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I breasted the billows of Dee's rushing tide, *
And heard at a distance the Highlander's song:
No dreams, save of Mary, were spread to my view;
For the first of my prayers was a blessing on you.
The mountains are vanish'd, my youth is no more;
And delight but in days I have witness'd before :
More dear were the scenes which my infancy knew;
Though cold is my heart, still it lingers with you.
I think of the rocks that o'ershadow Colbleen ;t
I think of those eyes that endear'd the rude scene;
That faintly resemble my Mary's in hue,
The locks that were sacred to beauty, and you.
Shall rise to my sight in their mantles of snow ;
Will Mary be there to receive me?-ah, no!
Thou sweet-flowing Dee, to thy waters adieu !
Ah ! Mary, what home could be mine but with you?
TO GEORGE, EARL DELAWARR.
The friendships of childhood, though fleeting, are true;
Nor less the affection I cherish'd for you.
The attachment of years in a moment expires;
But glows not, like Love, with unquenchable fires.
And blest were the scenes of our youth, I allow :
But winter's rude tempests are gathering now.
• " Breasting the lofty surge."-SHAKSPEARE. The Dee is a beautiful river, which rises Dear Mar Lodge, and falls into the sea at New Aberdeen.
+ Colbleen is a mountain near the verge of the Highlands, not far from the ruins of Dee Castle.
No more with affection shall memory blending,
The wonted delights of our childhood retrace: When pride steels the bosom, the heart is unbending,
And what would be justice appears a disgrace.
The few whom I love I can never upbraid-
Repentance will cancel the vow you have made.
With me no corroding resentment shall live : My bosom is calm’d by the simple reflection,
That both may be wrong, and that both should forgive. You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence,
If danger demanded, were wholly your own ;
Devoted to love and to friendship alone.
The bond of affection no longer endures;
And sigh for the friend who was formerly yours.
For time and regret will restore you at last :
I ask no atonement, but days like the past.
TO THE EARL OF CLARE.
“ Tu semper amoris Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat imago."-VAL, FLAC.
FRIEND of my youth! when young we roved,
With friendship's purest glow,
On mortals here below.
When distant far from you :
And sigh again, adieu !
Those scenes regretted ever ;
And we may meet-ah! never !
As when one parent spring supplies.
Together join’d in vain ;
soon, diverging from their source,
Till mingled in the main !
Nor mingle as before :
And both shall quit the shore.
Now flow in different channels :
And shine in fashion's annals ;
Without the aid of reason;
Nor left a thought to seize on.
That he, who sang before all,
As void of wit and moral. *
Repine not at thy lot.
And critics are forgot.
Bad rhymes, and those who write them ;
I really will not fight them.t
Of such a young beginner. • These stanzas were written soon after the appearance of a severe critique, in a northern review, on a new publication of the British Anacreon.
+ A bard (horresco referens) defied his reviewer to mortal combat. If this example becomes prevalent, our periodical censors must be dipped in the river Styx: for what else can secure them from the numerous host of their enraged assailants ?
He who offends at pert nineteen,
A very harden'd sinner.
Accept, then, my concession.
My muse admires digression.
May regal smiles attend you !
If worth can recommend you.
From snares may saints preserve you ;
But those who best deserve you !
May no delights decoy !
Your tears be tears of joy!
And virtues crown your brow;
Be still as you are now.
To me were doubly dear ;
To prove a prophet here.
LINES WRITTEN BENEATH AN ELM IN THE CHURCH.
YARD OF HARROW.
SPOT of my youth ! whose hoary branches sigh,