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T. Davison, Lombard-street, Whitefriars, London.





TO A HIGHLAND GIRL. (At Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond.)

Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower

Of beauty is thy earthly dower!

Twice seven consenting years have shed

Their utmost bounty on thy head:

And these gray Rocks; this household Lawn;

These Trees, a veil just half withdrawn;

This fall of water, that doth make

A murmur near the silent Lake;

This little Bay, a quiet Road

That holds in shelter thy Abode;

In truth together ye do seem Like something fashioned in a dream;Such Forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep!

Yet, dream and vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart:
God shield thee to thy latest years!
I neither know thee nor thy peers;
And yet my eyes are filled with tears.

With earnest feeling I shall pray
For thee when I am far away:
For never saw I mien, or face,
In which more plainly I could trace
Benignity and home-bred sense
Ripening in perfect innocence.
Here, scattered like a random seed,
Remote from men, Thou dost not need
The embarrassed look of shy distress,
And maidenly shamefacedness:
Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
The freedom of a Mountaineer.
A face with gladness overspread!
Sweet looks, by human kindness bred!
And seemliness complete, that sways
Thy courtesies, about thee plays;
With no restraint, but such as springs
From quick and eager visitings

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