Their views enlarg'd, their lib'ral mind,

Above the narrow, rural vale; Attentive ftill to Sorrow's wail,

Or modeft Merit's filent claim:

And never may their fources fail!

And never envy blot their name!

IV.

Thy Daughters bright thy walks adorn,
Gay as the gilded fummer sky,
Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn,
Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy!
Fair B- ftrikes th' adoring eye,
Heav'n's beauties on my fancy fhine;

I fee the Sire of Love on high,

And own his work indeed divine!

V.

There watching high the least alarms,

Thy rough rude Fortress gleams afar

;

Like fome bold Vet'ran, gray in arms,
And mark'd with many a feamy fear:
The pond'rous wall and maffy bar,

Grim-rifing o'er the rugged rock,

Have oft with ftood affailing War,
And oft repell'd th' Invader's fhock.

VI.

With awe-ftruck thought, and pitying tears,
I view that noble, ftately Dome,

Where Scotia's kings of other years
Fam'd heroes, had their royal home :
Alas, how chang'd the times to come!
Their royal Name low in the duft!
Their hapless Race wild-wand'ring roam!
Tho' rigid Law cries out, 'twas just!

VII.

Wild beats my heart, to trace your steps,
Whose ancestors, in days of yore,

Thro' hoftile ranks and ruin'd gaps

Old Scotia's bloody lion bore: Ev'n I who fing in rustic lore,

Haply, my Sires have left their shed,

And fac'd grim Danger's loudest roar,

Bold-following where your Fathers led!

VIII.

Edina! Scotia's darling feat!

All hail thy palaces and tow'rs, Where once beneath a Monarch's feet Sat Legiflation's fov'reign pow'rs! From marking wildly-fcatter'd flow'rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And finging, lone, the ling'ring hours, I shelter in thy honor'd shade.

EPISTLE

EPISTLE

ΤΟ

J. L*****
*K,

AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD.

April 1. 1785.

WHILE briers an' woodbines budding green,

An Paitricks fcraichin loud at e'en,

An' morning Pouffie whiddin feen,

Inspire my Mufe,

This freedom, in an unknown frien',

I pray excufe.

On Faften-een we had a rockin,

To ca' the crack and weave our stockin;
And there was muckle fun and jokin,

Ye need na doubt;

At length we had a hearty yokin

At fang about.

There was ae fang, amang the rest, Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best,

That fome kind husband had addreft

To fome fweet wife :

It thir'd the heart-ftrings thro' the breast,

A' to the life.

I've scarce heard ought defcrib'd fae weel, What gen'rous, manly bofoms feel;

Thought I, Can this be Pope, or Steele,

• Or