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Now Phoebus chears the crystal streams,

And glads the azure skies ;
But nought can glad the weary wight

That fast in durance lies.

Now laverocks wake the merry morn,

Aloft on dewy wing ;
The merle, in his noontide bow'r,

Makes woodland echoes ring;
The mavis mild wi' many a note,

Sings drowsy day to rest :
In love and freedom they rejoice,

Wi' care nor thrall oppreft.

Now blooms the lily by the bank,

The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,

And milk-white is the flae :

The meaneft hind in fair Scotland

May rove their sweets amang;


But I, the Queen of a’ Scotland,

Maun lie in prison ftrang.

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I was the Queen o' bonnie France,
Where happy I hae been";

(!!! Fu’lightly rase I in the morn,

int; 95:
As blythe lay down at e’en :
And I'm the sov’reign of Scotland,
And mony a traitor there;

Yet here I lie in foreign bands,

: And never ending care.

i will

() But as for thee, thou false woman, My sister and my fae,

ir in Grim vengeance, yet, shall wheț a sword

con That thro' thy foul shall gae

The weeping blood in woman's breast

Was never known to thee;
Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe
Frae woman's pitying e'e.
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My fon! my fon! may kinder stars

Upon thy fortune shine: And

may those pleasures gild thy reign, That ne'er wad blink on mine! God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,

Or turn their hearts to thee : And where thou meet’ft thy mother's friend,

Remember him for me!

0! soon, to me, may summer-funs

Nae mair light up the morn! Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds

Wave o'er the yellow corn! And in the narrow house o death

Let winter round me rave; And the next flow'rs, that deck the spring,

Bloom on my peaceful grave.


R***** G***** OF F*****, Esq.

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LATE crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg,
About to beg a pass for leave to beg;
Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest,
(Nature is adverse to a cripple's rest);
Will generous G***** lift to his Poet's wail ?
(It soothes poor Misery, hearkning to her


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And hear him curse the light he first survey'd And doubly curse the luckless rhyming trade.

Thou, Nature, partial Nature, I arraign; Of thy caprice maternal I complain. The lion and the bull thy care have found, One shakes the forests, and one spurns the

ground: Thou giv'st the ass his hide, the snail his shell, Th’ envenom'd wasp, victorious, guards his

cell. Thy minions, kings defend, controul, devour. In all th' omnipotence of rule and power.Foxes and statesmen, subtile wiles ensure; The cit and polecat stink, and are secure. Toads with their poison, doctors with their

drug, The priest and hedgehog in their robes, are snug.

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