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On reading, in a NEWSPAPER, the Death of
LADY, a particular FRIEND of the Author's.


AD thy tale, thou idle page

And rueful thy alarms :
Death tears the brother of her love

From Isabella's arms.

Sweetly deckt with pearly dew

The morning rofe may blow; But cold fucceffive noontide blasts

May lay its beauties low.

Fair on Isabella's morn

The sun propitious smil'd;
But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds

Succeeding hopes beguild.

Fate often tears the bosom chords

That Nature finest ftrung:
So Ifabella's heart was form’d,

And so that heart was wrung.


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Omnipotence alone can heal,

The deadly wound he gave ;
Can point the brimful grief-worn eyes

To fcenes beyond the grave.
Virtue's blossoms there shall blow,

And fear no withering blaft ; There Isabella's spotless worth

Shall happy be at laft.

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Y Lord, I know, your noble ear
Woe ne'er affails in vain ;
Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear

Your humble slave complain.

* Bruar Falls, in Athole, are exceedingly picturesque and beautiful; but their effect is much impaired by the want of trees and shrubs,

How Taucy Phæbus' scorching beams

In flaming summer-pride, Dry-withering, wafte my foamy streams,

And drink my crystal tide.

The lightly-jumping, glowrin trouts,

That thro' my waters play,
If, in thy random, wanton spouts,

They near the margin ftray ;
If, hapless chance! they linger lang,

I'm scorching up so shallow,
They're left, the whitening stanes amang,

In gasping death to wallow.

Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,

As Poet B**** came by,
That, to a Bard, I should be seen

Wi' half my channel dry :
A panegyric rhyme, I ween,

Even as I was he shor'd me; But had I in my glory been,

He, kneeling, wad ador'd me.

Here, foaming down the skelry rocks,

In twisting strength I rin;
There, high my boiling torrent smokes,
Wild roaring o'er a linn:

Enjoying large cach spring and well
As nature gave

them me, I am, altho' I fay't mysel,

Worth gaun a mile to see.

Would then my noble master please

To grant my highest wishes, He'll shade my banks wi' towering trees,

And bonie spreading bushes. Delighted doubly then, my Lord,

You'll wander on my banks, And listen mony a grateful bird

Return you tuneful thanks.

The sober laverock, warbling wild,

Shall to the skies aspire';
The gowdspink, Music's gayest child,

Shall sweetly join the choir:
The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear,

The mavis mild and mellow; The robin pensive Autumn chear,

In all her locks of yellow.

This too, a covert shall ensure,

To shield them from the storm; And coward maukin sleep secure,

Low in her graffy form:

Here shall the shepherd make his feat,

To wave his crown of Powers ; Or find a sheltering, fafe retreat,

From prone descending showers.

And here, by sweet endearing stealth,

Shall meet the loving pair,
Despising worlds with all their wealth

As empty idle care:
The Aowers shall vie in all their charmg

The hour of heaven to grace,
And birks extend their fragrant arms

To screen the dear embrace.

Here haply too, at vernal dawn,

Some musing bard may stray,
And eye the smoking, dewy lawn,

And misty mountain grey ;
Or, by the reaper's nightly beam,

Mild-chequering thro' the trees,
Rave to my darkly dathing stream,

Hoarfe swelling on the breeze.

Let lofiy firs, and ashes cool,

My lowly banks o erspread,
And view, deep-bending in the pool,

Their shadows' wat ry bed:
Let fragrant birks in woodbines drest,

My craggy cliffs adorn ;
And, for the little songfter's nest,

The close embowering thorn,

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