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A DIRGE

ON THE HERO WHO FELL AT CORUNNA.
INTREPID, firm, and void of fear,

When may a soldier shed a tear?
When may he, drown'd in anguish wild,
Go sorrowing like an orphan child?
What sight to him shall grief impart ?
What sight alone subdue a heart
Which mortal peril dares defy?
'Tis this-to see a Hero die!

Like him who fell on Abram's height,
A champion of Britannia's Right;
Like him who sleeps in Malta's Isle,
The Veteran of the Plains of Nile;
Like him the foremost Son of War,
Who shook all France at Trafalgar ;
Like these-on Spain's Atlantic shore,
In victory died the HERO MOORE!

LINES,

On WALLACE; or the VALE of ELLERSLIE. THIS rising bard sweeps sweetly o'er the string,

While the heroic Wallace is the theme; The memory of the days of old he brings, And in a raptur'd song, t' immortal fame, Of our great forefather consigns the name. From heav'n's high height, spirit of Wallace, smile,

When from the mountains of thy native vale,

Thou hear'st these strains, and musing, think'st the while,

Of deeds of other days; and in the gale, The song's resounding sound does echoing sail.

Spirit of Wallace! smile, and bless this song, This soul-enchanting song, these tuneful rhymes:

Safe on time's tide may they be borne along, And ever grateful live to distant times; And may the bard, the steep hill as he climbs

That leads to fame, still strike the daring lyre

To Wallace name; and thou, O heavenly

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Dreadful, against the sounding shore,
The winds and waves tumultuous roar,
The torrent-braving mound in vain
The stormy inroad would restrain,
The surges, with resistless sway,
Force o'er the labour'd mole their way,
Scorn every weak resource of human toil,
O'erwhelm'd the peopl'd town, and waste
the cultur'd soil.

But when, by native fences barr'd
From billowy rage, the happier land,
And rocky cliffs for ever stand
To the wide-water'd coast a guard,
Such as on Vecta's southern steep
Look down defiance on the raging deep,
Such as on Dover's breezy down,
On Gallia's hostile borders frown,
Tho' billows urging billows roar,
And idly beat against the shore,
While from the heights sublime the swain
Mocks the vain efforts of the foaming mair,
Till nature bids the delug'd surge subside,
Hush'd is the tempest's voice, and refluent
rolls the tide.

So o'er Europa's ravaged plain We saw the torrent wild of war Resistless spread its iron reign, And scatter ruin wide and far; The embattled wall, the warlike band, Vainly the Tyrant's course withstand; Before the impious sons of Gaul The legions fly, the bulwarks fall; Yet Britain's floating castles sweep Invasion from her subject deep, Yet by her rocks secure from harm, Securer by her patriot arm, Iberia turns the battle's tide, Resists the injurious Tyrant's pride, While, freely floating in the ambient sky, Sacred to Freedom's cause, their mingled ensigns fly.

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Et roseo Veneris fulget in ore decor; Adfuit Elizabeth-Juno perculsa refugit, Obstupuit Pallas, erubuitque Venus.

8. On WICKLIFF, by a Monk. The Devil's instrument, Church's enemy, People's confusion, Heretick's idol, Hypocrite's mirror: Schisme's broacher, Hat. red's sower, Lies' forger, Flattery's sink; who at his death despaired like Cain, and stricken by the horrible judgement of God, breathed forth his wicked soul to the dark mansions of the black Devil.

9. On STEPHEN the Fiddler. Stephen and time are now both even; Stephen beat time, now time's beat Stephen.

To be continued.

EUPHEMIA.

IF, in the polish'd verse, I rightly trace, Stamp of that mind, so like her beauteous face,

Great counterpart! on which I lov'd to dwell,

And dwelling fondly ever lov'd so well,
Euphemia's it surely stands confest,

Euphemia dearest to my faithful breast,
O could that form in living beauty rise,
Real, as oft it met my longing eyes,
When dubious, taught to snatch a transient
gleam,

Of joy and hope-a visionary dream.
Or could that voice, no fancied bliss, im-
part

The soothing balm of comfort to my heart.
Invoke as oft a paradise to view
As fond imagination will renew,
I'd own the recollection's bounteous pow'r,
Bid mem'ry wake to bless the frequent
hour,

And, as I sought to recompense the past,
Lament that envious days decline so fast,
Then would I think my verse, tho' dear it
prove,

A faithless transcript of my ardent love,

That form, which like the morning sun appears

Diffusing pleasure as the plant it chears;
That voice, than which no melody afar,
Borne on the silence of the twilight star,
And, by the gently wafting gale along,
With softer murmur yields his even song,
Words, sweet as nectar, from her lips
,would flow,

To chide misfortune and relieve my woe,
Whilst all the bliss a mariner can feel,
As from the friendly shore the zephyrs
steal,

Anxious to quaff Arabia's spicy gale,
And all the fragrance of the breeze inhale,
Ecstatic gave, and such delight he knew.
Such praise the envied object of her view

How sweet a trivial semblance to descry, How passing sweet, to mark with tearful

eye

A few lov'd lineaments of those we prize, As fancy veils them with their native dies, But oh what voice can bold conception find,

To speak the transport of the blessed mind,
As, o'er the thought a charmer lov'd before
Affection bending, learns to love it more,
To mark the line that swells to be perus'd,
To kiss the words on which Euphemia
mus'd;

Nay, to hold converse with a kindred soul,
For me the sweet responsive numbers roll,
For me the devious accent flows along
In all the breathing eloquence of song.
Can fancy trace no echoing virtue here,
To taste congenial, to affection dear?
No beauteous unison that gently flows,
To mark the soft vibration as it rose?
Yes-mutual truth, and mutual candor
shine;

And kindred thought pervades each tender line,

Glows in the breathing word that knows no guile,

Pure as the language of the dimpled smile,
True, as in unison it once could flow,
In all the warmth of nature's kindling glow,
Fancy shall point me to a better part,
And wake to ecstacy the tender heart,
As, on the wings of love it seems to soar,
To some blest region unattain'd before,
Where the soft musings of Euphemia's
voice

Seem to reprove my mercenary choice,
And bid me clasp the joys of life's increase,
When all is wisdom, harmony, and peace,
In those romantic groves, prefer to trace,
The silent wonders of the flow'ry race,
Seek in the shade the blest relief it bears,
And leave the world, its folly and its cares,
She seems to whisper, as my vows arise,
And hope shall waft their incense to the
skies.
London, 1808.

J. A.

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LORD RUTHVEN:

A BALLAD.

TO RUTHVEN's gates, whose friendly blaze,

Was gleamin' thro' the storm,

Wild wandrin' 'mid night's dreary maze,
Aproach'd a maid forlorn.--

"O sair sair drives the bitter blast,
And loud loud howls the win',

Dark is the night, and rough the way,
Lord Ruthven, let me in ?"

"Who knocks sae loud at my castle gate
Who knocks sae late at e'en ?

Go, stranger, go,-nor langer wait,
For here ye'll not get in.”—

"And does my Lord forget that voice
He ought sae well to know;

Does he forget his daughter's voice,
Nor will he hear her woe!"

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My Rosa, once!-my Rose no more!
My pride-but now my shame!
O go and seek some stranger's door,
For pity I have nane."

"If there's none in the father's breast,
Yet still thou art a man :

O louder howls the northern blast,
O louder cries my son."-

"In yonder vault thy mother lies,
Low mould'rin' in the clay;'
I'll reach to thee the death-house key,
And well thou knowest the way!

"Beneath the cloud of night I'll lye;
My Lord, thy will be done;
I'll seek death's cold abode this night,
But save, O save my son !" {
Glasgow.

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SONG.

I'll prie yere bonnie mou' lassie. COME gie's a kiss my bonnie lass,

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sang

I to my

And pried her lovely lippie O,
Her rosy cheek to mine I laid
And took the tither sippie O.

While wooster Jock, wi' gloomie glowr,
Bang't up the mutchkin pingle O;
And when I kiss'd his trysted flow'r
He dash't it in the ingle O.

I'll prie yere bonnie mou' lassie.

His bardship at the ingle sat,
Wi' musin' potions dizzy O,
Gae thro' Pegasus wings a keek,
My stars, a bonnie hizzie O !
He swore by Heliconian spring,
Nae mair to mount Pegasus O;
His fancy soar'd on higher wing
Amang the bonnie lasses, O.

I'll prie yere bonnie mou' lassie.

A hame-spun loon, wi' bonnet blue,
The gill-stoup was caressin' O,
"Cries, Wow the warld's turn'd, I trow,
For sin' is grace embracin' O!

A tough-tried saunt, o' Cameron's race,
Gaz'd wi' true gospel rapture O;
And cries, My bairn, o' gifts o' grace
Ye con a bonnie chapter O.

I'll prie yere bonnie mou' lassie.
My thrillin' heart wi' lovin' beat,
Against my breast gade thumpin' O,
My bluid arous'd wi' genial heat,
In flowin' tides ran jumpin' 0:
Her e'en like starnies set in blue,
Her face sae mildly bloomin' O,
Her tender smile, sic witchcraft threw,
R. G. Wad nature's self illumine O.

And lean upon my bosom O,
Or wi' yere sweet lip prie the glass
"Twill taste like roses blossom O.
Though seated 'mang an unco hive
O' blythsome chiels for drinkin' O,
Wha wi' the cap and noggie strive
To drown their cares and thinkin' O.
CHORUS.

I'll prie yere bonnie mou' lassie,
Weel ye wi' a warmin' kiss,

For nane but you, my true lassie
Can bestow sic charmin' bless
This a' my dower, a heart fou' leal,
A random gift at rhymin' O;
A mind that's made to think an' feel,
Nor at my lot repipin' O,

A loving wish to mak' you mine,
A saul which loves you dearly O,

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I'll prie your bonnie mou' lassie.
Though rough frae nature's quarry torn,
Nor polish'd by instruction O,

Maun bide the touts o' learnin's horn
And college-taught correction O.
I hae a saul and dentin' heart,
Wha'e'er was the creator O,
That soars aboon the fetter'd art,
To gifts ne'er gien by nature O.

I'll prie yere bonnie mou' lassie.
Though now my youthfu' bluid be warm,
O ravens wing my tresses O,

And fancy still has pow'r to charm
A sigh frae 'mang the lasses O.
I'll store up a'
love for thee,
And press ye to my bosom O,

my

Your wisdom's bloom will pleasure me,
When eild has cropt yere blossom O.

I'll prie yere bonnie mou' lassie.

Banks of Nith}

1st Sept. 1808.

HIDALLAN.

PRO

Proceedings of Parliament. Proceedings of

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Wednesday, Jan. 25.

THE BATTLE AT CORUNNA.

Lord Liverpool rose to move the thanks of the House to the Generals and Officers under whose conduct, and by whose exertions, the signal battle before Corunna had been won, and by whose skill, activity, and courage, the re-embarkation of the British troops had been effected. The subject to which he had to call the attention of their Lordships was in itself so singular and splendid, that it required no effort on his part to place it in its proper light. Indeed, it spoke too forcibly for itself. The noble Earl then entered into a detail of the ar duous toils and severe privations with which the British army had to war before they had an opportunity of contending with the enemy. The splendour, however, of that glorious victory, he had, in common with that House and the country, to regret should have been clouded by the disasters attending it, particularly by the fall of the gal

March 1809.

lant and meritorious officer who had led the army through such hardships to such glory. Sir John Moore was among the most va luable of his country's sons. He had ex clusively devoted his life to her service, and her interests and her honour were always the first objects in his sight, and the constant aim of his unwearied exertions. Such were the high motives that supplied the spring of all his actions, and which formed a life that proved as useful to his fellow countrymen as it was glorious to himself. It required only such a death to consecrate his fall, and to make it a subject of regret to those who can estimate the void it has left in the country. He conclu ded with moving, that the thanks of that House be given to Sir D. Baird, Lieut.-Gen. Hope, &c. &c. who took the command of the army in consequence of the wound res ceived by Lieut.-Gen. Moore, who had so gloriously distinguished himself previously to that fatal disaster.

Lord Moira was ready most cordially to concur in the motion of the Noble Earl, as far as it related to the exploits of the army, and to the merits of the distinguished offi cer by whom it was commanded. He knew what British troops were capable of, and this recent proof of their courage, their constancy, their discipline, and every virtue that constitutes the soldier, confirmed the opinion he was always disposed to entertain of them. In giving, therefore, his warm concurrence to the motion, as far as it included the merits of the army and its General, he must beg leave to observe, that he should not thereby be pledged, by any means, to approve of the conduct of those who had employed that army in a manner the most reprehensible and absurd. Spain was the battle of England, as well as of Spain, to be fought. The proudest portion of the British army was sent to fight it. The army fought as might have been expected from its known intrepidity and discipline; but all its efforts were frustrated by the ignorance or incapacity of those who had the direction of our public affairs. In their hands nothing prospered ; the strength as well as the glory of the nation was on the decline; in short, we were a sinking country. The blood and the treasure of the empire were lavished only to purchase disgrace, and to accelerate our ruin; an e normous expenditure of men and money

In

had

had been incurred, to produce no other effect than that of uniting the whole Contiment against England. We must now de. sert Spain as we have deserted Sweden, and where then would there be an ally for England. This misconduct of Ministers he could not forbear animadverting upon on the present occasion; and if he left them uncensured, he should feel that he deserted the cause of his brave companions in armis.

Lord Sidmouth concurred in the sentiments of his Noble Friend, as far as the army and its immortal leader were concern. ed. It had ever been his opinion, that, under whatever circumstances they came into contact, a British was always superior to a French army.

Lord Mulgrave delivered a most feeling encomium on the merits of Sir J. Moore, and expressed his astonishment that the Noble Lords opposite to him could have mingled with such a subject as that before them, discussions, altogether unconnected with it, and which, at best, might well be deferred to a future occasion.

Lord Erskine took pride to himself in reflecting on the long catalogue of heroes who adorned the country to which he had the honour to belong. The names of Moore, Baird, Hope, Mackenzie Fraser, Fergusson, Graham, &c. were now to be added to it. For more than 100 years had his countrymen been thus contributing to the power and the glory of the British empire. But of what avail would now be their labours, if they were to be exerted under no better auspices than those of the present Ministers?

Lord Grenville could not give a silent vote on such an occasion. There was no regret too keen for the loss of such a man as Sir John Moore. No praise adequate to the skill and constancy displayed by him in his recent conduct. No commendation too high for the valour and virtues so eminently evinced by the army under his command, during the unparalleled difficulties and dangers which they had to encounter. The greater those sufferings were, the greater the praise of those Generals by whom the army was extricated from them; the greater also the responsibility of those who ignorantly, or improvidently, had exposed them to such uncalled for hardships. Ministers, who sent them, knew that Bonaparte had above an hundred thousand men before them, so as to render attack not only impracticable, but retreat only possible, by the noble, unparalleled exertions they were assembled to commemorate: and what sort of a retreat-a retreat, leaving upon the roads and in the mountains of Spain, from 8 to 9000 of our brave men, dying of fa tigue, without one act of courage to sweet

en the death of a soldier. It was too truly said by his Noble Friend (Lord Moira,) that we are a sinking country. During the short interval of three years the country has been deprived of the two ablest Statesmen, to whom she looked with confidence and pride. In that short time she lost an Admiral, whose genius, skill, and courage, carried the British navy's fame to a pre-eminence to which it has never before presumed to aspire. To those severe losses she has now to add that of Sir John Moore.—. When deprived of such props, may not the country be truly said to be a fallen country; and how precipitate must be her fall if she is to have no better support than the abilities of the present Ministers?

The different motions of thanks were then agreed to nem. dissent.

Thursday, Jan. 26.

His

Lord Liverpool rose to move an address to his Majesty, for his gracious communications to the House respecting the correspondence at Erfurth, and to assure his Majesty, that their Lordships coincided with him in opinion, that the only means of procuring a safe and honourable peace was by a vigorous prosecution of the war. Lordship then went into a tedious discussion of the several papers submitted to the public, and inferred that his Majesty would have acted derogatory to his known honour and good faith, had he omitted to stipulate for Spain in the proffered negociation; and that France, having refused to admit the Government acting for Ferdinand the VII. as a party to the conference, plainly indicated that the overtures were hollow and insincere. His Lordship concluded by moying the address.

Lord Grenville admitted that Ministers were justified in stipulating for Spain, and that the overtures from the two Emperors were hollow and insincere; at the same time he deprecated their conduct in entering into a formal treaty with the Spanish Government, when it was apparent that Spain could not bear up for two months a gainst the usurpation that threatened it. In the course of the evening his Lordship also said, that Ministers owed it to the country, and to the memory of the lamented officer who fell at Corunna, to lay all possible information of the campaign before the House, that the expediency and wisdom of the measure might undergo a solemn discussion. Every hour, he said, brought news of fresh disasters, and all, in his mind, was ascribed to the gross mismanagement of Ministers.

Lords Sidmouth, Mulgrave, and Suffolk, and the Lord Chancellor, also delivered their sentiments, and the address was carried without a division.

HOUSE

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