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her grave.

The drifted snow hung on his yellow Fair Freedom's temple, where he marked

beard, And his broad shoulders braved the He steeled the blunt Batavian's arms furious blast,

To burst the Iberian's double chain : He stopt, he gazed, his bosom glowed, And cities reared, and planted farms, And deeply felt the impression of her Won from the skirts of Neptune's wide charms :

domain.
He seized the advantage Fate allowed, He, with the generous rustics, sat
And straight compressed her in his vig- On Uri's rocks in close divan;
orous arms.

And winged that arrow sure as fate,
Which ascertained the sacred rights of

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The curlew screamed, the tritons blew

STROPHE. Their shells to celebrate the ravished rite;

Arabia's scorching sands he crossed, Old Time exulted as he flew;

Where blasted nature pants supine, And Independence saw the light.

Conductor of her tribes adust, The light he saw in Albion's happy

To Freedom's adamantine shrine ; plains,

And many a Tartar horde forlorn, aghast Where under cover of a flowering thorn,

He snatched from under fell Oppression's While Philomel renewed her warbled

wing, strains,

And taught amidst the dreary waste, The auspicious fruit of stolen embrace

The all-cheering hymns of liberty to sing. was born

He virtue finds, like precious ore, The mountain Dryads seized with joy,

Diffused through every baser mould ; The smiling infant to their charge con

Even now he stands on Calvi's rocky signed ;

shore. The Doric muse caressed the favourite

And turns the dross of Corsica to gold ; boy ; The hermit Wisdom stored his opening Pomp's tinsel livery to despise :

He, guardian genius, taught my youth mind.

My lips by him chastised to truth, As rolling years matured his age,

Ne'er paid that homage which my heart He flourished bold and sinewy as his sire;

denies. While the mild passions in his breast assuage

ANTISTROPHE. The fiercer flames of his maternal fire. Those sculptured halls my feet shall never

tread, ANTISTROPHE.

Where varnished vice and vanity comAccomplished thus, he winged his way, bined And zealous roved from pole to pole, To dazzle and seduce, their banner spread, The rolls of right eternal to display, And forge vile shackles for the free-born And warm with patriot thought the as- mind. piring soul.

While Insolence his wrinkled front upOn desert isles 'twas he that raised

rears, Those spires that gild the Adriatic wave, And all the flowers of spurious fancy blow; Where Tyranny beheld amazed

And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears,

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Full often wreathed around the miscre- And taste unspoiled the frugal table ant's brow;

spread, Where ever-dimpling falsehood, pert and And industry supply the humble store, vain,

And sleep unbribed his dews refreshing Presents her cup of stale profession's froth;

shed ; And pale disease, with all his bloated train, White-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite, Torments the sons of gluttony and sloth. Shall chase far off the goblins of the night;

And Independence o'er the day preside, STROPHE.

Propitious power ! my patron and my In Fortune's car behold that minion ride, pride. With either India's glittering spoils op

pressed, So moves the sumpter-mule in harnessed

ODE TO LEVEN WATER. pride, That bears the treasure which he cannot

ON Leven's banks, while free to rove,

And tune the rural pipe to love, taste. For him let venal bards disgrace the bay, I envied not the happiest swain And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling That ever trod the Arcadian plain. string;

Pure stream, in whose transparent wave Her sensual snares let faithless pleasure My youthful limbs I wont to lave ; lay,

No torrents stain thy limpid source, And jingling bells fantastic folly ring :

No rocks impede thy dimpling course, Disquiet, doubt, and dread shall inter- | That sweetly warbles o'er its bed,

With white, round, polished pebbles And nature, still to all her feelings just,

spread ; In vengeance hang a damp on every scene,

While, lightly poised, the scaly brood Shook from the baleful pinions of disgust.

In myriads cleave thy crystal flood ;

The springing trout in speckled pride, ANTISTROPHE.

The salmon, monarch of the tide ; Nature I'll court in her sequestered

The ruthless pike, intent on war, haunts,

The silver eel, and mottled par. By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove,

Devolving from thy parent lake, or cell ;

A charming maze thy waters make, Where the poised lark his evening ditty By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, chaunts,

And hedges flowered with eglantine. And health, and peace, and contempla

Still on thy banks so gaily green, tion dwell.

May numerous herds and flocks be seen : There, study shall with solitude recline, And lasses chanting o'er the pail, And friendship pledge me to his fellow- And shepherds piping in the dale ; swains,

And ancient faith that knows no guile, And toil and temperance sedately twine And industry embrowned with toil ; The slender cord that fluttering life sus- And hearts resolved, and hands pretains ;

pared, And fearless poverty shall guard the door, The blessings they enjoy to guard !

vene :

JOHN SKINNER.

a

1721–1807. It might be a mistake to say that the cumstance led to some complimentary poetic instinct is less generally diffused correspondence between the poets, from among the natives of the north of Scot- which it appears that Skinner had a land than among those of the south ; very modest opinion of his own verses, but it is no mistake, however it may be which he says he composed to please his accounted for, that it has produced daughters, who were well acquainted fewer poets than the south. Yet at the with the native airs. period at which we have arrived, Ross, After ministering at Longside for Skinner, Beattie, Geddes, and M.Pher- sixty-five years, he went to live with his son, all natives of the north, were con- son, the Bishop of Aberdeen, and died temporaries.

in that city a few days after his arrival, John Skinner, best known as the in his eighty-sixth year. author of the national song “Tulloch- Skinner resembles Ross in many gorum,” named after a famous strath- points, as a man and as a poet. Both spey, was born in 1721, at Balfour, in were of equally happy and contented disAberdeenshire. His father was school- positions, fond of the native manners and master of the parish of Birse. Young music; and both were skilful players Skinner was sent to Aberdeen Uni- on the violin. They both excelled versity at the age of thirteen, and dis- in Latin composition, and lived to about tinguished himself as a student. After the same age, in the same spot to which graduating, he became an assistant they had been appointed in youth. teacher for some time, and in 1740 Skinner, though devout, was devoid of went to Shetland as a tutor. On his either political or ecclesiastical narrowreturn he was ordained a presbyter of ness; and the same may be said of Ross, the Episcopal Church, and became a whose wife was of the Roman Catholic pastor of that communion at Longside. persuasion ; and lastly, each of them is In 1745, he was imprisoned for six best known by a single contribution to months, for refusing to take the oath of our song literature, which excited the allegiance.

admiration of the greatest master of the Burns, on his tour to the north of lyre which our own or any country has Scotland, was anxious to meet Skinner, yet produced. whose "Tullochgorum ” he considered Besides his poems, which were pub. one of the best songs in Scottish litera- lished in a collected form, and entitled ture; but having omitted to get its Amusements of Leisure Hours, &c., author's address he returned without Skinner wrote an Ecclesiastical History seeing him, though he was in his of Scotland, as well as several theologiimmediate neighbourhood. This cir- cal treatises.

Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,

Like auld Philosophorum ? Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit, And canna rise to shake a fit

At the reel of Tullochgorum ?

TULLOCHGORUM. COME, gie's a sang, Montgomery cried, And lay your disputes all aside ; What signifies 't for folk to chide

For what's been done before them? Let Whig and Tory all agree, Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory, Let Whig and Tory all agree

To drop their Whig-mig-morum. Let Whig and Tory all agree To spend this night in mirth and glee, And cheerfu' sing, alang wi' me,

The reel of Tullochgorum.

May choicest blessings still attend
Each honest open-hearted friend ;
And calm and quiet be his end,

And a' that's good watch o'er him! May peace and plenty be his lot, Peace and plenty, peace and plenty, May peace and plenty be his lot,

And dainties a great store o' 'em ! May peace and plenty be his lot, Unstained by any vicious blot ; And may he never want a groat,

That's fond of Tullochgorum !

0, Tullochgorum's my delight ;
It gars us a' in ane unite ;
And ony sumph that keeps up spite,

In conscience I abhor him.
Blithe and merry we's be a',
Blithe and merry, blithe and merry,
Blithe and merry we's be a',

And mak' a cheerfu' quorum.
Blithe and merry we's be a',
As lang as we hae breath to draw,
And dance, till we be like to fa',

The reel of Tullochgorum.
There needna be sae great a phrase
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays ;
I wadna gie our ain strathspeys

For half a hundred score o' 'em.
They're douff and dowie at the best,
Douff and dowie, douff and dowie,
They're douff and dowie at the best,

Wi' a' their variorum. They're douff and dowie at the best, Their allegros, and a' the rest, They canna please a Highland taste,

Compared wi' Tullochgorum. Let warldly minds themselves oppress Wi' fear of want, and double cess, And sullen sots themselves distress

Wi' keeping up decorum : Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,

But for the discontented fool,
Who wants to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,

And discontent devour him !
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow,
May dool and sorrow be his chance,

And nane say, Wae's me for 'im! May dool and sorrow be his chance, And a' the ills that come frae France, Whae'er he be that winna dance

The reel of Tullochgorum!

THE EWIE WI' THE CROOKED

HORN.

O, WERE I able to rehearse,
My ewie's praise in proper verse,
I'd sound it out as loud and fierce
As ever piper's drone could blaw.

My ewie wi' the crookit horn !
A' that kenn'd her would ha'e sworn,
Sic a ewie ne'er was born,

Hereabouts nor far awa'.

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But thus, puir thing, to lose her life,
Beneath a bluidy villain's knife ;
In troth, I fear that our gudewife

Will never get abune 't ava.
O, all ye bards benorth Kinghorn,
Call up your muses, let them mourn
Our ewie wi' the crookit horn,

Frae us stown, and fellid and a'!

OLD AGE.

O! why should old age so much wound

The neist I ga'e to Jean ; and now
The bairn's sae braw, has faulds sae fu',
That lads sae thick come her to woo,

They're fain to sleep on hay or straw.
Cauld nor hunger never dang her,
Wind or rain could never wrang her ;
Ance she lay an ouk and langer

Forth aneath a wreath o' snaw. When other ewies lap the dyke, And ate the kale for a' the tyke, My ewie never play'd the like,

But teezed about the barn wa'.
I lookit aye at even for her,
Lest mishanter should come ower her,
Or the foumart micht devour her,

Gin the beastie bade awa'.
Yet, last ouk, for a' my keeping,
(Wha can tell o't without greeting?)
A villain cam', when I was sleeping,

Staw my ewie, horn and a.'
I socht her sair upon the morn,
And down aneath a bush o' thorn,
There I fand her crookit horn,

But my ewie was awa'.

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