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Occasioned by visiting the City and Ruins of St Andrew's.
In ancient time, near the wide ocean-strand,
Her cloistered courts, for learning to repair,
Might shew how kingly strength and wisdom flourished
No consecrated groves, or rivers bright,
No lovely vallies circled it around;
But cliffs on which the eagle would alight,
Whilst far along the rocky cape there lay,
With vessels anchored deep, a wild and troubled bay.
Det say gutes beneath their grehna swip
De cand a banner, and the bed re of preg
Zen of those battlements the sun an,
Lys as from a fiery shield,
at armour, leave their squloup's chilog The the boy dust, and fall in i destina
Trong the cathedral's giele, and cultad de ma
The sum orisons and anthoma puna
Wherein the blessed crucifix was hung,
To which all nations then would bend the knee, And bow themselves to pray in deep idolatry.
Like mighty billows, ages have rolled past,
For Scottish thrones would once a glory wear,
Or sunk in shady glen its banners bear,
But these have passed away, like meteors through the air.
Scotland hath fallen-and in evil hour
The hand of mad ambition hath laid waste
In mute suspense may pause when they have traced
Those city-gates have been, and are unhinged—
And the great sea into its base infringed :-
Beneath the shadow of the sweeping wave
Is battling for more prey from rocky verge to verge.
Those acquainted with St Andrew's are probably aware that the Chapel which was connected with Cardinal Beaton's castle is now a complete ruin on the beach, the fragments of which can only be seen at very low water. On this part of the coast the encroachment of the sea is very manifest, as the Castle and Chapel appear at one time to have stood a considerable distance from the shore.-See Grose's Antiquities; Notes to Jamieson's Cuvier, &c.
'Tis midnight, and the moon is rising bright :Enter the old cathedral's crumbling wall, And by the soft reflection of its light Survey the lengthened aisle, and pillar's fall; Sunk in their glory 'neath the weedy pall On which the church-yard dews, like tear-drops gleam ; There broods the night-bird in his roofless hall— Through each unwindowed arch the pale stars beam, And all appears sublime-the pageant of a dream!
The golden gate, whose mutilated form
Hath, like a cliff the waves have lashed in vain,
Outlasted winters of impetuous storm,
Uplifts itself withal in proud disdain;
No more the vestal throng, or white-robed choir,