AN EXPEDITION TO FIFE, &c.

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Thro' the small opening of the mainsail broad,
Lo, Boreas steals, and tears him from the yard,
Where long and lasting he has play'd his part!
So suffers Virtue. When in her fair form
The smallest flaw is found, the whole decays.
In vain she may implore with piteous eye,
And spread her naked pinions to the blast:
A reputation maim'd finds no repair,

Till death, the ghastly monarch, shuts the scene.

And now we gain the May, whose midnight light
Like vestal virgins' offerings undecay'd,
To mariners bewilder'd acts the part

Of social friendship, guiding those that err
With kindly radiance to their destin'd port...

Thanks, kindest Nature! for those floating gems Those green-grown isles, with which you, lavish,

strew

AN EXPEDITION TO FIFE, &c.

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Great Neptune's empire. But for thee! the main Were an uncomfortable mazy flood.

No guidance, then, would bless the steersman's skill,

No resting-place would crown the mariner's wish, When he to distant gales his canvas spreads,

To search new wonders.-Here the verdant, shores
Teem with new freshness, and regale our sight
With caves, that ancient time, in days of yore,
Sequester'd for the haunt of Druid lone,
There to remain in solitary cell,`.

Beyond the power of mortals to disjoin
From holy meditation.-Happy now

To cast our eyes around from shore to shore,
While by the oozy caverns on the beach
We wander wild, and listen to the roar
Of billows murmuring with incessant noise.

And now by fancy led, we wander wild Where o'er the rugged steep the buried dead

AN EXPEDITION TO FIFE, &c.

Remote lie anchor'd in their parent mould;
Where a few fading willows point the state
Of man's decay. Ah, Death! where'er we fly,
Whether we seek the busy and the gay,
The mourner or the joyful, there art thou.
No distant isle, no surly swelling surge,

E'er aw'd thy progress, or controul'd thy sway,
To bless us with that comfort, length of days,
By all aspir'd at, but by few attain'd.

To Fife we steer, of all beneath the sun The most unhallow'd 'midst the Scotian plains! And here, sad emblem of deceitful times! Hath sad Hypocrisy her standard borne. Mirth knows no residence, but ghastly Fear Stands trembling and appall'd at airy sights. Once, only once! Reward it O ye Pow'rs! Did Hospitality, with open face,

And winning smile, cheer the deserted sight,

AN EXPEDITION TO FIFE, &c.

That else had languish'd for the bless'd return
Of beauteous day, to dissipate the clouds
Of endless night, and superstition wild,
That constant hover o'er the dark abode.
O happy Lothian happy thrice thy sons!
Who ne'er yet ventur'd from the Southern shore
To tempt Misfortune on the Fifan coast:
Again with thee we dwell, and taste thy joys,
Where sorrow reigns not, and where ev'ry gale
Is fraught with fulness, bless'd with living hope,
That fears no canker from the year's decay.

Lest the Courtiers offended should be;
When you mention vice or bribe,

'Tis so pat to all the tribe,

Each cries, It was levell'd at me.

GAY.

'Tis woman that seduces all mankind.

FILCH.

BENEATH what cheerful region of the sky

Shall Wit, shall Humour, and the Muses fly? For ours, a cold, inhospitable clime,

Refuses quarter to the Muse and rhyme.