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Now Winter pours his terrors o'er the plain ......57 Now, when the thunder of dread war is o'er.....219 Oh! soft and sweet the evening sun............145 Oh! lay me by yon peaceful stream ...........395 Oh! where, tell me where, is your Highland

Laddie gone? ............................407 Sacred to thee and friendly love ...............337 The vanquish'd Prince, for safety forc'd to fly.....79 Tho' long by fate's severe decree remov'd.......247 While on the meadowy banks of Spey..........139 What adverse fate awaits the tuneful train!.....261 What voice awakes the soul-afflicting theme ?...298 When Fingal dwelt in windy halls ...........393 What sound of woe from yonder grove .........312 When Thomson's harp, of charming tone ......339 When Willy Pitt, as he thought fit .........410 VALLESIA, whose illustrious blood. ............266 Yes, even amid these wilds forlorn.............289 Your jealous walls, great Duke, in vain........341 Ye peaceful shades, that guard my dear lov'd home 344

Note.-- Page 17 immediately follows p. 10., owing

to the circumstance of its being presumed, when the Poems were put to press, that the Title, Contents, Alphabetical Index, &c. would occupy full 16 pages.

INTRODUCTORY VERSES.

Grief's sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breast,
I strive with wakeful melody to cheer
The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel, like thee.

YOUNG.

Go, artless records of a life obscure,
Memorials dear of loves and friendships past,
Of blameless minds from strife and envy pure ;
Go, scatter'd by Afliction's bitter blast,
And tell the proud, the busy, and the gay,
How rural peace consumes the quiet day.

Oh ye, whom sad remembrance loves to trace,
Look down complacent from your seats above,
Regard with soft compassion's melting grace,
The simple offering of surviving love :
For, while I fondly think ye hover near,
Your whisper'd melody I seem to hear.

Ye dear companions in life's thorny way,
Who see your modest virtues here display'd,
Forgive, for well you know the unstudied lay,
Was only meant to soothe the lonely shade.
But, when the rude thorn wounds the songster's breast,
The lengthen'd strains of woe betray her secret nest.

THE

HIGHLANDERS:

OR

SKETCHES

OF

HIGHLAND SCENERY & MANNERS:

WITB

SOME REFLECTIONS

ON

EMIGRATION.

WRITTEN DURING THE AUTHOR'S RECOVERY FROM A

LONG ILLNESS, IN SPRING 1795.

IN FIVE PARTS.

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