Love fill'd their bofoms with a mutual flame;
Their birth was equal, and their age the fame.
Her mother Mey, a woman void of truth,
In practice of deceit and guile grown old,
Conceiv'd a guilty paffion for the youth,

And in his ear the shameful story told:
But o'er his mind the never could prevail;

For in his life no wickedness was found;
With fhame and rage he heard the horrid tale,
And shook with indignation at the found:
He fled to fhun her; while with burning wrath
The monster, in revenge, decreed his death.
Amidft Lochmey, at distance from the shore,
On a green island, grew a stately tree,
With precious fruit each feafon cover'd o'er,
Delightful to the taste, and fair to fee:

This fruit, more sweet than virgin honey found,
Serv'd both alike for phyfic and for food;
It cur'd difcafes, heal'd the bleeding wound,
And hunger's rage for three long days withstood.
But precious things are purchas'd still with pain,
And thousands try'd to pluck it, but in vain.
For at the root of this delightful tree,

A venomous and awful dragon lay,
With watchful eyes, all horrible to fee,

Who drove th' affrighted paffengers away. Worfe than the viper's fting its teeth did wound,

The wretch who felt it foon behov'd to die;
Nor could phyfician ever yet be found

Who might a certain antidote apply:
Ev'n they whose skill had sav'd a mighty host,
Against its bite no remedy could boalt.
Revengeful Mey, her fury to appease,

And him deftroy who durft her paffion flight, Feign'd to be stricken with a dire difcafe,

And call'd the hapless ALBIN to her fight: "Arife, young hero! skill'd in feats of war, On yonder lake your dauntless courage prove; To pull me of the fruit, now bravely dare,

And fave the mother of the maid you love. I die without its influence divine; Nor will I tafte it from a hand but thine." With downcaft look the lovely youth reply'd, "Tho' yet my feats of valour have been few, My might in this adventure shall be try'd ; I to pull the healing fruit for you." go With ftately steps approaching to the deep, The hardy hero fwims the liquid tide; With joy he finds the dragon fast asleep,

Then pulls the fruit, and comes in fafety back; Then with a chearful countenance, and gay, He gives the prefent to the hands of Mey. "Well have you done, to bring me of this fruit; But greater figns of prowess muft you give : Go pull the tree entirely by the root,

And bring it hither, or I cease to live." Though hard the talk, like lightning faft he flew, And nimbly glided o'er the yielding tide; Then to the tree with manly fteps he drew,

And pull'd, and tugg'd it hard, from fide to side: Its buriting roots his (trength could not withstand; le tears it up, and bears it in his hand.

But long, alas! ere he could reach the shore,

Or fix bis footsteps on the folid fand, The monster follow'd with a hideous roar,

And like a fury grafp'd him by the hand. Then, gracious God! what dreadful struggling rofe!

He grafps the dragon by th' invenom'd jaws, In vain for round the bloody current flows,

While its fierce teeth his tender body gnaws. He groans through anguish of the grievous wound, And cries for help; but, ah! no help was found! At length, the maid, now wond'ring at his ftay,

And rack'd with dread of fome impending ill,
Swift to the lake, to meet him, bends her way;
And there beheld what might a virgin kill!
She faw her lover ftruggling on the flood,

She faw young AL BIN fainting, while his blood
The dreadful monfter gnawing at his fide;

With purple tincture dy'd the liquid tide!
Though pale with fear, the plunges in the wave,
And to the hero's hand a dagger gave!
Alas! too late; yet gath'ring all his force,

He drags, at last, his hiffing foe to land.
Yet there the battle still grew worfe and worse,
And long the conflict lafted on the strand.
At length he happily defcry'd a part,

Through this he drove a well-directed dart,
Juft where the fealy neck and breast did meet;

And laid the monfler breathlefs at his feet. The lovers fhouted when they saw him dead, While from his trunk they cut the bleeding head. But foon the venom of his mortal bite

Within the hero's bofom fpreads like flame; His face grew pale, his ftrength forfook him quite, And o'er his trembling limbs a numbness came. Then fainting on the flimy fhore he fell,

And utter'd, with a heavy, dying groan, These tender words, " My lovely maid, farewel! Remember ALBIN; for his life is gone!” Thefe founds like thunder all her sense oppreft, And fwooning down she fell upon his breast. At laft, the maid awak'ning as from fleep,

Felt all her foul o'erwhelm'd in deep despair, Her eyes ftar'd wild, the rav'd, the could not weep, She beat her bofom, and the tore her hair! She look'd now on the ground, now on the skies, Now gaz'd around, like one in ploring aid. But none was near in pity to her cries,

No comfort came to fcothe the hapless maid! Then grafping in her palm, that fhone like fnow, The youth's dead hand, the thus exprefs'd her

Yet fame and dauntless valour he could boast; With matchiefs ftrength his manly limbs were bound;

That force would have difmay'd a mighty host,

He fhow'd, before the dragon could him wound. His curling locks, that wanton'd in the breeze,

Were blacker than the raven's ebon wing; His teeth were whiter than the fragrant trees, When bloffoms clothe them in the days of spring; A brigher red his glowing cheeks did ftain, Than blood of tender heifer newly flain. A purer azure sparkled in his eye,

Than that of icy fhoal in mountain found; Whene'er he spoke, his voice was melody,

And fweeter tar than inftrumental found. O he was lovely! fair as pureft fnow, (crown; Whose wreaths the tops of highest mountains His lips were radiant as the heav'nly bow;

His skin was fofter than the softest down; More fweet his breath, than fragrant bloom, or rofe, Or gale that cross a flow'ry garden blows. But when in battle with our foes he join'd,

And fought the hottest dangers of the fight, The ftoutcil chiefs stood wond'ring far behind, And none durft try to rival him in might! Has ample (hield then feem'd a gate of brafs, His awful fword did like the lightning fhine! No force of freel could through his armour pafs, His fpear was like a mast, or mountain-pine! Ev'n kings and heroes trembled at his name, And conqueft fmil'd where e'er the warrior came! Great was the strength of his unconquer'd hand, Great was his swiftnefs in the rapid race; None could the valour of his arm withstand, None could outstrip him in the days of chace. Yet he was tender, merciful, and kind;

His vanquifh'd foes his clemency confest; No cruel purpofe labour'd in his mind,

No thought of envy harbour'd in his breast. He was all gracious, bounteous, and benign, And in his foul fuperior to a king!

But now he's gone! and nought remains but woe For wretched me; with him my joys are fled, Around his tomb my tears fhall ever flow,

The rock my dwelling, and the clay my bed! Ye maids, and matrons, from your hills defcend, To join my moan, and antwer tear for tear; With me the hero to his grave attend,

And fing the fongs of mourning round his bier. Through his own grove his praife we will proclaim, And bid the place for ever bear his name.

And well-fa'r'd hiffies to the bargain;
Yet de'el a bit care they a farthen,
If Ringwood leads the pack wi' care,
And Tam the groom keeps right the mare,
And fifter Fane provides at hame,
If we fhou'd never change our name.
Ane's gayand auld, but muckle buiket;
Yet unco guid, and fonfy luiket.
Anither's grave, and very sicker,
But nae great man at cog or bicker.
A third's polite, well bred, and young,
Rich, handfome, and a knightly tongue.
The laft's a metal clever blade,
Wou'd make a lafs's heart fu' glad.

Now, Sir, gin ye will help us laffes,
And let them ken what 'mangft us paffes,
Ableins they'll tak it in their heads,
Ilk to tak wives to warm their beds.
If fac, without deceit or fcorning,

Wee'l pray for you baith night and morning,
That beggars bleffing may attend ye,
Till death a mortal arrow send ye.

Jean, Marget, Sufant, Annie, Nell,
Elifabeth, and Annaple.

The CHOICE.

monarchs boat the splendor of

Let flatesmen in the fenate feek to fhine;
In dreadful war let heroes court renown;
But blissful cafe and foft repose be mine.
Let fhades defend me from the folar heat,

Nor let the rofe its fragrant scent refuse;
And, that my happiness may be complete,

Give me the nymph, the bottle, and the mufe.
There, while the grape's foft juice my foul infpires,
And pleafing transports in my bofom rife;
Let me be warm'd with Cupid's gentle fires, (eyes.
And drink large draughts of love from Celia's
Yet let not joys remove the thoughts of death;
Let virtue arm me for my latter end;
And when Heav'n wills that I refign my breath,
May grateful beggars own they've loft a friend.
To kings let fulfome epitaphs be paid,

But let the good, when in the grave I'm laid,
Let Flatt'ry monumental arches rear;

Pay me this tribute with a pious tear:

"No more let princes boast their short-liv'd fame,
Nor warriors hope immortal praife to find;
Our worthy friend has left a jufter claim;
For while they ruin'd, he reliev'd mankind."
St Andrew's, Jan. 13. 1756.
P. S.

Part of the firft fcene of the fecond act of the Amyntas of Tatlo, (beginning, 'Chi che le ville, &c.), paraphrafed.

AH me! vile intereft every bofom stains,

From mighty monarchs down to fimple No more, alas! to palaces confin'd, {{wains; But reigns unbounded in the peafant's mind: Be then this age pronounc'd, the age of gold, Since happiness itfelf for pelf is fold.

But

But thou, ignoble wretch, who first effay'd
To charm by fordid arts the venal maid,
Taught the young breast on hopes of gain to rove,
(Fair faith neglected and unspotted love),
Eternal curfes blast thy hated name,

Thou bane of life, of human kind the shame!.
For thee no friend a monument fhall rear; (tear;
For thee, ne'er heave the figh, ne'er drop the
To foothe thy ghost, neʼer shall the lyre be strung;
Ne'er shall thy name difgrace the poet's fong:
When to the turf where thy pale reliques lie,
Some neighb'ring (wains fhall guide the wand'ring
(eye,

Inform the traveller what vile remains,
What hated duft th' unhallow'd spot contains,
No honours to thy mem'ry fhall he pay,
Nor peaceful requiem for thy manes say.
Nipt by the blafts of peftilential air,
Ne'er may the rural verdure flourish there,
But horrid Winter stretch its dread domain,
And storms eternal defolate the plain.

'Twas Av'rice first inverted nature's plan, And chang'd the happiness defign'd for man;

J.

S W

WEATHER.

fair m. cl. n. fair aft. fair m. rain n. fair aft.

ditto

129,90 42 45 SW 229,53 39 41| NE 329,75 3943 NE 429,35 4144) S W 529,56 39 42 S W 629,76 42 49 SW 729,5 40 44 SW 829,95 44 46 S W 930,845 48 SW 1030,2 45 49 S W 1129,92 47 49 1229,84 45 46 SW 1329,52 43 47 N W 4 29,70 44 50 S W 1529,81 41 44 SW 1630,1237 42 S W 1729,93 37 43 S W 18 29,90 4043 SW 1929,74 46 49 S W 20 29,93 39 44 S W 2130,1542 47 SW 2229,97 41 47 S W fair m. cl. n fair aft. 2330,6 43 45 S W m. cl. rain n. fair a. 2430,25434 SW fair all day 2530,7 4345 S W m. fair, cl. & rain a. 2630,46 38 43 S W fair all day 2730,66 40 46 NW ditto 2830,72 4245 SW ditto 2930,65142145 SW ditto

fm. fnow m. fair aft.
morn. fm. rain, fair a.
m. rain, cl. & fm. r. a.
fair all day
m. cl. much rain aft.
fair all day
morn. cl. aft. fair
fair all day
fair day, cl. evening
fair day, cl. & r. ev.
fair all day

m. much rain, fair a. m. cl. & fm. r. fair a. fair all day ditto fair day, fm. rain ev. fair all day m. fm. r. much r. a. fair all day ditto