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Thro' many a wild, romantic grove, Near many a hermit-fancy'd cove, (Fit haunts for friendship or for love, In musing mood) An aged Judge, I saw him rove, Dispensing good.

With deep-struck reverential awe The learned sire and son I saw, To Nature's God and Nature's law They gave their lore, This, all its source and end to draw, That, to adore.

Brydone's brave ward I well could spy, Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye; Who call'd on fame, low standing by, To hand him on, Where many a patriot-name on high , And hero shone.

! DUAN SECOND. :

With musing-deep, astonish’d stare,
I view'd the heav'nly-seeming fair;
A whisp'ring throb did witness bear
Of kindred sweet,
When with an elder sister's air
She did me greet.

"All haill my own inspired bard I
*In me thy native muse regard
“Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,
“Thus poorly low !
“I come to give thee such reward
‘As we bestow. }

‘Know the great genius of this land “Has many a light aerial band,

* Who, all beneath his high command,
‘Harmoniously,

*As arts or arms they understand,
“Their labours ply.

“They Scotia's race among them share; “Some fire the soldier on to dare; Some rouse the patriot up to bare “Corruption's heart; "Some teach the bard, a darling care, “The tuneful art.

‘’Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, * They ardent, kindling spirits pour; “Or, mid the venal senate's roar, “They, sightless, stand, "To mend the honest patriot-lore, “And grace the hand.

“And when the bard, or hoary sage,
“Charm or instruct the future age,
“They bind the wild, poetic rage
“In energy,
“Or point the inconclusive page
‘Full on the eye.

“Hence Fullarton, the brave and young; “Hence Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue; “Hence, sweet harmonious Beattie sung “His “Minstrel lays;” * Or tore, with noble ardour stung, “The sceptic's bays.

“To lower orders are assign'd
* The humbler ranks of Human-kind,
“The rustic Bard, the lab’ring Hind,
“The Artisan;
“All chuse, as various they're inclin'd,
“The various man.

“When yellow waves the heavy grain, “The threat'ning storm, some, strongly, rein;

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*Tho' large the forest's monarch throws
“His army shade,

“Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,
“Adown the glade.

“Then never murmur nor repine;
“Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;
“And trust me, not Potosi's mine,
“Nor king's regard,
‘Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,
“A rustic Bard.

“To give my counsels all in one,
- "Thy tuneful flame still careful fan;
‘Preserve the Dignity of Man,
“With soul erect;
"And trust, the Universal Plan
‘Will all protect.

“And wear thou this'—she solemn said,
And bound the Holly round my head:
The polish'd leaves, and berries red,
Did rustling play; .
And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

This apparition issues from the class of local superstitions. It is a bold personification of that great word (alas! that it should be no more than a word) which gained the victories of Bruce and Wallace, that of William Tell, and still nearer to our own age, those of Washington, &c.

Generally speaking, the songs of Burns, in the natural or lofty department of poetry, are more dramatic than descriptive. Burns associates but few traits of the landscape which surrounds him with the sentiments he expresses. Possessing little acquaintanceship with letters, still less does he admit images

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