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ADMIRING Nature in her wildest grace,
These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;
O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,
Th' abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep,
My savage journey, curious, I pursue,
Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view-

ON SCARING SOME WATER- The meeting clifs each deep-sunk glen divides,

FOWL,

IN LOCH-TURIT;

A WILD SCENE AMONG THE HILLS OF OCHTERTYRE.

WHY, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your watery haunt forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
At my presence thus you fly?
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties?-
Common friend to you and me,
Nature's gifts to all are free:
Peaceful keep your dimpling wave,
Busy feed, or wanton lave;
Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
Bide the surging billow's shock.

Conscious, blushing for our race, Soon, too soon, your fears I trace. Man, your proud usurping foe, Would be lord of all below; Plumes himself in Freedom's pride, Tyrant stern to all beside.

The eagle, from the cliffy brow, Marking you his prey below, In his breast no pity dwells, Strong necessity compels. But man, to whom alone is giv'n A ray direct from pitying heav'n, Glorious in his heart humaneAnd creatures for his pleasure slain.

The woods, wild-scatter'd, clothe their ample

sides;

Th' outstretching lake, embosom'd 'mong the hills,

The eye with wonder and amazement fills;
The Tay meand'ring sweet in infant pride,
The palace rising on his verdant side,
The lawns wood-fringed in Natures native taste;
The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless haste!
The arches striding o'er the new-born stream;
The village, glittering in the moontide beam-

Poetic ardours in my bosom swell,
Lone wandering by the hermit's mossy cell :
The sweeping theatre of hanging woods;
The incessant roar of headlong tumbling
floods-

Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-taught lyre, And look through nature with creative fire; Here, to the wrongs of fate half reconcil'd, Misfortune's lighten'd steps might wander wild;

And disappointment, in these lonely bounds, Find balm to soothe her bitter rankling wounds: Here heart-struck Grief might heaven-ward stretch her scan,

And injur'd worth forget and pardon man.

WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL,

STANDING BY THE FALL OF FYERS, NEAR
LOCH-NESS.

AMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods;
Til full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream
resounds.

As high in air the bursting torrents flow,
As deep recoiling surges foam below,
Prone down the rock the whitening sheet
scends,

THE WHISTLE:

A BALLAD.

As the authentic prose history of the Whistle is curious, I shall here give it.-In the train of Anne of Denmark, when she came to Scotland with our James the Sixth, there came over also a Danish gentleman of gigantic stature and great prowess, and a matchless champion of Bacchus. He had a little ebony Whistle which at the commencement of the orgies he laid on the table, and whoever was last able to blow it, every body else being disabled by the potency of the bottle, was to carry off the Whistle as a trophy of victory. The Dane produced credentials of his victories without de-a single defeat, at the courts of Copenhagen, Stockholm, Moscow, Warsaw, and several of the petty courts in Germany; and challenged the Scots Bacchanalians to the alternative of trying his prowess, or else After many overof acknowledging their inferiority.

And viewless echo's ear, astonish'd, rends.
Dim-seen, through rising mists, and ceaseless
showers,

The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding lowers.
Stik taro the gap the struggling river toils,
And still below, the horrid caldron boils-

ON THE BIRTH OF A

POSTHUMOUS CHILD,

BORN IN PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES OF
FAMILY DISTRESS.

SWEET Flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,
And ward o' mony a prayer,
What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
Sae helpless, sweet, and fair!

November hirples o'er the lea,

Chill on thy lovely form;
And gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree,

Should shield thee frae the storm.

May He who gives the rain to pour,

And wings the blast to blaw, Protect thee frae the driving shower, The bitter frost and snaw!

May Hɛ, the friend of woe and want,
Who heals life's various stounds,
Protect and guard the mother plant,
And heal her cruel wounds!

But late she flourish'd, rooted fast,
Fair on the summer morn :
Now feebly bends she in the blast,
Unshelter'd and forlorn.

Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem,

Unscath'd by ruffian hand!

And from thee many a parent stem
Arise to deck our land!

throws on the part of the Scots, the Dane was encountered by Sir Robert Lawrie of Maxwelton, ancestor of the present worthy baronet of that name; who, after three days and three nights' hard contest, left the Scandinavian under the table,

And blew on the Whistle his requiem skrill.

Sir Walter, son to Sir Robert before mentioned, afterwards lost the Whistle to Walter Riddel, of Glenriddel, who had married a sister of Sir Walter's.-On Friday, the 16th of October 1790, at Friars-Carse, the Whistle was once more contended for, as related in the ballad, by the present Sir Robert Lawrie of Maxwel ton; Robert Riddel, Esq. of Glenriddel, lineal descendant and representative of Walter Riddel, who won the Whistle, and in whose family it had continued; and Alexander Ferguson, Esq. of Craigdarroch, likewise descended of the great Sir Robert; which last gentleman carried off the hard-won honours of the field.

I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North,
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish
king,

And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall
ring.

Old Loda, still rueing the arm of Fingal, The god of the bottle sends down from his hall

"This Whistle's your challenge, to Scotland get o'er,

And drink them to hell, Sir! or ne'er see me more !"

Old poets have sung, and old chronicles tell, What champions ventur'd, what champions fell;

The son of great Loda was conqueror still,
And blew on the Whistle his requiem shrill.

Till Robert, the lord of the Cairn and the
Scaur,

Unmatch'd at the bottle, unconquer'd in war,
He drank his poor god-ship as deep as the sea,
No tide of the Baltic e'er drunker than he.

Thus Robert, victorious, the trophy has gain'd;

Which now in his house has for ages remain'd;

• See Ossian's Caric-thura.

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I MIND it weel in early date,
When I was beardless, young, and blate,
An' first could thresh the barn,
Or haud a yokin o' the pleugh,
An' tho' forfoughten sair eneugh,
Yet unco proud to learn-
When first amang the yellow corn
A man I reckon'd was,
And wi' the lave ilk merry morn
Could rank my rig and lass-
Still shearing, and clearing
The tither stooked raw,
Wi' claivers, an' haivers,
Wearing the day awa.
II.

E'en then a wish, I mind its pow'r,
A wish that to my latest hour

Shall strongly heave my breast, That I for poor auld Scotland's sake, Some usefu' plan or book could make, Or sing a sang, at least.

The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide Amang the bearded bear,

I turn'd the weeder-clips aside,
An' spared the symbol dear:
No nation, no station,

My envy e'er could raise,
A Scot still, but blot still,
I knew nae higher praise.
III.

But still the elements o' sang
In formless jumble, right an' rang,
Wild floated in my brain :
'Till on that har'st I said before,
My partner in the merry core,

She rous'd the forming strain:
I see her yet, the sonsie quean,
That lighted up her jingle,
Her witching smile, her pauky e'en
That gart my heart-strings tingle:
I fired, inspired,

At every kindling keek,
But bashing, and dashing,
I feared aye to speak.*

ON THE DEATH OF

SIR JAMES HUNTER BLAIR.

THE lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare,

Dim, cloudy, sunk beneath the western wave; Th' inconstant blast howl'd thro' the darkening air,

And hollow whistled in the rocky cave.

Lone as I wander'd by each cliff and dell,

Once the loved haunts of Scotia's royal train ;+

Or mused where limpid streams once hallow'd well,

Or mould'ring ruins mark the sacred fane. §

Th' increasing blast roar'd round the beetling rocks,

The clouds, swift-wing'd, flew o'er the starry sky,

The groaning trees untimely shed their locks, And shooting meteors caught the startled eye.

The paly moon rose in the livid east,

And 'mong the cliffs disclosed a stately form, In weeds of woe that frantic beat her breast, And mix'd her wailings with the raving

storm.

Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow,

'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I view'd ; Her form majestic droop'd in pensive woe, The lightning of her eye in tears imbued.

The reader will find some explanation of this poem in p. viii.

The King's Park at Holyrood-house.
St. Anthony's Well.

St. Anthony's Chapel.

Till three noble chieftains, and all of his blood, | Turn'd o'er in one bumper a bottle of red,
The jovial contest again have renew'd.
And swore 'twas the way that their ancestors
did.

Three joyous good fellows, with hearts clear of flaw;

Craigdarroch, so famous for wit, worth, and

law;

And trusty Glenriddel, so skill'd in old coins; And gallant Sir Robert, deep read in old wines.

Craigdarroch began, with a tongue smooth as oil,

Desiring Glenriddel to yield up the spoil;

Or else he would muster the heads of the clan,

And once more, in claret, try which was the

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Then worthy Glenriddel, so cautious and
sage,

No longer the warfare, ungodly, would wage;
A high-ruling Elder to wallow in wine!
He left the foul business to folks less divine.

The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the
end;

But who can with fate and quart bumpers contend?

Though fate said-a hero should perish in light; So uprose bright Phoebus-and down fell the knight.

Next uprose our bard, like a prophet in drink :

"Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creation shall sink;

But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme, Come one bottle more-and have at the sublime!

"Thy line, that have struggled for Freedom
with Bruce,

Shall heroes and patriots ever produce;
So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay;
The field thou hast won, by yon bright god of
day!"

SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET. †

AULD NEEBOR,

I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor,
For your auld-farrent, frien'ly letter;
had Tho' I maun say't, I doubt ye flatter,
Ye speak so fair:
For my puir, silly, rhymin' clatter,
Some less maun sair.

The dinner being over, the claret they ply, And every new cork is a new spring of joy ; In the bands of old friendship and kindred so

set,

And the bands grew the tighter the more they

were wet.

Gay pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er ; Bright Phoebus ne'er witness'd so joyous a core, And vowed that to leave them he was quite forlorn,

Till Cynthia hinted he'd see them next morn.

Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the night,

When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the fight,

See Johnson's Tour to the Hebrides.

Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle;
To cheer you through the weary widdle
Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle,
O' war'ly cares,
Till bairns' bairns kindly cuddle

Your auld grey hairs.

But Davie, lad, I'm red ye're glaikit; I'm tauld the Muse ye hae negleckit; An' gif it's sae, ye sud be lickit

Until ye fyke; Sic hans as you sud ne'er be faikit, Be hain't wha like.

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