THERE'S not a nook within this solemn Pass,
But were an apt confessional for One
Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone.
That Life is but a tale of morning grass
From scenes of art which chase
That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,
Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass
Untouched, unbreathed upon.
If from a golden perch of aspen spray
(October's workmanship to rival May)
The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast
That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay,
Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest!
ITINERARY BONNETS SCOTLAND, 1831).
THE pibroch's note, discountenanced or mute;
The Roman kilp, degraded to a toy
Of quaint apparel for a half-spoilt boy;
The target, mouldering like ungathered fruit;
The smoking steam-boat eager in pursuit,
As eagerly pursued; the umbrella spread
To weather-fend the Celtic herdsman's head-
All speak of manners withering to the root,
And some old honours, too, and passions high:
Then may we ask, though pleased that thought should range
Among the conquests of civility,
Survives imagination-to the change
Superior? Help to virtue does it give?
If not, O Mortals, better cease to live!
COMPOSED IN THE GLEN OF LOCH ETIVE.
“This Land of Rainbows (spanning glens whose walls.
Rock-built, are hung with rainbow-coloured mists)
Of far-stretched Meres whose salt flood never rests,
Of tuneful caves and playful waterfalls,
Of mountains varying momently their crests—
Proud be this land! whose poorest huts are halls
Where Fancy entertains becoming guests;
While native song the heroic Past recals.”
Thus, in the net of her own wishes caught,
The Muse exclaimed; but Story now must hide
Her trophies, Fancy crouch ;—the course of pride
Has been diverted, other lessons taught,
That make the Patriot-spirit bow her head
Where the all-conquering Roman feared to tread.
COMPOSED AFTER READING A NEWSPAPER OF THE DAY.
“PEOPLE! your chains are severing link by link ;
Soon shall the Rich be levelled down-the Poor
› Meet them half way." Vain boast! for These, the more -
They thus would rise, must low and lower sink
Till, by repentance stung, they fear to think ;
While all lie prostrate, save the tyrant fow
Bent in quick turns each other to undo,
And mix the poison, they themselves must drink.
Mistrust thyself, vain Country! cease to cry,
Knowledge will save me from the threatened woe."
For, if than other rash ones more thou know,
Yet on presumptuous wing as far would fly
Above thy knowledge as they dared to go,
Thou wilt provoke a heavier penalty.
COMPOSED AT DUNOLLY CASTLE IN THE BAY OF ORAN.
DISHONOURED Rock and Ruin! that, by law
Tyrannic, keep the Bird of Jove embarred'
Like a lono criminal whose life is spared.
Vexed is he, and screams loud. The last I saw
Was on the wing; stooping, he struck with awe
Man, bird, and beast; then, with a consort paired,
From a bold headland, their loved acry's guard,
Flew high above Atlantic waves, to draw
Light from the fountain of the setting sun.
Such was this Prisoner once; and, when his plumes
The sca-blast ruffles as the storm comes on,
In spirit, for a moment, he resumes
His rank 'mong freeborn creatures that live free, His power, his beauty, and his majesty.
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