FOOTNOTES:

This goodly frame what virtue so approves,And testifies the pure etherial spiritAs mild Benevolence?She with her sister Mercy still awaitsBeside th' eternal throne of Jove,And measures forth with unwithdrawing handThe blessings of the various year,Sunshine or show'r, and chides the madding tempest.

II.

With her the heaven-bred nymph meek Charity,Shall fashion ONSLOW forth in fairest portrait;And with recording careWeave the fresh wreath that flow'ring virtue claims.But oh, what muse shall join the band?He long has sojourn'd in the sacred haunts,And knows each whisp'ring grot and gladeTrod by Apollo, and the light-foot Graces.

III.

How then shall awkward gratitudeAnd the presumption of untutor'd dutyAttune my numbers all too rude?Little he recks the meed of such a song;Yet will I stretch aloof,And when I tell of Courtesy,Of well-attemper'd Zeal,Of awful Prudence soothing fell Contention,Where shall the lineaments agreeBut in thee, ONSLOW? You, your wonted leaveIndulge me, nor misdeem a Soldier's bold emprize;

IV.

Who in the dissonance of barb'rous war,Long train'd, revisits oft the sacred treasuresOf antique memory;Or where sage Pindar reins his fiery car,Through the vast vault of heaven secure,Or what the Attic muse that Homer fill'd,Her other son, thy Milton taught,Or range the flow'ry fields of gentle Spenser.

And ever as I go, allurements vainCherish a feeble fire, and feed my idleFancy: O cou'd I onceCharm to their melody my shrilling reeds!Tohenrysand toedwardsold,Dread names! I'd meditate the faithful song;Or tell what timebritannia,Whilom the fairest daughter of old Ocean,

VI.

In loathly disarray, dull eyes,And faded cheek, wept o'er her abject sons:Tillwilliam, great deliverer,Led on the comely train, gay Liberty,Religion, matron staid,With all her kindred goddesses;Justice with steady brow,Trim Plenty, laureat Peace, and green-hair'd Commerce,In flowing vest of thousand hues.Fain would I shadow out old Bourbon's pileTott'ring with doubtful weight, and threat'ning cumbrous fall;

VII.

Or trace our navy, where in tow'ring prideO'er the wide-swelling waste it rolls avengeful.As when collected cloudsForth from the gloomy south in deep array,Athwart the dark'ning landscape throng,Fraught with loud storms, and thunder's dreadful peal,At which the murd'rer stands aghast,And wasting Riot ill dissembles terror.

VIII.

How headlong Rhone and Ebro erst distain'dWith moorish carnage, quakes thro' all her branches!Soon shall I greet the morn,When, Europe sav'd,britainandgeorge'snameShall sound o'er Flandria's level field,Familiar in domestic meriment;Or by the jolly marinerBe carol'd loud adown the echoing Danube.

IX.

The just memorial of fair deedsStill flourishes, and like th' untainted soulBlossoms in freshest age, aboveThe weary flesh, and envy's rankling wound.Such after years matureIn full account shall be thy meed.O! may your rising hopeWell principled in ev'ry virtue bloom!Till a fresh-springing flock imploreWith infant hands a grandsire's pow'rful pray'r,Or round your honour'd couch their prattling sports persue.

FOOTNOTES:[14]This elegant Poem was written by a Gentleman well known in the Learned World, as a token of gratitude for favours conferred on his father, during the last war, whose character he has therein affirmed.

[14]This elegant Poem was written by a Gentleman well known in the Learned World, as a token of gratitude for favours conferred on his father, during the last war, whose character he has therein affirmed.

BY A GENTLEMAN OF OXFORD.

Declare, if heav'nly wisdom bless thy tongue,When teems theMountain-Goatwith promis'd young;The stated seasons tell, the month explain,When feels the boundingHinda mother's pain;While, in th' oppressive agonies of birth,Silent they bow the sorrowing head to earth?Why crop their lusty seed the verdant food?Why leave their dams, to search the gloomy wood?Say, whence theWild-Asswantons o'er the plain,Sports uncontroul'd, unconscious of the rein?'Tis his o'er scenes of solitude to roam,The waste his house, the wilderness his home;He scorns the crouded city's pomp and noise,Nor heeds the driver's rod, nor hears his voice;At will on ev'ry various verdure fed,His pasture o'er the shaggy cliffs is spread.Will the fierceUnicornobey thy call,Enslav'd to man, and patient of the stall?Say, will he stubborn stoop thy yoke to bear,And thro' the furrow drag the tardy share?Say, canst thou think, O wretch of vain belief,His lab'ring limbs will draw thy weighty sheaf?Or canst thou tame the temper of his bloodWith faithful feet to trace the destin'd road?Who paints thePeacock'strain with radiant eyes,And all the bright diversity of dies?Whose hand the statelyOstrichhas supply'dWith glorious plumage, and her snowy pride?Thoughtless she leaves amid the dusty way,Her eggs, to ripen in the genial ray;Nor heeds, that some fell beast, who thirsts for blood,Or the rude foot may crush the future brood.In her no love the tender offspring share,No soft remembrance, no maternal care:For God has steel'd her unrelenting breast,Nor feeling sense, nor instinct mild imprest,Bade her the rapid-rushing steed despise,Outstrip the rider's rage, and tow'r amidst the skies.Didst thou theHorsewith strength and beauty deck?Hast thou in thunder cloath'd his nervous neck?Will he, like groveling grashoppers afraid,Start at each sound, at ev'ry breeze dismay'd?A cloud of fire his lifted nostrils raise,And breathe a glorious terror as they blaze.He paws indignant, and the valley spurns,Rejoycing in his might, and for the battle burns.When quivers rattle, and the frequent spearFlies flashing, leaps his heart with languid fear?Swallowing with fierce and greedy rage the ground,"Is this, he cries, the trumpet's warlike sound?"Eager he scents the battle from afar,And all the mingling thunder of the war.Flies the fierceHawkby thy supreme command,To seek soft climates, and a southern land?Who bade th' aspiringEaglemount the sky,And build her firm aerial nest on high?On the bare cliff, or mountain's shaggy steep,Her fortress of defence she dares to keep;Thence darts her radiant eye's pervading ray,Inquisitive to ken the distant prey.Seeks with her thirsty brood th' ensanguin'd plain,There bathes her beak in blood, companion of the slain.

ON THE

DEATH OF MR. THOMSON,

BY MR. COLLINS.

THE SCENE OF THE FOLLOWING STANZASIS SUPPOSED TO LIE ON THETHAMES, NEAR RICHMOND.

In yonder grave a Druid liesWhere slowly winds the stealing wave!The year's best sweets shall duteous riseTo deck its Poet's sylvan grave!

II.

In yon deep bed of whisp'ring reedsHis airy harp[15]shall now be laid,That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,May love thro' life the soothing shade.

III.

Then maids and youths shall linger here,And while its sounds at distance swell,Shall sadly seem in Pity's earTo hear the Woodland Pilgrim's knell.

IV.

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shoreWhen Thames in summer wreaths is drest,And oft suspend the dashing oarTo bid his gentle spirit rest!

And oft as Ease and Health retireTo breezy lawn, or forest deep,The friend shall view yon whitening[16]spire,And 'mid the varied landscape weep.

VI.

But Thou, who own'st that earthy bed,Ah! what will every dirge avail?Or tears, which Love and Pity shedThat mourn beneath the gliding sail!

VII.

Yet lives there one, whose heedless eyeShall scorn thy pale shrine glimm'ring near?With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die;And Joy desert the blooming year.

VIII.

But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tideNo sedge-crown'd Sisters now attend,Now waft me from the green hill's sideWhose cold turf hides the buried friend!

IX.

And see, the fairy valleys fade,Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view!Yet once again, dear parted shade,Meek Nature's Child, again adieu!

The genial meads assign'd to blessThe life, shall mourn thy early doom,Their hinds, and shepherd-girls shall dressWith simple hands thy rural tomb.

XI.

Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clayShall melt the musing Briton's eyes,O! vales, and wild woods, shall He sayIn yonder grave Your Druid lies!

FOOTNOTES:[15]The harp ofæolus, of which see a description in thecastle of Indolence.[16]RichmondChurch.

[15]The harp ofæolus, of which see a description in thecastle of Indolence.

[16]RichmondChurch.

in the manner of GAY.

The doleful dumps I sing, and tearful woes,Ofmarianteeming with unlawful throes:The sheenest lass in Berkshire was she known,Of all that butter sell to Reading town:Not the seven sisters could o'er her prevail,The golden farmer's daughters of the vale,Tho' every Oxford muse their charms has sungAnd gravest doctors[17]join'd the tuneful throng.Ye peers! who careless of ambition, chuseTo court the labours of the past'ral muse;And all the wond'rous bards who try the layWhere black Cam rolls, or Isis' eddies play,Assist the labours of an humble swain,Rude to the pipe, and novice on the plain.Nine months successive now had rolled round,Sincemarianfirst the pleasing mischief found;In vain her hands had cull'd th' abortive weed,Nor aught avail'd the 'pothecary's aid.Her womb began with fatal size to swell,And sick'ning qualms the blushful secret tell:Then all in sad despair she made her moan,Lodona's waters echoed groan for groan."Ah! faithlesscolin clout! ah, luckless I!"And canst thou, cruel! from thymarianfly?"How often hast thou suck'd my panting breath?"How often swore to love me true till death?"But to the Justice I'll reveal my plight,"And with a constable pursue thy flight."Ah! how unequal, as our parson preaches,"Are this world's goods! and sure he rightly teaches;"For what to maidens brings eternal stain,"(Sad management!) gives honour to the swain."'Twas on the blithest morn of all the year,"When new-born May bids every shepherd chear;"When artful maids their rival fancies shew,"And well-wrought garlands bloom on ev'ry bough;"When gaudy fairs bespangle every street,"And lowing cows the novel pasture greet;"Fresh rose I,marianhight, from rustic bed,"The morning dream still hov'ring o'er my head;"Gay shews and sweethearts had employ'd my thought,"The kiss imprinted, and the fairing bought!"From lavander I drew the tucker'd smock,"And hosen boastful of a various clock;"The silver'd knot well scollop'd on my head,"And donn'd the sunday gown berob'd with red."Thus all bedight, and ready for the fair,"I sat impatient with a wistful air,"Expectingcolin clout, my perjur'd swain,"Who always follow'dmarianon the plain:"With him the moon-light walk I us'd to tread,"With him I danc'd upon the sportive mead;"That very morn had taught the snails to crawl,"And print mysterious letters on the wall."At length he came, and I with joyous meed"Mounted behind him on the pillion'd steed:"Sweetly I sung, he whistled to the lay,"Sweetly I sung the song, and sung the day:"What beauteous scenesbegan the tuneful tale!"And next I humm'dthe sweets of Arno's vale;"Thenmolly mogg, fair damsel of the Rose,"Andlovelypeggy, taste of London beaux."And now in view gay Reading strikes our eyes,"And all the dainties of the fair arise:"Here Birmingham its boasted ware displays,"There leather breeches hight, and bodice stays;"Here posied garters flutter'd in the way,"There painted hobby-horses seem to neigh;"Here belles in gingerbread all gilded over,"And little gew-gawh——ysact the lover."Shepherds and nymphs from every part repair,"All who from Oxford hills direct the share,"Who fell the forest, or who mow the mead,"Or drag in little boats the finny breed:"Her wide-mouth'd sons low-seated Henley sends,"And smoky Okingham it's tribute lends."But far didmarianall the rest outvie,"No cheek so ruddy, nor so black an eye;"Scarcedolly c——kthe daughter of the may'r,"With all the flaxen ringlets of her hair,"With all the snowy fulness of her breast,"In blithsome features might with me contest."All youths ambitiously around me strove,"Each gave some chosen emblem of his love;"One queintly bought the garters for my thighs,"While simple archness sparkled in his eyes."But all their fairings unsuccessful prove,"Still true tocolin cloutI held my love."——Ah! sly deceiver! you enclasp'd my arm,"And seem'd my saviour, while you meant my harm;"Far too unequal was the high reward,"My maidenhead must pay thee for thy guard;"Already warm'd with joy you win my heart,"And stamp a littlecoline'er we part."—Yet now, when nature fills my womb, to fly—"Nor yet one tear to issue from thine eye—"My slighted love to quick resentment turns;"Lo my blood rises, and my cheek all burns!"O I could tear thee as I tear this glove—"Go, horrid monster! I despise thy love,"Thy oaths I quit, thy fairings I resign,"Forget, renounce thee, hate whate'er was thine."[18]No christian mother bound thy infant head,"Some Turk begat thee, or some Papist bred;"Or dropt on Cambrian hills, a squalid brat,"Some she-goat suckled thee with savage teat."[19]—Go to thy drab, whoe'er has won thy heart,"And may the pox devouring make thee smart;"[20]My vengeful ghost shall haunt thee o'er the plain,"Yes, thou shalt suffer, villain, for my pain."—But ah! my rage relents, my sorrow flows;"Comecolin! faithless shepherd! ease my woes."And must I in the sheet opprobrious stand?"Thy plight is troth'd, ah! come and give thy hand:"My conscience starts, whene'er I hear a knell,"And is a little love deserving hell?"Too hard a penance for a sin so slight!"Ah how my heart misgives me every night!"When sleep has clos'd my sorrow-streaming eyes,"Then ghastly dreams, and hateful thoughts arise:"[21]All unaccompany'd methinks I go"O'er Irish bogs, a wilderness of woe!"Ah! my wits turn! strange phantoms round me fly!"Lo! I am chang'd into a goosb'ry pye!"Forbear to eat me up, inhuman rabble!"Cocks crow, ducks quake, hens cackle, turkies gabble."Thus as she rav'd, her womb with rueful throesDid to the light a lusty babe disclose:Long while she doubted of the smirking boy,Or on her knee to dandle, or destroy;Love prompted her to save, and Pride to drown,At length Pride conquer'd, and she dropt her son.

Ye peers! who careless of ambition, chuseTo court the labours of the past'ral muse;And all the wond'rous bards who try the layWhere black Cam rolls, or Isis' eddies play,Assist the labours of an humble swain,Rude to the pipe, and novice on the plain.

Nine months successive now had rolled round,Sincemarianfirst the pleasing mischief found;In vain her hands had cull'd th' abortive weed,Nor aught avail'd the 'pothecary's aid.Her womb began with fatal size to swell,And sick'ning qualms the blushful secret tell:Then all in sad despair she made her moan,Lodona's waters echoed groan for groan."Ah! faithlesscolin clout! ah, luckless I!"And canst thou, cruel! from thymarianfly?"How often hast thou suck'd my panting breath?"How often swore to love me true till death?"But to the Justice I'll reveal my plight,"And with a constable pursue thy flight."Ah! how unequal, as our parson preaches,"Are this world's goods! and sure he rightly teaches;"For what to maidens brings eternal stain,"(Sad management!) gives honour to the swain."'Twas on the blithest morn of all the year,"When new-born May bids every shepherd chear;"When artful maids their rival fancies shew,"And well-wrought garlands bloom on ev'ry bough;"When gaudy fairs bespangle every street,"And lowing cows the novel pasture greet;"Fresh rose I,marianhight, from rustic bed,"The morning dream still hov'ring o'er my head;"Gay shews and sweethearts had employ'd my thought,"The kiss imprinted, and the fairing bought!"From lavander I drew the tucker'd smock,"And hosen boastful of a various clock;"The silver'd knot well scollop'd on my head,"And donn'd the sunday gown berob'd with red."Thus all bedight, and ready for the fair,"I sat impatient with a wistful air,"Expectingcolin clout, my perjur'd swain,"Who always follow'dmarianon the plain:"With him the moon-light walk I us'd to tread,"With him I danc'd upon the sportive mead;"That very morn had taught the snails to crawl,"And print mysterious letters on the wall."At length he came, and I with joyous meed"Mounted behind him on the pillion'd steed:"Sweetly I sung, he whistled to the lay,"Sweetly I sung the song, and sung the day:"What beauteous scenesbegan the tuneful tale!"And next I humm'dthe sweets of Arno's vale;"Thenmolly mogg, fair damsel of the Rose,"Andlovelypeggy, taste of London beaux."And now in view gay Reading strikes our eyes,"And all the dainties of the fair arise:"Here Birmingham its boasted ware displays,"There leather breeches hight, and bodice stays;"Here posied garters flutter'd in the way,"There painted hobby-horses seem to neigh;"Here belles in gingerbread all gilded over,"And little gew-gawh——ysact the lover."Shepherds and nymphs from every part repair,"All who from Oxford hills direct the share,"Who fell the forest, or who mow the mead,"Or drag in little boats the finny breed:"Her wide-mouth'd sons low-seated Henley sends,"And smoky Okingham it's tribute lends."But far didmarianall the rest outvie,"No cheek so ruddy, nor so black an eye;"Scarcedolly c——kthe daughter of the may'r,"With all the flaxen ringlets of her hair,"With all the snowy fulness of her breast,"In blithsome features might with me contest."All youths ambitiously around me strove,"Each gave some chosen emblem of his love;"One queintly bought the garters for my thighs,"While simple archness sparkled in his eyes."But all their fairings unsuccessful prove,"Still true tocolin cloutI held my love."——Ah! sly deceiver! you enclasp'd my arm,"And seem'd my saviour, while you meant my harm;"Far too unequal was the high reward,"My maidenhead must pay thee for thy guard;"Already warm'd with joy you win my heart,"And stamp a littlecoline'er we part."—Yet now, when nature fills my womb, to fly—"Nor yet one tear to issue from thine eye—"My slighted love to quick resentment turns;"Lo my blood rises, and my cheek all burns!"O I could tear thee as I tear this glove—"Go, horrid monster! I despise thy love,"Thy oaths I quit, thy fairings I resign,"Forget, renounce thee, hate whate'er was thine."[18]No christian mother bound thy infant head,"Some Turk begat thee, or some Papist bred;"Or dropt on Cambrian hills, a squalid brat,"Some she-goat suckled thee with savage teat."[19]—Go to thy drab, whoe'er has won thy heart,"And may the pox devouring make thee smart;"[20]My vengeful ghost shall haunt thee o'er the plain,"Yes, thou shalt suffer, villain, for my pain."—But ah! my rage relents, my sorrow flows;"Comecolin! faithless shepherd! ease my woes."And must I in the sheet opprobrious stand?"Thy plight is troth'd, ah! come and give thy hand:"My conscience starts, whene'er I hear a knell,"And is a little love deserving hell?"Too hard a penance for a sin so slight!"Ah how my heart misgives me every night!"When sleep has clos'd my sorrow-streaming eyes,"Then ghastly dreams, and hateful thoughts arise:"[21]All unaccompany'd methinks I go"O'er Irish bogs, a wilderness of woe!"Ah! my wits turn! strange phantoms round me fly!"Lo! I am chang'd into a goosb'ry pye!"Forbear to eat me up, inhuman rabble!"Cocks crow, ducks quake, hens cackle, turkies gabble."

Thus as she rav'd, her womb with rueful throesDid to the light a lusty babe disclose:Long while she doubted of the smirking boy,Or on her knee to dandle, or destroy;Love prompted her to save, and Pride to drown,At length Pride conquer'd, and she dropt her son.

FOOTNOTES:[17]The Rev. Dr.wilkeswrote a poem upon them.[18]Nec tibi diva parens, generis nec Dardanus auctor,Perfide, sed duris genuit te cautibus horrensCaucasus, Hyrcanæque admorunt ubera tigres.[19]I, sequere Italiam ventis, &c.Spero equidem mediis, siquid pia numina, &c.[20]Omnibus umbra locis adero, dabis, improbe, pœnas.Æn. 4.[21]————Semperque relinquiSola sibi, semper longamincomitatavideturIre viam, & Tyrios desertâ quærere terrâ,Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus, &c.Æn. 4.

[17]The Rev. Dr.wilkeswrote a poem upon them.

[18]Nec tibi diva parens, generis nec Dardanus auctor,Perfide, sed duris genuit te cautibus horrensCaucasus, Hyrcanæque admorunt ubera tigres.

[19]I, sequere Italiam ventis, &c.Spero equidem mediis, siquid pia numina, &c.

[20]Omnibus umbra locis adero, dabis, improbe, pœnas.Æn. 4.

[20]Omnibus umbra locis adero, dabis, improbe, pœnas.

Æn. 4.

[21]————Semperque relinquiSola sibi, semper longamincomitatavideturIre viam, & Tyrios desertâ quærere terrâ,Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus, &c.Æn. 4.

[21]————Semperque relinquiSola sibi, semper longamincomitatavideturIre viam, & Tyrios desertâ quærere terrâ,Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus, &c.

Æn. 4.

ON A

PRESENTING A SPRIG OF MYRTLE

TO A

GENTLEMAN.

BY MR. HAMMOND.

What fears, what terrors does thy gift create!Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate!The myrtle, ensign of supreme command,(Consign'd byvenustomelissa'shand)Not less capricious than a reigning fair,Oft favours, oft rejects the lover's care.In myrtle groves oft sings the happy swain,In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain;The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,Th' unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads;Oh! then the meaning of thy gift impart,And cure the throbbings of an anxious heart;Soon must this bough, as you shall fix his doom,Adornphilander'shead, or grace his tomb.

WITH

FONTENELLE'S PLURALITY OF WORLDS.

In this small work all nature's wonders see,The soften'd features of philosophy.In truth by easy steps you here advance,Truth, as diverting as the best romance.Long had these arts to sages been confin'd,None saw their beauty, till by poring blind;By studying spent, like men that cram too full,From Wisdom's feast they rose not chear'd, but dull:The gay and airy smil'd to see 'em grave,And fled such wisdom liketrophonius'cave.Justly they thought they might those arts despise,Which made men sullen, ere they could be wise.Brought down to sight, with ease you view 'em here;Tho' deep the bottom, yet the stream is clear.Your flutt'ring sex still valued science less;Careless of any, but the arts of dress.Their useless time was idly thrown awayOn empty novels, or some new-born play.The best, perhaps, a few loose hours might spareFor some unmeaning thing, miscall'd a pray'r.In vain the glittering orbs, each starry night,With mingling blazes shed a flood of light:Each nymph with cold indiff'rence saw 'em rise;And, taught by fops, to them preferr'd her eyes.None thought the stars were suns so widely sown,None dreamt of other worlds, besides our own.Well might they boast their charms, when ev'ry fairThought this world all, and hers the brightest here.Ah! quit not the large thoughts this book inspires,For those thin trifles which your sex admires;Assert your claim to sense, and shew mankind,That reason is not to themselves confin'd.The haughty belle, whose beauty's awful shrine.'Twere sacrilege t' imagine not divine,Who thought so greatly of her eyes before,Bid her read this, and then be vain no more.How poor ev'n You, who reign without controul,If we except the beauties of your soul!Should all beholders feel the same surprize;Should all who see you, see you with my eyes;Were no such blasts to make that beauty less;Should you be what I think, what all confess:'Tis but a narrow space those charms engage;One Island only, and not half an Age.

ON THE FIFTH OF DECEMBER,

Being thebirth-dayof a very beautifulyoung lady.

BY MR. CHRISTOPHER SMART.

Hail eldest of the monthly train,Sire of the winter drear,December, in whose iron reignExpires the chequer'd year:Hush all the blust'ring blasts that blow,And proudly plum'd in silver snowSmile gladly on this blest of days;The livery'd clouds shall on thee wait,Andphoebusshine in all his state,With more than summer rays.

II.

Tho' jocundjunemay justly boastLong days and happy hours;Tho'augustbepomona'shost,Andmaybe crown'd with flow'rs;Telljunehis fire and crimson dyesByHarriot'sblush, andHarriot'seyesEclips'd and vanquish'd fade away;Tellaugust, thou canst let him seeA richer, riper fruit than He,A sweeter flow'r thanmay.

PROLOGUE

SIR DAVID LYNDESAY'S DREAM.

WRITTEN IN THE REIGN OF KING JAMES V.

In the kalendies of Januarie,When freschePhoebusby moving circulairFrom Capricorn was enter'd in Aquarie,With blastis that the branches made full bare,The snow and sleet perturbit all the air,And flemitflorafrom everie bank and bus,Throuch support of the austeir Eolus.

II.

Efter that I the lang wynteris nightHad lyne waking in my bed alloneThrow hevy thought, that na way sleep I micht,Remembering of divers thingis gone;Sa up I rois, and cleithit me anoneBy this fair Titan with his lemis lichtO'er all the land had spred his banner bricht.

III.

With cloke and hude I dressit me belive,With dowbill schone, and myttains on my handis,Howbeit the air was richt penetratyve,Zet fure I forth lansing outhort the landis,Towards the sea, to schort me on the sandisBecause unblomit was baith bank and bray,And sa as I was passing by the way,

IV.

I met dameflorain dule weid disagysit,Quilk into May was dulce and delectabill,With stalwart stormis hir sweetness was surprisit,Hir heavinlie hewis war turnit into sabill,Quilkis umguile war to Luffaris amiabill,Fled from the froist, the tender flouris I sawUnder dame Nature's mantill lurking law.

The small fowlis in flockis saw I fleeTo nature makand lamentatioun,They lichtit down beside me on ane tree,Of thair complaint I had compassioun,And with ane piteous exclamationThey said "blyssit be somer with his flouris,"And waryit be thou wynter with thy schowris.

VI.

"Allaceaurore, (the sillie lark did cry)"Quhair has thou left thy balmy liquour sweit,"That us rejoisit mounting in the sky?"Thy silver dropps are turned into sleit."Of fairphebusquhair is the holsum heit,"Quhy tholis thow thy hevinlie plesand face,"With mystie vapouris to be obscurit, allace!

VII.

"Quhair art thou May, with June thy sister schene"Weill bordourit with daseis of delyte?"And gentill Julie, with thy mantill grene,"Enamelit with rosis reid and quhyte?"Now auld and cauld Januar in dispyte"Reissis from us all pastime and plesure"Allace! quhait gentle hart may this indure?

VIII.

"Ovirsilit ar with cloudis odious"The goldin skyis of the orient,"Changeing in sorrow our sing melodious,"Quhilk we had wont to sing with gude intent,"Resoundand to the hevinnis firmament,"But now our day is changed into the nicht,"With that they rose and flew forth of my sicht.

A FRAGMENT.

Stately stept he east the wa,And stately stept he west,Full seventy zeirs he now had sene,With skerss sevin zeirs of rest.He livit quhen Britons breach of faithWroucht Scotland meikle wae.And ay his sword told to their cost,He was their deidly fae.

II.

Hie on a hill his castle stude,With halls and touris a hicht,And guidly chambers fair to se,Quair he lodgit mony a knicht.His Dame sa peirless anes and fair,For chast and bewtie deimt,Nae marrow had in all the land,Saifelenorthe queen.

III.

Full thirtein sons to him scho bare,All men of valour stout;In bluidy ficht with sword in hand,Nyne lost their lives bot doubt;Four zit remain, lang may they liveTo stand my liege and land:Hie was their fame, hie was their micht,And hie was their command.

IV.

Great luve they bare tofairlyfair,Their sister saft and deir,Her girdle shawd her middle gimp;And gowden glist her hair.Quhat waefou wae hir bewtie bred?Waefou to zung and auld,Waefou I trow to kyth and kin,As story ever tauld.

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