WINTER,

A

DIRGE.

THE win'try west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw ;
Or, the stormy north sends driving forth,
The blinding sleet and snaw;

While tumbling brown, the burn comes down,

And roars frae bank to brae;

And bird and beast in covert rest,

And pass the heartless day.

Let others fear,-to me more dear
Than all the pride of May:
The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;

The leafless trees my fancy please,

Their fate resembles mine!

III.

Thou Pow'r Supreme, whose mighty scheme

These woes of mine fulfil,

Here, firm, I rest, they must be best,

Because they are Thy will!

Then all I want-(O, do thou grant

This one request of mine!)

Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
Assist me to resign.

M 3

THE

COTTER'S

SATURDAY NIGHT.

INSCRIBED TO R. A****, ESQ.

Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
The short but simple annals of the poor.

GRAY.

1.

My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend!
No mercenary bard his homage pays;
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,

My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: