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these countries, was cut off. The deer then grew so numerous and familiar, that they eat up the poor people's crops in the night ; and the foxes multiplied so as to threaten the total destruction of their flocks. Arms indeed are necessary in these wastes, not only to protect the natives from wild beasts, but to assist them in supporting themselves.

TO

SIR J***S G*** T, BARONET.

The man of bounties, loving and belov'd.

While on the meadowy banks of Spey,

Slow steals along the rural muse, And sees the bordering flowers display

Their native sweets and vernal hues :

And while she casts her pensive view

Where bold Craigillachy aspires, Now deck'd with heath-bells fresh with dew,

Where blaz’d of old the warning fires * ;

With glowing heart and trembling hand

She strives to wake the plausive lay; And wide o'er all her native land

The voice of grateful truth convey,

* See note No, 1.

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And while she consecrates the strain,

To worth beyond her humble praise, The genius of thy native plain

Will smile indulgent on her lays.

Oh, form’d to prove each feeling dear

That heightens joy and sweetens care, The tender Parent, Friend sincere,

The Consort blest beyond compare :

The Patriot Chief, who dwells belov'd

Among the race his fathers sway'd; Who, long his country's friend approv'd,

Retires in peace to bless the shade.

Who when the dreadful blast of war

With horror fill’d the regions round, His willing people call’d from far,

With wakening pipe of martial sound:

The valiant clan, on every side,

With sudden, warlike ardour burns ; And views those long-lov'd homes with pride,

Whose loss no exild native mourns.

From every mountain, strath, and glen,

The rustic warriors crowded round; The Chief who rules the hearts of men

In safety dwells, with honour crown'd.

“ For thee (they cried) dear native earth,

“ We gladly dare the battle's roar ; 6. Our kindred ties, our sacred hearth,

“ Returning peace will soon restore.

“ No ruthless, mercenary swains

“ Shall ever quench our social fires ; “ Our labour on our narrow plains

“ Shall feed our babes and hoary sires *.

And when each tender pledge we leave,

“ Our parent Chief, with guardian care, 6 Shall soothe their woes, their wants relieve,

“ And save the mourners from despair mhic."

Beneath his mild paternal sway,

The pow'r of cultivation smiles, And swelling, proud, impetuous Spey

Rejoices, while the peasant toils :

* See note No. 2.

+ See note No.

To see his banks on every

side With crowding population teem, And cultur'd fields their yellow pride

Reflecting in his copious stream.

Well pleas’d he wanders near the dome
Where

every

milder virtue dwells; Where all the gentler graces bloom,

And Painting speaks, and Music swells.

When frosts untimely check'd the spring,

And blasting mildews hover'd o'er, And cheerful Labour ceas'd to sing,

And Plenty deck'd the plains no more :

To G**** she gave her teeming horno,

Well pleas'd he pour'd the bounteous store, And Want no longer wept forlorn,

And fruitless Labour mourn'd no more.

To Woe, while Pity yields relief,

While Truth adorns the plausive lay, Our vows shall bless the Patriarch Chief

Who rules the grateful banks of Spey.

+ Alluding to an ample provision made for the lower class of his country, during the hard winter 1803.

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