And him, who thus with matchlefs art
To mufic gave the poet's rhyme,
Touch'd with new elegance the heart,
And wak'd to melody fublime,
How vainly would my eyes require,
And feek within the realms of day!
For, like the mafter of the lyre,

He too has liv'd and pass'd away.

'Mid Scotia's fhadowy glens reclin'd,
Thefe notes fome unknown minstrel fir'd;
Yet, where to filent death refign'd,
Refts now the form the mufe infpir'd?
No veftige points, to rapture warm,
To grateful awe, the facred ciay;
Alas! while lives the fong to charm,
All but the fong has pais'd away!

MAN REVIEWED:

AN ETHIC EPISTLE TO A CLERICAL FRIEND AT OXFORD, DESIRING THE AUTHOR'S OPINION THEREON IN

VERSE.

"Hæc fcripfi non otii abundantia, fed amoris erga te." CICERO, Eg.

SAY why, my friend, the preffing task impose,
Or with my worn-out talents to difclofe;

When long my Clio has neglected lain,
Confcious I've loft her true poetic strain ?
Yet you command, and, trufting to your heart *,
Will owe to friendship what I want in art.

It matters not what claffic + bards have writ,
With fo much force and energy of wit,
To prove that man 's a discontented elf,
Ever at war and variance with himself;

-Ignofcis amicis?

Lenior ac melior fis accedente fenecta? HoR. Lib. 2. Ep. 2.
Juvenal and Horace, Pope, and S. Johnfon in his Rambler and

Unless our very nature they can change,
And check the bias of the mind to range:
For view us as we are, from earliest* age,
When toys and rattles all our thoughts engage;
How quick th' amufement takes its varying courfe,
From tops and marbles to the wooden horse;
And then the flying hoop fucceeds awhile,
Until fome newer plaything gives "the style."
With thefe grown tired, (pleasure still our aim,)
Then manly cricket opes her hits to fame :
Till age advancing with each riper year,
Horfes and dogs become our next career.
When quitting school, ideas new to learn,
Our Alma Mater takes us in her turn:
Where folly opens ou a wider fcale,
And diffipation fets her leading fail;
Which we partake of, and purfue the gale.
Here three years spent in this proud feat of arts,
We burit upon the world with glowing hearts;
Seize ev'ry object which to pleasure leads,
And him the Pollio call, who beft fucceeds.
Till wearied in purfuit of ev'ry vice,
We learn, too late, the fyftem to defpife;
And, when grown old, review the clofing fcene,
And paufing-wonder that fuch things have been.
Thus, then, my friend, you fee the life of Man
Is ever on a restlefs, varying plan;

And till philofophy † can mend the heart,
In vain we preach and write-with all our art.
So take advice, with caution view mankind,
For (few excepting) all alike you 'il find.
Still, fhould my hafty sketch appear too bold,
And you yourfelf a milder one unfold;
So little partial am I to my lyre,

I'll burn, not print, and fo may give it fire.

In youth a thousand diff'rent features ftrike—
All have their charms, but have not charms alike.

GIFFORD'S inimitable tranflation of his inimitable original
Juvenal, Sat. 10.

+ Divine Philofophy, by whofe pure light
We first diftinguish, then pursue the right.

Sat. 13.

Left

*

Left you with Juv'nal fay-thofe years which chill
All other paffions-raife this fcribbling ill.

Lambeth Road.

V-GH-N.

JEAN OF LORN; OR, THE CASTLE OF GLOOM;

A BALLAD.

BY JAMES BANNANTINE.

[Original.]

WHERE Stirling Caftle rears its lofty head,
'Mid the meanders of pellucid Forth,
Dwelt Jean of Lorn, a fair, a matchlefs maid,
The pride, the boaft, and glory of the North.

When Wallace, Scotia's ill-requited chief,
His country's foes did zealoufly withstand,
Campbell, her loyal fire, to his relief,

Led on a chofen force, a patriot band.

First in this troop of Fortha's ardent youth,
March'd Malcolm, Cambufkenneth's valiant lord,
Gay, handfome, once, alas! the friend of truth,
But now the base betrayer of his word.

For Jean, in peaceful days, had giv'n her heart
To this dear youth, and would have giv'n her hand,
But Campbell would not his consent impart.
To join the pair in wedlock's holy band.

Malcolm and love combin'd to press the fair
To grant what filial doty thus denied;
He fwore no other maid his heart fhould share
With her, his deftin'd, his betrothed bride.

Nought was there wanting but the church's rites,
Which crafty priefts impos'd to give them pow'r;
Without these trammels, love's fupreme delights
Secret they might enjoy the prefent, hour.

Ill-fated maid! ah, why did ft thou believe

Thofe vows which treach'rous men fo often break? For ever after thou hadft caufe to grieve,

And curfe the hour thou duty didst forsake.

Soon as the youth had revel'd on her charms,
And fated was of love's luxurious feaft,
He haftily took leave, and left her arms
To find variety on Mary's breast.

The doating mistress of Monteith was she,
Monteith, who Wallace shamefully betray'd,
Betray'd his country, Wallace ftrove to free

From Edward's yoke, who England's fceptre fway'd.

Mary, to virtue loft, to please her lord,
Confented her fair perfon to bestow
On the inconftant, if he'd pledge his word,
To give up Campbell's legion to the foe.

The man who is a traitor to his love,

Will not be true and loyal to his king;
This truth in Malcolm Mary foon did prove:
T' enjoy her charms, he promis'd ev'ry thing.
When Wallace was by vile Monteith betray'd,
Campbell led on his band to fet him free,
Thinking to join with other Scots his aid,

Their chief to rescue from the fhameful tree.

But Malcolm, now too true to his bafe vow,
Mifled the party to an ambufcade,
Where by the foe furrounded and laid low,
They found themselves, beyond relief, betray'd.,

Campbell fell fighting for his native land,

And of his gallant followers few furviv'd; While he, by whom they bafely were trepann'd, No fafety from his treachery deriv'd:

When fully fated with the lusciou's banquet,
Ihaftily took leave, and left the nymph
To think on what was paft, and figh alone."

FAIR PENITENT.

For

For foon as Campbell found himself betray'd,
He plung'd his poniard in the traitor's breast,
Who, glorying in the mifery he had made,

Before he died the whole black scheme confeft.
Now firft did the unhappy parent hear

The fhocking tidings of his child's difgrace;
Rufhing to battle then, a hoftile fpear

Brought welcome death, his fole, his laft folace.
"Mid thefe diftractions lovely Jean retir'd

J

To Caftle Campbell, fafe but drear retreat;
Unconscious of her wrongs, fhe here refpir'd
Pray'rs for her lover and her father's fate.
She fondly hop'd to hail their fafe return,
Victorious o'er the defolating foe;
With patient virtue did her bofom burn
T'enjoy the fierce invader's overthrow.
She fondly hop'd her Malcolm's feats in arms,
His gallant actions in his country's caufe,
Would fuccour her from farther dire alarms,
And to their union gain her fire's applause.

But when the learnt at once the horrid tale,

Her own, her father's, and her country's wrongs,
She fank to earth; her vifage, ghaftly pale,"

Proclaim'd her gone to join in angels', fongs.
Not foftill living, though entranc'd, the lay,
Till the pale moon replac'd th' effulgent fun;
Then, wild, diftracted, up the fprang away,
Nor ftopt till the the battlements had won.
Then fighing out a fhort terrific pray'r,
Defcriptive of her mind's diforder'd ftate,
Sudden the plung'd herself in empty air,
And met an early, an untimely fate.

Castle of Gloom! fuch fince has been the name
Of Campbell's manfion, where thus died the fair;
While the pure ftream encompaffing the fame,

Is no lefs aptly term'd the Burn of Care *.

LETTER

*Caftle Campbell, now and for ages paft a ruin, a few miles eaft from Stirling, ftands in the moft dreary fituation imaginable, on the

bro

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