« ZurückWeiter »
Fir’d by thee, mid dangers glooming,
What their ardent spirits dare,
Largs, and Loncarty declare!
Of bugles shook their thickets green,
Stalk'd proudly o'er the ravag'd scene ;
Scotia, had become thy lord,
Wildly snatch'd thy dropping sword.
due ? Behold! a blood-stain'd block in view ! This is the guerdon, mighty chief!
A common triumph Scotia scorns,
But vengeance wakes when Scotia mourns!
Honours 'on the lyre beston,
Tears, extatic tears shah flow! • Far from the proud usurper's arts Thy dearest exil'd son departs,
For an account of the exile of Robert the first amongst the western islands, and the surprisal of the small English Garrison
And o'er the sea-rock sadly bent,
()! Bruce what transport shook thy breast ! When Freedom on the dusky shore
Wav'd her red torch at thy behest.
Gathering, kindling, rushing on,
Dealt another Marathon!
O Scotia, nurse of heartfelt song,
Mid pendent cliffs and dashing streams,
Thou visitest the Poet's dreams; Burne in mists o'er fatal Flodden,
Or thy pausing footsteps trace Where on distant, drear Culloden,
* Set the star of Banquo's sace!
Be mine to sing that lovelier scene,
When to the border meads he pressed,
in his own paternal Castle of Turnberry in Ayrshire, See all the Scotch Historians.
* The Royal House Stuart are said to be descendants of Banquo, thane of Lochaber, who was murdered by the tyrant Macbeth
* Where Tweed imbibes the classic rills,
a thousand hills !
P. c. LONDON, 1807,
To a Lady singing and playing on the Harp.
What though the Thracian Minstrel's lyre,
eye, and ardent fire,
And lure it from its home.
* The Yed, Yarrow, &c. are here denominated, “ classic rills."
Come, fill the bowl, let mirth and glee
Our cares and sorrows drown; Let blithesome mirth and revelry
The jovial evening crown.
Prepare the garland for my head;
Let freshest flowers unite. No pangs
of woe, no cares I dread, When Bacchus crowns the night.
Come, Cupid, come; our pleasure share
And futter round the bowl ;
With love inspire my soul.
Bring myrtle wreaths, and ivy bring,
To bind my temples round; And as of love and wine I sing,
With roses strew the ground.
Thus free from care my life shall pass !
For sorrow, woe, and pain
TO THE MEMORY OF LADY EDEN,
This most amiable and unfortunate victim to maternal solicitude,
was carried off in the second week of her confinement by the malignant and fatal influence of the scarlet fever, which her eldest son caught at school, and thus communicated to his Family.
BY MRS. COCKLE,
In holy hope 'mid sorrows chasten'd gloom,
Ask not her charms ’mid fashions giddy train,