66

See, pouring from their hills of snow,

Nations of savages in arms!

A desert lies where'er they go,

Before them march pale terror and alarms.
The princes of the south prepare
Their thousand thousands for the war.
Against thee, Cyrus, they combine;
The north and south their forces join
To crush thee in the dust.

But thou art safe; Achates * draws

His sword with thine, and backs thy cause:
Yes, thou art doubly safe, thy cause is just.

"With dread the Turks have oft beheld
His sword wide waving o'er the field,
As oft these sons of carnage fled

O'er mountains of their kindred dead.

"When all the fury of the fight

With wrath redoubled raged,
When man to man, with giant might,

For all that's dear engaged,

When all was thunder, smoke, and fire,

When from their native rocks the frighted springs

retire,

'Twas then, through streams of smoke and blood,

Achates mounts the city wall;

Though wounded, like a god he stood,

And at his feet the foes submissive fall. †

* Marshal James Keith.

+ Marshall Keith twice in person repelled fierce sorties from the besieged city of Prague.

"Brave are the Goths, and fierce in fight,

Yet these he gave to rout and flight;

Proud when they were of victory,

He rushed on like a storm; dispersed and weak

they fly.

Thus from the Grampians old

A torrent deep and strong

Down rushes on the fold,

And sweeps the shepherd and the flock along.

"When, through an aged wood,

The thunder roars amain,
His paths with oaks are strewed,
And ruin marks the plain;
So many a German field can tell

How in his path the mighty heroes fell.

"When with their numerous dogs the swains Surprise the aged lion's den,

Th' old warrior rushes to the charge,

And scorns the rage of dogs and men;

His whelps he guards on every side;

Safe they retreat. What though a mortal dart Stands trembling in his breast, his dauntless heart

Glows with a victor's pride.

"So the old lion, brave Achates, fought, And miracles of prowess wrought;

With a few pickets bore the force

Of eighty thousand-stopped their course,

Till off his friends had marched, and all was well.

Even he himself could ne'er do more,

Fate had no greater deed in store—

When all his host was safe the godlike hero fell.”*

Thus as he spoke, each hoary sire

Fights o'er again his ancient wars,
Each youth burns with a hero's fire,

And triumphs in his future scars.
O'er bloody fields each thinks he rides,
The thunder of the battle guides,
(Beneath his lifted arm, struck pale,
The foes for mercy cry),

And hears applauding legions hail
Him with the shouts of victory.

* Marshal Keith, after serving with the highest distinction in the armies of Spain, Russia, and Prussia, fell, after repulsing a night attack of the Austrians on the camp of Frederick between Bautzen and Hochkirk, October 14, 1758. See a pamphlet, A Discourse on the Death of Marshal Keith, read before the Royal Academy of Science at Berlin. Edin. 1764.

JAMES MUIRHEAD.

1740-1808.

The author of "Bess the Gawkie," an outstanding specimen of the Scottish pastoral muse which has "Robene and Makyne for its earliest example and "The Gentle Shepherd" for its chief performance, was a native of the parish of Buittle, and became minister of the parish of Urr in Galloway. He was a distinguished scholar, naturalist, and mathematician. As laird of the estate of Logan, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, he was lampooned in an election ballad of Burns, and retorted with a free translation of one of Martial's epigrams, which his assailant is said to have felt very keenly. "Bess the Gawkie" appeared in Herd's Collection in 1776, and Dr. Muirhead died in 1808 at the age of 68.

BESS THE GAWKIE.

BLYTHE young Bess to Jean did say,
"Will ye gang to yon sunny brae,
Where flocks do feed and herds do stray,
And sport awhile wi' Jamie?"
"Ah, na, lass! I'll no gang there,

Nor about Jamie tak' a care,

Nor about Jamie tak' a care,

For he's ta'en up wi' Maggie."

"For hark and I will tell you, lass,
Did I not see young Jamie pass,
Wi' meikle blytheness in his face,

Out owre the muir to Maggie?

I wat he gae her mony a kiss,
And Maggie took them nae amiss,

'Twixt ilka smack pleased her wi' this,
That Bess was but a gawkie1.

"For when a civil kiss I seek,

She turns her head, and thraws her cheek,
And for an hour she'll hardly speak;

Wha'd no ca' her a gawkie?,

But sure my Maggie has mair sense;
She'll gi'e a score without offence:
Now gi'e me ane into the mense2,

And ye sall be my dawtie3.'"

"O, Jamie, ye ha'e mony ta'en, But I will never stand for ane, Or twa when we do meet again;

So ne'er think me a gawkie!'

'Ah na, lass, that canna be ;

Sic thochts as thae are far frae me,

Or ony thy sweet face that see,

E'er to think thee a gawkie.'

"But whisht! nae mair o' this we'll speak,

For yonder Jamie does us meet :

Instead o' Meg he kissed so sweet,

I trow he likes his gawkie."

"O, dear Bess, I hardly knew,
When I cam' by, your gown sae new.
I think you've got it weet wi' dew."
Quo' she, "That's like a gawkie.

I idle fool.

2 with decorum.

3 darling.