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XII.

My name is Trụth, and you, each holy seer,

· That all my steps with ardent gaze pursue, • Unveil,' she said, the sacred myft'ries here,

• Give the celestial boon to publick view, • Tho' blatant Obloquy, with lep'rous mouth,

• Shall blot your fame, and blaft the generous deed, • Yet in revolving years some lib'ral youth

Shall crown your virtuous act with glory's meed; y Your names adorn'd in Gilpin’s * polish'd page

With each historick grace, shall shine thro' ev'ry age 1

XIII.
With furious hate, tho' fierce relentless pow'r

• Exert of torment all her horrid skill;
: Tho' your lives meet too soon the fatal hour,

• Scorching in flames, or writhing on the wheel; • Yet when the dragon + in the deep abyss

• Shall lie, fast bound in adamantine chain,
Ye with the Lamb shall rise to ceaseless bliss,
• First-fruits of death, and partners of his reign ;

Then shall repay the momentary tear, r

The great fabbatick rest, the Millennary Year !!

The Rev. Mr. William Gilpin, author of the Lives of Bernard Gilpin and Bishop Latimer, and of the Lives of Wickliffe and the principal of his followers.

+ See Rev. chap. xx. and the learned and ingenious Bishop of Bristol's comment upon it, in the third volume of his Differtation on the Prophecies.

DUN

DUNNOTTER CASTLE.

BY MISS SCOTT.

D

UNNOTTER's ruin'd pride, and falling towers,

I fing, O Walker * ! and the song is yours.
With you I wander'd o'er the moss-grown domes;
Still o'er the scene with you my fancy roams;
Still the idea rises to my view,
With gloomy grandeur, pleasure ever new!
The rolling main, the rock's ftupendous height,
A striking prospect ! swim before my sight.
In flowing verse now be the scene display'd,
Muse, Fancy, Memory, I crave your aid !

High on a rock, projecting from the land,
The castle stood, and still it's ruins stand;
Wide o'er the German main the prospect bent,
Steep is the path, and rugged the ascent ;
And when with labour climb'd the narrow way,
Long sounding-vaults receive you from the day.
There hung the huge port-cullis, there the bar,
Drawn on the iron-gate, defy'd the war.
Ah, great Dunnotter! once of strength the seat!
Once deem'd impregnable ! thou yield'st to Fate!
'Nor rocks, nor fe'is, nor arms, thy gates defend
Thy pride is fallen, thy ancient glories end !
Up from the gate we climb the slipp’ry way,
Still falling turrets, mould'ring towers, survey;
The walls and caves with various moss o'ergrown,
And threat'ning nods on high the loosen'd stone,
Slowly we mount, thro' broken arches creep,
And gain at last the summit of the steep;

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The Bev. Mr. Walker, minister of the parish of Dunnotter,

Curious

Curious around the airy height we gaze,
There the great well it's ample round displays,
A vaft circumference, and depth profound,
Now fill'd with ruins of the falling mound.
There stood the palace, rais’d in air sublime,
On rows of vaults that seem'd to mock at Time;
Yet he asserts his power, and claims his prey ;
They break, they fall! what can resist his sway!

Here, thro' innumerable vaults we run,
Cold, dreary, damp, impervious to the fun,
Brown with the rust of years ; and from their tops
Incessantly the oozing moisture drops.
We leave thé gloom, the wheeling steps ascend,
Our walk along the rooflefs palace bend;
Here, thro' the long apartments as we pass,
The soft wind whistles thro' the waving grass,
That cloaths the pavement, crowns the naked walls,
Of broken turrets and deserted halls.

Here, once the seat of many a mighty name,
The jack-daws chatter, and the fea-fowl scream!
Here dwelt great Ogilvie, and held the tower,
The last that yielded to th' usurper's power ;
By honest craft from hence the crown convey'd,
And Caledonia's gems in safety laid :
Nor hopes of favour, nor the threats of power,
Could shake his soul, or his fix'd heart allure.
Firm as the rocks, he and his daring wife
Endur'd the torture, scorning fhameful life ;
And kept the charge, till Heav'n their king restor’d;
Then fent, uninjur'd, to their rightful lord.

Glorious defenders of the regal gold,
Illustrious Caledonians, patriots bold !
With joy your heroism I rehearse,
And give your mem'ry all I can-a verse.
O
may

this land your guardian care engage, Your great example fire with gen'rous rage, And rouze to glorious deeds each future age!

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Thou,

Thou, Barras, hear! and deign t'approve the lays,
That aim thy valiant ancestors to praise !

Now turning from the walls, high o'er the steep
Impending cliff, we view the boundless deep;
All round the winding coast, black rocks arise,
And with uncouth variety surprize :
The waves roll flow and silent to the thore,
Then lalh the craggy beach, and fullen roar;
From rock to rock the breaking surge rebounds,
While endless echoes catch and swell the sounds.
The
green

fea here with ceaseless fury raves,
And tosses high in air her raging waves ;
Bursting they fall with loud repeated shock,
And in white torrents pour along the rock ;
Whilft oft from shore in peace the ocean lies,
Ting'd with the colour of the glowing skies,
The gentle breezes sport upon the deep,
And, murm’ring soft, the vast expansion sweep;
Refulgent Phæbus, in meridian height,
Enrobes the lucid waves with mellow light;
The sparkling beams on the small surface play,
And streams of foam float on the wat’ry way.

Here let description cease; but still prolong
Thy talk, O Muse! and moralize the fong.
Think, all who gaze on fam'd Dunnotter's wall,
Like it shall all terrestrial glories fall!
Youth flies apace, frail beauty meets decay ;
The mighty's strength, like ice; shall melt away.
Riches take wings ; and Fame's far-founding boast,
Shall die away-the pride of pow'r be loft.
Health, pleasure, life, shall pafs, a fading low'r,
Sport of a day, and pageant of an hour !
Fix not on these thy heart ; but rise sublime,
And seek a bliss, unmov'd by fate or time:
Virtile alone can give eternal joy,
No chance can alser, no poffeffion cloy!

Virtke,

Virtue, like this great rock, stands firmly brave,
And scorns the ebb or flow of Fortune's wave;
Unmov'd the storms of life can calmly bear,
Collected in itfelf, and void of fear !
E’en when these rocks and feas fhall pass away,
And that bright orb no longer rule the day,
Virtue shall stand the test, like gold refin'd,
And beam immortal radiance on the mind;
Thro' endless ages gain increasing store
Of light and life, of joy, and active pow'r,
And bloom when time and nature are no more!

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TH

HE midnight clock has toll'd ; and hark, the bell

of death beats flow! heard ye the note profound? It pauses now; and now, with rifing knell,

Flings to the hollow gale it's sullen found. Yes; Coventry is dead. Attend the strain,

Daughters of Albion ! ye that, light as air, So oft have tripp'd in her fantastick train,

With hearts as gay, and faces half as fair ; For she was fair beyond your brightest bloom ;

(This Envy owns, since now her bloom is filed ;) Fair as the forms that, wove in Fancy's loom,

Float in light vision round the poet's head.
Whene'er with soft serenity she smild,

Or caught the orient blush of quick surprize,
How sweetly mutable, how brightly wild,
The liquid luftre darted from her eyes!

Each

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