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Yet bosoms there are, O! the dearest, the best, (And may Heaven on their path shed its loveliest

beam!) Who soothe the lone wanderer's pulses to rest,

And weep with a dear and a lasting esteem. And such o'er thy doom, lov’d, unfortunate BOURNE!

On sad sister shores, breathe the sigh of regret; For thy virtues the good and the virtuous mourn,

Ah! memorials sweet! they shall never forget.

As some bark that has glean’d, as she travers’d the

deep, The gems of the Orient, the pride of the wave, Hails, joyfully hails, lovely Albion's green steep, When loud roars the tempest, and deep yawns the

grave;

So gaily we saw thee on life's summer sea

The regions of Science and Fancy explore, Then seek each fond scene dear to friendship and thee,

And breathe thy last sigh on thy lov'd native shore.

When the blooms of thy mind, like the Spring met

the eye,

How bright was the prospect that Fancy pourtray'd! Now faded, ah ! faded for ever, they lie

Where the green turf of Erin now covers thy head;

And Friendship his fond ineffectual care

Bewails, as he lingers and sighs to depart, And Piety weeps. 'mid her holiest prayer

For a child that was lovely and dear to her heart.

1

"Tis thus as we journey life's dark valley through,

Bright sunbeams of Hope oft illumine the road; How brightly, alas ! but how transient tool

For love, hope, and joy, find one gulphing abode. But pass undismay'd, O ye righteous! the bound;

Though dim, mark the vista that opens afar ! On the ruins of Time, o'er the darkness profound,

Salvation has lighted her bright morning star; And the Cherubim train their glad welcome extend

ing, Heaven's triumph recording, her loud organ blow For a soul from the confines of Darkness ascending, That has trod the lone blood-press of Death and of

Woe!

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Then weep not the pleasures so fading and dear,

For the handmaids of Bliss in yon starry abode, Shall wipe from your eyes the disconsolate tear, And ray on your pathway the smiles of your

God.

From

EPIGRAM, on the celebrated Madam La Valliere.

the French
In ancient days aruse a fane,

Where every lover knelt to impart.
To Venus kind, in suppliant strain,

The dearest secret of his heart.

Could such a temple now be found,

Though thousands thither should repair,
To heaven would rise no other sound
Than “ O! I die for La Valliere."

S, W. I.

CALEDONIA,

AN ODE.

O RAD I Ossian's lyre sublime
That triumph'd o'er the storms of timą,
Would Cona’s rapt, pathetic muse,
One spark into this breast infuse,
Of that unmatched, ethereal fire

Which on his 'nighted era shone,
When woody Morven heard his wire,

And echoed to her darling son:
Patriot rage my hands impelling,

Swift I'd strike the chords anew,
Hymns of praise with ardour swelling,

Praise to Caledonia due !

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Yet still that magic name hath power
To bless the poet's tranced hour!
When Fancy's limpid mirror bears,
The pageant of departed years,
She views thee from yon azure steep

With beamy shield and spear emerge,
And wing the planetary deep,

To take these lion hills in charge;
While the polar morn advancing,

Spreads her shaking silver dome,
And the North Star keenly glancing,

Warbling seraph, sings thee home. VOL. YI.

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Where giant Nevis towering high
Bursts thro' the billows of the sky,
With thunder girt, and plum'd with snows,
To thee a cloudy temple rose.
Yet oft to Druids' watchings weird

By waving wood or haunted heath,
Thy form in melting pomp appear'd,

Or floated o'er the fields of death.
Throned in Staffa's halls volcanic,

Thee the western waves would greet,
Wont to ride with brows tyrannic,

Homaged they around thy feet!

Let the loud pipe the strain prolong,
Thy Celtic sons demand the song;
Adopted to thy glorious name,
Twas theirs to rear an infant fame.
When savage nations from afar,

In lawless hordes let loose to prey,
Pour'd on their coasts perpetual war,

Destruction, danger, and dismay;
Till at length o'er prostrate Ullin, t

And the Scandinavian keel,
Oscar bold, and dark Cuchullin

Brandished high the vengeful steel,

When the big Roman tempest beat,
Thy rocks were Freedom's last retreat :
While trembling Europe all in vain
Hung speechless on the Wanderer's train;

Ben-Nevis in Ross-shire, the highest Mountain in Great Britain.

+ Ullin, the province of Ulster in Ireland.
Oscar and Cuchullin, two of Ossian's principal heroet

* Let not” she said “ Britannia mourn

“ Time bringeth mighty changes forth"
Then sad, dishevelled, and forlorn

She sought the adamantine north;
Many-headed Grampus frowning *

On the squadrons eagle led,
Sternly still the yoke disowning,

Sheltered the celestial maid.
On bloody Carron's twilight banks +
Dim-hovering o'er the martial ranks,
'Twas thus thy courage-kindling tongue,
In accents loud to battle sung:
Once again the crimson lion :

• Streams aloft on Morven's blast, • Lo! the restless tyrants flying,

“ Croud their gathered heap I;' aghast; " Now redoubted, now or never,

Grasp the faulchion, follow me';
“ These your native plains deliver,

“ Heaven preserves the mountains free!"
Yes, still thy hills unconquer'd stand,
Prophetic guardian of the land:
Where is the force that shall displace
The faithful, dauntless, pensive race!

Ages on dark-brown ages roll'a .:: 1

The tide of time tumultuous down,
Their high memorial deeds unfold,;,.

In doubling echoes of renown!
* That chain of mountains called Grampian or, Grautsbain,
+ Carron or Carun, a celebrated rivulet in Linlithgowshire.

The arms of Scotland áre, on a Shield of, a Lion Tampant within a double tressure flory, counterflowered gules.

"Gathered Heap.” The Roman wall calea Gree's dýkë. " Roll' on ye dark-brown'years." Ossian.

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