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.Reflect on thy past happy state,
And call to mind, er'e 'tis too late.

How well you once was taught
To bid defiance to those cares,
Which now you feel, and shun those snares,

In which you now are caught.

From Passion's meteor turn thy sight,
And let calm Reason's steady light,

Thy footsteps always guide:
That only raves through Folly's chace,
But this leads Wisdom to the place

Where Truth and Peace reside.

At this Urania paused to try
If Cupid chose to make reply

To aught she had express'd:
But ere suspense left either free,
The Hamadiiad of the tree

Each party thus address'd:

"The nymph indeed, whose name I bear '' May well deserve your rival care,

"But' tis as mutual friends: "Your several gifts for her combine, '' Nor ere, in such a cause, decline

"To serve each other's ends.

"Let her whose charms at once can raise "The lover's sigh, the poet's praise,

"Your gentle favour find: "No more each other's votaries scorn, "While perfect grace and worth adorn

"Her person, and her mind!

"And though you must not yet declare "To whom the fates reserve the fair,

"This gentle youth direct, "If to his mind he can't be blest, "From envy to secure his breast,

"And bear with cool neglect.

"That face which jealousy can love,
"That conduct censure must approve,

"Permit him to admire: "But, oh! with strength possess his soul "Each anxious passion to controul,

"And check each fond desire.

JAMES MACPHERSON.

Rut Avert, Inverness— 173 8—1796.

It was beyond a doubt that Macpherson was the author of Ossian, not the translator. Malcolm Laing has hounded him with the indefatigable and unrelenting sagacity of a Bow-street Magistrate; this accusation on the one side, and the lame evidence set up in his defence by the Highland Society on the other; have convinced all, who are capable of conviction.—There are many who are not persuaded ;' neither would they though one should rise from the dead.'

Let us have the songs of the Highlands, as faithfully as we have those of the Scottish Border. What is of modern fabrication will be easily distinguishable, by its trickery and tinsel.

The rhythm of Ossian is a curious subject of investigation, for any one who studies metre. All the other ingredients, will be found in the following of Macpherson's acknowledged poems.

THE CAVE.

WRITTEN IN THE HIGHLANDS.

The wind is up, the field is bare;

Some hermit lead me to his cell, Where Contemplation, lonely fair,

With bless'd Content has chose to dwell.

Behold ! it opens to my sight.

Dark in the rock: beside the flood; Dry fern around obstructs the light; The winds above it move the wood.

Reflected in the lake I see

The downward mountains and the skies, The flying bird, the waving tree,

The goats that on the hills arise.

The grey-cloak'd herd drives cn the cow;

The slow-paced follower walks the heath; A freckled pointer scours the brow;

A musing shepherd stands beneath.

Curve o'er the ruin of an oak,
The woodman lifts his axe on high,

The hills re-echo to the stroke:
I see, I see the shivers fly.

Some rural maid with apron full,
Brings fuel to the homely flame;

I see the smoky columns roil,

And through the chinky hut the beam.

Beside a stone o'ergrown with moss,
Two well-met hunters talk at ease;

Three panting dogs beside repose;

One bleeding deer is stretched on grass.

A lake, at distance, spreads to sight,
Skirted with shady forests round,

In midst an island's rocky height
Sustains a ruin once renown'd.

One tree bends o'er the naked walls,
Two broad-wing'd eagles hover nigh,

By intervnls a fragment falls,

As blows the blast along the sky.

Two rough-spun hinds the pinnace guide, With labouring oars along the flood;

An angler, bending o'er the tide,

Hangs from the boat the insidious wood.

Beside the flood, beneath the rocks,
On grassy banks two lovers lean;

Bend on each other amorous looks,
And seem to laugh and kiss between.

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