Still, thou art bleft, compar'd wi' me! The prefent only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward caft my e'e,
On profpects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna fee;
I guess an' fear!
MOUNTAIN-DAISY,
On turning one down, with the Plough, in April—1786.
EE, modeft, crimson-tipped flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the ftoure
Thy flender ftem:
To fpare thee now is paft my pow'r,
Alas! it's no thy neebor fweet, The bonie Lark, companion meet! Bending thee 'amang the dewy weet!
Wi's fpreckl'd breaft,
When upward-fpringing, blythe, to greet
The purpling East.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting North
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet chearfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,
Scarce rear'd above the Parent-earth
Thy tender form.
The flaunting flow'rs our Gardens yield, High-fhelt'ring woods and wa's maun fhield, But thou, beneath the random bield
O' clod or ftane,
Adorns the hiftie Stibble-field,
Unseen, alane.
There, in thy fcanty mantle clad, Thy fnawie bofom fun-ward fpread, Thou lifts thy unaffuming head
But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!
Such is the fate of artlefs Maid,
Sweet flow'ret of the rural fhade!
By love's fimplicity betray'd,
And guileless trust, Till fhe, like thee, all foil'd, is laid
Such is the fate of fimple Bard,
On life's rough ocean lucklefs ftarr'd!
Unfkilful he to note the card
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
And whelm him o'er!
Such fate to fuffering worth is given,
Who long with wants and wocs has ftriv'n,
By human pride or cunning driv'n
To Mis'ry's brink,
Till wrench'd of ev'ry ftay but HEAV'N,
He, ruin'd, fink!
Ev'n thou who mourn'ft the Daify's fate,
That fate is thineno diftant date;
Stern Ruin's plough-fhare, drives elate,
Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,
Shall be thy doom!
The VICAR of WELLAND'S Mounmental Infcription
wrote by himself.
Vicar I am, and a Pluralist too,
At Welland, the place of my birth;
But Vicars and Pluralists too, we all know,
Must one day return to the earth.
This stone will record that at Kempfey I lived,
Collecting my dues ev'ry Eafter;
It will tell that most happily twice I was wiv'd
To a Hyde firft, then to a Hefter.
Of the hour of his death no prieft is aware,
Which accounts for fome blanks in this page;
My virtues I leave to the world to declare;
heirs to infert my just age.
When I proftrate fhall lie, what a pleasure 'twill be To know I fhall meet either bride
For tho' living they both were delightful to me, I never had two by my fide.
FT when I've feen the new-fledg'd morn arise,
And spread its pinions to the polar fkies,
Th' expanded air with gelid fragrance fan,
Brace the flack nerves, and animate the man;
Swift from the college, and from cares I flew,
(For ftudious cares folicits fomething new)
From tinkling bells that wake the truant's fears,
And letter'd trophies of three thousand years;
Thro'length'ning streets with fanguine hopes Iglide,
The fatal tube depending at my side;
No bufy vender dins with clam'rous call,
No ratling carriage drive me to the wall;
The close-compacted fhops, their commerce laid,
In filence frown like manfions of the dead-
Save, where the footy-fhrowded wretch cries 'fweep,'
Or drowsy watchman ftalks in broken fleep,
'Scap'd from the hot-brain'd youth of midnight fame,
Whofe mirth is mifchief, and whofe glory fhame-
Save, that from yonder ftew the batter'd beau,
With tott'ring fteps comes reeling to and fro-
Mark, how the live-long revels of the night
Stare in his face, and stupify his fight!
Mark the loose frame, yet impotently bold,
"Twixt man and beast, divided empire hold! ·
Amphibious wretch! the prey of paffion's tide,
The wreck of riot, and the mock of pride.
But we, my friend, with aims far diff'rent borne,
Seek the fair fields, and court the blushing morn;
With sturdy finews, brush the frozen fnow,
While crimson colours on our faces glow,
Since life is fhort, prolong it while we can,
And vindicate the ways of health to man.
Onward our courfe diverfify'd we bend,
And right and left, with anxious care attend;
The poring spaniel, ftudious as he goes,
Scents ev'ry leaf that on the margin grows,
Sudden he stops!—he eyes the plashy spring!
The frighted fnipe darts upward on the wing,
With thrill-ton'd pipe implores the paffive air,
In vain! for death e'en perfecutes him there—
Another fprings! but happier in his flight,
'Scapes the loud gun, and vanishes from fight.
Heav'n! what delights my active mind renew,
When out-spread nature opens to my view,
The carpet-cover'd earth of spangled white,
The vaulted sky, just ting'd with purple light;
The bufy blackbird hops from spray to spray,
The gull, felf-balanc'd, floats his liquid way;
The morning breeze in milder air retires,
And rifing rapture all my bofom fires.
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