And fit his harp the pomp to sing, Of Scotland's ancient Court and King, In the succeeding lay. END OF CANTO FOURTH. ΤΟ GEORGE ELLIS, Esq. Edinburgh. WHEN dark December glooms the day, And takes our autumn joys away; When short and scant the sun-beam throws, Upon the weary waste of snows, A cold and profitless regard, Like patron on a needy bard; When sylvan occupation's done, And o'er the chimney rests the gun, And hang, in idle trophy, near, The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear; |