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Press'd in unrighteous fight, with just disdain Vervain for health, for bread he poppies plants
To wrench so many darts, and wrench in vain, With these he satisfied all nature's wants,
Much pondering in his mind, the chief revolv'd And late returning home from wholesome toil,
Each rising thought; at last he springs resolv'd; Enjoy'd the frugal bounty of the soil.
Full at the warrior steed the hostile wood

His mind was royal in a low estate,
He threw that pierc'd bis brain and drank the blood. And dignified the meanness of his fate.
Stung with the pain, the steed up-rear'd on high He first in Spring was seen to crop the rose,
His sounding hoofs, and lasb’d the yielding sky; In Autumn first t' upload the bending boughs;
Prone fell the warrior from bis lofty height, For every bud the early year bestow'd,
His shoulders broad receiv'd the courser's weight. A reddening apple on the branches glow'd.
From host to host the mingling shouts rebound, Ev'n in the midst of Winter's rigid reiga,
Deep echoing all in fire the hear'ns resound; When snow and frost had whiten’d o'er the plain,
Unsheath'd his faming blade, Æneas fies, When cold had split therocks, and stript the woods,
And thus address'd the warrior as he lies:

And shackled up the mighty running doods, Say, where is now Mezentius great and bold, He then, anticipating Summer's hopes, That haughty spirit, fierce and uncontrola ?” The tendrils of the soft acanthus crops; To whom the Tuscan), with recover'd breath, His industry awak'd the lazy. Spring, As faint he view'd the skies, recall'd from death; And hasten'd on the Zephyr's loitering ving. “ Dost thou the stroke, insulting man! delay? For this with pregnant bees he chief was known Haste! let thy ve: geance take its destin'd way: T' abound: the balmy harvest all his own. Death never can disgrace the warrior's fame Successive swarms reward his faithful toil; Who dies in fight; nor conquest was my aim : None press'd from richer combs the liquid spol. Slain, savage! by thy hand in glorious strife, He crown'd his rural orchard's plain design, Not so my Lausus bargaind for my life :

With flowering lime-trees, and a wealtb of pine. Depriv'd of him, sole object of my love,

He knew in graceful order to dispose I seek to die;--for joy is none above.

Large-bodied elms, transplanted into rows. Yet, piteous of my fate, this grace allow,

Hard pear-trees flourish'd near his rustic dome, lf pity to the vanquish'd foe be due,

And thorns already purple with the plum; Satser my friends my gather'd bones to burn, Broad planes arose to form an ample bow'r, And decent lay me in the funeral urn:

Where mirth's gay sons refresh'd the sultry hour.
Full well I know my people's hate, decreed But I this grateful subject must discard,
Against the living, will pursue the dead;

The pleasing labour of some future barda
My irreathless body from their fury save,
And grant my son the partner of my grave.''
He said, and stoadfast eyed the riotor foe;
Then gave his breast undannted to the blow.

THB
The rushing blood distaip'd his arms around;

TWENTIETH ODE OF ANACREON. The soul indignant sought the shades protound.

FAIR Niobe, old times survey'd,
In Phrygian hills, a marble maid,

Chang'd Pandion! to the swallow's bue,
THE CORYCIAN SWAIN,

On swallow's wings thy daughter flew..
FROM Georgics, Iv.-LINE 116.

But I a looking-glass would be,

That thou might'st see thyself in me, But, were I not, before the favouring gale, No; I would be a morning gown, Making to port, and crowding all my said, That so iny dear might me put on. Perhaps I might the garden's glories sing,

But I a silver stream would flow, The double roses of the Pæstan spring;

To wash thy skin, as pure as snow. How endive drinks the rill, and how are seen I would myself in ointment pour, Moist banks with celery for ever green;

To bathe thee with the fragraut show'r. How, twisted in the matted herbage, lies

But I would be thy tucker made, 'The bellying cucumber's enormous size;

Thy lovely sweiling bosom's shade. What flowers Narcissus late, bow Nature weares I would, a diamond necklace, deck The yielding texture of acanthus' leaves :

The comely rising of thy neck.
Of ivy pale the calture next explore,

I would thy slender feet enclose,
And whence the lover-myrtle courts the shore. To tread on me transform'd to shoes.
For I reinember (where Galesus yie!ds
His humid moisture to the yellow fields,
And bigh Oebalia's tow'rs o'erlook the plain,)

TRE
I knew in youth an old Coryciau swain;
A few and barren acres were his share,

TWENTY-FIRST ODE OF ANACREON
Left and abandon'd to the good man's care;
Nor these indulg'd the grassy lawn, to feed

Fill with Bacchus' blessings franght,
The fattening bullock, nor the bounding steed, Ye virgins, fill a mighty draught:
Nor gave to cattle browze, nor food to kine, Long since dried up by heat, I faint,
Bacchus avesse refas'd the mantling vine.

I scarcely breathe, and feverish pant.
What bappy nature to his lands denied,

O! with these fresher flowers, renew An honest, painful industry supplied;

The fading garland on my brow, For, trusting pot-herbs to his bushy ground, Por oh! my forehead's raging heat For bees, fair candid lilies flourish'd round, Has rified all their graces sweet;

The rage of thirst I yet can quell,

By good men honour'd, by the bad approv'd, The rage of heat I can repel,

And lov'd the Muses, by the Muses lov’d; But, love! thy heat wbich burns my soul, Hail! and farewell, who bore the gentlest mind, What draughts can quench? what shades can cool? For thou indeed hast been of human kind."

THE

ON LORD BARGENY.

TWENTY-SECOND ODE OF ANACREON.
Come, sit beneath this shade with me,
My lovely maid, how fair the tree!
Its tender branches wide prevail,
Obedient to each breathing gale;
Summer's loom industrious weaves
In mazy veins the silken leaves,
Soft as the milky veins I view,
O'er thy fair breast meandering blue;
Hard by a fount with murmuring noise
Runs a sweet persuasive voice;
What lover, say, my lovely maid,
So foolish as to pass this shade?

Go hence instructed from this early urn,
Wise as you weep, and better as you mourn;
This urn, where titles, fortune, youth repose,
How vain the fleeting good that life bestows!
Learn, age, when now it can no more supply,
To quit the burden, and consent to die;
Secure, the truly virtuous never tell
How long the part was acted, but how well:
Youth, stand convicted of each foolish claim,
Each daring wish of lengthen'd life and fame;
Thy life a moment, and thy fame a breatb,
The natural end, oblivion and death;
Hear then this solemn truth, obey its call,
Submiss adore, for this is mankind's all.

EPITAPHS.

ON SIR JAMES SUTTIE.
ON LORD NEWHALL.

This unambitious stone preserves a name
To fame let flattery the proud column raise, To friendship sanctified, untouch'd by fame;
And guilty greatness load with venal praise, A son this rais'd, by holy duty fir'd,
This monument, for nobler use desigu'd,

These sung a friend, by friendly zeal inspir’d. Speaks to the heart, and risés for mankind;

No venal fal ehood stain'd the filial tear; Whose moral strain, if rightly understood, Unbought, unask'd, the friendly praise sincere; Invites thee to be bumble, wise, and good.

Both for a good man weep, without offence, Learn here, of life, life's every sacred end; Who led his days in ease and innocence. Hence form the father, husband, judge, and friend : His tear rose honest; honest rose his smile; Here wealth and greatness found no partial grace, His heart no falsebood knew, bis tongue no guile; The poor look'd fearless in th’ oppressor's face; A simple miud with plain just notions fraught, One plain good meaning through bis conduct ran, Nor warp'd by wit, nor by proud science taught; And if he err'd, alas! he err'd as man.

Nature's plain light still, rightly understood, If then, unconscious of so fair a fame,

That never hesitates the fair and goodThou read'st without the wish to be the same, Who view'd self-balanc'd, from bis calm retreat, Though proud of titles, or of boundless store,

The storms that vex the busy and the great, By blood ignoble, and by wealth made poor, Unmingling in the scene, whate'er befel Yet read; some vice perhaps thou may'st resign, Pitied bis suffering kind, and wish'd them well; Be ev'n that momentary virtue thine,

Careless if monarchs frown'd, or statesmen smild, Heav'n in thy breast here work its first essay, His purer joy, his friend, his wife, or child; Think on this man, and pass unblam'd one day. Constant to act the hospitable part,

Love in his look, and welcome in his heart;
Such unpriz'd blessings did his life employ,,

The social momeut, the domestic joy,
ON LORD BINNING.

A joy beneficent, warm, cordial, kind,
Beneath this sacred marble ever sleeps,

That leaves no doubt, no grudge, no sting behind: For whom a father, mother, consort weeps;

The beart-born rapture that from virtue springs, Whom brothers', sisters', pious griefs pursue,

The poor man's portion God withbeld froin kings. And childrens' tears with virtuous drops bedew:

This life at decent time was bid to cease, The Loves and Graces grieving round appear,

Finish'd among his weeping friends in peace: Ev'n Mirth herself becomes a mourner here;

Go, traveller, wish his shade eternal rest,
The stranger who directs bis steps this way

Go, be the same, for this is to be blest.
Shall witness to thy worth, and wondering say,
" Thy life, though short, can we unhappy call?
Sure thine was blest, for it was social all:
O may no hostile hand this place invade,

ON MR. BAILLIE, OF JERVISWOOD.
For ever sacred to thy gentle shade!
Who knew ja all life's offices to please,

The pious parent rais'd this ballow'd place Join'd taste to virtue, and to virtue ease;

A monument for them, and for their race: No With riches blest, did not the poor disdain, Descendants! be it your successive cares, Was knowing, humble, friendly, great, humane; That no degenerate dust c'er mix with their's.

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ON MR. BASIL HAMILTON.

What virtues might have grach her fuller day!

“ Butah! the charm just shown and snatch daway, This

verse, O gentle Hamilton! be thine, Priendship, Love, Nature, all reclaim in vain;
Each softer grace, below thy darling shrine. *4 Heav'n, when it wills, resumes its gifts agam.
Nature to thee did her best gifts impart,
The mildest manners, and the warmest heart;
Honour erected in thy breast his throne,
And kind humanity was all thy own.

ON MR. CUNNINGHAM, OF CRAIGENDS.
A son, a wife, bad the plain marble rise;

Beneath the sacred shade a good mae lies.
ON MRS. COLQUHOUN, OF LUSS.

In Britain's senate long unblam'd he sate, UNBLAM'D, O sacred shrine ! let me draw near,

And anxious trembled for her doubtful fate; A sister s ashes claim a brother's tear;

Above all giddy hopes, all selfish ends, No semblant arts this copious spring supply,

His country was his family and friends. "Tis Nature's drops, that swell in Friendship's eye: The fair example of his life is left ;

Children! weep not, thus cruelly bereft;
O'er this sad tomb, see kneeling brothers bend,
Who wail'a sister, that excell'd a friend;

Another far more lasting, safe estate
A child like tbis each parent's wish engage,

Than e'er descended from the rich and great;

Their's fall to time or fortune soon a prey; Grace of his youth, and solace of his age : Hence the cbaste virgin learn each pious art

Or, the poor gift of kings, kings spatch away:

Your blest succession never can be less,
Who sighs sincere to bless a virtuous heart,
The faithful youth,when Heaven the choice inspires, Still as you imitate, you still possess.
Such hope the partner of his kind desires.
Oh, early lost! yet early all fulfillid
Each tender office of wife, sister, child;

ON MISS SETON,
All these in early youth thou hadst obtain'd;
The fair maternal pattern yet reinain'd, [spare;

INTERRED IN THE CHAPEL OF SETON-HOUSE.
Heav'n sought not that else Heav'n had bid to
To thine succeeds now Providence's care-

In these once hallow'd walls' neglected shade, Amidst the pomp that to the dead we give Sacred to piety and to the dead, To sooth the vanity of those that live,

Where the long line of Seton's race repose, Receive thy destin'd place, a hallow'd grave,

Whose tombs to wisdom, or to valour rose; 'Tis all we can bestow, or thou can'st crave;

Though now a thankless age, to slarery prope, Be these the honours that embalm thy name,

Past fame despising, careless of its own, The matron's praise, woman's best silent fame! Records no more; each public virtue fled, Such, to remembrance dear, thy worth be found, Who wisely counsell’d, or who bravely bled: When queens and flatterers sleep forgot around, Though here the warrior-shield is hung no more, Till awful sounds shall break the solemn rest;

But every violated trophy tore,
'Then wake amongst the blest for ever blest. Heav'n's praise, man's honour, sbare one shameful
Meanwhile upon this stone thy name shall live, God and his image both alike forgot:
Sure Heaven will let this pious verse survive.

To this sweet maid a kindred place is due,
Her earth shall consecrate these walls anew,
The Muse, that listens to desert alone,

Snatches from fate, and seals thee for her own).
ON MRS. KEITH.
WaTe’ER all-giving Nature could impart,
Whate'er or charm'd the eye, or warm’d the heart; Could this fair marble to the world impart
Beauty, by candid virtue still approv'd,

Half of the woes that rend a husband's heart, Virtue, by beauty render'd most belov'd;

Could it be taught to look with nature's eye, Whate'er kind friendship, or endearing truth, Like friendship could it breathe the tender sigh, For blest old age had treasur'd up in youth; With each dear rapture bid the bosom glov What blest old age, in its last calm adieu,

Love e'er could taste, or tenderness bestow; Might with applause and conscious joy review, Then might it tow'r unblam'd amid the skies, Reposes here, to wake in endless bliss,

And not to vanity, but virtue rise: Too early ravish'd from a world like this!

Its noblest pomp the humble eye endure, Where fair examples strike, but not inspire And pride when most it swelld, here find a cura To imitate the virtues all admire;

Cease then-nor at the Sovereign will repine; Yet listen, virgins! to this saving strain,

It gives, we bless; it snatches, we resign:
If she has liv'd let her not die in vain !

To earth what came from earth returns again,
Heav'n fram'd th' immortal part above to reigt

ON MRS. HEPBURN.
Stay, passenger; this stone demands thy tear;
Here rest the hopes of many a tender year:
Our sorrow now- -so late our joy and praise!
Lost in the mild Aurora of her days.

Does great and splendid villany allure?
Go search in W's trial for a cure.
Blest with enough, would'st thou increase it stil!
Examine Ch's life, and Rd's will.

Would'st thou be happy? then these rules receive, With kind Bargeny, faithful to his word,
Read this verse gratis, and thy soul shall live. Whom Heav'n made good and social, a lord;
Learn from this man who now lies five feet deep, The cities view'd of many-languag'd men,
To drink when doubting; and when tempted, sleep: Popes, pimps, kings, gamesters; and sa all was
This led him safe through life's tempestuous steer-

vain, Poor by no place, ignoble by no peerage; [age, Enjoy'd, what Hopetoun's groves could never yield, An easy mind, by no entails devis'd;

The pbilosopbic rapture of the field ! An humble virtue, by no kings excis'd:

Nor ask'd, nor fear'd. His life, and humble lays, Stated no law-case, and no critic quoted;

No critics envy, and no flatterers praise. Spoke what he thought; and never swore, norvoted. Sure those who know how hard to write, and live, Courts he abhorr'd, their errours, their abuses, Would judge with candour, pity and forgive. St. Janies, Versailles; all, all, but Sancta Crucis?: Known but to few, as if he ne'er had been, There where no statesmen buys, no bishop sells; He stole through life unheeded, and unseen: A virtuous palace, where no monarch dwells. He often errod, but broke no social duty;

Unbrib'd by statesmen, nd unhurt by beauty. Holyrood-house.

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