged the despot weel, man. Let Britain boast her hardy oak, Her poplar and her pine, man, Is but a vale o' woe man ; To feed the titled knave, man; Wi' plenty o' sic trees, I trow, The warld would live in peace, man; The sword would help to mak a plough, The din o' war wad cease, man. Like brethren in a common cause, We'd on each other smile, man; And equal rights and equal laws Wad gladden every isle, man. Wae worth the loon wha wadna eat Sic whalesome, dainty cheer, man; I'd gie my shoon frae aff my feet, To taste sic fruit, I swear, man. Syne let us pray, auld England may Sure plant this far-famed tree, man; And blythe we'll sing, and hail the day That gave us liberty, man. Ta Genrral Dumourier. A PARODY ON ROBIN ADAIR. (273) YOU'RE welcome to Despots, Dumourier; You're welcome to Despots, Dumourier. How does Dampiere do? Ay and Bournonville too? Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier? I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, Dumourier I will fight France with you; I will take my chance with you; By my soul I'll dance a dance with you, Dumourier. Then let us fight about, Dumourier; Then let us fight about, Dumourier; Then let us fight about, Till freedom's spark is out, Then we'll be damn'd, no doubt-Dumourier. Linrs SENT TO A GENTLEMAN WHOM HE HAD OFFENDED. (274) THE friend whom wild from wisdom's way, The fumes of wine infuriate send (Not moony madness more astray)— Who but deplores that hapless friend? Mine was th' insensate frenzied part, Ah, why should I such scenes outlive !Scenes so abhorrent to my heart! 'Tis thine to pity and forgive, Monody ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE. (275) How cold is that bosom which folly once fir'd, How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd: [tired, How silent that tongue which the echoes oft How dull is that ear which to flattery so listen'd! If sorrow and anguish their exit await, From friendship and dearest affection remov'd; How doubly severer. Eliza, thy fate, [lov'd. Thou diedst unwept, as thou lived'st un |