The parent pair their secret homage pay,

And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request, That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest, And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide: But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside.

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad:
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
"An honest man's the noblest work of God;"
And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,

The cottage leaves the palace far behind;
What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load,
Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd!

O Scotia! my dear, my native soil;

For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! And, O! may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!

'hen, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,

A virtuous populace may rise the while,

And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle.

O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide,

That stream'd through Wallace's undaunted heart;

Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,

Or nobly die, the second glorious part,

(The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) O never, never Scotia's realm desert;

But still the patriot, and the patriot bard, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard.

FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.

FAREWELL old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales;
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!

Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those-
The bursting tears my heart declare;
Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr!

H I EH LAND MARY.

YE banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flow'rs, Your waters never drumlie!

There simmer first unfauld her robes,

And there the langest tarry!

For there I took the last fareweel

O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade

I clasp'd her to my bosom!
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;

And pledging aft to meet again,

We tore ourselves asunder:

But, oh! fell death's untimely frost,

That nipt my flower so early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now those rosy lips,
I aft ha'e kiss'd sae fondly!
And clos'd for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly;

And mouldering now in silent dust,

That heart that lo'ed me dearly! But still within my bosom's core

Shall live my Highland Mary.

VERSES

LEFT AT A FRIEND'S HOUSE IN THE ROOM WHERE THE AUTHOR SLEPT.

O THOU dread Pow'r, who reign'st above!

I know thou wilt me hear;

When for this scene of peace and love,
I make my pray'r sincere.

The hoary sire-the mortal stroke,

Long, long, be pleas'd to spare!

To bless his little filial flock,

And show what good men are.

She, who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes an' fears,

O bless her with a mother's joys,
But spare a mother's tears!

Their hope, their stay, their darling youth In manhood's dawning blush;

Bless him, thou God of love and truth, Up to a parent's wish!

The beauteous, seraph sister-band

With earnest tears I pray,

Thou know'st the snares on every hand,

Guide thou their steps alway:

When soon or late they reach that coast,

O'er life's rough ocean driv'n,

May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost,

A family in heav'n!