ACCEPT, O Eglintoun! the rural lays, [praise,

Thine be the friend's, and thine the poet's The Muse, that oft has rais'd her tuneful strains, A frequent guest on Scotia's blissful plains, That oft has sung, her listening youth to move, The charms of beauty, and the force of love, Once more resumes the still successful lay, Delighted, through the verdant meads to stray: O! come, invok'd, and pleas'd, with her repair, To breathe the balmy sweets of purer air; In the cool evening negiigently laid, Or near the stream, or in the rural shade, Propitious hear, and, as thou hear'st, approve The Gentle Shepherd's tender tale of love. Learn from these scenes what warm and glowing Inflame the breast that real love inspires, [fires Delighted read of ardours, sighs, and tears; All that a lover hopes, and all he fears: Hence too, what passions in his bosom rise, What dawning gladness sparkles in his eyes, When first the fair is bounteous to relent, And, blushing beauteous, smiles the kind consent. Love's passion here in each extreme is shown, In Charlotte's smile, or in Maria's frown.

With words like these, that fail'd not to engage, Love courted Beauty in a golden age, Pure and untaught, such Nature first inspir'd, Ere yet the fair affected phrase admir'd. His secret thoughts were undisguis'd with art, His words ne'er knew to differ from his heart: He speaks his loves so artless and sincere, As thy Eliza might be pleas'd to hear.

Heaven only to the rural state bestows Conquest o'er life, and freedom from its woes;

Secure alike from envy and from care,
Nor rais'd by hope, nor yet deprest by fear;
Nor Want's lean hand its happiness constrains,
Nor riches torture with ill-gotten gains.

No secret guilt its stedfast peace destroys,
No wild ambition interrupts its joys.
Blest still to spend the hours that Heav'n has
lent,

In humble goodness, and in calm content.
Serenely gentle, as the thoughts that roll,
Sinless and pure, in fair Humeia's soul.

But now the rural state these joys has lost,
Ev'n swains no more that innocence can boast,
Love speaks no more what Beauty may believe,
Prone to betray, and practis'd to deceive.
Now Happiness forsakes her blest retreat,
The peaceful dwellings where she fix'd her seat,
The pleasing fields she wont of old to grace,
Companion to an upright sober race;
When on the sunny hill or verdant plain,
Free and familiar with the sons of men,
To crown the pleasures of the blameless feast,
She uninvited came a welcome guest:
Ere yet an age, grown rich in impious arts,
Seduc'd from innocence incautious hearts;
Then grudging Hate, and sinful Pride succeed,
Cruel Revenge, and false unrighteous deed;
Then dow'rless Beauty lost the power to move;
The rust of lucre stain'd the gold of Love.
Bounteous no more and hospitably good,
The genial hearth first blush'd with stranger's blood.
The friend no more upon the friend relies,
And semblant Falshood puts on Truth's disguise.
The peaceful houshold fill'd with dire alarms,
The ravish'd virgin mourns her slighted charms;
The voice of impious mirth is heard around;
In guilt they feast, in guilt the bowl is crown'd,
Unpunish'd Violence lords it o'er the plains,
And Happiness forsakes the guilty swains.

O Happiness! from human search retir'd, Where art thou to be found, by all desir'd?

Nun sober and devout! why art thou fled
To hide in shades thy meek contented head?
Virgin of aspect mild! ah why unkind,
Fly'st thou displeas'd, the commerce of mankind?
O! teach our steps to find the secret cell,
Where with thy sire Content thou lov'st to dwell:
Or say, dost thou a duteous handmaid wait
Familiar, at the chambers of the great?
Dost thou pursue the voice of them that call
To noisy revel, and to midnight ball?
O'er the full banquet when we feast our soul,
Dost thou inspire the mirth, or mix the bowl?
Or with th' industrious planter dost thou talk,
Conversing freely in an evening walk?
Say, does the miser e'er thy face behold,
Watchful and studious of the treasur'd gold?
Seeks Knowledge, not in vain, thy much lov'd
[pow'r,

Sill musing silent at the morning hour?
May we thy presence hope in war's alarms,
In S's wisdom, or Montgomery's arms!
In vain our flattering hopes our steps beguile,
The flying good eludes the searcher's toil:
In vain we seek the city or the cell;
Alone with virtue knows the pow'r to dwell.
Nor need mankind despair these joys to know,
The gift themselves may on themselves bestow.
Soon, soon we might the precious blessing boast;
But many passions must the blessing cost;
Infernal malice, inly pining hate,
And envy grieving at another's state.
Revenge no more must in our hearts remain,
Or burning lust, or avarice of gain.
When these are in the human bosom nurst,
Can peace reside in dwellings so accurst?
Unlike, O Eglintoun! thy happy breast,
Calm and serene, enjoys the heavenly guest;
From the tumultuous rule of passions freed,
Pure in thy thought, and spotless in thy deed.
In virtues rich, in goodness unconfin'd,
Thou shin'st a fair example to thy kind;
Sincere and equal to thy neighbour's fame,
How swift to praise, how obstinate to blame!
Bold in thy presence bashful Sense appears,
And backward Merit loses all its fears.

Supremely blest by Heav'n, Heaven's richest grace
Confest is thine, an early blooming race

Whose pleasing smiles shall guardian Wisdom arm,

Divine instruction! taught of thee to charm.
What transports shall they to thy soul impart!
(The conscious transports of a parent's heart)
When thou behold'st them of each grace possest,
And sighing youths imploring to be blest,
After thy image form'd, with charms like thine,
Or in the visit, or the dance to shine.
Thrice happy! who succeed their mother's praise,
The lovely Eglintouns of future days.

Meanwhile peruse the following tender scenes,
And listen to thy native poet's strains.
In ancient garb the home-bred Muse appears,
The garb our Muses wore in former years.
As in a glass reflected, here behold
How smiling Goodness look'd in days of old:
Nor blush to read where Beauty's praise is shown,
And virtuous Love, the likeness of thy own;

' Campbell's wisdom, &c. edit. 1758:

'In Stair's wisdom, or in Erskine's charms.' Copy prefixed to edition of the Gentle Shepherd in 1758.

While midst the various gifts that gracious Heaven,
Bounteous to thee, with righteous hand has given;
Let this, O Eglintoun! delight thee most,
To enjoy that innocence the world has lost.

TO A YOUNG LADY

WITH THE FOLLOWING POEM.

READ here the pangs of unsuccessful love,
View the dire ills the weary sufferers prove,
When Care in every shape has leave to reign,
And keener sharpens every sense of pain:
No charm the cruel spoiler can controul,
He blasts the beauteous features of the soul;
With various conflict rends the destin'd breast,

And lays th' internal fair creation waste:

The dreadful demon raging unconfin'd,
To his dire purpose bends the passive mind,
Gloomy and dark the prospect round appears,
Doubts spring from doubts, and fears engender
Hope after hope goes out in endless night, [fears;
And all is anguish, torture, and affright.

O! beauteous friend, a gentler fate be thine;
Still may thy star with mildest influence shine;
May Heav'n surround thee with peculiar care,
And make thee happy as it made thee fair;
That gave thee sweetness, unaffected ease,
The pleasing look that ne'er was taught to please;
True genuine charms, where falshood claims no
Which not alone entice, but fix the heart: [part,
And far beyond all these, supreme in place,
The virtuous mind, an undecaying grace.
Still may thy youth each foud endearment prove
Of tender friendship and complacent love;
May Love approach thee, in the mildest dress,
And court thee to domestic happiness;
And bring along the power that only knows
To heighten human joys and soften woes:
For woes will be in life; these still return;
The good, the beauteous, and the wise must mourn;
Doubled the joy that Friendship does divide,
Lessen'd the pain when arm'd the social side:-
But ah! how fierce the pang, how deep the groan,
When strong affliction finds the weak alone!
Then may a friend still guard thy shelter'd days,

And guide thee safe through Fortune's mystic ways:
The happy youth, whom most thy soul approves,
Friend of thy choice and husband of thy loves,
Whose holy flame Heaven's altar does inspire,
That burns through life one clear unsullied fire,
A mutual warmth that glows from breast to breast,
Who loving is belov'd, and blessing blest.
Then all the pleasing scenes of life appear,
The charms of kindred and relations dear,
The smiling offspring, love's far better part,
And all the social meltings of the heart:
Then harlot Pleasure with her wanton train
Seduces from the perfect state in vain;
In vain to the lock'd ear the syren sings,
When angels shadow with their guardian wings.
Such, fair Monimia, be thy sacred lot,
When every memory of him forgot,
Whose faithful Muse inspir'd the pious pray'r,
And weary'd Heaven to keep thee in its care;
That pleas'd it would its choicest influence show'r,
Or on thy serious or thy mirthful hour;
Conspicuous known in every scene of life,
The mother, sister, daughter, friend, and wife;

O VOICE divine, whose heavenly strain'
No mortal measure may attain,
O powerful to appease the smart,
That festers in a wounded heart,
Whose mystic numbers can assuage
The bosom of tumultuous Rage,
Can strike the dagger from Despair,
And shut the watchful eye of Care.
Oft lur'd by thee, when wretches call,
Hope comes, that cheers or softens all;
Expell'd by thee and dispossest,
Envy forsakes the human breast.
Full oft with thee the bard retires,
And lost to Earth, to Heav'n aspires;
How nobly lost! with thee to rove
Through the long deepening solemn grove,
Or underneath the moonlight pale,
To Silence trust some plantive tale,
Of Nature's ills, and mankind's woes,
While kings and all the proud repose;
Or where some holy aged oak
A stranger to the woodman's stroke,
From the high rock's aërial crown
In twisting arches bending down
Bathes in the smooth pellucid stream;
Full oft he waits the mystic dream
Of mankind's joys right understood,
And of the all-prevailing good.
Go forth, invok'd, O Voice divine!
And issue from thy sacred shrine;
Go, search each solitude around,
Where contemplation may be found,
Where'er apart the goddess stands
With lifted eyes and heaven-rais'd hand,
If rear'd on Speculation's hill
Her raptur'd soul enjoys its fill
Of far transporting Nature's scene,
Air, ocean, mountain, river, plain;
Or if with measur'd step she go
Where Meditation spreads below
In hollow vale her ample store,
Till weary Fancy can no more;
Or inward if she turn her gaze,
And all th' internal world surveys;
With joy complacent sees succeed,
In fair array, each comely deed.
She hears alone thy lofty strain,
All other music charms in vain;
In vain the sprightly notes resound,
That from the fretted roofs rebound,
When the deft minstrelsy advance
To form the quaiut and orbed dance;
In vain unhallow'd lips implore,
She hearkens only to thy lore.
Then bring the lonely nymph along,
Obsequious to thy magic song;

Bid her to bless the secret bow'r
And heighten Wisdom's solemn hour.
Bring Faith, endued with eagle eyes,
That joins this Earth to distant skies;
Bland Hope that makes each sorrow less,
Still smiling calm amidst distress;
And bring the meek-ey'd Charity,
Not least, though youngest of the three:
Knowledge the sage, whose radiant light,
Darts quick across the mental night,
And add warm Friendship to the train,
Social, yielding, and humane;
With Silence, sober-suited maid,
Seldom on this Earth survey'd :
Bid in this sacred band appear,
That aged venerable seer,

With sorrowing pale, with watchings spare,
Of pleasing yet dejected air,
Him, heavenly Melancholy hight,
Who flies the sons of false delight,
Now looks serene through human life,
Sees end in peace the mortal strife,
Now to the dazzling prospect blind,
Trembles for Heaven and for his kind,
And doubting much, still hoping best,
Late with submission finds his rest:
And by his side advance the dame
All glowing with celestial flame,
Devotion, high above that soars,
And sings exulting, and adores,
Dares fix on Heav'n a mortal's gaze,
And triumph 'midst the seraph's blaze;
Last, to crown all, with these be join'd
The decent nun, fair Peace of Mind,
Whom Innocence, ere yet betray'd,
Bore young in Eden's happy shade;
Resign'd, contented, meek and mild,
Of blameless mother, blameless child.

But from these woods, O thou retire!
Hood-wink'd Superstition dire:
Zeal, that clanks her iron bands,
And bathes in blood her ruthless hands;
Far hence, Hypocrisy, away,
With pious semblance to betray,
Whose angel outside fair, contains
A heart corrupt, and foul with stains;
Ambition mad, that stems alone

The boist'rous surge, with bladders blown;
Anger, with wild disorder'd pace;
And Malice pale of famish'd face;
Loud-tongu'd Clamour, get thee far
Hence to wrangle at the bar;

With opening mouths vain Rumour hung;
And Falshood with her serpent-tongue;
Revenge, her bloodshot eyes on fire,
And hissing Envy's snaky tire;
With Jealousy, the fiend most fell
Who bears about his inmate hell;
Now far apart with haggard mien
To lone Suspicion list'ning seen,
Now in gloomy band appears
Of sallow Doubts, and pale-ey'd Fears,
Whom dire Remorse of giant kind
Pursues with scorpion-lash behind;
And thou, Self-love, who tak'st from earth,
With the vile crawling worm, thy birth,
Untouch'd with others' joy or pain,
The social smile, the tear humane,
Thy self thy sole intemperate guest,
Uncall'd thy neighbour to the feast,

As if Heaven's universal heir
'Twas thine to seize and not to share:
With these away, base wretch accurst,
By Pride begot, by Madness nurst,
Impiety of harden'd mind,

Gross, dull, presuming, stubborn, blind,
Unmov'd amidst this mighty all,
Deaf to the universal call:

In vain above the systems glow,

In vain Earth spreads her charms below,
Confiding in himself to rise,
He hurls defiance to the skies,
And, steel'd in dire and impious deeds,
Blasphemes his feeder whilst he feeds.
But chiefly Love, Love, far off fly,
Nor interrupt my privacy;
'Tis not for thee, capricious pow'r;
Weak tyrant of a feverish hour,
Fickle, and ever in extremes,
My radiant day of reason beams,
And sober Contemplation's ear
Disdains thy syren song to hear.
Speed thee on changeful wings away,
To where thy willing slaves obey,
Go, herd amongst thy wonted train,
The false, th' inconstant, lewd and vain;
Thou hast no subject here; begone;
Contemplation comes anon.

Above, below, and all around,
Now nought but awful Quiet's found,
The feeling air forgets to move,
No zephyr stirs the leafy grove;
The gentlest murmur of the rill,
Struck by the potent charm, is still;
Each passion in this troubled breast,
So toiling once, lies hush'd to rest,
Whate'er man's bustling race employs,
His cares, his hopes, his fears, his joys,
Ambition, pleasure, interest, fame,
Each nothing of important name;
Ye tyrants of this restless ball
This grove annihilates you all.
Oh power unseen, yet felt, appear!
Sure something more than Nature's here.
Now on the flowering turf I lie,
My soul conversing with the sky:
Far lost in the bewildering dream
I wander o'er each lofty theme;
Tow'r on Inquiry's wings on high,
And soar the heights of Deity:
Fain would I search the perfect laws
That constant bind th' unerring cause:
Why all its children, born to share
Alike a father's equal care,
Some weep, by partial Fate undone,
The ravish'd portion of a son;
Whilst be whose swelling cup o'erflows,
Heeds not his suffering brother's woes;
The good, their virtues all forgot,
Mourn need severe, their destin'd lot;
While Vice, invited by the great,
Feasts under canopies of state.
Ah! when we see the bad preferr'd,
Was it Eternal Justice err'd?

Or when the good could not prevail,
How could Almighty Prowess fail?
When underneath th' oppressor's blow
Afflicted Innocence lies low,
Has not th' All-seeing Eye beheld?
Or has a stronger arm repell'a?

When death dissolves this brittle frame,
Lies ever quench'd the soul's bright flame?
Or shall th' ethereal breath of day
Relume once more this living ray?
From life escape we all in vain?
Heaven finds its creature out again,
Again its captive to controul,
And drive him to another goal.
When Time shall let his curtain fall,
Must dreary nothing swallow all?
Must we th' unfinish'd piece deplore,
Ere half the pompous piece be o'er?
In his all-comprehensive mind,
Shall not th' Almighty Poet find
Some reconciling turn of fate
To make his wondrous work complete,
To finish fair his mingled plan,
And justify his ways to man?

But who shall draw these veils that lie
Unpierc'd by the keen cherub's eye?-
Cease, cease, the daring flight give o'cr,
Thine to submit and to adore
Learn then into thyself cescend,
To know thy being's use and end,
For thee what Nature's kind intent,
Or on what fatal journey bent.
Is mean self-love the only guide?
Must all be sacrific'd to pride?
What sacred fountains then supply
The feeling heart and meiting eye?
Why does the pleading look disarm
The hand of Rage with slaughter warm?
Or in the battle's generous strife,
Does Britain quell the lust of life?
Next the bold inquiry tries

To trace our various passions' rise;
This moment Hope exalts the breast,
The next it sinks by Fear deprest;
Now fierce the storms of Wrath begin,
Now all is holy calm within.
What strikes Ambition's stubborn springs
What moves Compassion's softer strings,
How we in constant friendships join,
How in constant hates combine;
How Nature, for her favourite man,
Unfolds the wonders of her plan;
How, fond to treat her chosen guest,
Provides for every sense a feast;
Gives to the wide excursive eye
The radiant glories of the sky:
Or bids each odorous bloom exhale
His soul t'enrich the balmy gale;
Or pour upon th' enchanted ear
The music of the opening year;
Or bids the limpid fountain burst,
Friendly to life, and cool to thirst;
What arts the beauteous dame employs
To lead us on to genial joys,
When in her spacious work we join

To propagate her fair design,

The virgin-face divine appears

In bloom of youth and prime of years,
And ere the destin'd heart's aware
Fixes Monimia's image there.

Ah me! what, hapless, have I said?
Unhappy by myself betray'd!

I deem'd, but ah I deem'd in vain,
From the dear image to refrain;
For when I fixt my musing thought,
Far on solemn views remote;