And would to Common-sense, for once betray'd thern, Plain, dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them.

What farther clishmaclaver1 might been said,
What bloody wars, if sprites had blood to shed,
No man can tell; but all before their sight,
A fairy train appear'd in order bright:

Adown the glitt'ring stream they featly danced,
Bright to the moon their various dresses glanced;
They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so neat,
The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet;
While arts of minstrelsy among them rung,
And soul-ennobling bards heroic ditties sung.
O had M'Lauchlan,' thairm3-inspiring sage,
Been there to hear this heavenly band engage,
When through his dear strathspeys they bore with
Highland rage;

Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs,
The lover's raptured joys or bleeding cares;
How would his Highland lug1 been nobler fired,
And e'en his matchless hand with finer touch inspired!
No guess could tell what instrument appear'd,
But all the soul of Music's self was heard;
Harmonious concert rung in every part,

While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart.
The Genius of the stream in front appears,

A venerable chief advanced in years;
His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd,
His manly leg with garter-tangle bound;
Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring,
Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Spring;
Then, crown'd with flowery hay, came Rural Joy,
And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye;
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreathed with nodding corn;
Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show,
By Hospitality, with cloudless brow.

Next follow'd Courage with his martial stride,
From where the Feal wild-woody coverts hide;
Benevolence, with mild, benignant air,

1 Idle tale.-2 A well-known performer of Scottish music on the violin.Fiddle-string.-4 Ear.-5 Sea-weed.- Field, meadow.

A female form,' came from the towers of Stair;
Learning and Worth in equal measures trode
From simple Catrine, their long-loved abode;.
Last, white-robed Peace, crown'd with a hazel wreath,
To rustic Agriculture did bequeath

The broken iron instruments of Death;

At sight of whom our Sprites forgot their kindling wrath.

LINES

Written with a pencil, standing by the Fall of Fyers, near Loch-Ness.
AMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods;
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,

Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream resounds.
As high in air the bursting torrents flow,
As deep recoiling surges foam below.

Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends,
And viewless Echo's ear, astonish'd, rends.
Dim seen thro' rising mists and ceaseless showers,
The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, lowers.
Still thro' the gap the struggling river toils,
An' still, below, the horrid cauldron boils-

Written with a pencil, over the chimney-piece, in the parlor of an 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,
The abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep,
My savage journey, curious, I pursue,
Till famed 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,

1 Mrs. Stewart.-2 See note 1, p. 134.

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-fringed in Nature's native taste;
The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless haste;
The arches striding o'er the new-born stream;
The village glittering in the noon-tide beam-

Poetic ardors in my bosom swell,

*

Lone, wandering by the hermit's mossy cell:
The sweeping theatre of hanging woods;
Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods-

*

*

*

*

*

Here Poesy might wake her heaven-taught lyre,
And look through Nature with creative fire;
Here, to the wrongs of Fate half reconciled,
Misfortune's lighten'd steps might wander wild;
And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds,
Find balm to sooth her bitter, rankling wounds.
Here heart-struck Grief might heavenward stretch
her scan,

And injured Worth forget and pardon man.1

*

*

*

*

*

INSCRIPTION FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE, At Kerroughtry, the seat of Mr. Heron, author of a Life of the poet, History of Scotland, &c., &c. ; written in the summer, 1795.

THOU of an independent mind,

With soul resolved, with soul resign'd;
Prepared power's proudest frown to brave,
Who wilt not be, nor have a slave;
Virtue alone who dost revere,

Thy own reproach alone dost fear,—

Approach this shrine, and worship here.

1 These two Fragments were composed in the autumn of 1787, when the poet was on a tour to the Highlands with Mr. W. Nicol, of the High School, Edinburgh.

ON PASTORAL POETRY.

HAIL, Poesie! thou nymph reserved!
In chase o' thee what crowds hae swerved
Frae common sense, or sunk enerved

'Mang heaps o' clavers;1

And och! o'er aft' thy joes hae starved,
'Mid a' thy favors!

Say, lassie, why thy train amang,
While loud the trump's heroic clang,
And sock or buskin, skelp1 alang

To death or marriage,
Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang,
But wi' miscarriage?

In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives;
Eschylus' pen Will Shakspeare drives;
Wee Pope, the knurlin," till' him 'rives
Horatian fame;8

In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives
Even Sappho's flame.

But thee, Theocritus! wha matches?
They 're no herd's ballats, Maro's catches:
Squire Pope but busks his skinklin1 patches
O' heathen tatters:

I pass by hunders," nameless wretches,
That ape their betters.

In this braw age o' wit and lear,"
Will nane the shepherd's whistle mair
Blaw sweetly in its native air

And rural grace;

And wi' the far-famed Grecian, share
A rival place?

Yes, there is ane-a Scottish callan !13
There's ane-come forrit," honest Allan !

1 Idle stories.-2 Over often.-3 Thy lovers.-4 Trip.—5 Little.—6 Dwarf 7 To.-8 'Rives Horatian fame; i. e. divides, or shares fame with Horace.• Dresses.—10 A small portion. -11 Hundreds. - 12 Learning.-13 Boy.— 14 Forward-15 Allan Ramsay.

Thou need na jouk1 beyond the hallan,'
A chiel sae clever;

The teeth o' time may gnaw Tamtallan,
But thou's forever!

Thou paints auld Nature to the nines,
In thy sweet Caledonian lines:

Nae gowden stream thro' myrtles twines,
Where Philomel,

While nightly breezes sweep the vines,
Her griefs will tell!

In gowany glens" thy burnie' strays,
Where bonnie lasses bleach their claes;*
Or trots by hazelly shaws and braes,
Wi' hawthorns gray,

Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays
At close o' day.

Thy rural loves are Nature's sel';'
Nae bombast spates" o' nonsense swell;
Nae snap" conceits, but that sweet spell
O' witchin' love,

That charm, that can the strongest quell,
The sternest move.

ON THE LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S PEREGRINATIONS THROUGH SCOTLAND,

COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM.

HEAR, Land O' Cakes, and brither Scots,

Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;

If there's a hole in a' your coats,

I rede you tent it:12

A chield 's amang you takin' notes,

And, faith, he'll prent it.

If in your bounds ye chance to light
Upon a fine, fat, fodgel13 wight,

1 To hang the head.-2 A party-wall in a cottage.—3 The name of a mountain. Exactly, to a nicety.-5 Golden. -6 Daisied dales.-7 Rivulet.Clothes.- Self.-10 Torrents.-11 Short.-12 I advise you to be cautious. -13 Pursy, bloated.