By lock-fast doors at noon-tide hours,
To keep it from the rascal's powers.
Therefore I charge you that ye summon
Precentor, 1 base born son of woman,
To answer in the hour of cause
For open insult to our laws,
Likeas ordain him to depone
If he has lybell's, any one
Containing treasonable rhymes
Or other treasonable crimes

Which he has issued 'gainst the Shades
And all our bumper-drinking blades,
All things before said which to do
We hereby do commit to you
As all of you and every one
Shall answer to us thereupon.

I.--King's birth-day in Edinburgh, p. 15, Stanza 1st.

The following quotation from one of the inimitable Essays of Goldsmith affords a laughable illustration of the text. "In the midst of these pleasing reflections, as I was proceeding with a stately pace, and with all the solemnity of a newly-acquired and conscious dignity, I heard a hissing noise in one of the tails of my wig, and looking about, soon perceived a stream of fire dashing from my right ear. I fled, it followed: I shook my head; it was pinned too close to be shook off, and just as I arrived at George's, it went off in a bounce."

J.-Answer to Mr. J. S's. Epistle, p. 24.

"And frae ilk corner," &c.

I had resolved on the omission of these two stanzas, and a stray expression in other of the poems; but I have been constrained to suffer the author's language to appear in the text; and now have no other apology to offer to those who may expect one, than to express my regret that Fergusson should have used such expressions; and that, in the words of the Editor of Tyndale, "the taste and decision of the literary world, in its present state of refinement [?] should not allow an editor the privileges of a common scavenger in removing the filth which past ages have left behind them."

1 'Precentor' was the club-title of Fergusson. See note 2, p. 131.

POEMS IN ENGLISH.

6

SONGS FROM ARTAXERXES.'

[The 'Opera' in which the following 'Songs' were inserted, (the first productions of Fergusson,) was entitled “ Artaxerxes, an English Opera, as it is performed at the Theatre-Royal, Edinburgh. The Music composed by Tho. Aug. Arne. Mus. Doc. With the addition of Three Favourite Scots Airs. The words by Mr. R. Fergusson. Edinburgh. Printed by Martin and Wotherspoon. MDCCLXIX. [Price Sixpence]." This is none other than a most wretched translation of the beautiful Play of 'Artaxerxes' by Metastasio. The 'Songs' of Fergusson are ingeniously equal in inaninity, and it must only have been from the Artistes, who were Mr. and Madame Tenducci and an excellent Company, that either the Play itself or the Songs proved acceptable to the public.

I give these Songs merely as curiosities in respect of their being among the first lispings in rhyme of our Poet. They lose, of course, somewhat of their [little] interest from their disjunction from the text, but it can matter little, as I repeat, Opera and Songs are harmoniously despicable. I am indebted to Mr. Laing of the Signet Library for directing my attention to these Songs.]

From ACT II. Scene 2.

TUNE.-Braes of Balandine.1

ARBACES [Tenducci.]

By Heav'n's displeasure the wretch thus is thrown, With tempests harsh-sounding, on seas, yet unknown;

1 Ballenden. These braes lie towards the Sidlaw Hills, in the Carse of Gowrie.

In vain, thus surrounded, he struggles with death, When toss'd by huge billows, and panting for breath; Even hope too, forsakes him, no pity he craves;

He's left, without mercy, the sport of the waves.

From ACT II. Scene 6.

TUNE.-Roslin Castle.

MANDANE [Madame Tenducci.]

What doubts oppress my wounded heart!
My soul at every breath doth start!
Fain would my gloomy thoughts retire,
Nor fill my stormy breast with ire:
Yet cares torment my tortur'd mind,
Leaving their rugged tracts behind;
And still my soul they hold in pain,
Their cruel empire to maintain.

From ACT III. Scene 7.

TUNE.-Lochaber no more.

Enter ARBACES [Tenducci.]

O where shall I wander my lóver to find,
And with sweet discourses indulge my fond mind?
Once more I must view her before I depart,

And with mild embraces enliven my heart.

Perchance she's approaching that smooth-gliding stream,
Where I first espy'd and discover'd my flame :
Farewell then my sorrows, I'll leave you a while,
And steal from my true love one ravishing smile.

These Songs' were not included by Fergusson in his own Volume of 1773.

ODE TO HOPE.

HOPE! lively chearer of the mind,
In lieu of real bliss design'd,

Come from thy ever verdant bow'r
To chase the dull and ling'ring hour;
O bring, attending on thy reign,
All thy ideal fairy train,

To animate the lifeless clay,

And bear my sorrows hence away.

Hence gloomy featur'd black Despair,
With all thy frantic furies fly,
Nor rend my breast with gnawing care,
For Hope in lively garb is nigh;

Let pining Discontentment mourn,
Let dull ey'd Melancholy grieve,
Since pleasing Hope must reign by turn,
And ev'ry bitter thought relieve.

O smiling Hope! in adverse hour,
I feel thy influencing power;
Tho' frowning Fortune fix my lot,
In some defenceless lonely cot,
Where Poverty, with empty hands,
In pallid meagre aspect stands;
Thou can'st enrobe me, 'midst the great,
With all the crimson pomp of state,
Where Luxury invites his guests

To pall them with his lavish feasts:
What cave so dark, what gloom so drear,
So black with horror, dead with fear!

But thou can'st dart thy streaming ray,
And change close night to open day.

Health is attendant in thy radiant train,

Round her the whisp'ring zephyrs gently play, Behold her gladly tripping o'er the plain, Bedeck'd with rural sweets and garlands gay.

When vital spirits are depress'd,

And heavy languor clogs the breast,
Comforting Hope! 'tis thine to cure,
Devoid of Esculapian power;
For oft thy friendly aid avails,

When all the strength of physic fails.

Nay, even though death should aim his dart,
I know he lifts his arm in vain,
Since thou this lesson can'st impart,
Mankind but die to live again.

Depriv'd of thee must banners fall;
But where a living Hope is found,
The legions shout at danger's call,
And victors are triumphant crown'd.

Come then, bright Hope! in smiles array'd,
Revive us by thy quick'ning breath,

Then shall we never be afraid

To walk thro' danger, and thro' death.