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Forbye, he 'll shape you aff, fu' gleg,
He'll prove you fully,
Or lang-kail gullie.
But wad ye see him in his glee,
Guid fellows wi' him;
And then ye'll see him!
Now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose! Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose ! Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,
They sair misca’ thee; I'd take the rascal by the nose,
Wad say, Shame fa’ thee!
TO MISS CRUIKSHANKS,
A VERY YOUNG LADY.
WRITTEN ON TUE BLANK LEAF OF A BOOK, PRESENTED
TO HER BY THE AUTHOR.
BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young
Never Boreas' hoary path,
May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem, Richly deck thy native stem; Till some ev’ning, sober, calm, Dropping dews, and breathing balm, While all around the woodland rings, And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings ; Thou, amid the dirgeful sound, Shed thy dying honours round, And resign to parent earth The loveliest form she e'er gave birth.
ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire,
And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire,
When fated to despair!
Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
To hope may be forgiv'n;
So much in sight of Heav'n.
OX READING, IN A NEWSPAPER,
THE DEATH OF JOHN MLEOD, ESQ.
BROTHER TO A YOUNG LADY, A PARTICULAR FRIEND
OF THE AUTHOR'S.
Sad thy tale, thou idle page,
And rueful thy alarms :
From Isabella's arms.
Sweetly deckt 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 smil'd;
Succeeding hopes beguild.
Fate oft tears the bosom chords
That nature finest strung : So Isabella's heart was form’d,
And so that heart was wrung.
Dread Omnipotence alone,
Can heal the wound he gave;
To scenes beyond the grave,
Virtue's blossoms there shall blow,
And fear no withering blast ;
Shall happy be at last.
Mr Lord, I know, your noble ear
Woe ne'er assails in vain;
Your humble Slave complain.
In flaming summer-pride,
And drink my crystil tide.
The lightly-jumping glowrlü trouts,
That thro' my waters play,
They near the margin stray ;
• Bruar Falls, in Athole, are exceedingly picturesque ani
ani! beautiful; but their effect is much impaired by the want as trees and shrubs.
If, hapless chance! the linger lang,
I'm scorching up to shallow, They're left the whiten.ng stanes amang,
In gasping death to vallow.
Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,
As Poet B**** camic by,
Wi' half my channel dry:
Even as I was he shord me; But had I in my glory been,
He, kneeling, wad ador'd me.
Here, foaming down the sleivy rocks,
In twisting strength I rin; There, high my boiling torrent smokes,
Wild-roaring o'er a linn: Enjoying large each spring and well
As nature gave them me, I am, altho' I say 't mysel,
Worth gaun a mile to see.
Would then my noble master please
To grant my hi, hest wishes, He'll shade my bari wi' tow'ring trees,
And hornie spadiug bushes ; Deli; .eii doisbly then, my Lord, Vist!l wander on my banks,
isten mony a grateful bird Riturn you tuneful thanks.
?.5, sober laverock, warbling wild,
Shall to the skies aspire ;