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DEATH OF MARSHAL KEITH.
KEITH then is fallen! What numbers can there flow,
What strains adequate to so great a woe!
They mourn his fate, who felt his sword before;
What must they feel for whom the warrior stormed,
Whose fields he fought, whose every counsel formed!
Brave Prussia's sons depend the mournful head,
Sad round the corse, a stately ring they stand,
This piece appears to have been wrote before the account that M. Keith's funeral obsequies were solemnized by the Austrians had reached
Great Fred'ric comes to join the mighty woe; Eternal laurels bind his awful brow;
Majestic in his arms he stands, and cries,
Is Keith no more? and as he speaks, he sighs;
But Caledonia o'er the rest appears,
The godlike hero they exiled before.
Sad from his native home the chief withdrew;
And distant Russia heard the Scottish name.
He ruled the storm, and urged the martial car.
They asked their chiefs, what state the hero raised;
But chief, as relics of a dying race,
The Keiths command, in woe, the foremost place;
the author; a circumstance which he would probably have converted to very good purpose. BLACKLOCK's Collection, vol. i. p. 229. Edin, 1760. This note is in Macpherson's enigmatical style, and the poem, which first appeared with his initials, (J. M'P. dated Ruthven, October 31, 1758,) in the Scots and Edinburgh Magazines, was evidently inserted by himself in BLACKLOCK'S Collection