The arches striding o'er the new-born stream; Poetic ardours in my bosom swell, Lone wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell: Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-taught lyre, And injur'd Worth forget and pardon man. WRITTEN WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL, Standing by the Fall of Fyers, near Loch-Ness. AMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods As high in air the bursting torrents flow, As deep recoiling surges foam below, Prone down the rock the whitening sheet de scends, And viewless echo's ear, astonish'd, rends. Dim-seen, Dim-seen, through rising mists and ceaseless show'rs, The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, low'rs. ON ON THE BIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS CHILD, Born in peculiar circumstances of family distress. SWEET Flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love, And ward o' mony a pray'r, What heart o' stane wad thou na move, November hirples o'er the lea, Chill, on thy lovely form; And gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree, May May He who gives the rain to pour, May HE, the friend of woe and want, But late, she flourish'd, rooted fast, Fair on the summer morn: Now feebly bends she, in the blast, Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem, THE |