Unmark'd were all my hopes and fears, While Strephon whispers in her ears. O jealousy! distracting guest! An Ode to William Pultney, Esq. REMOTE from liberty and truth, I bow'd to priests and kings. Soon reason dawn'd-with troubled sight, I caught the glimpse of painful light, Afflicted and afraid. Too weak it shone to mark my way, Enough to tempt my steps to stray Restless I roam'd, when from afar Thus cheer'd, and eager to pursue, Now warm'd with noble Sidney's page, But soon the beauteous vision flies, The partial judge perverting laws, And senates, slaves to gain. Vainly the pious artist's toil Would rear to heaven a mortal pile, On some immortal plan; Within a sure, tho' varying date, Confined alas! is every state Of empire and of man. What though the good, the brave, the wise, With adverse force undaunted rise, To break the eternal doom! Though Cato lived, though Tully spoke, Though Brutus dealt the godlike stroke, To swell some future tyrant's pride, Once more her fields shall thirst in vain Yet glorious is the great design, If crush'd beneath the sacred weight Shall tell the patriot's name. JOHN LOGAN. Soutra. Med Lothian.-1748 1788. Logan is accused of having purloined certain Poems from the manuscript of poor Michael Bruce, and published them as his own. The best pieces in his volume, are, however, indisputably his own. SONG. The Braes of Yarrow. THY braes were bonny, Yarrow stream! "When first on them I met my lover; "Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream! "When now thy waves his body cover! "For ever now, O Yarrow stream! "Thou art to me a stream of sorrow; "For never on thy banks shall I "Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow. "He promised me a milk-white steed, "To bear me to his father's bowers; "He promised me a little page, "To 'squire me to his father's towers; "He promised me a wedding-ring,"The wedding-day was fix'd to-morrow ;"Now he is wedded to his grave, "Alas, his watery grave in Yarrow! "Sweet were his words when last we met; "Thrice did the water-wraith ascend, "And gave a doleful groan through Yarrow. "His mother from the window look'd, "With all the longing of a mother; "His little sister weeping walk'd "The green-wood path, to meet her brother. They sought him east, they sought him west, They sought him all the forest thorough; They only saw the cloud of night, They only heard the roar of Yarrow. |