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,
The various man.

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,
Thofe accents, grateful to thy tongue,

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;
Or wake the bofom-melting throe,

• 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'