To lower Orders are affign'dwin Bal The humbler ranks of Human-kind, The ruftic Bard, the lab'ring Hind, The Artifan; All chufe, as, various they're inclin'd, WHEN yellow waves the heavy grain, The threat'ning Storm, fome, ftrongly rein; • Some teach to meliorate the plain, With tillage-fkill; And fome inftruct the fhepherd-train, Blythe o'er the hill. SOME hint the Lover's harmless wile; Some grace the Maiden's artlefs fmile; Some foothe the Lab'rer's weary toil, For humble gains, ' And • And make his cottage-fcenes beguile His cares and pains. SOME bounded to a diftri&t-fpace, " Explore, at large Man's infant race, To mark the embryotic trace Of rustic Bard And careful note each op'ning grace, • A guide and guard. Of these am I-Coila my name; And this district as mine I claim, Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame, • Held ruling pow'r : 'I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame, Thy natal hour. 'WITH future hope, I oft would gaze, Fond, on thy little, early ways, • Thy Thy rudely-caroll'd, chiming phrafe, In uncouth rhymes, Fir'd at the fimple, artlefs lays Of other times. I SAW thee feek the founding fhore, Delighted with the dafhing roar; 'Or when the North his fleecy store 'Drove thro' the fky, I faw grim Nature's visage hoar, Struck thy young eye. OR when the deep green-mantled Earth, Warm cherish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth, And joy and mufic pouring forth, In ev'ry grove, I faw thee eye the gen'ral mirth With boundless love. WHEN WHEN ripen'd fields, and azure skies, • Call'd forth the Reapers rustling noise, 'I faw thee leave their ev'ning joys, 'And lonely stalk, To vent thy bofom's fwelling rife, In penfive walk. WHEN youthful Love, warm-blufhing, ftrong, Keen-fhivering fhot thy nerves along, Th' adored Name, "I taught thee how to pour in fong, To foothe thy flame, I SAW thy pulfe's maddening play, Wild-fend thee Pleasure's devious way, Milled by Fancy's meteor ray, 'By Paffion driv'n; But But yet the light that led aftray 'Was light from Heaven. 'I TAUGHT thy manners-painting strains, The loves, the ways of fimple fwains, Till now, o'er all my wide domains, Thy fame extends; And fome, the pride of Coila's plains, Become thy friends, THOU canft not learn, nor I can fhow, To paint with Thomson's landfcape-glow; • With Shenstone's art; 'Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow, Warm on the heart. YET, all beneath th' unrivall'd Rofe, The lowly Daify fweetly blows; VOL. I. P Tho' |