A BARD'S EPITAPH.

Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;

And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.

Is there a bard of rustic song, Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, That weekly this area throng,

O, pass not by !

But, with a frater-feeling strong,

Here, heave a sigh.

Is there a man, whose judgment clear, Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,

Wild as the wave;

Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave.

The poor inhabitant below

Was quick to learn, and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow,

And softer flame;

But thoughtless follies laid him low,

And stain'd his name!

Reader, attend-whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,

Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
In low pursuit ;

Know, prudent, cautious, self-control,
Is wisdom's root.`

ON

THE LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S

PEREGRINATIONS THROUGH SCOTLAND,

COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM.

HEAR, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's;
If there's a hole in a' your coats,

I rede you tent it:

A chield's amang you taking notes,

And, faith, he'll prent it.

If in your bounds ye chance to light Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight,

O' stature short, but genius bright,

That's he, mark weel

And wow! he has an unco slight

O' cauk and keel.

By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,*

Or kirk deserted by its riggin,

It's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in

Some eldritch part,

Vide his Antiquities of Scotland.

Wi' deils, they say, L-d safe's! colleaguin At some black art.

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chamer, Ye gipsy gang that deal in glamor, And you deep-red in hell's black grammar, Warlocks and witches;

Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,

Ye midnight be§.

It's tauld he was a sodger bred, And ane wad rather fa'n than fled; But now he's quat the spurtle blade,

And dog-skin wallet.

And ta'en the Antiquarian trade,
I think they call it.

He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets:
Rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets,*
Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets,
A towmont guid;

And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets,
Before the Flood.

Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder

;

Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool and fender;
That which distinguished the gender

O' Balaam's ass;

A broom-stick o' the witch of Endor,

Weet shod wi' brass.

Vide his Treatise on ancient armour and weapons.

Forbye, he'll shape you aff, fu' gleg,
The cut of Adam's philibeg;

The knife that nicket Abel's craig,

He'll prove you fully,

It was a faulding jocteleg,

Or lang-kail gullie.-

But wad ye see him in his glee,
For meikle glee and fun has he,
Then set him down, and twa or three m
Guid fellows wi' him ;

And port, O port! shine thou a wee, st
And then ye'll see him!

Now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose!
Thou art a dainty chiel, O Grose!
Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,

They sair misca' thee;

I'd take the rascal by the nose,, pooltuno'
Wad say, Shame fa' thee!

TO MISS CRUICKSHANKS,

A VERY YOUNG LADY.

Written on the Blank Leaf of a Book, presented to her by the Author.

BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young and gay,

Blooming on thy early May,

Never may'st thou, lovely flow'r,
Chilly shrink in sleety show'r!

Never Boreas' hoary path,
Never Eurus' pois'nous breath,
Never baleful stellar lights,
Taint thee with untimely blights!
Never, never reptile thief
Riot on thy virgin leaf!

Nor even Sol too fiercely view

Thy bosom, blushing still with dew!

Mayst thou long, sweet crimson gem, Richly deck thy native stem; Till some ev'ning, sober, calm, Dropping dews, and breathing balm, While all around the woodland rings, And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings; Thou, amid the dirgeful sound, Shed thy dying honours round,

And resign to parent earth

The loveliest form she e'er gave birth.

SONG.

ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire,

And waste my soul with care; But, ah! hov bootless to admire, When fated to despair.

Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
To hope may be forgiv❜n;
For sure 'twere impious to despair,
So much in sight of Heav'n..