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And though some trilling share of praise,
Renouncing every pleasing page
From authors of historic use;
Preferring to the letter'd sage
The square of the hypothenuse."
Still, harmless are these occupations,
That hurt none but the hapless student,
Compared with other recreations,
Which bring together the imprudent;
Whose daring revels shock the sight, Αργυρεαις λογχαισι μαχου και παντα Κρατησαις. .
When vice and infamy combine,
When drunkenness and dice unite,
And every sense is steep'd in wine.
Not so the methodistic crew,
Who plans of reformation lay:
In humble attitude they sue,
And for the sins of others pray.
Forgetting that their pride of spirit,
Their exultation in their trial,
Detracts most largely from the merit
Of all their boasted self-denial.
'T is morn, -- from these I turn my sight:
What scene is this which meets the eye? Against the next elective day.
A numerous crowd, array'd in white, a
Across the green in numbers fly.
Loud rings, in air, the chapel bell;
'T is hush'd : What sounds are these I licar ? Whose conscience won't disturb their slumber
The organ's soft celestial swell
Rolls deeply on the listening ear.
To this is joined the sacred song,
The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain;
Though he who hears the music long
Will never wish to bcar again.
Our choir would scarcely be excused,
Even as a band of raw beginners ;
All mercy, now, must be refused
To such a set of croaking sinners.
If David, when his toils were ended,
Had heard these blockheads sing before him, The studious sons of Alma Mater.
To us his psalms had ne'er descended, There, in apartments small and damp,
In furious mood he would have tore 'em. The candidate for college prizes
The luckless Israelites, when taken
By some inhuman tyrant's order,
Were ask'd to sing, by joy forsaken,
On Babylonian river's border.
Oh! had they sung in notes like these,
Inspired by stratagem or fear,
They might have set their hearts at case-
The devil a soul had stay'd to hear.
But, if I scribble longer now,
The deuce a soul will stay to read;
My pen is blunt, my ink is low,
'T is almost time to stop indeed. Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle,
Therefore, farewell, old Granta's spires, Deprived of many a wholesome meal,
No more like Cleofas, I fly; lo barbarous Latin 3 doom'd to wrangle;
No more thy theme my Muse inspires, * The Diable Boiteax of LE SAGE, where Asmodeus, the demon,
The reader 's tired, and so am I. places Doe Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses
1806. for bis inspection.
' Sele's pablication on Greek metres displays considerable talent end ingenuity, but, as might be expected in so difficult a work, is 'The discovery of Pytbagoras, that the square of the hypothenuse | mot remarkable for accuracy.
is equal to the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled tri• The Laris of the schools is of th: CANISE SPECIES, and not rery angle. ist lligible.
: On a Saint day the students wear surplices in chapel.
LACHIN Y GAIR.
PARENT of golden dreams, Romance ! LACUN Y Gain, or, as it is pronounced in the Erse, Loon sa Gins, lowers proudly preeminent in the Northern Highlands, near In
Auspicious queen of childish joys! vercauld. One of our modern tourists mentions it as the highest
Who lead'st along, in airy dance, mountain, perhaps, in Great Britain ; be this as it may, it is Thy volive train of girls and boys : curtainly one of the most sublime and picturesque amongst our
At length, io spells no longer bound, • Caloonian Alps. Jis appearance is of a dusky bue, but the summit is the seat of eternal spows. Near Lachin y Gair I spent
I break the fetters of my youth ; some of the early part of my life, the recollection of which has No more I tread thy mystic round, given birth to the following Stanzas.
But leave thy realms for those of Truth. Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses !
And yet, 't is hard to quit the dreams In you let the minions of luxury rove;
Which haunt the unsuspicious soul, Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes,
Where every nymph a goddess seems, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:
Whose eyes through rays immortal roll; Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
While Fancy holds her boundless reign, Round their white summits though elements war,
And all assume a varied hue, Though cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth-llowing foun- When virgins seem no longer vain, tains,
And even woman's smiles are true. I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.
And must we own thee but a name, Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wanderd,
And from thy hall of clouds descend;
A Pylades' ja every friend ?
To mingling bands of fairy elves :
Confess that woman 's false as fair, For Fancy was cheer'd by traditional story
And friends have feelings for-themselves. Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.
With shame, I own, I 've felt thy sway, « Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices
Repentant, now thy reign is o'er; Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale ?»
No more thy precepts I obey, Surely the soul of the hero rejoices,
No more on fancied pinions soar : And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale: Fond fool! to love a sparkling eye, Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers,
And think that cye 10 Truth was dear, Wieter presides in his cold icy car;
To trust a passing wanton's sigli,
And melt beneath a wanton's tear.
Romance ! disgusted with deceit, III-starrd,” though brave, did no visions foreboding
Far from thy motley court I fly, Tell you that Fate had forsaken your cause?»
Where Affectation holds her seat, Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden, 3
And sickly Sensibility; Victory crown'd not your fall with applause :
Whose silly tears can never flow Still were you happy, iu death's early slumber
For any pangs excepting thine; You rest with your clan, in the caves of Braemar; 4
Who turns aside from real woe, The Pibroch5 resounds to the piper's loud number
To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine:
Now join with sable sympathy,
With cypress crown'd, arrayed in weeds,
Who heaves with thee lier simple sigh,
Whose breast for every bosom bleeds ; England! thy beauties are tarne and domestic
And call thy sylvan female quire,
To mourn a swain for ever gone,
Who once could glow with equal fire,
But bends not now before thy throne. This word is erroneously pronounced PLAD: the proper pronun
Ye genial nymphs, whose ready tears, ciation (according to the Scotch) is shown liy the ortbography.
On all occasions, swiftly tlow; I allude bere to my maternal ancestors, the GORDONE, many Whose bosoms hcave with fancied fears, of wbom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, better known
With fancied flames and frenzy glow: by the name of the Preteodor. This branch was nearly allied by blood, as well as attachment, to the Staw 1878. George, the second
Say, will you mourn my absent name, Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annabella Stewart, daughter
Apostate from your gentle traio? of James the First of Scotland; by her he left four sons: the third, An infant Bard, at least, may claim Sir William Gordon, I bave the bonour to claim as one of my pro
From you a sympathetic strain. Genitors.
3 Whether any perished in the battle of Culloden I am not certain ; " It is hardly necessary to add, that Pylades was the companion of but as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the name of the Orestes, and a partner in one of those friendships which, wiih ihose principal action, . pars pro toto.»
of Achilles and Parroc us. Nisus and Euryalus, Damon and Pythias, • A tract of the Highlands so called ; there is also a Castle o have been handed down to posterity as remarkable instances of alBraemar.
tachments which, in all pro jability, never existed, beyond the ima• The Lagpipe.
gination of the poet, the page of an historian, or modern novelist.
Adieu! fond race, a long adieu !
Years roll on years-10 ages, ages yield-
Abbots to abbots in a line succeed,
Religion's charter their protecting shield,
Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed.
One holy DENRY reard the Gothic walls,
Another Henry' the kind gift recals,
And bids devotion's hallow'd echoes cease.
He drives them exiles from their blest abode,
To roam a dreary world, in deep despair,-
No friend, no bome, no refuge but their God. all their deeds.
OSSIA.. Hark! how the hall, resounding to the strain,
Shakes with the martial music's novel din !
High-crested banners, wave thy walls within.
Of changing sentinels the distant hum,
The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnislid arms, Hail to thy pile ! more honour'd in thy fall,
The braying trumpet, and the hoarser drum,
Unite in concert with increased alarms.
An abbey once, a regal fortress now,
Encircled by insulting rebel powers; So mail-clad serfs, 3 obedient to their lord,
War's dread machines o'erhang thy threatening brow, la grim array, the crimson cross 4 demand,
And dart destruction in sulphureous showers. Or gay assemble round the festive board,
Al! vain defence! the hostile traitor's siegc, Their chief's retainers, an immortal band.
Though oft repulsed, by guile o'ercomes the brave; Else might inspiring Fancy's magic eye
Ilis thronging foes oppress the faithful liege, Retrace their progress, through the lapse of time; Rebellion's recking standards o'er him wave. Marking each ardent youth, ordaind to die,
Not unavenged, the raging baron yields, A Fotive pilgrim, in Judea's clime.
The blood of traitors smears the purple plain; Eat Dot from thee, dark pile! departs the Chief,
Unconquer'd still his faulchion there he wields, His feudal realm in other regions lay;
And days of glory yet for him remain. In thee, the wounded conscience courls relief,
Still, in that hour the warrior wish'd to strew Retiring from the garish blaze of day.
Self-gather'd laurels on a self-sought grave; Yes, in thy gloomy cells and shades profound,
But Charles' protecting genius hither flew, 1 The monk abjured a world he ne'er could view;
The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save. Or blood-staio'd Guilt repenting solace found, Trembling she snatch'd him 3 from the unequal strife, Or lopocence from stern Oppression flew.
lo other fields the torrent to repel,
For nobler combats here reserved his life, å monarch bade thee from that wild arise, Where Sherwood's outlaws once were wont to prowl;
To lead the band where godlike FALKLAND 4 fell. And Superstition's crimes, of various dyes,
From thee, poor pile! to lawless plunder given, 1 Sought shelter in the priest's protecting cowl.
While dying groans their painful requiem sound,
Far different incense now ascends to heavenWhere now the grass exhales a murky dew,
Such victims wallow on the gory ground. The humid pall of life-extinguish'd clay, la sainted fame the sacred fathers grew,
There, many a pale and ruthless robber's corse, 1 Nor raised their pious voices, but to pray.
Noisome and ghast, defiles thy sacred sod;
O'er mingling man, and horse commix'd with horse, Where now the bats their wavering wings extend,
Corruption's heap, the savage spoilers Irod.
Graves, long with rank and sighing weeds o'erspread, | Or matin orisons to Mary paid.
Ransack'd, resiga perforce their mortal mould;
From ruffian fangs escape not e'en the dead, "As one poem on this subject is printed in the beginning, the Raked from repose, in search of buried gold. matbor bad originally no inteetion of inserting the following: it is "At the Dissolution of the Monasteries, Henry VIII. bestowed * added at the particular request of some friends.
Newstead Abbey on Sir John Byron. * Henry II, founded Newstead soon after the murder of Thomas-a- Newstead sustained a considerable siege in the war between
Charles I. and his Parliament. This word is used by Walter Scout, in his poem, • The Wild ? Lord Byron and his brother Sir William held high commands Hustas, as synonymous with Vassal.
in the royal army; the former was General in Chief in Ireland, • The Red Cross was the badge of the Crusaders.
Lieutenant of the Tower, and Governor to James Duke of York, afAsGloaming," the Scottish word for Twiligbt, is far more terwards the unbappy James II. The latter had a principal share periral, and has been recommended by many eminent literary men. in many actions. Vide Clarendon, Home, etc. particelarly Dr Moore, in his Letters to Burns, I have ventured 10 * Lucius Cary, Lord Viscount Falkland, the most accomplished use it on account of its barmony.
man of bis age, was killed at the battle of Newberry, charging in The Priory was dedicated to the Virgin.
the ranks of Lord Byron's regiment of cavalry.
Thy cloisters, pervious to the wintry showers
These, these he views, and views them but to weep. Yet are his tears no emblem of regret,
Cherish'd affection only bids them flow; Pride, Hope, and Love forbid him to forget,
But warm his bosom with impassion'd glow. Yet, he prefers thee to the gilded domes,
Or gewgaw grotroes of the vainly great; Yet lingers 'mid thy damp and mossy tombs,
Nor breathes a murmur 'gainst the will of fate.
Thee to eradiate with meridian ray;
And bless thy future as thy former day.
TO E. N. L. ESQ.
NII ego contolerim jucundo sanus amico.
Ilushd is the harp, unstrung the warlike lyre,
The minstrel's palsied hand reclines in death; No more he strikes the quivering chords with fire,
Or sings the glories of the martial wreath.
Retire-the clamour of the fight is o'er;
And sable Horror guards the massy door. llere Desolatiou holds her dreary court;
What satellites declare her dismal reigo! Shrieking their dirge, ill-omened birds resort
To flit their vigils in the hoary fane. Soon a new moro's restoring beams dispel
The clouds of anarchy from Britain's skies The fierce usurper seeks his native hell,
And Nature triumphs as the tyrant dies. With storms she welcomes his expiring groans,
Whirlwinds responsive greet his labouring breath; Earth sludders as her cave receives his bones,
Loathing the offering of so dark a death. The legal Ruler? now resumes the helm,
le guides through gentle seas the prow of state Hope cheers with wonted smiles the peaceful realm,
And heals the bleeding wounds of wearied Hate. The gloomy tenants, Newstead, of thy cells,
Howling resign their violated nest; Again the master on his tenure dwells,
Enjoy'd, from absence, with enraptured zest. Vassals within thy hospitable pale,
Loudly carousing, bless their lord's return; Culture again adorns the gladdeving vale,
And matrons, once lamenting, cease to mourn.
Unwonted foliage mantles o'er the trees;
The hunter's cry bangs lengthening on the breeze. Beneath their coursers' hoofs the valleys shake:
What fears, what anxious hopes attend the chase! The dying stag seeks refuge in the lake,
Exulting shouts announce the finish'd race. Ah! happy days! too happy to endure !
Such simple sports our plain forefathers knew : No splendid vices glitter'd to allure
Their joys were many, as their cares were few. From these descending, sons to sires succeed,
Time steals along, and Death uprcars his dart; Another chief impels the foaming steed,
Another crowd pursue the panting hart. Newstead! what saddening change of scene is thine!
Thy yawning arch betokens slow decay; The last and youngest of a noble line
Now holds thy mouldering turrets in his sway. Deserted pow, he scans thy gray-worn towers
Thy vaults, where dead of feudal ages sleep
DEAR L--, in this sequester d scene,
While all around in slumber lie,
Come rolling fresh on Fancy's eye:
And interrupt the goldeu dream;
And still indulge my wonted theme.
In Granta's vale, the pedant's lore, Nor, through the groves of Ipa, chase
Our raptured visions as before ; Though Youth has flown on rosy pinion, And Manhood claims his stern dominion, Age will not every hope destroy, But yield some hours of sober joy. Yes, I will hope that Time's broad wing Will shed around some dews of spring ; l'ut, if his scythe must sweep the flowers Which bloom among the fairy bowers, Where smiling Youth delights to dwell, And hearis with early rapture swell; If frowning Age, with cold control, Confines the current of the soul, Congeals the tear of Pity's eye, Or checks the sympathetic sigh, Or lears unmoved Misfortune's groan, And bids me feel for self alone; Oh! may my bosom never learn,
To sooth its wonted heedless flow,
But ne'er forget another's woe.
This is an historical fact. A violent tempost occurred immediately subsequent to the death, or interment, of Cromwell, which occasioned many disputes between his partisans and the cavaliers ; both interpreted the circumstance into divine interposition, but whether as approbation or condemnation, we leave to the casuists of that age to decide. I have made such use of the occurrence as suited the subject of my poem.
· Charles II.
Still, may I rove untutord, wild, And, even in age, at heart a child.
Though now on airy visions borne,
To you my soul is still the same, Oft has it been my fate to mourn,
And all my former joys are tame. But, hence! ye hours of sable hue;
Your frowns are gone, my sorrow 's o'er; By every bliss my childhood knew,
I'll thiuk upon your shade no more. Thus, when the whirlwind's rage is past,
And caves their sullen roar enclose, We beed no more the wintry blast,
When lulla by zephyr to repose. Full often has my infant Muse
Attuned to love her languid lyre; But now, without a theme to chuse,
The strains in stolen sighs expire ; My youthful nymphs, alas! are flown;
E-- is a wife, and C-- a mother, And Carolina sighs alone,
Aod Mary's given to another;
Can now no more my love recal;
For Cora's eye will shine on all.
The aid which once improved their light, And bade them burn with fiercer glow,
Now quenches all their sparks in night; Thus has it been with passion's fires,
As many a boy and girl remembers, While all the force of love expires,
Extinguish'd with the dying embers.
As once this pledge appear'd a token,
For then my peace had not been broken. To thee these early faults I owe,
To thee, the wise and old reproving; They know my sins, but do not know
'T was thine to break the bonds of loving. For once my soul, like thine, was pure,
And all its rising fires could smother; But now thy vows no more endure,
Bestow'd by thee upon another. Perhaps his peace I could destroy,
And spoil the blisses that await him; Yet let my rival smile in joy,
For thy dear sake I cannot hate him. Ah! since thy angel form is gone,
My heart no more can rest with any ; But what it sought in thee alone,
Attempts, alas! to find in many. Then fare thee well, deceitful maid,
*T were vain and fruitless to regret thee; Nor hope nor memory yield their aid,
But pride may teach me to forget thee. Yet all this giddy waste of years,
This tiresome round of palling pleasures, These varied loves, thiese matron's fears,
These thoughtless strains to passion's measures, If thou wert mine, had all been hush'd;
This cheek, now pale from early riot, With Passion's hectic ne'er bad flush'd,
But bloom'd in calm domestic quiet. Yes, once the rural scene was sweet,
For nature seem'd to smile before thee; And once my breast abhorrd deceit,
For then it beat but to adore thee.. But now I seek for other joys;
To think would drive my soul to madness; In thoughtless throngs and empty noise,
I conquer half my bosom's sadness. Yet even in these a thought will steal,
In spite of every vain endeavour; And fiends might pity what I feel,
To know that thou art lost for ever.
But now, dear L--, 't is midnight's noon,
Has thrice perform d her stated round, Has thrice retraced her path of light,
And chased away the gloom profound, I trust that we, my gentle friend, Shall see her rolling orbit wend Above the dear-lov'd peaceful seat, Which once contain'd our youth's retreat ; And then, with those our childhood knew, We'll mingle with the festive crew; While many a tale of former day Shall wing the laughing hours away; Abd all the flow of soul shall pour The sacred intellectual shower, Nor cease, till Luna's waning horn Searce glimmers through the mist of Morn.
Still dwelling in my Highland cave,
Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave.
Accords not with the free-born soul,
And seeks the rocks where billows roll.
Take back this name of splendid sound!
I hate the slaves that cringe around: "Sassenagh, or Saxon, a Gaelic word signifying either Lowland or English,