And brandish round the deep-dyed steel,
In sturdy blows;

While, back-recoiling, seem'd to reel

Their Suthron foes.

His Country's Saviour, mark him well!
Bold Richardton's heroic swell;5
The chief, on Sark who glorious fell,6
In high command;

And he whom ruthless fates expel
His native land.

There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shade
Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid,"
I mark'd a martial race, pourtray'd
In colours strong:

Bold, soldier-featur'd, undismay'd,
They strode along.

Thro' many a wild, romantic grove,
Near many a hermit-fancied cove
(Fit haunts for friendship or for love,
In musing mood),

An aged Judge, I saw him rove,
Dispensing good.

With deep-struck, reverential awe,
The learned Sire and Son I saw:9
To Nature's God, and Nature's law,

They gave their lore;

This, all its source and end to draw,

That, to adore.

4 William Wallace.-R. B. 5 Adam Wallace of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scottish independence.-R. B.

6 Wallace, laird of Craigie, who was second in command under Douglas, Earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of Sark, fought anno 1448. That glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of the gallant laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action.-R. B.

7 Coilus, King of the Picts, from whom the district of Kyle is said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the family seat of the Montgomeries of Coilsfield, where his burial-place is still shown.-R. B.

& Barskimming, the seat of the Lord Justice-Clerk.-R. B.

Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor and present Professor Stewart.-R. B.

Brydon's brave ward1o I well could spy,
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye:

Who call'd on Fame, low standing by,
To hand him on,

Where many a patriot-name on high,
And hero shone.

DUAN SECOND

With musing-deep, astonish'd stare,
I view'd the heavenly-seeming Fair;
A whispering throb did witness bear
Of kindred sweet,

When with an elder sister's air

She did me greet.

"All hail! my own inspirèd bard!
In me thy native Muse regard;
Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,
Thus poorly low;

I come to give thee such reward,
As we bestow!

"Know, the great genius of this land
Has many a light aërial band,
Who, all beneath his high command,
Harmoniously,

As arts or arms they understand,

Their labours ply.

"They Scotia's race among them share:
Some fire the soldier on to dare;

Some rouse the patriot up to bare

Corruption's heart:

Some teach the bard-a darling care
The tuneful art.

"'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore,
They, ardent, kindling spirits pour;

10 Colonel Fullarton.-R. B. This gentleman had travelled under the care of Patrick Brydone, author of a well-known "Tour Through Sicily and Malta."

Or, 'mid the venal senate's roar,

They, sightless, stand,

To mend the honest patriot-lore,

And grace the hand.

"And when the bard, or hoary sage, Charm or instruct the future age, They bind the wild poetic rage

"Hence, Fullarton, the brave and young; Hence, Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue; Hence, sweet, harmonious Beattie sung His 'Minstrel lays';

Or tore, with noble ardour stung,

The sceptic's bays.

"To lower orders are assign'd

The humbler ranks of human-kind,
The rustic bard, the lab'ring hind,
The artisan;

All choose, as various they're inclin'd,
The various man.

"When yellow waves the heavy grain, The threat'ning storm some strongly rein; Some teach to meliorate the plain

With tillage-skill;

And some instruct the shepherd-train,

Blythe o'er the hill.

"Some hint the lover's harmless wile; Some grace the maiden's artless smile;

Some soothe the lab'rer's weary toil

For humble gains,

And make his cottage-scenes beguile

His cares and pains.

"Some, bounded to a district-space, Explore at large man's infant race, To mark the embryotic trace

Of rustic bard;

And careful note each opening grace,

A guide and guard.

"Of these am I-Coila my name:

And this district as mine I claim,
Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,
Held ruling pow'r:

I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame,

Thy natal hour.

"With future hope I oft would gaze
Fond, on thy little early ways,

Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase,
In uncouth rhymes;

Fir'd at the simple, artless lays

Of other times.

"I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
Delighted with the dashing roar;
Or when the North his fleecy store
Drove thro' the sky,

I saw grim Nature's visage hoar

Struck thy young eye.

"Or when the deep green-mantled earth
Warm cherish'd ev'ry floweret's birth,
And joy and music pouring forth
In ev'ry grove;

I saw thee eye the general mirth

With boundless love.

"When ripen'd fields and azure skies Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise, I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys,

And lonely stalk,

To vent thy bosom's swelling rise,
In pensive walk.

"When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong,
Keen-shivering, shot thy nerves along,
Those accents grateful to thy tongue,
Th' adorèd Name,

I taught thee how to pour in song,

To soothe thy flame.

"I saw thy pulse's maddening play,

Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way,

Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray,

By passion driven;

But yet the light that led astray

Was light from Heaven.

"I taught thy manners-painting strains,
The loves, the ways of simple swains,
Till now, o'er all my wide domains
Thy fame extends;

And some, the pride of Coila's plains,
Become thy friends.

"Thou canst not learn, nor I can show, To paint with Thomson's landscape glow; ' Or wake the bosom-melting throe,

With Shenstone's art;

Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow
Warm on the heart.

"Yet, all beneath th' unrivall'd rose,
The lowly daisy sweetly blows;

Tho' large the forest's monarch throws
His army shade,

Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,

Adown the glade.

"Then never murmur nor repine;

Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;

And trust me, not Potosi's mine,

Nor king's regard,

Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,

A rustic bard.