The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known; Each rising art by just gradation motes, The oak-crown’d sisters, and their chaste-ey'd | Toil builds on toil, and age on age improves : queen,

The Muse alone unequal dealt her rage, Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen,

And grac'd with noblest pomp her earliest stage. Peeping from forth their alleys green;

Preserv'd through time, the speaking scenes impart Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear,

Each changeful wish of Phædra's tortur'd heart : And Sport leapt up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. Or paint the curse that mark'd the 'Theban's reign, Last came Joy's ecstatic trial,

A bed incestuous, and a father slain. He, with viny crown advancing,

With kind concern our pitying eyes o'erflow, First to the lively pipe his hand addrest, Trace the sad tale, and own another's wcę. But soon he saw the brisk-awakening riol,

To Rome remov’d, with wit secure to please, Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best. The comic sisters keep their native ease.

They would have thought, who heard the strain, With jealous fear declining Creece beheld
They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids, Her own Menander's art almost excell'd!
Amidst the festal sounding shades,

But every Muse essay'd to raise in vain
To some unwearied minstrel dancing,

Some labour'd rival of her tragic strain; While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Ilyssus' laurels, though transferr'd with toil, Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round, Droop'd their fair leaves, nor knew th' unfriendly Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound,

soil. And he, amidst his frolic play,

As arts expir’d, resistless Dulness rose; As if he would the charming air repay,

Goths, priests, or Vandals,-all were learning's Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.


Till Julius? first recall'd each exil'd maid,
O Music, sphere-descended maid,
Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid,

And Cosmu own’d them in th’ Etrurian shade: Why, goddess, why to us denied,

Then, deeply skill'd in love's engaging theme, Lay'st thou thy antient lyre aside ?

The soft Provencial pass'd to Arno's stream: As in that lov'd Athenian bower,

With graceful ease the wanton lyre he strung, You learn'd an all-commanding power,

Sweet fow'd the lays but love was all he sung. Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear’d,

The gay description could not fail to move; Can well recall what then it heard.

For, led by nature, all are friends to love. Where is thy native simple heart,

But Heaven, still various in its works, decreed Devote to virtue, fancy, art ?

The perfect boast of time should last succeed,

The beauteous union must appear at length,
Arise, as in that elder time,
Warm, energic, chaste, sublime!

Of Tuscan fancy, and Athenian strength:
Thy wonders, in that god-like age,

One greater Muse Eliza's reign adorn, Fill thy recording sister's page

And e'en a Shakespeare to her fame be born! "T is said, and I believe the tale,

Yet, ah! so bright her morning's opening ray, Thy humblest reed could more prevail,

In vain our Britain hop'd an equal day! Had more of strength, diviner rage,

No second growth the western isle could bear, Than all which charins this laggard age,

At once exhausted with too rich a year.

Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part;
E'en all at once together found
Cæcilia's mingled world of sound-

Nature in him was almost lost in art.

Of softer mould the gentle Fletcher came, 0, bid our vain endcavours cease, Revive the just desigus of Greece,

The next in order, as the next in name. Return in all thy simple state!

With pleas'd attention ’midst his scenes we find Confirm the tales her sons relate!

Each glowing thought, that warms the fernale
Fach melting sigh, and every tender tear,

The lover's wishes, and the virgin's fear.

His 3 every strain the Smiles and Graces own;

But stronger Shakespeare felt for man alone : ADDRESSED TO. SIR THOMAS HANMER, ON HIS EDITION

Drawn by his pen, our ruder passions stand

Th' unrivai'd picture of his early hand.
While, born to bring the Muse's happier days, With gradnal steps, 4 and sluw, exacter France
A patriot's hand protects a poet's lays;

Saw Art's fair empie o'er ber shores advance: While, nurs’d by you, she sees her myrtles bloom, | By length of toil a bright perfection knew, Green and unwither'd o'er his honour'd tomb :

Correctly bold, and just in all she drew. Excuse her doubts, if yet she fears to tell What secret transports in her bosom swell : With conscious awe she hears the critic's fame, · The Edipus of Sophocles. And blushing hides her wreath at Shakespeare's 2. Julius II., the immediate predecessor of Leo X,

3. Their characters are thus distinguished by Hard was the lot those injur'd strains endur'd, Mr. Dryden. Unown'd by science, and by years obscur'd:

4 About the time of Shakespeare, the poet Hardy Fair Fancy wept; and echoing sighs confess'd was in great repute in France. He wrote, accordA fixt despair in every tuneful breast,

ing to Fontenelle, six hundred plays. The French Not with more grief th' afflicted swains appear, poets after bim applied themselves in general to When winterv winds deform the plenteous year; the correct improvement of the stage, which was When lingering frusts the ruin'd seats invade almost totally disregarded by those of our own Where Peace resorted, and the Graces play'd, country, Jonson excepted.




Till late Corneille, with Lucan's 5 spirit fird, Thus, generous critic, as thy bard inspires,
Breath'd the free strain, as Rome and he inspir’d; The sister Arts shall nurse their drooping fires :
And classic judgment gain'd to sweet Racine Each from his scenes her stores alternate bring,
The temperate strength of Maro's chaster line. Blend the fair tints, or wake the vocal string :
But wilder far the British laurel spread,

Those Sibyl-leares, the sport of every wind,
And wreaths less artful crown our poet's head. (For poets ever were a careless kind)
Yet he alone to every scene could give

By thee disposid, no farther toil demand,
Th' historian's truth, and bid the manners live. But, just to Nature, own thy forming hand.
Wak'd at his call I view, with glad surprise, So spread o'er Greece, th' harinonious whole une
Majestic forms of mighty monarchs rise.

There Henry's trumpets spread their loud alarms, E'en Homer's numbers charm’d by parts alone.
And laureld Conquest waits her hero's arms. Their own Ulysses scarce had wanderd more,
Here gentler Edward claims a pitying sigh, By winds and waters cast on every shore :
Scarce born to honours, and so soon to die ! When rais'd by Fate, some former Hanmer join'd
Yet shall thy throne, unhappy infant, bring Each beauteous image of the boundless mind;
No beam of comfort to the guilty king :

And bade, like thee, his Athens ever claiin
The time shall come when Gloster's heart shall bleed A fond alliance with the poet's name.
In life's last hours, with horrour of the deed :
When dreary visions shall at last present
Thy vengeful image in the midnight tent :
Thy hand upseen the secret death shall bear,

Blunt the weak sword, and break th' oppressive

SUNG BY GUIDERUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER FIDELE, spear. Where'er we turn, by Fancy charm'd, we find Some sweet illusion of the cheated mind.

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Oft, wild of wing, she calls the soul to rove

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring With humbler nature, in the rural grove ;

Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom,
Where swains contented own the quiet scene,

And rifle all the breathing Spring.
And twilight fairies tread the circled green: No wailing ghost shall dare appear
Dress'd by her hand, the woods and valleys smile, To vex with shrieks this quiet grove,
And Spring diffusive decks th’ enchanted isle. But shepherd lads assemble here,
0, more than all in powerful genius blest,

And melting virgins own their love.
Come, take thine empire o'er the willing breast !

No wither'd witch shall here be seen, Whate'er the wounds this youthful heart shall feel,

No goblins lead their nightly crew; Thy songs support me, and thy morals heal !

The female fays shall haunt the green, There every thought the poet's warmth may raise,

And dress thy grave with pearly dew; There native music dwells in all the lays. 0, might some verse with happiest skill persuade

The red-breast oft at evening hours Expressive Picture to adopt thine aid !

Shall kindly lend his little aid, What wondrous draughts might rise from every With hoary moss, and gather'd Rowers, page!

To deck the ground where thou art laid. What other Raphaels charm a distant age! When howling winds, and beating rain, Methinks e'en now I view some free design,

in tempests shake thy sylvan cell; Where breathing Nature lives in every line : Or 'midst the chase on every plain, Chaste and subdued the modest lights decay,

The tender thought on thee shall dwell. Steal into shades, and mildly melt away. - And see, where Anthony 6, in tears approv'd,

Each lonely scene shall thee restore, Guards the pale relics of the chief he lov'd :

For thee the tear be duly shed; O'er the cold corse the warrior seems to bend,

Belov'd, till life can charm no more;
Deep sunk in grief, and mourns his murder'd friend!

And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.
Still as they press, he calls on all around,
Lifts the torn robe, and points the bleeding wound.
But who is he?, whose brows exalted bear

A wrath impatient, and a fiercer air?
Awake to all that injur'd worth can feel,

ON THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON. On his own Rome he turns th' avenging steel.

THE SCENE OF THE FOLLOWING STANZAS IS SUPPOSE1 Yet shall not war's insatiate fury fall

TO LIE ON THE THAMES, NEAR RICHMOND. (So Heaven ordains it) on the destin'd wall. See the fond mother, 'midst the plaintive train,

In yonder grave a Druid lies Hung on his knees, and prostrate on the plain !

Where slowly winds the stealing wave : Touch'd to the soul, in vain he strives to hide

The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, The son's affection in the Roman's pride :

To deck its poet's sylvan grave. O'er all the man conflicting passions rise,

In yon deep bed of whispering reeds Rage grasps the sword, while Pity inelts the eyes. His airy harp' shall now be laid,

That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, $ The favourite author of the elder Corneille.

May love through lite the soothing shade. 6 See the tragedy of Julius Cæsar.

; Coriolanus. See Mr. Spence's dialogue on the The harp of Æolus, of which see a descriptica Odyssey

in the Castle of Indolence.






Then maids and youths shall linger here,

Reluctant pride, and amorous faint consent, And, while its sounds at distance swell,

And meeting ardours, and exulting youth. Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear

Sleep, wayward god! hath swom, while these remain, To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell.

With flattering dreams to dry his nightly tear, Remembrance oft shall havnt the shore

And cheerful Hope, so oft invok'd in vain, When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, With fairy songs shall soothe his pensive ear. And oft suspend the dashing oar

If, bound by vows to Friendship's gentle side, To bid his gentle spirit rest !

And fond of soul, thou hop'st an equal grace, And oft as Ease and Health retire

If youth or maid thy joys and griefs divide, To breezy lawn, or forest deep,

O, much entreated, leave this fatal place. The friend shall view yon whitening spire", Sweet Peace, who long hath shunn'd my plaintive day, And ’mid the varied landscape weep.

Consents at length to bring me short delight, But thou, who own'st that earthly bed,

Thy careless steps may scare her doves away, Ah! what will every dirge avail?

And Grief with raven note usurp the night. Or tears which Love and Pity shed,

That mourn beneath the gliding sail!
Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye

Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near ?
With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die,
And Joy desert the blooming year.

0 D E
But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide
No sedge-crown'd sisters now attend,

POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS Now waft me from the green hill's side

Whose cold turf hides the buried friend !
And see, the fairy valleys fade,

Dun Night bas veil'd the solemn view !
Yet once again, dear parted shade,

Meek Nature's child, again adieu !
The genial meads 3 assign'd to bless
Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom!

Home, thou return'st from Thames, whose Naiads Their hinds and shepherd-girls shall dress

Have seen thee lingering with a fond delay, [long With simple hands thy rural tomb.

Mid those soft friends, whose hearts some future Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clay

day Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes,

Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song! “ O! vales, and wild woods," shall he say,

Go, not unmindful of that cordial youth ? (side; “ In yonder grave your Druid lies!”

Whom, long endear'd, thou leav'st by Lavant's Together let us wish him lasting truth

And joy untainted with his destin'd bride.

Go ! nor regardless, while these numbers boast VERSES

My short-liv'd bliss, forget my social name;

But think, far off, how, on the Southern coast, WRITTEN ON A PAPER, WHICH CONTAINED A PIECE OF

I met thy friendship with an equal fame!

Fresh to that soil thon turn'st, where every vale Ye curious bands, that, hid from vulgar eyes, Shall prompt the poet, and his song demand:

By search profane shall find this hallow'd cake, To thee thy copious subjects ne'er shall fail; With Virtue's awe forbear the sacred prize,

Thou need'st but take thy pencil to thy hand, Nor dare a theft for Love and Pity's sake! And paint what all believe, who own thy genial land. This precious relic, form’d by magic power, There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill;

Beneath the shepherd's haunted pillow laid, 'Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet; Was meant by Love to charm the silent hour,

Where still, 't is said, the fairy people meet, The secret present of a matchless maid.

Beneath each birken shade, on mead or bill. The Cyprian queen, at Hymen's fond request,

There each trim lass, that skims the milky store Each nice ingredient chose with happiest art;

To the swart tribes, their creamy bowls alots; Fears, sighs, and wishes, of th’ enamour'd breast,

By night they sip it round the cottage-door, And pains that please, are mixt in every part.

While airy minstrels warble jocund potes.

There, every herd, by sad experience, knows With rosy hand the spicy fruit she brought,

How, wing'd with fate, their elf-shot arrows fly, From Paphian hills, and fair Cytherea's isle;

When the sick ewe her summer food forgoes, And temper'd sweet with these the melting thought,

Or, stretch'd on earth, the heart-smit heifers lie. The kiss ambrosial, and the yielding smile.

Such airy beings awe th’untutord swain: (lect; Ambiguous looks, that scorn and yet relent,

Nor thou, tho' learn'd, his homelier thoughts negDenjals mild, and firm unalter'd truth,

How truly did Collins predict Home's tragic ? Mr. Thomson was buried in Richmond church.powers !

3 Mr. Thomson resided in the neighbourhood of ? A gentleman of the name of Barrow, who isRichmond some time before his death.

troduced Home to Collins,


ON THE SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND. 207 Let thy sweet Muse the rural faith sustain ; As Boreas threw his young Aurora 5 forth,

These are the themes of simple, sure effect, In the first year of the first George's reign,
That add new conquests to her boundless reign, And battles rag'd in welkin of the North,
And fill with double force her heart-command- They mourn'd in air, fell, fell Rebellion slain!
ing strain.

And as, of late, they joy'd in Preston's fight,

Saw at sad Falkirk all their hopes near crown'd! E'en yet preserv'd, how often mayst thou hear,

They ravid! divining thro' their second sights, Where to the pole the Boreal mountains run,

Pale, red Culloden, where these hopes were Taught by the father, to his listening son; (ear. drown'd! Strange lays, whose power had charm’d, à Spenser's Illustrious William7! Britain's guardian name! At every pause, before thy mind possest,

One William sav'd us from a tyrant's stroke; Old Runic bards shall seem to rise around,

He, for a sceptre gain’d heroic fame, (broke, With uncouth lyres, in many-colour'd vest,

But thou, more glorious, Slavery's chain hast Their mätted hair with boughs fantastic crown'd: To reign a private man, and bow to Freedom's yuke! Whether thou bidd'st the well-taught hind repeat

The choral dirge that mourns some chieftain brave, These, too, thou 'lt sing! for well thy magic When every shrieking maid her bosom beat,

And strew'd with choicest herbs his scented grave; Can to the topmost heaven of grandeur soar;
Or, whether sitting in the shepherd's shiel 3,

Or stoop to wail the swain that is no more !
Thou hear'st some sounding tale of war's alarms; Ah, homely swains ! your homeward steps ne'er
When at the bugle's call, with fire and steel,

The sturdy clans pour'd forth their brawny swarms, Let not dank Will 8 mislead you to the heath:
And hostile brothers met, to prove each other's arms. Dancing in mirky night, o'er fen and lake,

He glows, to draw you downward to your death, 'T is thine to sing, how, framing hideous spells, In his bewitch'd, low, marshy, willow brake ! In Sky's lone isle, the gifted wizard-seer,

What though far off, from some dark dell espied, Lodg'd in the wintery cave with Fate's fell spear,

His glimmering mazes cheer th’excursive sight, Or in the depth of Uist's dark forest dwells: [gross, Yet turn, ye wanderers, turn your steps aside, How they, whose sight such dreary dreams en

Nor trust the guidance of that faithless light; With their own vision oft astonish'd droop;

For watchful, lurking, 'mid th' unrustling reed,
When, o'er the watery strath, or quaggy moss, At those mirk hours the wily monster lies,
They see the gliding ghosts unbodied troop. And listens oft to hear the passing steed,
Or, if in sports, or on the festive green,

And frequent round him rolls his sullen eyes, Their destin'd glance some fated youth descry, If chance his savage wrath may some weak wretch Who now, perhaps, in lusty vigour seen,

surprise. And rosy health, shall soon lamented die. For them the viewless forms of air obey ;

Ah, luckless swain, o'er all upblest, indeed!

Whom late bewilder'd in the dank, dark fen, Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair.

Far from his flocks, and smoking hamlet, then! They know what spirit brews the stormful day, And heartless, oft like moody madness, stare (pare. To that sad spot where hums the sedgy weed : To see the phantom train their secret work pre Shall never look with pity's kind concern,

On him, enrag'd, the fiend, in angry mood, To monarchs dear“, some hundred miles astray,

Oft have I seen Pate give the fatal blow !

The seer, in Sky, shriek'd as the blood did flow, Or him who hovers on his flagging wing, When headless Charles warm on the scaffold lay ! O'er the dire whirlpool, that, in ocean's waste,

Draws instant down whate'er devoted thing

The falling breeze within its reach hath plac'd3 A summer hut, built in the high part of the The distant seaman hears, and flies with trembling mountains, to tend their flocks in the warm season,

Or, if on land the fiend exerts his sway, [haste, when the pasture is fine.

Silent he broods o'er quicksand, bog or fen, 4 By the public prints we are informed, that a

Far from the sheltering roof and haunts of men, Scotch clergyman lately discovered Collins's rude When witched darkness shuts the eye of day, draught of this poem. It is, however, said to be

And shrouds each star that wont to cheer the very imperfect." The fifth stanza, and the half of Or, if the drifted snow perplex the way, (night; the sixth, say those prints, being deficient, has been

With treacherous gleam he lures the fated wight, supplied by Mr. Mackenzie; whose lines are here and leads him floundering on and quite astray.” annexed, for the purpose of comparison, and to do

5 By young Aurora, Collins undoubtedly meant justice to the elegant author of the Man of Peeling. the first appearance of the northern lights, which “ Or on some bellying rock that shades the deep, happened about the year 1715; at least, it is most

They view the lurid signs that cross the sky, highly probable, from this peculiar circumstance,

Where in the west the brooding tempests lie; that no antient writer whatever has taken any noAnd hear their first, faint, rustling pennons sweep. tice of them, nor even any one modern, previous to Or in the arched cave, where deep and dark the above period.

The broad, unbroken billows heave and swell, 6 Second sight is the term that is used for the In horrid musings rapt, they sit to mark

divination of the Highlanders. The lab'ring Moon; or list the nightly yell

7 The late duke of Cumberland, who defeated Of that dread spirit, whose gigantic form

the pretender at the battle of Culloden. The seer's entranced eye can well survey,

8 A fiery meteor, called by various names, such Through the dim air who guides the driving storm, as Will with the Wisp, Jack with the Lantern, &c.

And points the wretched bark its destin'd prey. It lovers in the air over marshy and fenny places.' But instant, furious, raise the whelming flood And of its eggs despoil the solan's nest. D'er its drown'd banks, forbidding all return ! Thus blest in primal innocence they live, Or, if he meditate his wish'd escape,

Suffic'd and happy with that frugal fare To some dim hill that seems uprising near,

Which tasteful toil and hourly danger give. To bis faint eye, the grim and grisly shape, Hard is their shallow soil, and bleak and bare; In all its terrours clad, shall wild appear.

Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there! Meantime the watery surge shall round him rise, Nor need'st thou blush that such false themes enPour'd sudden forth from every swelling source ! Thy gentle mind, of fairer stores possest; [gage

What now remains but tears and hopeless sighs ? For not alone they touch the village breast, His fear-shook limbs have lost their youthly force, But filld in elder time th' historic page. (crown'd, And down the waves he floats, a pale and breathless There, Shakespeare's self, with ev'ry garland corse !

Flew to those fairy elimes his fancy sheen, For him in vain his anxious wife shall wait,

In musing hour; his wayward sįsters found,

And with their terrours dress'd the magic scene. Or wander forth to meet him on his way ;

From them he sung, when, ʼmid his bold design, For him in vain, at to-fall of the day, His babes shall linger at th' unclosing gate;

Before the Scot, afflicted, and aghast !

The shadowy kings of Banquo's fated line Ah, ne'er shall he return! Alone, if night

Through the dark cave in gleamy pageant pass'd. Her travellid limbs in broken slumbers steep,

Proceed! nor quit the tales which, simply told, With drooping willows drest his mournful sprite

Could once so well my answering bosom pierce; Shall visit sad, perchance, ber silent sleep:

Proceed, in forceful sounds, and colour bold, Then he perhaps, with moist and watery hand, Shall fundly seem to press her shuddering cheek, To such adapt thy lyre, and suit thy powerful verse.

The native legends of thy land rehearse; And with his blue-swoln face before her stand,

And, shivering cold, these piteous accents speak: In scenes like these, which, daring to depart “ Pursue, dear wife, thy daily toils, pursue,

From sober truth, are still to Nature true, At dawn or dusk, industrious as before;

And call forth fresh delight to Fancy's view, Nor e'er of me one helpless thought renew,

Th'heroic Muse employ'd her Tasso's art. While I lie weltering on the osier'd shore,

How have I trembled, when, at Tancred's stroke, Drown'd by the Kelpie's 9 wrath, nor e'er shall aid Its gushing blood the gaping cypress pour'd ! thee more!"

When each live plant with mortal accents spoke,

And the wild blast upheav'd the vanish'd sword! Unbounded is thy range; with varied skill (spring How have 1 sat, when pip'd the pensive wind,

Thy Muse may, like those feathery tribes which To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung!

From their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing Prevailing poet! whose undoubting mind Round the moist marge of each cold Hebrid isle, Believ'd the magic wonders which he sung!

To that hoar pile 10 which still its ruin shows: Hence, at each sound, imagination glows ! In whose small vaults a Pigmy-folk is found, Hence, at each picture, vivid life starts here !

Whose bones the delver with his spade upthrows, Hence his warm lay with softest sweetness flows! And cullsthem, wond'ring, from the ballow'd ground! Melting it flows, pure, murmuring, strong, and clear, Or thither ", where beneath the show'ry west And fills th’ empassion'd heart, and wins th' harThe mighty kings of three fair realms are laid :

monious ear! Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest, All hail, ye scenes that o'er

' my soul prevail ! No slaves revere them, and no wars invade :

Ye splendid friths and lakes, which, far away, Yet frequent now, at midnight solemn hour,

Are by smooth Anan 13 fill?d, or past'ral Tay '3, The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold, Or Don's 13 romantic springs, at distance, hail! And forth the monarchs stalk with sovereign power, The time shall come, when I, perhaps, may tread . In pageant robes, and wreath'd with sheeny gold,

Your lowly glens14 o'erhung with spreading broom; And on their twilight tombs aërial council hold.

Or o'er your stretching heaths, by Fancy led; But, oh, o'er all, forget not Kilda's race, (tides, Then will I dress once more the faded bower,

Or o'er your mountains creep, in awful gloom! On whose bleak rocks, which brave the wasting Fair Nature's daughter, Virtue, yet abides.

Where Jonson sat in Drummond's classic shade'5; Go ! just, as they, their blameless manners trace!

Or crop, from Tiviotdale, each lyric flower, [laid ! Then to my ear transmit some gentle song,

And mourn, on Yarrow's banks, where Willy's of those whose lives are yet sincere and plain,

Meantime, ye powers, that on the plains which bore Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs along,

The cordial youth, on Lothian's plains:6, attend! And all their prospect but the wintery main.

Where'er Home dwells, on hill or lowly moor, With sparing temperance at the needful time

To him I lose, your kind protection lend, They drain the scented spring; or, hunger-prest,

And, touch'd with love like mine, preserve my ab

sent friend! Along th’ Atlantic rock, undreading, climb,

19. An aquatic bird like a goose, on the eggs of 9 The water fiend.

which the inhabitants of St. Kilda, another of the 10 One of the Hebrides is called the Isle of Pig- Hebrides, chiefly subsist. mies; where it is reported that several miniature 13 Three rivers in Scotland. 14 Valleys. bones of the human species have been dug up in 15 Ben Jonson paid a visit on foot, in 1619, to the the ruins of a chapel there.

Scotch poet, Drummond, at his seat of Hawthorn" Icolmkill, one of the Hebrides, where near den, within four miles of Edinburgh. sixty of the ancient Scottish, Irish, and Norwegian 16 Barrow, it seems, was at the Edinburgh Unikings are interfed.

versity, which is in the county of Lothian.

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