+ See note No. 38.

* A certain degree of emigration must needs take place, where the natives multiply very fast, and inhabit a barren country; but this, which to a people of simple manners and warm affections is a great, though necessary evil, was greatly augmented in the islands by the causes here alluded to.

* See note No. 39.

+ See note No. 40.

* Since writing the above, the author has been informed that KINGSBOROUGH joined the Royal standard in the American war, in consequence of which he returned home; and that he and FLORA both died in the Isle of Sky not many years ago.

NOTES

• 
  No. 1.
  Our hardy myrtle scatter'd fragrance round. --P. 22. This plant, which the natives call Rhoit , resembles the myrtle in its aromatic smell, though it is very unlike it in its leaves. It abounds in boggy places, and produces in rich shelter'd spots a berry resembling the bilberry, but of a larger size and finer flavour.
• 
  No. 2.
  To view each social hamlet's mutual plough. --P. 23. What the Highlanders call 'm Balli , is a conjunct farm generally occupied by eight families, living together in a kind of scatter'd hamlet; of these, four join together about a plough, each furnishing a horse, and all their rural toils are carried on in the same social manner.

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• 
  No. 3.
  While at the frugal meal the blue smokes rise. --P. 24. This is a provincial phrase peculiar to the North, and very emphatic as it is used there; they say, "He was a good man, for he could see from his door a hundred smokes rise on his own ground." And again, "He cannot thrive, for he put out fifty smokes in one morning ;" signifying the removal of so many tenants.
• 
  No. 4.
  Thus lives--the theme of many a plaintive lay. --P. 25. SIR JAMES MACDONALD, a young Chief, greatly beloved, and much lamented by his people. He died at Rome in the 25th year of his age.
• 
  No. 5.
  Repeats emphatic, "They return no more." --P. 26. There is a plaintive air which the Highlanders always play on the bagpipes at funerals or on other mournful occasions, which when heard out of Scotland, affects a Highlander much in the same way as "Ranz de Vaches" does a Swiss. The words "Ha pill, ha pill, ha pill, mi tuillidh ," signify, "We return, return, return, no more." The Author has heard it played to two parties of emigrants marching towards the sea.
• 
  No. 6.
  In peopled straths, where winding streams prolong. --P. 34. Strath is an expression peculiar to the Highlands, to the

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  North Highlands, chiefly; it forms that natural division of the country, which was highly favourable both to the union of those little societies called Clans , and to the separation of those miniature nations from each other; for there was a variation of character, stile, and even dress, betwixt every two straths. In the centre of Scotland are certain high mountains, such as Corryaric , Benevis , &c. which rise betwixt the eastern and western coasts, and from which the rivers descending into the opposite seas, originate. From these centrical mountains, which run from south to north, descend others in connected chains, running parallel to each other, towards the east and west seas, and losing themselves gradually in the flat country, or at the sea side. The openings between these parallel mountains are called Straths , and form distinct districts, generally watered by considerable rivers, as Strath-Tay, Strathern, Strathspey, Strathmore, Stratherick, Strath-Glas, &c. These are in general ruled by some nobleman, or great personage, who is Lord Paramount, as it were. The smaller proprietors commonly live at the mouth of a glen or narrow valley, in the openings between the distinct mountains which form these lateral chains. Through these glens run tributary streams that flow into the main river; and it is at the confluence of these little rivers with the larger, that the seats of the Chieftains are generally erected; while their respective clans inhabit the valley behind. Thus the very face of the country, and the natural divisions of it, serve to cherish that social spirit, and those strongly-attached little communities,

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  which nourish all the peculiarities of this singular race of people.

• 
  No. 7.
  And pay again their homage to the skies. --P. 39. The Highlanders naturally incline much to piety. In the parish where this was written, though most of the old people are totally illiterate, they generally pray most regularly and fervently.
• 
  No. 8.
  Some Genius, who by Nature taught to sing. --P. 40. A talent for poetical composition in their own language, is so prevalent among the Highlanders, that notwithstanding of many alterations in their customs, tending to damp the poetical fire, there is no death or other change in the neighbourhood, attended with any particular circumstances, that is not sung and celebrated, not only by those who are accounted poets, but by many others who are only moved by some interesting occurrence, to a temporary fit of enthusiasm. They talk of it as a thing hereditary and constitutional. The families of Keppoch and Glencoe , for instance, were all born poets; some excelled and some did not; but they all had a portion of this airy inheritance. The impulse, it would appear, is in some cases irresistible; there is an old man in the Author's neighbourhood, who seems to reverence the sacred impulse highly, for he will on no account set it to sale. It is a common thing to request one of hese gifted bards to decorate the memory of the depart-

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  ed, or sing the praises of youths who go abroad, and whose friends wish to have a tuneful testimonial of their merits; and though no stipulation is made, a reward is as it were gratuitously given, to preserve the dignity of the giver, and the delicacy of the receiver. The disinterested poet above-mentioned, however, whose compositions, (generally plaintive ones) have always a religious or moral tendency, never composes in compliance with any one's request, nor gains any patrons by his poetry; for he faithfully records the faults as well as virtues of the subjects of his verse. He and all his neighbours say, it would be very impolitic in him to compose for reward; because he never produced a poem but the birth of it was immediately followed by the death of one of his cattle! Being questioned why he composed at all at such a risk, his answer was, that he does it very seldom, and never but when forced by an irresistible impulse, for the benefit and warning of his neighbours. He seems to inherit CASSANDRA'S mantle, and in some degree her hard destiny.

• 
  No. 9.
  The downy cannach of the wat'ry moors. --P. 42. Cannach is the Gaelic name of a plant common in moory ground, without leaf or lateral outshoot of any kind, consisting merely of a slender stem supporting a silky tuft, beautifully white, and of glossy brightness;--these, lightly waving in great quantities over the dusky moors, serve the Highland poets as faithfully as lillies do those of other countries, for a figure to describe the soft elegance of a fair com-

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  plexion; their common simile for the glow of health or youthful bloom, is neither so apt nor so elegant; it is invariably the berries of the mountain ash. Perhaps nothing in Oriental or other composition can exceed the copious luxuriance of those numberless epithets, which a genuine bard uses to describe the hair of his mistress. It would appear that a fine head of hair was a most prevailing charm, by the room it occupies in all descriptions of beauty. It seems to us a very bold figure, when an Eastern Monarch compares the hair of his espoused to a flock of goats. What shall we think of the imagination of a northern lover, who describes the beautiful disorder in the tresses of his beloved, by saying they were all wrestling (cleachdach) with each other, and that they resembled numberless rays of gold linked together? The eye-brows, and above all, the long eyelashes, that add so much softness to the expression of fine eyes, are the subject of frequent and minute description. They have numberless phrases of peculiar delicacy and import, to denote the expression of the general character or particular emotions of the mind, in the countenance; and that harmony of speech and motion that adds such grace to the attractions of beauty. Their language is indeed richer than ours in this respect, and has more both of force and variety in its epithet. This circumstance, while it renders their poetry more difficult to translate, affords, at the same time, strong evidence of a delicacy of sentiment, and minute nicety of observation, which might be thought incompatible either with the state of society, or the place in society, occupied by these rustic poets; but of this more

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  hereafter, for the benefit of such as love to catch a feature
  

      "Of that all-gracious goddess, NATURE ;
  

  for it is those only whom remarks like these can interest.

• 
  No. 10.
  Now comes the day to Superstition dear. --P. 54. It is always about Hallowmas that the Harvest-Home is celebrated, when the peasants commonly dance the whole night long. This they do not only with agility, but with a grace and ease astonishing for people in their condition. The fact is, they are all fond of dancing, and much accustomed to it; they have generally a natural ear for music, and their unconstrained manner of life gives a certain pliancy to all their motions.
• 
  No. 11.
  And sunk in deep repose unconscious lies. --P. 58. To a mind apt to be affected by natural appearances, there is something awful, impressive, and even exalting, in a winter-scene, during the clear moon, or even starlight, of these regions; where the purity of the air, and the reflection from so many lofty mountains glittering with crusted snow, add a kind of solemn splendour to the stillness of midnight.
• 
  No. 12.
  Bright burns the hearth, th' enlivening torches blaze --P. 59 The moors abound in large logs of fir, which having lain covered with earth for time immemorial, are extremely dry

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  and inflammable. This the Highlanders dig up and divide into small splits. A bunch of these is called a torch. They spend the evening sociably in each other's cottages; and when a stranger comes in, the compliment is, immediately to kindle up the torches, which are burnt on a flat stone projecting from the wall. Music, singing, and reciting long narrative poems, are the amusements of their winter evenings.

• 
  No. 13.
  And heights by human feet untrod before. --P. 59. Going from strath to strath during the short stormy days, and over hills inaccessible to other people, often produces adventures somewhat similar to that here narrated, to the great promotion of hospitality and mutual kindness. It is astonishing how cheap a Highlander sets his life, when his cattle are at stake; yet it would not square with their notions of morality, to run the same risk for an equivalent sum of money.
• 
  No. 14.
  Where Maeshy leads her lucid stream along. --P. 60. Maeshy is a small river discharging itself into the Spey , about four miles from Loch Laggan , after gliding through a narrow sequestered valley, equally pleasant and romantic. The river is remarkable for the clearness of its waters, and for the equal size and fine polish of its pebbles.

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• 
  No. 15.
  "Where the free soul looks down to pity kings." --P. 61. Near the water of Maeshy , on the banks of Loch Laggan , stands a wood about six miles long, now fast decaying, said to be the only remains of the famous Sylva Caledonia , which extended from Dunkeld to the extremity of Rossshire . On two small wooded islands in the lake, are ruins of buildings said to be the ancient hunting seats of the Scottish kings, when driven by the Picts to reside at Dunkeld . What favours the supposition of their having chosen this secluded spot for their summer-retreat, is, that the celebrated parallel roads in Glen Roy , which could scarcely have been meant for the amusement of a subject, are very near the west end of the lake.
• 
  No. 16.
  "Where blasts in fatal eddies circle round." --P. 62. Corry is a Gaelic word used to denote a kind of circular cavity or bason, in the bosom, as one may call it, of a high mountain. This Corry is generally intersected by numerous small gullies, which convey the melted snow, or the moisture distilled by the clouds on the mountain-tops, to the centre, whence different rivulets have their source. In winter, snow lies very deep in these Corries, and the winds whirl about in them with singular force and velocity. In summer they are fertile in grass and herbage; but being situate in lofty sequestered mountains, only frequented by herdsmen in the grazing season, they are in general very little known.

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• 
  No. 17.
  Whose magic art the fatal blast unties. P. 63. The Corry , lying on the frequented pass over the steep mountain of Corryaric , has often proved fatal to travellers, and is held in a kind of superstitious horror by the natives. Whether approached from the south or north side, there are more than ten miles of uninhabited country to pass before one reaches it, so that the solitary traveller is deprived of all chance of help. Even since the formation of the military road, scarce a spring has passed without one or more falling victims to the cold or fatigue in this spot. The very year after the road was opened, eleven soldiers perished altogether, and many at different times since. This greatly added to the terror of the country people, who supposed the Corry to be inhabited by a spirit, that raised a kind of eddy wind, which bewildered and stupified travellers, who, when they sat down to indulge the propensity to sleep, the usual consequence of extreme cold and fatigue, generally slept their last. These accidents happening much about the same spot, confirmed the idea that they were owing to supernatural agency. Within these few years, however, poles have been placed at proper distances, which keep up the traveller's spirits, by ascertaining the distance and the path. The power of the spirit has now fallen into utter discredit.
• 
  No. 18.
  And all the wide horizon wond'ring view'd. --P. 64. It can scarcely be conceived how various, sublime, and

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  extensive, the prospect from the top of the Corry appears, or what a placid awe it diffuses over the mind. Every thing is so serene, so solemn, so unearthly, it awakes quite a new train of reflections and feelings;--it is a place where a mere usurer could not add up fractions, nor a mere gamester calculate chances. There philanthropy would be exalted into piety, and piety kindled into enthusiasm. In a clear day one can distinguish the east sea, from whence the sun seems to rise; and the west, illumined by his declining light. Loch Ness , which, from the great extent of its water at once commanded by the eye, from its lightness, purity, and salutary effects, and from the singular majesty of its boundaries, may be accounted the prince of Scottish lakes, stretches in full vista east from the foot of the mountain. To the west, in a district remote, wild, and scarcely accessible, appears Loch Garrie , one side of which, woody, savage, and gloomy, seems adapted only for the hunter; the other, gradually rising, smooth and verdant, forms quite a pastoral scene. Knoidart , and Moidart , with their broken and fantastic groupes of dark-blue aerial mountains, rise on the distant view like far-seen islands, emerging from the sea. Oich , a most beautiful piece of water, surrounded by sylvan scenery, and adorned with wooded islands, near Invergarrie House , fills the intermediate space; and to the north is seen the tedious ascent of Aonich , with a glimpse of the fine forests of Glenmoriston . These are the most prominent objects over which the eye wanders from the summit of this singular mountain; the country on each side declines so gradually towards the sea, that one is not

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  conscious of its great height till the clouds are observed rolling in volumes below.

• 
  No. 19.
  The mighty depths of Ness appear unfroze. --P. 64. The scepticism of Dr JOHNSON , with regard to a fact so well authenticated, and easily ascertained, was very unworthy of such a mind as his. At Fort Augustus , he could have been informed by all the inhabitants, that in the severest frost there is not a particle of ice even on the shallow edges of the lake.
• 
  No. 20.
  With streaming birch and hazel shades inclos'd. --P. 69. Glendoe , of all Highland Bhallis the most sweetly rural, and wildly romantic, lies just on the left hand as the traveller ascends the mountain Schicuman , by the military road, about two miles from Fort Augustus , from whence it is seen half hid in groves, like a hanging garden on the sides of the mountain, declining towards Loch Ness . That brave and worthy character, GENERAL FRASER , who was killed at Saratoga in BURGOYNE'S expedition, was born and passed the early part of his life in Glendoe ; and his brother has been heard to say, that the first distinction he ever obtained, was, being praised by the rustics, because he, a gentleman's son, would drive out his father's cattle barefoot, when the severity of the weather was such, that their plebeian children would not go out without shoes.

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• 
  No. 21.
  "Where gloomy Tarfe's inchanted waters flow" --P. 69. The steep banks of Tarfe are all overhung with hazel. Nuts are better and more abundant there than in any part of Scotland. This often leads people to wander on its banks, and has been the occasion of some fatal accidents, which have given rise to dismal tales of witchcraft. These the old people pretend to credit, to keep the young ones from venturing too near the craggy steeps.
• 
  No. 22.
  Reflected graces deck'd thy halcyon breast. --P. 71. If description could do justice to some of the most sublime and beautiful views in nature, the Author would endeavour to convey some idea of the splendid beauty of Loch Ness , as she has often beheld it at the western extremity about 4 o'clock in a calm May morning, from a beautiful garden, rich with blossoms, and sparkling with dew-drops.--Suppose, then, a watery vista, where you have an uninterrupted view for twenty-four miles, to the eastern extremity of the lake, bordered with mountains and rocks, often wooded to the water edge, reflecting their verdure in the smoothest and brightest of all mirrors: Suppose this superb mirror all at once reflecting a glowing rose-colour; then the golden lustre spreading over the sky, till the lake actually appeared one large expanse of fluid gold, bordered with shades of soft and solemn tints of various green.

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• 
  No. 23.
  When EDWARD'S iron sceptre bruis'd the North. --P. 72. The ruined castle of Urquhart , considerable remains of which still appear, stands on a point projecting into Loch Ness . It is consecrated by the veneration of all true Scots, for being the last fortress in Scotland that held out against EDWARD THE FIRST . The governor was called FORBES ; he and the garrison, it is said, were put to death for their sturdy resistance. His son, a boy of fourteen years, escaped, and was founder of one of the most considerable families of that name.
• 
  No. 24.
  Where wild romantic melancholy dwells. --P. 72. Fyers , situated at the mouth of the river of that name, so well known for its cataract, is a sweet sheltered spot, to which Nature has been very favourable; but the overhanging woods, the low situation of the house, encircled and overlooked by rocks, the hoarse clamour of the fall, and the mournful dashing of the lake along its shore, diffuse over the place a peaceful, yet affecting gloom, almost peculiar to itself.
• 
  No. 25.
  From every hill resound the loud alarms. --P. 74. At this enlightened period, which is indeed "Dark with excessive bright," the Author can scarcely be supposed to have gleaned so negligently in the plentiful harvest of knowledge, as to be ignorant of the contempt in

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  which the old absurd notion of indefeasible right is held. It is supposed there is not one descendent of those who suffered in the cause here alluded to, but is long since convinced that the preservation of our present happy constitution, the boast of Britons, and the wonder of the world, was owing to the failure of that rash unhappy project. But now, when this truth is so fully established, and so generally acknowledged, that it requires neither pious frauds, nor impious detractions, to maintain it; when our rulers have long since generously pitied the sufferings, rewarded the merits, and restored the property, of those heirs of misfortune:--Such facts afford pretty clear evidence, that they too could discern the lustre of private virtue and integrity, through the mists of political error, and could view, with compassionate admiration,
  

      "A brave man struggling with the storms of fate,
      "Even tho' his timely fall preserv'd the state."
  

• 
  No. 26.
  "Or fled for succour to some happier land." --P. 75. When the veil of death has long covered the unfortunate, and the storm of party animosity subsided, people are judged as they shall be hereafter, by their intentions. Adhering to that rule, we must esteem the sufferer, and detest even that cruelty which was said to be exerted for our eventual advantage, as if indeed there could be any advantage drawn from insulting the fallen, robbing the poor, and destroying the unresisting, in whose warm and upright hearts, a little timely lenity would have produced endless

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  gratitude; and whose loyalty might have been brought, by that means, to change its object without abating its force. The strong-holds of what was called Jacobite prejudice, are now so destroyed by time, forlorn, and untenanted, that, like other ruins, they only serve to vary a prospect, or adorn a description. Considering by what pillars of fortitude they were supported, and by what capitals of honour and gallantry those columns were embellish'd, one might think a view of such ruins well worth preserving. Behold it then faithfully, though not amply delineated, in the sequel of the poem.

• 
  No. 27.
  While round his bed the guiltless billows rave. --P. 80. The wanderings, sufferings, and escapes of PRINCE CHARLES , have been so often and so truly recounted, that it is unnecessary to detail them minutely here, especially as they would encumber and perplex the narrative with names of places and persons "unmeet for verse." DONALD MACDONALD GLENALADALE , for instance, who guided the PRINCE through Knoidart and Arisaig , and many other places more dismal than "Fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd," shewed as much fortitude, courage, and perseverance, on that occasion, as any hero ancient or modern; yet his name would greatly derange the structure of a heroic verse. So would those of the three magnanimous thieves, who were of the MACDONALDS in Glenmoriston . They were living within these last twenty-six years; and for some time

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  after the event here commemorated, often received small remittances, though it was never ascertained from whence.

• 
  No. 28.
  While thee, blest Youth! thy country's Genius mourns. P. 81. CAPTAIN MACKENZIE , whose Christian name and family have escaped the Author's memory, was a citizen of Edinburgh. His character was amiable, his manners uncommonly gentle, and his appearance prepossessing. He was just about the PRINCE'S age, and had a strong but handsome resemblance to him; he was greatly attached to the PRINCE , and the only one of his Scots adherents, it is said, with whom he indulged a familiar intimacy; for his cheerfulness covered a great degree of reserve, probably occasioned by his having been bred in the habit of suspecting and avoiding so many. Captain MACKENZIE had been so active, and was so well known, that he was conscious he had little chance for his life, if taken. When the PRINCE dwelt safely with the thieves, this unhappy youth was wandering about near Fort Augustus , with a small party of the defeated army. The whole country in that vicinity had parties of royalists dispersed through it, breathing rapine and slaughter; but their eagerness to apprehend the PRINCE , for whom so high a reward was offered, afforded the means of escape to several of the lower class. Captain MACKENZIE and his followers, however, were overtaken by a larger party of enemies; some of them fled at first sight of their pursuers, while others threw down their arms, in hopes of mercy. The Captain, by their eagerness to

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  take him alive, understood they mistook him for his master; he stood on the defensive with all the obstinacy of despair: This confirmed their conjectures, and they shot him, to make sure of the reward for his head. He cried out, expiring, "Villains, you have kill'd your PRINCE !" hoping, no doubt, to slacken their pursuit after him whom he personated. His head was cut off and brought in triumph to the camp, where there were great rejoicings on the occasion, till some prisoners who knew Captain MACKENZIE , recognised his head.

• 
  No. 29.
  And to their Royal Guest unwonted dainties brought. --P. 82. One of these brothers went every day into the English camp to procure wheaten bread, and had the address to get the newspapers from the officers servants. Considering gingerbread as the greatest possible dainty, he always brought abundance of it to his Royal Guest. He made a pretence of selling fish in the camp, and regularly heard proclaimed on the drum-head, in English and Gaelic, the reward of 30,000l. offered by Government for the head of the Adventurer.
• 
  No. 30.
  Thy worth and wisdom, FORBES, plead in vain! --P. 83. FORBES of CULLODEN , then President of the Court of Session; a man so rever'd for his wisdom, and beloved for his virtue, that his personal influence was beyond belief in such times as these; by dint of that influence, he prevented

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  the northern tribes from rising en masse , as they were much inclined to do. He wrote circular letters, with great judgment and address, to all the heads of families on the PRINCE'S landing, pointing out to those who could neither comprehend, nor attend to sound political argument, the inefficacy of their force and preparation, and the certain failure of an enterprize so rash and ill conducted. These, joined to his succeeding efforts broke the force of the confederacy, and divided its councils. His liberality in supporting the royal cause injur'd his fortune; and the contemptuous coolness with which he was treated by the Young Conqueror, who could not brook the idea of sharing his merit with any one, broke his spirit;--and what completed his disgust was, that his lenient counsels, in the hour of success, were despised and neglected; many being put to death for whom he interceded. He might be justly included in the number of those patriots, who
  

      "Clos'd their long glories with a sigh, to find
      "Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind."
  

• 
  No. 31.
  Till the mild evening star arose in calmer skies. --P. 87. When they left the main land, they durst not steer immediately for Sky , where they knew there was a ship-of-war at anchor, and that every landing-place was guarded by armed boats. During their wanderings on the sea that day, they were overtaken by a storm; the rowers being quite worn out, the PRINCE relieved them by turns; and when the storm subsided, sung and amused them,

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  by endeavouring to learn Gaelic songs. In his wanderings subsequent to this period, he made a surprising progress in that language, and, except on some occasions, when he was overcome by accounts of the violent deaths of his most faithful followers, he was not only patient, but cheerful.

• 
  No. 32.
  And near high Rasay's rocky border drew. --P. 87. On this day of imminent danger and severe labour, their little store of food and liquor was destroyed by sea-water; they hoped for a safe retreat the ensuing night in Rasay ; but the laird or his brother, on perceiving their approach by moonlight, warned them from the landing-place, and carried them some bread, wine, and brandy, through the surf at the risk of his life, informing them at the same time that Rasay , as well as Sky , was entirely occupied by the royal forces. They were thus obliged to set out again, and in the morning were chaced by one of the king's cutters into South Uist , an island belonging to the Clanronald family: they were so closely followed, that the Royal Fugitive found it necessary, where a rocky point intercepted the view of his pursuers, to spring on shore, and conceal himself in a cavity among the rocks. The boatmen pretended ignorance of the English language, and were dismissed as wandering fishermen. One of them found means, the next day, to convey information of the PRINCE'S landing to the lady of the place, who, though she wished not to intermeddle, shrunk from the idea of his being apprehended on her

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  domain. In this dilemma she was relieved by the calm resolution of Miss FLORA MACDONALD , then her guest, who undertook, of herself, and by herself, to supply him with food, and convey him off the island, which was done precisely as narrated in the poem. She, to elude the curiosity of the soldiers, took a maid with her, and at the ebbing of the tide wandered on the shore in search of shells, &c. When the maid, who was ignorant of her intention, was busied at some distance, she stole into the cavern with food and wine to the PRINCE , and appeared again without being missed. She attired him in a female dress, and with great deliberation requested a pass for herself and an Irish maid, whom she feigned to have brought over for her mother, to teach the spinning of fine yarn. This artifice was necessary to account for the uncouth, outlandish appearance of the PRINCE , whose size and figure very ill suited his assumed character. On their arrival at Sky on the Sunday afternoon, they were met by Miss FLORA'S stepfather, MACDONALD of Kingsburgh , a man of singular worth and integrity, who, when let into the secret by his daughter, set earnestly about co-operating with her; and not thinking it safe, on a day when so many people were abroad, to march such a strange figure on the public road, he went to an adjoining seat belonging to the Chieftain, then occupied by his widow, Lady MARGARET MACDONALD , and two sons, minors, and begged a night's refuge for his guest, merely on principles of humanity. The Lady burst into a passionate lamentation, representing how dreadful it would be to her to have him seized while un-

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  der her protection; or, on the other hand, to have the matter heard of afterwards, and her family disgraced for concealing such a guest. KINGSBURGH then determined to take him at all hazards to his own house: they had to go two miles, and a crowd of people returning from church, took the same road. FLORA and her attendant preceded, and KINGSBURGH fell back a little to share the conversation, and divide the attention of his fellow-travellers. He found them all engaged on one common topic, the aukward strides and uncouth appearance of the Irish maid. He told them it was a shameful thing, immediately after hearing the word GOD , to spend their time in conversation so idle and sinful, as commenting on the defects or peculiarities of their neighbours: The well-meaning rustics were abash'd and silent, and the maid walked on peaceably. They rested by the sea-side till all the family were in bed, when they introduced their guest to the dining-room, and KINGSBURGH summoned his wife to attend him. She was in great concern, not knowing, as she said, how to appear before Majesty. Upon being introduced, she knelt with much reverence, and was raised and saluted by her guest. She heard, with great concern, how he had lived for some time past; went and dressed a neat supper, at which she attended standing, while KINGSBURGH was prevailed on to sit. At day-light the PRINCE retired to a comfortable bed, provided for him in a private apartment; there he slept all day, and when he rose, his hostess folded his sheets and put them in a drawer, that she might preserve them to be buried in. He set off that night in a different disguise: the circumstances of his having

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  been concealed in that family, and of his female dress, were however traced out; in consequence of which FLORA and her father in law were seized and carried prisoners, with many others, on board a frigate then lying in the road, and taken to London , in order to be tried for misprision of treason.

• 
  No. 33.
  To ages yet unborn th' undying song. --P. 92. The Isle of Sky still retains, in some degree, its ancient pre-eminence above the rest of the Hebrides; it is the native region of Gaelic music and poetry. The inhabitants held their land on very easy terms; the surrounding sea poured all its riches upon their coasts, and even foreign luxuries, from the frequent passage of Dutch and Danish vessels through their straits, were obtained at an easier rate than in most other places. They had a succession of very learned and intelligent clergy among them, one of whom, DR MACPHERSON , father to the present SIR JOHN , was the first who threw light upon Gaelic antiquities. It is singular enough, that the Sky gentlemen, though more enlightened and informed than almost any set of people of their own rank, did not often acquire much taste for the English classics. Having early cultivated a poetical taste at home, that taste, formed on the simple and sublime models of OSSIAN , and the poets of his remote age, was gratified at college chiefly by the perusal of the Greek and Roman poets. MILTON was the only Eng-

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  lish poet they set any value on; they read and quoted Latin all their life after being at college; but, instead of studying English poetry, returned with a heightened relish to the admiration of their own. Hence the latter Gaelic songs in the Isle of Sky , abound with classical allusions. HECTOR , HELEN , JUNO , and VENUS , are there most familiarly used,
  

      "To point a moral, or adorn a tale."
  

• 
  No. 34.
  To FLORA long had vow'd his plighted truth. --P. 93. FLORA MACDONALD , who was a young woman of singular good sense and excellent principles, added to these advantages a genteel figure, mild, pleasing countenance, great self-command, and soft decorous manners. She was the daughter of a respectable gentleman in the island of South Uist; who dying very young, his widow, in FLORA'S infancy, married MACDONALD of Kingsburgh , who had one son by a former marriage. These young people, as they grew up, contracted an attachment to each other, and were in a manner betrothed at the time she was carried away prisoner.
• 
  No. 35.
  The just applause due to the dauntless maid. --P. 96. FLORA , on this trying occasion, behaved with astonishing composure and propriety; for she had death in immediate prospect, and did not indulge a hope of escaping. KINGSBURGH , her fellow-sufferer, was asked afterwards if

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  he did not feel a very lively pleasure in being relieved from the terrors of death, and restored to a family in which he was known to be singularly happy. He said, no; he was not in the least elated; the bitterness of death was over with him; he had divorced his mind from its dearest earthly ties, made every preparation for his change, and was quite resigned, in full hope of the divine aid to support it like a Christian. He had brought himself to consider lengthened life as merely protracted sin and suffering, and could hardly hope again to prepare himself for death at full leisure, in possession of all his faculties.

• 
  No. 36.
  That treacherous FLORA royal blood betray'd. --P. 97. It was truly in consequence of such a conversation as is here recited, that FLORA and her associates were discharged; and from the greatness of mind shewn by the Monarch on this occasion, there is room to conclude, that had not the royal ear been engrossed by inhuman and unwise counsellors, the overstrained rigour of that juncture would not have been permitted to stain the annals of a reign otherwise glorious.
• 
  No. 37.
  Preserves the simple manners of the plain. --P. 98. It is a fact, that during the time FLORA staid in London after her discharge, she received distinguished attentions from the discontented party; every day carriages waited at her door with invitations from ladies of distinction,

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  Page 136

  who loaded her with civilities and presents. She is said also to have had very advantageous offers of marriage, to have been much admired in her own circle. Determined however to assume no new character, incompatible with that to which she was resolved to return, she, with the finest linen and most valuable trinkets, always preserved a characteristic and national form of dress; she wore the Highland plaid, adjusted in the modest and becoming form then usual among Scottish ladies; and her gown, though the finest of the kind to be had, was invariably tartan. During the remainder of her life she received a pension from some of the leaders of the declining faction in England.

• 
  No. 38.
  And oft to want his liberal bounty dealt. --P. 99. FLORA was very happily married, and made an excellent wife and mother. Some of her descendents, worthy of their parents, are still alive. KINGSBURGH was a man of great worth and spirit, but affected a liberal and showy stile of living, rather beyond his circumstances, though these were very easy; this concurred, with other causes alluded to in the poem, to induce the family to emigrate to America in the year 1776.
• 
  No. 39.
  Endur'd the rigid law's forbidding frown. --P. 103. Nothing could depress the Highlanders more than the imagined policy of depriving them of a national habit which

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  Page 137

  they greatly preferred to any other, and found better adapted to the purposes of hunting, climbing the mountains, fishing, and above all, sleeping out in the heaths, which they often did, wrapped in the plaid, the colours of which were so well suited to the woods and dusky verdure of their high grounds, that they could come very near their game unperceived. They shewed great fancy and taste, both in disposing the colours, and adjusting the form of this variegated drapery; it was the manufacture of their women, and the distinction of their clans, each having had a sett (as they styled it) of tartan peculiarly their own.

• 
  No. 40.
  Where beasts were free, and free-born men restrain'd. --P. 103. The horror and dismay, the dejection and languor, which the disarming act spread through the Highlands, are inconceivable. All the lower class had arms which they used occasionally; but costly, well finished, and high polished arms, formed part of a gentleman's dress, without which he never stirred from home. They were at once his ornament and defence; and when they did not adorn his person, they decorated his house, where his own arms, those of his ancestors, the musical instruments they had played on, and the strange birds or animals they had killed and stuffed, constituted the chief ornamental furniture. With these arms too they always visited their friends; and as their way lay across moors and mountains, they seldom came to a house without bringing game of their own killing. After the disarming act, this resource, a very fruitful one in

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  Page 138

  these countries, was cut off. The deer then grew so numerous and familiar, that they eat up the poor people's crops in the night; and the foxes multiplied so as to threaten the total destruction of their flocks. Arms indeed are necessary in these wastes, not only to protect the natives from wild beasts, but to assist them in supporting themselves.

TO
SIR J***S G***T, BARONET.

     "The man of bounties, loving and belov'd."

WHILE on the meadowy banks of Spey ,
    Slow steals along the rural muse,
And sees the bordering flowers display
    Their native sweets and vernal hues:

And while she casts her pensive view
    Where bold Craigillachy aspires,
Now deck'd with heath-bells fresh with dew,
    Where blaz'd of old the warning fires * :

With glowing heart and trembling hand
    She strives to wake the plausive lay;
And wide o'er all her native land
    The voice of grateful truth convey.

And while she consecrates the strain,
    To worth beyond her humble praise,
The genius of thy native plain
    Will smile indulgent on her lays.

Oh, form'd to prove each feeling dear
    That heightens joy and sweetens care,--
The tender Parent, Friend sincere,
    The Consort blest beyond compare:

The Patriot Chief, who dwells belov'd
    Among the race his fathers sway'd;
Who, long his country's friend approv'd,
    Retires in peace to bless the shade.

Who when the dreadful blast of war
    With horror fill'd the regions round,
His willing people call'd from far,
    With wakening pipe of martial sound:

The valiant clan, on every side,
    With sudden, warlike ardour burns;
And views those long-lov'd homes with pride,
    Whose loss no exil'd native mourns.

From every mountain, strath, and glen,
    The rustic warriors crowded round;
The Chief who rules the hearts of men
    In safety dwells, with honour crown'd.

"For thee (they cried) dear native earth,
    "We gladly dare the battle's roar;
"Our kindred ties, our sacred hearth,
    "Returning peace will soon restore.

"No ruthless, mercenary swains
    "Shall ever quench our social fires;
"Our labour on our narrow plains
    "Shall feed our babes and hoary sires * .

"And when each tender pledge we leave,
    "Our parent Chief, with guardian care,
"Shall soothe their woes, their wants relieve,
    "And save the mourners from despair + ."

Beneath his mild paternal sway,
    The pow'r of cultivation smiles,
And swelling, proud, impetuous Spey
    Rejoices, while the peasant toils:

To see his banks on every side
    With crowding population teem,
And cultur'd fields their yellow pride
    Reflecting in his copious stream.

Well pleas'd he wanders near the dome
    Where every milder virtue dwells;
Where all the gentler graces bloom,
    And Painting speaks, and Music swells.

When frosts untimely check'd the spring,
    And blasting mildews hover'd o'er,
And cheerful Labour ceas'd to sing,
    And Plenty deck'd the plains no more:

To G**** she gave her teeming horn + ,
    Well pleas'd he pour'd the bounteous store,
And Want no longer wept forlorn,
    And fruitless Labour mourn'd no more.

To Woe, while Pity yields relief,
    While Truth adorns the plausive lay,
Our vows shall bless the Patriarch Chief
    Who rules the grateful banks of Spey .

* See note No. I.

* See note No. 2.

+ See note No. 3.

+ Alluding to an ample provision made for the lower class of his country, during the hard winter 1800.

NOTES

• 
  No. 1.
  Where blaz'd of old the warning fires. --P. 139. Craigillachy is a solitary mountain that overlooks the entrance to Strathspey , and has been considered for ages past as a kind of rallying point to the clan that inhabit it. On any sudden invasion of the Norwegians on the eastern coast, a fire kindled on some mountain near the sea, was instantly seen in Strathspey , and answered by another on Craigillachy , and that by another on Craigow in Badenoch ; so that the intelligence was in this manner often transmitted from the east sea to the west in three hours. By means of this simple telegraph, the whole country was up in an instant, to resist invasion. Craigillachy is the war-cry of of the clan Grant , and even within these few years, if one of them was borne down or injured in any popular tumult

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  Page 144

  at a fair or public concourse out of his own country, he cried aloud Craigillachy , and every person within hearing, allied by descent or marriage to the clan, flew to his rescue. The motto of the clan is, "Stand fast Craigillachy ."

• 
  No. 2.
  "Shall feed our babes and hoary sires." --P. 141. Quenching the fire is a most emphatic phrase in the Highlands, and never heard without a thrill of horror; it signifies not only the removing of cottagers attached to the soil by long possession, but quenching fires to kindle them no more, that is, depopulating districts once inhabited. It is easy to judge how much those who never quenched a fire must be venerated and beloved.
• 
  No. 3.
  "And save the mourners from despair." --P. 141. The Chief here alluded to is said at one time to have supported at his own expence four hundred women and children, belonging to such individuals in his regiments as were unable to leave any provision for their maintenance.

A
BALLAD,

                "Gentle lady, may thy grave
                "Peace and quiet ever have;
                "After this thy travel sore,
                "Sweet rest seize thee evermore."

OH , soft and sweet the evening sun
    Was gleaming o'er the meadows green,
The ploughman's weary task was done,
    And peaceful was the scene.

I musing wander'd o'er yon height
    "Where broom bloom'd fair to view;"
Whose yellow blossoms gaily show'd
    O'er violets darkly blue.

A little higher up I spy'd
    A roofless castle grey,
Where rooks and daws in clam'rous crowds
    Retir'd at close of day * .

A fenceless garden's sad remains,
    All ruin'd and decay'd,
And trees, whose branches scorch'd by fire
    Refus'd both fruit and shade.

Two shrubs in vernal pride remain'd,
    Fenc'd by their native thorn,
And bore the fragrant milk-white rose
    By YORK'S proud faction borne.

There, seated by a ruin'd tow'r,
    An ancient dame I view'd,
Who with a pensive, tranquil sigh
    Survey'd the fragments rude + .

'And why, untouch'd by wasting time,
    'Did that fair pile give way?
'And who are you that lonely mourn
    'The stately tower's decay?

'And why does still that cherish'd rose
    ' 'Midst desolation bloom?
'And in this lonely waste forlorn,
    'Diffuse its soft perfume?'

"Oh, long must I unpitied mourn,
    "Where mouldering tow'rs decay;
"Fierce were the flames that scorch'd their walls,
    "And fatal was the day.

"And long must tears in silence shed,
    "Bedew that rose so fair;
" 'Twas planted in the dawn of hope,
    "For royal brows to wear.

"My master was a Chief renown'd
    "In manhood's active prime;
"My lady was for ev'ry worth
    "Unequall'd in her time.

"Her father was a wily lord,
    "Well skill'd in dangerous art,
"(But truth, and love, and goodness fill'd
    "His daughter's gentle heart.)

"With crafty lore he led our Chief
    "A hopeless cause to join;
"To seat on Britain's throne a Prince
    "Of STUART'S hapless line.

"Do you not see yon blasted oak
    "By Heaven's dread thunder tore?
"Can April show'rs, or summer suns
    "Its solemn shade restore?

"Or have you seen the lofty flow'r
    "That turns to meet the sun;
"And did it spread its yellow leaves
    "When his bright course was run?

"They strove to plant the wither'd oak,
    "And water'd it with gore:
"They spread the tender leaves of hope
    "When fortune smil'd no more.

"How short, how gay, how bright the smile,
    "That cheer'd their morning ray!
"How dark, how cold, how loud the storm,
    "That raging clos'd their day.

"On Gladsmuir's heath a comet's blaze
    "Deceiv'd their dazzled sight;
"On bleak Culloden's bloody moor,
    "It sunk in endless night.

"Why should I tell what noble blood
    "The sable scaffold stain'd?
"Why should I tell what generous hearts
    "Ignoble fate disdain'd?

"I see thy dim and dewy eyes,
    "And spare thy aching heart;
"For in my various tale of woe
    "Thy kindred bore a part.

"When to the forest's deep retreats
    "My outlaw'd master fled;
"While vengeance took a deadly aim
    "At his devoted head:

"The ruthless Duke's fell mandate came,
    "And ruin spread around:
"Our Chieftain's halls were wrapt in flames,
    "With flames the turrets crown'd.

"High on yon rock, that to the North
    "Erects its aged head,
"Hard by the screaming goshawk's nest
    "He made his pendent bed.

" 'Twas from yon trembling aspin's boughs
    "That wave so high in air,
"He saw the wasting flames ascend,
    "In silent stern despair.

"But fury shook his manly frame,
    "And sorrow wrung his heart,
"When from the crashing roof he saw
    "The burning rafters part.

"On yon bleak hill that fronts the North,
    "My lady sat forlorn;
"In fear she left her home, to shun
    "The lawless soldier's scorn.

"With meek and silent awe she sat,
    "And piously resign'd;
"Fierce blaz'd her castle thro' the gloom,
    "Loud blew the eastern wind.

"Oh lady, shun the chilling blasts
    "That pierce thy tender form:
"Oh shun this dreary sight of woe,
    "And shun the midnight storm * ."

"The lady wip'd her streaming eyes,
    "And rais'd her drooping head;"
"Ah! where can I a shelter find?"
    "In broken words she said:"

"The owl that 'plains from yonder wood
    "May slumber in her nest;
"The fox that howls from yonder hill,
    "Within his cave may rest:

"But I, alas! without a home,
    "Must brave the chilling air:
"My friends are fall'n beneath the sword
    "That never knew to spare.

"The fire devour'd my father's halls,
    "Stern vengeance drank his blood;
"And loudly on my consort calls
    "To swell the purple flood.

"And can I seek a sheltering roof,
    "Or social comfort taste,
"While he a lonely alien shrinks,
    "Hid in the dreary waste?"

"Blow higher winds, blaze fiercer flames,
    "Rise o'er thy limits Spey ;
"No stronger pang my heart can feel
    "At Nature's last decay."

"Successive summer suns beheld
    "My lady's withering prime;
"But on her lord no sun e'er shone
    "In his cold native clime.

"In gloomy caves he past the day,
    "And by the taper's light
"Consum'd the lonely studious hours,
    "And hop'd the coming night:

"Then, when the world in slumber lay,
    "Through midnight darkness stole,
"And in my lady's faithful breast
    "Repos'd his sorrowing soul:

"Or, fondly gazing while he slept,
    "Hung o'er his infant son;
"And lingering, blest th' unconscious babe
    "Till glimmering dawn begun:

"Or, when the live-long winter night
    "Had lull'd the spies of pow'r,
" 'Midst faithful friends a gleam of joy
     "Shone on the social hour.

"With eager search the watchful bands
    "His secret haunts explor'd,
"And many a faithful vassal knew
    "The caves that hid their lord * .

"At last, with sad reluctant sighs,
    "He left the British strand:
"And sore my lady wept to leave
    "Her darling son on land.

"Upon the sea-beat coast of France
    "We dwelt in mournful guise;
"And saw afar, like hovering clouds,
    "Our native land arise.

"Not long upon that alien shore
    "My banish'd master pin'd;
"With silent grief we saw his corpse
    "To common earth consign'd.

"No pibroch led the loud lament,
    "No funeral train appear'd;
"No bards, with songs of mighty deeds,
    "The hopeless mourners cheer'd * .

"When midnight wore her sable robe,
    "We dug his humble grave;
"Where fair Narcissus droops its head,
    "And darkest poppies wave.

"We strew'd the tomb with rosemary,
    "We water'd it with tears;
"And bade the Scottish thistle round
    "Erect his warlike spears.

"And soon we left the fatal spot,
    "And sought our native shore;
"And soon my lady blest her son,
    "And clasp'd him o'er and o'er."

"On thee, my son, (she fondly cried)
    "May happier planets shine;
"And may'st thou never live to brook
    "A fate so hard as mine:

"And may'st thou heir thy father's worth,
    "But not his hapless doom;
"To honour and thy country true,
    "May'st thou his rights resume.

"And when my weary eyes shall close,
    "By death's long slumber blest,
"Beside my dear-lov'd, long-lost home,
    "Forever let me rest * ."

"She spoke, and died----in yonder grave
    "Her dear remains are laid:
"Let never impious murmur rise
    "To grieve her hovering shade!"

* See note No. 1.

* See note No. 2.

+ See note No. 3.

* The lady sat most part of the night on an opposite hill viewing the conflagration.

+ See note No. 4.

* See note No. 5.

* The lady was buried very near the dwelling of her happier years.

NOTES ON A
BALLAD,
FOUNDED ON FACT.

• 
  No. 1.

  The amiable and unfortunate lady, the subject of this poem, was the daughter of a nobleman who suffered death in consequence of having secretly abetted the rebellion of 1745. Her consequent afflictions are here recited with no exaggeration, no alteration of fact, and very little poetical decoration; the narrative is given just as the Author received it, at such a place, at such a time, in such a manner, and from such a person, as is here faithfully delineated.

• 
  No. 2.
  Retir'd at close of day. --P. 146.

  Workmen being now employed in demolishing the ruin, in order to erect a new fabric in the same place, suggested the idea of endeavouring to "Snatch a portion of those acts from fate."

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  Page 157

• 
  No. 3.
  Survey'd the fragments rude. --P. 146.

  The faithful adherent who delivered this narration, and spent fifty years and upwards in the service of this family, (by the younger branches of which she was regarded with filial veneration) died about two years since, and was buried beside her lady, at the foot of the eminence on which the ruin stood.

• 
  No. 4.
  The caves that hid their lord. --P. 153.

  It is a singular fact, but well ascertained, that this Chief, before escaping to France, remained nine years in his native strath, concealed in different places, though all that time a company of soldiers were quartered in the country to discover his haunts, and were so diligent in their search of him, that they have been known at midnight to surround a house where he was enjoying himself with his friends; and to enter at a door while he escaped from a window. His haunts were known to near a hundred people; though he never left them in daylight. Many of his adherents had caves dug for him in woods adjacent to their houses. His consort lived in a small house adjoining the ruined castle, where there was a concealment in the wall, to which he retreated upon any alarm during the stolen visits he paid to his family. Several of the caves dug for his concealment still remain. He was a man of good natural parts, but before his misfortunes a mere hunter and soldier, like other lairds of those times,

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  Page 158

  whose lives were too active, and too social for much mental improvement; but during this recess from the world, he made considerable literary attainments.

• 
  No. 5.
  "The hopeless mourners cheer'd. --P. 154.

  He died near Boulogne , as far as the Author recollects, and was buried, on account of his close adherence to the Protestant faith, in his own garden: This was a great additional grief to his friends, Highlanders holding the rights of sepulture in high veneration, which indeed is always the case where people are eminent for filial piety: Luxury looks neither backward nor forward, but merely dwells on the present, and centres in Self.

A
JOURNAL
FROM
GLASGOW TO LAGGAN:

AS the following Poem contains intrinsic evidence of having been written in an easy familiar manner, with haste too great for accuracy, merely to amuse a few partial Friends, it would be no compliment to the Reader's discernment, to endeavour to convince him of a truth so obvious. It will be more difficult to ascertain the propriety of submitting to the Public eye a careless effusion, so very local, that its interest might seem confined to the Dramatis Personæ who appear on the scene. It so happened, however, that some Friends who were pleased with the Poem, breaking through all injunctions to the contrary, not only took, but gave copies, to the great discredit of the performance itself, in which errors and absurdities were multiplied. This must be the Author's apology for including it in the present Volume.

A
JOURNAL
FROM
GLASGOW TO LAGGAN:

     "Then let me go, and hinder not my course."
     "I'll make a pastime of each weary step,
     "Till the last step have brought me to my home;
     "And then I'll rest, as after much turmoil
     "A blessed soul doth in Elysium."

DEAR NANCY , well you know my way,
I always do whate'er I say;
Of moral obligation fond,
I count my promise as my bond.

That you, who rhyme and rhymsters spurn all,
In verse should bid me write my journal,
At first excited speculation,
Till after solemn cogitation,
And much conjecture spent in vain,
The cause appear'd distinct and plain.
Your friend, and may I boast her mine,
LOUISA decks the Muses' shrine:
Late on their altars I survey'd
A bright but harmless weapon laid;
The gift, inscrib'd with NANCY'S praise,
Innoxious gleam'd thro' twining bays,
And shew'd how kind and true that heart
Where NANCY claims so great a part * .
You, fondly partial, wish to cheer
With music wild, LOUISA'S ear;
And vainly think my trembling hand
Can still that rustic lyre command,
Which once, when youth and fancy bloom'd,
Through Inchnacardoch's caves presum'd
To call sweet echo to my aid,
And every wood-nymph of the shade,
And every Naiad of the waves,
Where Ness romantic mountains laves;

To tell what joys my soul possesst ,
When you and Nature fir'd my breast:
When in the Penseroso grot * ,
The world and all its cares forgot,
We trac'd the tuneful page sublime,
Beyond the limits fix'd to time:--
But cease!--no more,--this retrospection
Will end, though soothing, in dejection.
To common life you now must turn ye,
And view it in my lonely journey:
To go alone I will not choose,
And therefore must invoke the Muse;
Nor fear the tuneful invocation
Should interrupt the wise narration;
Though NANCY owns that long possession
Confirms my right to dear digression.
    Come Muse, "As in the elder time,
"Warm, energic, chaste, sublime,"
Now, when my Joseph green is on + ,
And I just hastening to be gone,
Oh stray not by Illyssus ' stream,
Nor in the shades of Tempe dream;
Nor, lingering near proud Ida's rocks,
With laurels deck thy graceful locks:

Thy robe in easy folds to bind;
Or spread thy floating train behind,
Or scatter odours on thy hair,
Were here a vain and needless care:
No Grecian graces I require,
Oh! wherefore shine where none admire!
A kind companion of my way,
To cheat with song the lingering day,
Is all I ask, and NANCY'S praise,
The only meed that crowns my lays:
Then, let us quietly jog along,
Unseen thy form! unheard my song!
And more, thy beauties to disguise,
From vulgar ears, and curious eyes,
No more with charms immortal blooming,
But yon postilion's form assuming;
His hat your waving locks shall hide,
His coat your bosom's snowy pride:
Your sandals for his boots exchanging,
My motley baggage neatly ranging,
Like PALLAS , when disguis'd as MENTOR ,
You'll hollow with the lungs of STENTOR .
Yet stay, sweet Muse! may I presume,
Before we quit yon peaceful dome,
Thy genuine pow'r should aid my lyre:
Tho' gratitude the strain inspire,

Yet ah, how feeble proves the line,
To paint a heart so warm as mine!
To GEORGE'S SQUARE my view I bend,
Where health and virtue bless my friend:
Whose love, matur'd by twenty years,
In all its pristine bloom appears:
Unchang'd by time, by wealth unspoil'd,
With brow serene, "meek Nature's child;"
With modest firmness moves along,
Regardless of the fickle throng,
Who, pois'd on Fortune's giddy wheel,
Forget alike to think and feel;
The various duties skill'd to blend,
Of sister, daughter, mother, Friend;
The kind companion, tender wife,
Form'd to endear and sweeten life:
To her no selfish joy is known,
She lives for other's good alone,
And knows no care, no wish, no fear,
That saints and angels might not hear* .
O thou, to whom indulgent heaven
Has the superior blessing given,
To cherish soft this modest flow'r,
To cheer thy eye, and deck thy bow'r;
Though on thy placid easy mien,
No purse-proud insolence is seen,

Though gentlest manners, all allow,
Light up thy looks, and smoothe thy brow;
Though none, the public voice can tell,

[This and the following two lines are connected by a large brace in the right margin of the original printed edition.]

Your sister, careless of applause,
With grave rebuke will ask the cause
I rudely drew her veil aside,
And shew'd what still she wish'd to hide:
Besides, how can her precious time
Be wasted upon idle rhyme?
I've little time to write indeed,
But she less leisure has to read;
Her duties rise in such gradations,
'Twixt friends, acquaintance, and relations,
That sportive vacant case debarr'd
From entrance, only leaves her card!
    While slow I part with tearful eye,
And strive to check the bursting sigh,
Imagination's busy pow'rs,
Recal the weary languid hours,
When, tir'd of prate, and noise, and town,
I snatch'd my muff and tuck'd my gown,
And waded thro' each miry street,
To find D*********'s calm retreat;
Where mimic life adorns the wall,
And glows and breathes at P*****'s call * .

Hark! thro' the air soft music floats,
They're F****'s sweet unconscious notes,
Who heedless, hopeless of applause,
From care and company withdraws,
With flying fingers wakes the keys,
And teaches simplest sounds to please * .
Reclin'd in yonder elbow-chair,
With vacant face, and languid air,
Charm'd with simplicity and Nature,
Without constraint in air or feature,
Or musing sunk in trance extatic,
Or sudden rapt in flight erratic,
With earnest gesture keen haranguing,
Or pensive o'er the fender hanging;
Whatever wilds of thought I range,
Howe'er my varying humours change,
The friendly pow'rs indulgent bend,
To bless the never-varying friend;
And ev'ry candid eye may see
That never-varying friend in me.
Yon ample form, loose rob'd in white,
Who sits oppos'd, and loves the light;

And occupies the other corner,
In chair (we must not say of scorner),
Though jibes, and jests, and irony,
As thick as bees around her fly;
Yet what of these? her liberal heart
Above disguise, despising art;
Her open hand, discerning eye,
Prompt thro' each vain pretence to spy;
Her friendship firm, affection warm,
Might even envy's self disarm:
The "feast of reason" to dispense,

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Bid'st fragrant bays, an emblem fit,
Adorn the polish'd brows of wit;
And myrtle's beauteous verdure shed
Its odours round the lover's head;
And with distinguish'd garland bind
The friend and lover of his kind:
From Syria's vales th' immortal palm,
From Gilead's mount the weeping balm,
From banks of Siloa's sacred spring
The green and bounteous olive bring;
All fresh and blooming to the view,
And drench'd in pity's tenderest dew;
Then, with the various garland bind
This lover of the human kind!
    Thou dear abode of love and peace!
Where oft I woo'd the pow'r of ease;
Where friendship's smile, and vacant rest,
So often tranquilliz'd my breast;
Blest be thy roof!--Good CLAN adieu!
For see, the Stirling coach in view.
Well pleas'd the empty coach I see,
Thrice happy for the Muse and me!
How sweetly sad, alone to mourn,
And bid each vanished scene return;
No curious ear, or watchful eye,
My sighs to hear or tears to spy:

Or if the Muse, to cheer my way,
Should bid me sing what others say;
How soothing is the soft duetto !
Vain flattering thought! for lo in petto ,
A youth was hid, who from his nook
Survey'd me with observant look:
My dress, unknown to fashion's rules,
Myself, untaught in custom's schools,
He view'd--believe the frank narration,
With more surprise than admiration.
Now fitly plac'd, with little stir,
Save, "How d'ye ma'am,"--"I thank you, Sir;"
We ride thro' rows of infant trees,
Low bending to the northern breeze;
Thro' patches square of well-sav'd ground,
And villa's closely hedg'd around:
By formal bleachfields frequent walls,
By ditches deep, and strait canals;
And all the usual labour'd forms,
Where Art fair Nature's face deforms;
Where folks, who love all things a-row,
Still carry town where'er they go.
Now fairly enter'd on the fields,
Where Nature scenes unlabour'd yields,
And widening prospects cheer the eye,
Far from the city's smoke we fly.

My kind companion, now perceiving
My cloudy brow, and inward grieving,
With much good nature strives t'amuse,
Now questions asks, now tells me news;
Till, mix'd in social chat together,
We talk of politics and weather:
Found out the winter was so mild,
Mark'd how the furze with blossoms smil'd;
The stately seat, and cultur'd field,
New hints for disquisition yield;
Till, passing on from observation,
To just remark, and true narration!
All in the glad discovery ends,
That each had known the other's friends:
The man of law, well pleas'd, unfolds,
What beaux and belles, what wits and scolds,
He knew within my recollection,
Then on this motley strange collection,
We sit in judgment, analyze them,

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What beauties once adorn'd this spot,
Now so neglected and forgot!
The ivy, kindly twining round,
With which yon dodder'd oaks are bound;
Seems a sad image to express,
Of friendship faithful to distress:
The brook, that seems in dying falls
To murmur round the mouldering walls,
Now seeks the wood's obscure retreat,
And there, with cadence sadly sweet,
Awakes from echo's secret cell,
A sound like parted pleasure's knell:
With sighs we view'd the lone abode,
Then pensive musing onward rode;
Till on the heath, a ruin'd tow'r,
Memento proud of feudal pow'r!
With desolated turrets drew
From happier scenes our thoughtful view:
Thy ruin'd grandeur, sad Banheath!
Like Virtue's majesty in death,
At once o'er-awes and soothes the mind,
And tend'rest sorrow leaves behind:
Here BALMERINO'S warlike fame,
Gave lustre to his honour'd name;
Last of a long heroic race,
Who wont that stately tow'r to grace;

Firm to the STUART'S hapless cause,
His blood aton'd the injur'd laws;
Though by opinion's power misled,

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Long may its purest lustre glow
Round ELPHINSTONE'S distinguish'd brow;
Unvex'd with cares that haunt the great,

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And wait, impatient to depart,
With langour sickening at my heart.
Now rested, comforted, and heated,
Again within our coach we're seated;
Facetious now become and easy,
We shine in repartee, an't please ye.
The moor was bleak, the day was rainy,
And nought around to entertain ye:
Our wit at first was brisk and sprightly,
And went and came in flashes lightly,
But droop'd and languish'd ere 'twas long,
I sunk in thought, and rose in song;
And with ideal views delighted,
Forgot we were almost benighted;
By day's last gleaming we admire
The varied charms of Stirlingshire .
Emerg'd from reverie profound,
With new delight I gaze around,
And all the valour and the worth
By Carron's streams or banks of Forth ,
That bloom'd in SCOTIA'S former days,
And furnish'd theme for noblest lays,
Flash'd sudden on my kindling soul,
And all my pleas'd attention stole.
With partial view I fain would trace
The remnants of each ancient race:

And fond enquiring, wish to know
What turrets nod on yonder brow?
Do ERSKINE'S arms adorn the gate?
Or GRAHAM'S , who shar'd our hero's fate? *
Or RANDOLPH'S stem, renown'd of old?
What martial knights, or warriors bold,
Possest those seats, whose tow'ring pride
Adorns the hills on every side?
"That seat, (th' observant youth replies),
"Whose antique state attracts your eyes,
"A wealthy nabob t'other year
Has bought, nor thinks he bought it dear;
"Now mohrs, pagodas, and rupees,
"Familiar, frequent cross the seas;
"And no time-honour'd fabric stands
"Untouch'd by lucre's sullied hands.
"For now the low, degenerate race,
"Neglectful of their native place,
"And all the joys that Nature yields,
"In shady groves, or sunny fields,
"For meretricious pleasures pine,
"And bow at Luxury's spotted shrine;
"Their birthright pays the savoury mess,
"Their flow'ry fields the costly dress;

"Which their heroic sires of old,
"Would only with their lives have sold."
I ask no more--but muse a-new,
Till Stirling tow'rs engage my view;
Those ancient tow'rs of grey renown,
Which yonder lofty summits crown:
'Twas there by favourite's arts undone,
That JAMES immur'd his noble son * .
What joys might such a son impart,
To warm and cheer a father's heart!
But ah! in vain--that frigid zone
Which freezes round the envied throne,
Kind Nature's tenderest glow congeals,
And all the harden'd bosom steels.
'Twas here in later sadder days,
Which memory with grief surveys:
BUCHANAN , with indignant frown,
The princely petulance kept down
Of injur'd MARY'S pedant heir,
Who, born th' inglorious fate to share
Of old King LOG , came sousing down,
First honour'd with Great Britain's crown,
And, sinking in his bog profound,
Heard hostile nations croak around:
And while their clangour sounds a-far,
With witches only wages war;

And, skill'd in mystic lore, presumes
To match his sceptre with their brooms.
    But stay, return--my vagrant Muse
With such delight this theme pursues,
She and her grave historic sister
Would prattle heedless, tho' I mist her,
Of every Prince who held his home
In Stirling castle's antique dome,
Forgetful of my trunks and me,
The noisy inn, and KITTY'S tea.
    And now I fain would rise in pathos,
But that I fear to sink in bathos;
Of tragic woes the pensive queen
Herself should paint the mournful scene;
When, with a sad reluctant sigh,
My fellow-traveller and I,
Slow parting with the parting day,
Took each our separate lonely way;
While clouds that o'er our sorrows low'r,
Fell in a sympathizing shower.
    And now, my straggling locks adjusted,
And faithful Joseph brush'd and dusted,
I sought, but could not find, alas!
Some consolation in the glass:
Yet why at vanish'd youth repine,
And vainly labour to be fine;

Since, decoration's pow'r apart,
My friends all know and love my heart:
Now KITTY'S kindness and her tea,
That languid heart expand with glee;
Forgetful of the toils of day,
How sweet the evening slipt away,
While KITTY'S children and her Lord,
Well pleas'd around the social board;
By turns, in various ways prepare,
To soothe the weary wanderer's care;
Till, with the beat of evening drum,
The MAJOR and the supper come * :
With aspect frank, and martial grace,
Time-silver'd locks and jovial face,
Now see the worthy Major bend
To hail his trans-atlantic friend;
Now twenty years that fled amain,
With hasty pace ran back again;
On wild Ontario's woody shore
Again we hear the tempest's roar;
Again in courteous manner bring
Our presents to the Mohawk king;
Or view the bloody tomahawk,
Of the most potent PONDIACK .

    Blest be the Major's closing day,
And mildly bright his evening ray!
When, in the early dawn of life,
Alike unknown to guile and strife,
I cast my infant eyes around,
Where Nature's wildest charms abound;
While with enthusiast fond delight,
I gaz'd enraptur'd on the sight;
Then early on my opening soul
The love of truth and knowledge stole:
'Twas then the friendly Major first
My dawning love of science nufst ;
Pleas'd, grateful memory still reviews
His letter'd gifts * ; and could the Muse
Her favourites consecrate to fame,
Those hills should learn the Major's name.
    At twelve I take myself away,
By KITTY press'd in vain to stay;
Like fat SIR JOHN , I rather please
Within mine inn to take mine ease.
Rejoice, dear NANCY , and be gay!
For here concludes this tedious day.

* Allusive to a few elegant lines sent by the one lady to the other, with the present of a fruit-knife.

* See note No. 1.

+ In Scotland a lady's travelling great coat is sometimes called a Joseph .

* See note No. 2.

* Alluding to a picture painted from an incident related in TASSO'S Jerusalem, by a young lady possessed of very superior talents.

* A young lady whom the Author used to blame for neglecting the cultivation of her musical talents.

* See Note No. 3.

* Sir JOHN GRAHAM , the friend of WALLACE .

* See note No. 4.

* A brother-officer of the Anthor's father.

* See note No. 5.