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STANZAS,

1

Occasioned by visiting the City and Ruins of St Andrew's.

In ancient time, near the wide ocean-strand,
A city lay, in sculptured rich attire,
Far shadowed out upon the golden sand ;-
Her rock-built castle, and cathedral spire-
Her holy monastery, where grey-haired friar
And saintly nun, to penitence and prayer
Would in the fervour of their faith retire-

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Her cloistered courts, for learning to repair,

Might shew how kingly strength and wisdom flourished

there.

No consecrated groves, or rivers bright,

No lovely vallies circled it around;

But cliffs on which the eagle would alight,
And hollow caverns stretching under ground,
Within whose labyrinths of gloom profound
The water-snakes, and sea-birds dragged their prey,
Or lonely hermits secret refuge found ;

Whilst far along the rocky cape there lay,

With vessels anchored deep, a wild and troubled bay.

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Det say gutes beneath their grehna swip
Darzaev, a twilight's fai ing home
* eaten closed: upon its rocky sho
statar rm.. her castle torre

De cand a banner, and the bed re of preg
1 countr+ moss, Saint Andrew's, there ingtalul
To suci rani pageants them would nations cowor
Ner rear that like Jerusalem enti railed,
The che strength would be so suddenly

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Zen of those battlements the sun an,

Lys as from a fiery shield,
Wase be appalled the ference of their fo
Te won 'hr Mood in many a bottle fold,
Monrres would there the sad and atopter veld
WLS mer men, for Jøgns' saka divine
Ther ved lives in sacrifice wodd viele

at armour, leave their squloup's chilog The the boy dust, and fall in i destina

Trong the cathedral's giele, and cultad de ma

The sum orisons and anthoma puna
Auve the altar, waving rich perkamen
Over in guiden tablet, comença uyiti,
And the tall tapers burning dimly sluna,
A meght from out tha ignotuary,

Wherein the blessed crucifix was hung,

To which all nations then would bend the knee, And bow themselves to pray in deep idolatry.

Like mighty billows, ages have rolled past,
And with them, urged by a resistless fate,
Nations and creeds into oblivion cast;
Behold, how changed this country's poor estate,
By Reformation rendered desolate;

For Scottish thrones would once a glory wear,
And every turret on its mountain-height,

Or sunk in shady glen its banners bear,

But these have passed away, like meteors through the air.

Scotland hath fallen-and in evil hour

The hand of mad ambition hath laid waste
Her palaces and courts; usurping power
And blinded slaves of bigotry effaced
The records of her greatness; they have chased
The eagle from its eyrie; wherefore none

In mute suspense may pause when they have traced
These fallen ruins, where, with grass o'ergrown,
A mournful tale is told on every crumbling stone.

Those city-gates have been, and are unhinged—
The castle crushed upon its throne-like steep—

:

And the great sea into its base infringed :-
Hark! how the angry billows dashing sweep
Around the craigs; and with convulsive leap
The tempest of their surge is shivering sent
Against the caverned walls: thus hath the deep-
In how few years ? —a fearful inroad bent,
And burst the channels of its cliff-girt continent.

Beneath the shadow of the sweeping wave
The relics of a chapel yet remain *,
And even- -like a slumberer in the grave-
Scattered amidst the rocks, its ruined fane
Is sunk full deep below the watery plain :—
The foamy voice of ocean swells its dirge :-
There learn how thrones, and shrines are reared in vain
By human hands; for still the hungering surge

Is battling for more prey from rocky verge to verge.

Those acquainted with St Andrew's are probably aware that the Chapel which was connected with Cardinal Beaton's castle is now a complete ruin on the beach, the fragments of which can only be seen at very low water. On this part of the coast the encroachment of the sea is very manifest, as the Castle and Chapel appear at one time to have stood a considerable distance from the shore.-See Grose's Antiquities; Notes to Jamieson's Cuvier, &c.

1

'Tis midnight, and the moon is rising bright :Enter the old cathedral's crumbling wall, And by the soft reflection of its light Survey the lengthened aisle, and pillar's fall; Sunk in their glory 'neath the weedy pall On which the church-yard dews, like tear-drops gleam ; There broods the night-bird in his roofless hall— Through each unwindowed arch the pale stars beam, And all appears sublime-the pageant of a dream!

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The golden gate, whose mutilated form

Hath, like a cliff the waves have lashed in vain,

Outlasted winters of impetuous storm,

Uplifts itself withal in proud disdain;
So stand on Eygpt's simoon-trodden plain
The awe-inspiring records of the past;
And thon shalt aye a monument remain,
Though the drear space betwixt thy portals vast
Gives entrance only now to the unbridled blast.

No more the vestal throng, or white-robed choir,
Shall pass thy threshold to the house of prayer;
No more Devotion, clad in meek attire,
Before the eye of heaven kneel suppliant there ;-
Anthems, nor incense fill the listening air
No mortal step these churchyard ruins tread,

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