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ID from himself, now by the dawn

He starts as fresh as roses blawn,
And ranges o'er the heights and lawn,

After his bleeting flocks.
Healthful, and innocently gay,
He chants and whistles out the day;
Uptaught to smile, and then betray,

Like courtly weathercocks.
Life happy from ambition free,
Envy and vile hypocrisy,
When truth and love with joy agree,

Unsully'd with a crime:
Unmov'd with what disturbs the great,
In propping of their pride and state,
He lives and unafraid of fate,

Contented spends his time.

S À N G.
SPEAK on, speak thus, and still my grief,

Hold up a heart that's sinking under
These fears, that soon will want relief,

When Pate must from his Peggy sunder. A gentler face and silk attire,

A lady rich in beauty's blossom, Alake, poor me! will now conspire,

To steal thee from thy Peggy's bosom. No more the shepherd who excell'd

The rest, whose wit made thein to wonder, Shall now his Peggy's praises tell;

Ah! I can die, but never sunder. Ye meadows where we often stray'd,

Ye bauks where we were wont to wander; Sweet scented rucks round which we play'd,

You'll lose your sweets when we're asunder.

Again, ah! shall I never creep

Around the know with silent duty,
Kindly to watch thee while asleep,

And wonder at thy manly beauty ?
Hear, heav'n, while solemnly I vow,

Tho' thou shouldst prove a wandering lover,
Thro' life to thee I shall prove true,

Nor be a wife to any other.

S A N G.

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WHE

THEN hope was quite sunk in despair,

My heart it was going to break;
My life appear'd worthless my care,

But now I will sav't for thy sake.
Where'er my love travels by day,

Wherever he lodges by night,
Wi' me his dear image shall stay,

And iný soul keep him ever in siglat.
Wi' patience I'll wait the lang year,

And study the gentlest charms;
Hope time away till thou appear,

To lock thee for ay in these arms.
Whilst thou wast a shepherd, I priz'd

No higher degree in this life;
But now I'll endeavour to rise

To a height that's becoming thy wife.
For beauty that's only skin deep,

Must fade like the gowans in May,
But inwardly rooted, will keep

For ever, without a decay.
Nor age, nor the changes of life,

Can quench the fair fire of love,
If virtue's ingrain'd in the wife,

And the husband ha'e sense' to approve.

S A N G.
A
T setting day and rising morn,

Wi' soul that still shall love thee,
I'll ask of heav'n thy safe return,

Wi' a' that can improve thee. I'll visit aft the birken bush,

Where first thou kindly tald me Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush,

Whilst round thou didst enfald me. To a' our haunts I will repair,

By greenwood shaw or fountain;
Or where the simmer day I'd share

Wi' thee upon yon mountain.
There will I tell the trees and flow'rs,

From thoughts unfeign'd and tender,
By vows you're mine, by love is your's

A heart which cannot wander.

S A N G. THE HE bonny grey.ey'd morning begins to peep;

And darkness flies before the rising ray, The hearty hynd starts from his lazy sleep,

To follow healthful labours of the day, Without guilty sting to wrinkle his brow,

The lark and the linnet 'tend his levee, And he joins their concert, driving the plow,

From toil of grimace and pageantry free.
While fluster'd with wine, or madden'd with loss

Of half an estate, the prey of a main,
The drunkard and gamester tumble and toss,

Wishing for calmness and slumber in vain.
Be my portion health and quietness of mind,

Plac'd at a due distance from parties and state, Where neither ambition por avarice blind, Reach him who has happiness link'd to his fate.

WILLIAM COLLINS.

THE PASSIONS.

An Ode for Music.
WHEN Music,

heavenly maid, was young
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell,
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possest beyond the Muse's painting ;
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd:
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd;
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd,
From the supporting myrtles round
They snatch'd her instruments of sound;
And, as they oft had heard apart
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
Each, for Madness rul'd the hour,
Would prove his own expressive power.
First Fear, his hand its skill to try,

Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,
And back recoil'd, he knew not why,

L'en at the sound himself bad made.
Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,

In lightnings own'd his secret stings,
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,

And swept with hurried hand the strings.
With woeful measures, wan Despair,

Low sullen sounds, his grief beguild;
A solemn, strange, and mingled air,

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.
But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,

What was thy delighted measure ?
Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure,

And hade the lovely scenes at distance hail;
Still would her touch the strain prolong,

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She callid on Echo still thro' all the song;

And where her sweetest theme she chose,

A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smild, and wav'd her golden

hair. And longer had she sung-but, with a frown,

Revenge impatient rose,
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down,

And, with a withering look,
The war-denouncing trumpet took,
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe.

And ever and anon he beat
The doubling drum with furious heat;
And tho' sometimes, each dreary pause between,

Dejected Pity at his side Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien; While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from

his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd,

Sad proof of thy distressful state! Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd, And now it courted Love, now raving callid on

Hate. With eyes uprais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sat retir'd, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul :

And dashing soft from rocks around,

Bubbling runnels join'd the sound ; Tbro' glades and glooms the mingled measures stole Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay,

Round an holy calm diffusing,

Love of peace, and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away.

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