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Alwyn and Rena

Hon, Charles F. 223

The Elfin King

· Leyden. 224

Sir Ralph the Rover

Southey. 232

Scottish Ballad

Anonymous. 234

Ballad - See, Warder, yonder Miss Mitford. 235

The Otaheitan Mourner.

P. M. James. 236

Walcheren Expedition

Leigh Hunt. 239

The Old and New Baronne Rev. Š. Hoole. 241

The Vicar of Bray

Anonymous. 245

Spring

Shakspeare. 247

Winter

Shakspeare. 248

Song-Sigh no more, ladies

Shakspeare. 249

Ariel's Song

Shakspeare. 249

Song,Take, oh, take those lips away Shakspeare. 250

Song. To Celia.

Ben Jonson, 250

Song-Still to be neat

Ben Jonson. 251

Song - Whence comes my love? Harrington. 251

Song-Love like a beggar came to me. Herrick. 252

To Anthea

: Herrick. 252

Song to the Virgins

Herrick. 253

Song - When Fanny, blooming fair Chesterfield. 254

To Delia

Sheridan. 255

Song- I have a silent sorrow here Sheridan, 256

In pity, fond Bosom, lie still

T. Moore, 257

To Henry,

M. G. Lewis. 257

Song- I danced with Harriet at the fair Leftly. 258

Song-Sweet is the balmy evening Miss Mitford. 259

Song- I like not beauty's roseate Miss Mitford. 260

Song-No, not the eye of tender blue Thelwall. 260

Song-Oh, frown not on my daring vows Hodgson. 261

Song-Here's the vow she falsely swore Hodgson. 262

To

R. A. Davenport. 263

Song—When far beneath R. A. Davenport, 263

Serenade-The gale breathes R. A. Davenport. 264

A Morning Salutation. R. A. Davenport. 265

Song-Why ceaseless do I sigh? R. A. Davenport. 266

Song-Dearest mother

R. A. Davenport. 266

Song-Not ruby clear

R. A. Davenport. 267

Song- I am wearing away

Mrs. Opie. 268

Song-To thy cliffs

Rev. W. Crowe. 269

Song-From thy waves

Miss Seward. 269

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ELEGANT EXTRACTS.

PART V.

Odes.

ON THE POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS

OF THE

HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND:

CONSIDERED AS THE SUBJECT OF POETRY.

Inscribed to Mr. John Home. HOME! thou return’st from Thames, whose naiads

long Have seen thee lingering with a fond delay, Mid those soft friends whose hearts, some fu

ture day, Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song. Go, not unmindful of that cordial youth *

Whom, long endear'd, thou leavest by Lavant's Together let us wish him lasting truth [side;

And joy untainted, with his destined bride.

* A gentleman of the name of Barrow, who introduced Home to Collins. VOL. III,

B

Go! nor regardless, while these numbers boast

My shortlived bliss, forget my social name; But think, far off, how, on the southern coast,

I met thy friendship with an equal flame! Fresh to that soil thou turn'st, where every vale

Shall prompt the poet, and his song demand : To thee thy copious subjects ne'er shall fail ;

Thou need'st but take thy pencil to thy hand, And paint what all believe who own thy genial

land. There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill;

'Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet;

Where still, 'tis said, the fairy people meet, Beneath each birken shade, on mead or hill. There each trim lass, that skims the milky store,

To the swart tribes their creamy bowls allots; By night they sip it round the cottage door,

While airy minstrels warble jocund notes. There every herd, by sad experience, knows

How, wing'd with Fate, their elf-shot arrows fly, When the sick ewe her summer food foregoes,

Or, stretch'd on earth, the heart-smit heifers lie. Such airy beings awe the' untutor'd swain: Nor thou, though learn'd, his homelier thoughts

neglect; Let thy sweet Muse the rural faith sustain;

These are the themes of simple sure effect, That add new conquests to her boundless reign, And fill, with double force, her heart-commanding

strain.

E'en yet preserved, how often mayst thou hear,

Vhere to the pole the Boreal mountains run, Taught by the father, to his listening son, [ear. Strangelays, whose power had charm’da Spenser's At every pause, before thy mind possessid,

Old Runic bards shall seem to rise around, With uncouth lyres, in many-colour'd vest,

Their matted hair with boughs fantastic orown'd: Whether thou bidd'st the well taught hind repeat The choral dirge that mourns some chieftain

brave, When every shrieking maid her bosom beat,

And strew'd with choicest herbs his scented

grave!

Or whether, sitting in the shepherd's shiel *,

Thou hear'st some sounding tale of war’s alarms; When at the bugle's call, with fire and steel, The sturdy clans pour'd forth their brawny swarms,

[arms. And hostile brothers met, to prove each other's

'Tis thine to sing how, framing hideous spells,

In Sky's lone isle, the gifted wizard-seer,

Lodged in the wintry cave with Fate's fell spear, Or in the depth of Uist's dark forest dwells: How they, whose sight such dreary dreams

engross, With their own visions oft astonish'd droop,

When, o'er the watery strath or quaggy moss, They see the gliding ghosts' unbodied troop:

Or, if in sports, or on the festive green, Their destined glance some fated youth descry,

Who now, perhaps, in lusty vigour seen, And rosy health, shall soon lamented die.

For them the viewless forms of air obey; Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair :

They know what spirit brews the stormful day, * A summer hat, built in the high part of the mountains, to tend their flocks in the warm season, when the pasture is fine.

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