Imatges de pàgina
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TO MY NAMESAKE AND NEPHEW.

247

And when I oped mine eyes on day,

Behold, my cares were there !
And all the fancied fairy things

Like friends delusive fled,
Nor flutter'd longer on their wings

Around my dreaming head.

So come, my loved, my infant boy!

'Tis well thou shouldst be gay;
'Tis bliss to see thee leap in joy,–

Estranged to life's dismay.
Alas! that childhood should expire-

Sweet time of sinless bliss !
Alas! that aught should quench the fire

Of happiness like this!

LINES

WRITTEN EXTEMPORANEOUSLY ON THE BEAUTIFUL SCENERY

OP INVERARY-SO GENEROUSLY LEFT OPEN TO ALL TRAVEL

ERS

HI

GRACE THE DUKE OF ARGYLE.

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE MISSES M'CLEAN.

On Donaquaich's high-towering head,

In transport wrapt I lay,
Musing upon each hill and glade,

In all their grand display ;
Below me flowed the famed Lochfyne,
Between its shores of rock and pine-

Bright, calm, as autumn day;
While lovely Inverary shone,
Like spirit white-robed and alone,
Yet

young and ever gay!
The ducal palace of Argyle,

With grey enduring towers,
Lay in the sun's resplendent smile,

Among its shrubs and flowers ;

Glen-shera oped its beauteous vale,

And with a hill between,
Glen-Era's songsters skimm’d the dale,

Among the foliage green.
While far on high Ben-Cruachan rear'd

Her granite in the sky;
And dread Glen-Croe all dark appear’d,
Whose peaks the thunder never feard,

Though wildly it leap'd by!
Benlomond's summit, far away,
Rose golden in the light of day,

Beyond the distant hills;
And round each base came gushing on
The cataracts with ceaseless tone,

Which drink the mountain rills !
O! such an endless world of rocks,
Expands the exploring soul,
And man's most noble effort mocks;
For God hath made the whole.

Here let the Atheist learn to pray;
Then, chang'd in heart, wend on his way!

THE DAYS O' YOUTH!

DEDICATED, WITH SINCERE AFFECTION, TO MY MOTHER.

O WAE's me! wae's me for the time,

When I was young an' gay!
When heart an' hopes were baith in prime~

The world a summer day!
When carelessly I wander'd glad,

By hill, an' wood, an' glen:-
O wae's my

heart! its grown sae sad ;
Sae wae an' worn since then!

Its sweet to think o' early days,

Those sunny hours o' life;
As fancy yet in truth pourtrays

Their joys undimm’d wi' strife.
When a' things wore a mystic charm,

An' ilka thing seem'd strange ;-
When warld's cares caused nae alarm.

O wae's me on the change!

How sea-like seem'd each wimpling stream;

How high each hill appeared;
Though time has clothed them a' in dream,

Yet are they mair endear'd!
The valleys then were doubly green;

The flowers were doubly fair:
The hawthorn tree—the forest queen!

Embalm'd the passing air.

The merry birds sang shrill an' sweet,

Upon the leafy spray,
An' tenderly did lambkins bleat,

On ilka heathery brae !
The verra breeze that santer'd by

Sang saftly ’mang the trees,
While sportive flew the butterfly,

And gladly humm'd the bees!

How alter'd are their voices now;

Care changes them an' me,-
Age sets his signet on my brow,

An' dims my cheerfu' e'e!
Yet, yet to youthful hearts they're dear,

As once they were tae me,

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