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SON G,

ANNA, thy charms my bofom fire,

And wafte my foul with care; But ah! how bootlefs to admire, When fated to defpair!

Yet in thy prefence, lovely Fair,
To hope may be forgiven;
For fure 'twere impious to defpair
So much in fight of Heaven.

On

On reading, in a NEWSPAPER, the DEATH of
JML, ESQ BROTHER to a YOUNG
LADY, a particular FRIEND of the AUTHOR'S.

SAD

thy tale, thou idle page

And rueful thy alarms:

Death tears the brother of her love

From Ifabella's arms.

Sweetly deckt with pearly dew
The morning rofe may blow;
But cold fucceffive noontide blafts
May lay its beauties low.

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But, long ere noon, fucceeding clouds
Succeeding hopes beguil'd.

Fate often tears the bofom chords
That Nature fineft ftrung:

So Ifabella's heart was form'd,
And fo that heart was wrung.
VOL. II.
1

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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 bloffoms there fhall blow,
And fear no withering blaft;
There Ifabella's spotless worth
Shall happy be at laft.

THE

HUMBLE PETITION

O F

BRUAR WATER*

Mr

то THE

NOBLE DUKF OF ATHOLE.

Y Lord, I know, your noble ear Woe ne'er affails in vain ;

Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear

Your humble flave complain.

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

How faucy Phoebus' fcorching beams
In flaming fummer-pride,
Dry-withering, wafte my foamy ftreams,
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 fcorching up fo fhallow,
They're left, the whitening stanes amang,

In gafping death to wallow.

Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,
As Poet B**** came by,
That, to a Bard, I fhould be seen
Wi' half my channel dry:
A panegyric rhyme, I ween,
Even as I was he fhor'd me;

But had I in my glory been,

He, kneeling, wad ador'd me.

Here, foaming down the fkelvy rocks,
In twisting strength I rin;

There, high my boiling torrent smokes,
Wild roaring o'er a linn:

Enjoying large each spring and well
As nature gave them me,
I am, altho' I fay't myfel,
Worth gaun a mile to fee.

Would then

my noble mafter please

To grant my highest wishes,

He'll fhade my banks wi' towering trees,

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

You'll wander on my banks,

And liften mony a grateful bird
Return you tuneful thanks.

The sober laverock, warbling wild,
Shall to the fkies afpire;

The gowdfpink, Mufic's gayeft child,
Shall fweetly join the choir:

The blackbird ftrong, the lintwhite clear,

The mavis mild and mellow;

The robin penfive Autumn chear,
In all her locks of yellow.

This too, a covert fhall enfure,
To shield them from the ftorm;
And coward maukin fleep fecure,
Low in her graffy form:

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