ADVERTISEMENT.

TH

HERE is fomething Romantic in the Story of the following POEM; but the Author has his Reasons for believing that there is something likewise, Authentic. On the fimple Circumftances of the ancient Narrative, from which He firft borrowed his Idea, those Reasons are principally founded, and they are fupported by others, with which, in a Work of this Kind, to trouble his Readers would be fuperfluous.

OWEN OF

OF CARRON.

N CARRON's fide the primrose pale,
Why does it wear a purple hue?

Ye maidens fair of Marlivale,

Why ftream your eyes with pity's dew?

'Tis all with gentle OWEN's blood
That purple grows the primrose pale;
That pity pours the tender flood
From each fair eye in Marlivale.

The evening ftar fate in his eye,
The fun his golden treffes gave,
The north's pure morn her orient dye,
To him who refts in yonder grave i

Beneath no high, hiftoric ftone,
Tho' nobly born, is Owen laid,
Stretch'd on the green wood's lap alone,
He fleeps beneath the waving fhade.

There

many a flowery race hath sprung,
And fled before the mountain gale,
Since first his fimple dirge ye fung;
Ye maidens fair of Marlivale!

Yet ftill, when May with fragrant feet
Hath wander'd o'er your meads of gold,

That Dirge I hear fo fimply fweet
Far echoed from each evening fold.

II.

'Twas in the pride of WILLIAM's* Days,
When Scotland's honours flourished still,
That Moray's Earl, with mighty fway,
Bore rule o'er many a Highland hill.

And far for him their fruitful ftore
The faireft plains of Carron fpread,
In Fortune rich, in offspring poor,
An only daughter crown'd his Bed.

Oh! write not poor-the wealth that flows
In waves of Gold round ludia's throne,
All in her fhining breast that glows,

To Ellen's + charms, were earth and stone.

For her the Youth of Scotland figh'd,
The Frenchman gay, the Spaniard grave,
And fmoother Italy applied,

And many an English Baron brave.

In vain by foreign arts affail'd,

No foreign loves her breaft beguile, And England's honeft valour fail'd,

Paid with a cold but courteous fmile.

"Ah! woe to thee, young Nithifdale,
"That o'er thy cheek thofe roses stray'd,
"Thy breath, the violet of the vale,

Thy voice, the mufic of the fhade!

* William the Lyon, King of Scotland.

The Lady Ellen, only daughter of John Earl of Moray, betrothed to the Earl of Nithifdale, and afterwards to the Earl Barnard, was esteemed one of the fineft women in Europe, infomuch that she had feveral fuitors and admirers from Foreign Courts.

"Ah! woe to thee, that Ellen's love
"Alone to thy foft tale would yield!
"For foon thofe gentle arms fhall
"The conflict of a ruder field."

prove

'Twas thus a wayward fifter fpoke,
And caft a rueful glance behind,
As from her dimwood glen fhe broke,
And mounted on the moaning wind.

She spoke and vanish'd-more unmov'd
Than Moray's rocks, when forms invest,
The valiant youth by Ellen lov'd

With aught that fear, or fate fuggett.

For love, methinks, hath power to raise
The foul above a vulgar state;
Th' unconquer'd banners he difplays
Controul our fears, and fix our fate.

III.

'Twas when, on fummer's fofteft eve,
Of clouds that wander'd weft away,
Twilight with gentle hand did weava
Her fairy robe of night and day.

When all the mountain gales were ftill,
And the wave flept against the shore,
And the fun funk beneath the hill,
Left his laft fmile on Lemmermore

Led by thofe waking dreams of thought
That warm the young unpractis'd breast,
Her wonted bower fweet Ellen fought,

And Carron murmur'd near, and footh' her into rest.

* A chain of mountains running through Scotland from Eaft to West.