Scene-4 Field of Battle-Time of the Day, Eveningthe wounded and dying of the victorious Army are supposed to join in the following

SONG OF DEATH.

Farewell thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun;

Farewell loves and friendships; ye dear, tender ties,
Our race of existence is run!

Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe,
Go, frighten the coward and slave;

Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know,
No terrors hast thou to the brave!

Thou strik'st the poor peasant-he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name :

Thou strik'st the young hero-a glorious mark!
He falls in the blaze of his fame!

In the field of proud honour-our swords in our hands,
Our king and our country to save—

While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands-
O, who would not die with the brave!

The circumstance that gave rise to the foregoing verses, was looking over, with a musical friend, M'Donald's collection of Highland airs, I was struck with one, an Isle of Skye tune, entitled

VOL. II.

C C

entitled Oran an Aoig, or, The Song of Death, to the measure of which I have adapted my stanzas. I have of late composed two or three other little pieces, which, ere yon full-orbed moon, whose broad impudent face now stares at old mother earth all night, shall have shrunk into a modest crescent, just peeping forth at dewy dawn, I shall find an hour to transcribe for you. A Dieu je vous commende!

No.

No. CXXVIII.

To MRS. DUNLOP.

5th January, 1792.

You see my hurried life, Madam; I

can only command starts of time: however, I am glad of one thing; since I finished the other sheet, the political blast that threatened my welfare is overblown. I have corresponded with Commissioner Graham, for the Board had made me the subject of their animadversions; and now I have the pleasure of informing you, that all is set to rights in that quarter. Now as to these informers, may the devil be let loose to

but hold! I was praying most fervently in my last sheet, and I must not so soon fall a swearing in this.

Alas! how little do the wantonly or idly officious think what mischief they do by their malicious insinuations, indirect impertinencé, or thoughtless blabbings! What a difference there is in intrinsic worth, candour, benevolence, generosity, kindness-in all the charities

and all the virtues, between one class of human beings and another! For instance, the

amiable circle I so lately mixed with in the hospitable hall of D -, their generous hearts -their uncontaminated dignified minds-their informed and polished understandings—what a contrast, when compared-if such comparing were not downright sacrilege-with the soul of the miscreant who can deliberately plot the destruction of an honest man that never offended him, and with a grin of satisfaction see the unfortunate being, his faithful wife and prattling innocents, turned over to beggary and ruin!

Your cup, my dear Madam, arrived safe. I had two worthy fellows dining with me the other day, when I, with great formality, produced my whigmeleerie cup, and told them that it had been a family-piece among the descendants of Sir William Wallace. This roused such an enthusiasm, that they insisted on bumpering the punch round in it; and, by and by, never did your great ancestor lay a Suthron more completely to rest, than for a time did your cup my two friends. Apropos this is the season of wishing. May God bless you, my dear friend! and bless me, the humblest and sincerest of your friends, by granting you yet many returns of the season! May all good things attend you and yours wherever they are scattered over the earth!

No.

No. CXXIX.

To MR. WILLIAM SMELLIE, Printer.

Dumfries, 22d January, 1792.

I SIT down, my dear Sir, to introduce a young lady to you, and a lady in the first rank of fashion, too. What a task! to youwho care no more for the herd of animals called young ladies, than you do for the herd of animals called young gentlemen. To you-who despise and detest the groupings and combinations of fashion, as an idiot painter that seems industrious to place staring fools and unprincipled knaves in the foreground of his picture, while men of sense and honesty are too often thrown in the dimmest shades. Mrs. Riddel, who will take this letter to town with her, and send it to you, is a character that, even in your own way as a naturalist and a philosopher, would be an acquisition to your acquaintance:

The