My heart did glowing transport feel,
To see a Race' heroic wheel,

And brandish round the deep-dy'd steel
In sturdy blows:

While back-recoiling seem'd to reel

Their Suthron foes.

His COUNTRY'S SAVIOUR,2 mark him well!

Bold Richardton's heroic swell;

The Chief on Sark' who glorious fell,

In high command ;

And he whom ruthless fates expel

His native land.

There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shades
Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid,
I mark'd a martial Race, portray'd
In colours strong;

Bold, soldier-featur'd, undismay'd

They strode along.

Thro' many a wild, romantic grove,
Near many a hermit-fancy'd cove,
(Fit haunts for Friendship, or for Love,
In musing mood,)
An aged Judge, I saw him rove,

Dispensing good.

With deep-struck reverential awe
The learned Sire and Son I saw,7
To Nature's God and Nature's law
They gave their lore,

This, all its source and end to draw

That, to adore.

;

Brydone's brave Wards I well could spy,
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye;
Who call'd on Fame, low standing by,
To hand him on,

Where many a Patriot name on high,
And Hero shone.

1 The Wallaces.-R. B.

2 William Wallace.-R. B. 3 Adam Wallace, of Richarton, cousin of the immortal preserver of Scottish independence.-R. B.

4 Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who was second in command, under Douglas Earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of Sark, fought anno 1448. That glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of the gallant Laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action.-R. B.

5 Coilus, King of the Picts, from whom the district of Kyle is said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the family-seat of the Montgomeries of Coilsfield, where his burial-place is still shown.-R. B.

6 Barskimming, the seat of the late Lord Justice Clerk [Miller].-R. B. 7 Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor, and present Professor Stewart.-R. B. 8 Colonel Fullarton.-R. B.

DUAN SECOND.

WITH musing-deep, astonish'd stare,
I view'd the heav'nly-seeming Fair;
A whisp'ring throb did witness bear,
Of kindred sweet,

When with an elder Sister's air
She did me greet.

"All hail! my own inspired Bard!
In me thy native Muse regard!
Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,
Thus poorly low!

I come to give thee such reward
As we bestow.

"Know, the great Genius of this land
Has many a light, aërial band,
Who, all beneath his high command,
Harmoniously,

As Arts or Arms they understand,

66

Their labours ply.

They Scotia's Race among them share; Some fire the Soldier on to dare:

Some rouse the Patriot up to bare

Corruption's heart:

Some teach the Bard, a darling care,
The tuneful art.

"Mong swelling floods of reeking gore,
They, ardent, kindling spirits pour;
Or, 'mid the venal Senate's roar,

They, sightless, stand,

To mend the honest Patriot-lore,

And grace the hand.

"And when the Bard, or hoary Sage, Charm or instruct the future age,

They bind the wild, Poetic rage

In energy,

Or point the inconclusive page

66

Full on the eye.

Hence, Fullarton, the brave and young; Hence, Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue; Hence, sweet harmonious Beattie sung

His Minstrel lays ;'

Or tore, with noble ardour stung,

The Sceptic' bays.

"To lower orders are assign'd
The humbler ranks of human-kind,
The rustic Bard, the lab'ring Hind,
The Artisan:

All chuse, as various they're inclin’d,
The various man.

"When yellow waves the heavy grain,
The threat'ning storm some, strongly, rein;
Some teach to meliorate the plain

With tillage-skill;

And some instruct the Shepherd-train,
Blythe o'er the hill.

"Some hint the Lover's harmless wile;
Some grace the Maiden's artless smile
Some soothe the Lab'rer's weary toil,
For humble gains,

And make his cottage-scenes beguile
His cares and pains.

Of rustic Bard;

And careful note each op'ning grace,

A guide and guard.

"Of these am I-Coila my name; And this district as mine I claim,

;

Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame, Held ruling pow'r :

I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame,

Thy natal hour.

"With future hope, I oft would gaze, Fond, on thy little early ways,

Thy rudely-caroll'd, chiming phrase,

In uncouth rhymes,

Fir'd at the simple, artless lays

Of other times.

"I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
Delighted with the dashing roar;
Or when the North his fleecy store

Drove thro' the sky,

I saw grim Nature's visage hoar,

Struck thy young eye.

"Or when the deep green-mantl'd Earth Warm-cherish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth, And joy and music pouring forth

In ev'ry grove,

I saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth

With boundless love.

"When ripen'd fields, and azure skies, Call'd forth the Reaper's rustling noise, I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys,

And lonely stalk,

To vent thy bosom's swelling rise

In pensive walk.

"When youthful Love, warm-blushing strong,
Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along,
Those accents, grateful to thy tongue,
Th' adored Name,

I taught thee how to pour in song,

To soothe thy flame.

"I saw thy pulse's maddening play, Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way, Misled by Fancy's meteor ray,

By Passion driven;

But yet the light that led astray

Was light from Heaven.

"I taught thy manners-painting strains, The loves, the ways of simple swains, Till now, o'er all my wide domains

Thy fame extends;

And some, the pride of Coila's plains,

Become thy friends.

"Thou canst not learn, nor can I show, To paint with Thomson's landscape glow; Or wake the bosom-melting throe,

Or

With Shenstone's art; pour, with Gray, the moving flow Warm on the heart.

"Yet, all beneath th' unrivall'd rose, The lowly daisy sweetly blows;

Tho' large the forest's monarch throws

His army shade,

Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,

Adown the glade.

"Then never murmur nor repine;
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;
And trust me, not Potosi's mine,

Nor Kings' regard,

Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,
A rustic Bard.

"To give my counsels all in one,—
Thy tuneful flame still careful fan ;
Preserve the dignity of Man,

With Soul erect;

And trust, the Universal Plan

Will all protect.

"And wear thou this "-she solemn said,
And bound the Holly round my head:
The polish'd leaves, and berries red,

Did rustling play;

And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY
RIGHTEOUS.

My son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump them aye thegither;
The RIGID RIGHTEOUS is a fool,
The RIGID WISE anither:

The cleanest corn that e'er was dight
May hae some pyles o' caff in;
So ne'er a fellow-creature slight
For random fits o' daffin.

Solomon.-Eccles. vii. 16.

O YE wha are sae guid yoursel,
Sae pious and sae holy,

Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your Neebour's fauts and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,

Supply'd wi' store o' water,

The heapet happer's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter.

Hear me, ye venerable Core,1
As counsel for poor mortals,

That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door,
For glaikit2 Folly's portals;