ON INCIVILITY SHEWN HIM AT INVERARY.

WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here,
I pity much his case,

Unless he come to wait upon

The Lord their God - his Grace.

There's naething here but Highland pride,
And Highland scab and hunger;
If Providence has sent me here,
'T was surely in an anger.

COMPOSED ON LEAVING A PLACE IN THE HIGHLANDS WHERE HE HAD BEEN KINDLY ENTERTAINED.

WH

WHEN Death's dark stream I ferry o'er
A time that surely shall come —

In Heaven itself I'll ask no more,
Than just a Highland welcome!

ON READING IN A NEWSPAPER

THE DEATH OF JOHN M'LEOD, Esq.,

BROTHER TO A YOUNG LADY, A PARTICULAR FRIEND
OF THE AUTHOR'S.

SAD thy tale, thou idle page,
And rueful thy alarms :

Death tears the brother of her love From Isabella's arms.

Sweetly decked with pearly dew
The morning rose may blow,
But cold successive noontide blasts
May lay its beauties low.

Fair on Isabella's morn

The sun propitious smiled,

But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds Succeeding hopes beguiled.

Fate oft tears the bosom cords
That nature finest strung;
So Isabella's heart was formed,
And so that heart was wrung.

Were it in the poet's power,
Strong as he shares the grief
That pierces Isabella's heart,
To give that heart relief!

Dread Omnipotence alone

Can heal the wound he gave, Can point the brimful grief-worn eyes To scenes beyond the grave.

Virtue's blossoms there shall blow,

And fear no withering blast; There Isabella's spotless worth Shall happy be at last.

ON THE DEATH OF SIR JAMES HUNTER
BLAIR.

'HE lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare,

THE

Dim, cloudy, sank beneath the western wave; The inconstant blast howled through the darkening air,

And hollow whistled in the rocky cave.

Lone as I wandered by each cliff and dell,
Once the loved haunts of Scotia's royal train;
Or mused where limpid streams once hallowed

well,

Or mouldering ruins mark the sacred fane;

The increasing blast roared round the beetling rocks,

The clouds, swift-winged, flew o'er the starry

sky,

The groaning trees untimely shed their locks, And shooting-meteors caught the startled eye.

The paly moon rose in the livid east,

And 'mong the cliffs disclosed a stately form, In weeds of wo that frantic beat her breast, And mixed her wailings with the raving storm.

Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow,

'T was Caledonia's trophied shield I viewed: Her form majestic drooped in pensive wo, The lightning of her eye in tears imbued.

Reversed that spear, redoubtable in war,

Reclined that banner, erst in fields unfurled, That like a deathful meteor gleamed afar, And braved the mighty monarchs of the world.

"My patriot son fills an untimely grave!”

With accents wild and lifted arms she cried : "Low lies the hand that oft was stretched to save, Low lies the heart that swelled with honest pride.

"A weeping country joins a widow's tear;
The helpless poor mix with the orphan's cry;
The drooping arts surround their patron's bier;
And grateful science heaves the heartfelt sigh!

"I saw my sons resume their ancient fire;
I saw fair Freedom's blossoms richly blow;
But ah! how hope is born but to expire!
Relentless fate has laid their guardian low.

"My patriot falls but shall he lie unsung,
While empty greatness saves a worthless name?
No: every Muse shall join her tuneful tongue,
And future ages hear his growing fame.

"And I will join a mother's tender cares,

Through future times to make his virtue last; That distant years may boast of other Blairs!".

She said, and vanished with the sweeping blast.

TO MISS FERRIER,

ENCLOSING THE ELEGY ON SIR J. H. BLAIR.

NA

AE heathen name shall I prefix
Frae Pindus or Parnassus;

Auld Reekie dings them a' to sticks,
For rhyme-inspiring lasses.

Jove's tunefu' dochters three times three
Made Homer deep their debtor;

But, gien the body half an e’e,
Nine Ferriers wad done better!

Last day my mind was in a bog,
Down George's Street I stoited;
A creeping cauld prosaic fog
My very senses doited.

Do what I dought to set her free,

My saul lay in the mire;

Ye turned a neuk - I saw your e'e
She took the wing like fire!

The mournfu' sang I here enclose
In gratitude I send you;

And [wish and] pray in rhyme sincere, A' gude things may attend you!