'Tis true thy charms, O powerful maid, TO II. H IN THE ASSEMBLY. WHILE crown'd with radiant charms divine, For me, my happier lot decrees My Hume, my beauteous Hume! constrains INDIFFERENCE. By various youths admir'd, by all approv'd, When youthful years, a foe to lonely nights, The hand of nuptial love was given at last; THE YOUNGEST GRACE. A LOVE-ELEGY. ADDRESSED TO A LADY, WHO HAD JUST FINISHED HER FIFTEENTH YEAR. His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani As beauty's queen in her aërial hall Sublimely seated on a golden throne, First came her son, her pow'r, her darling boy, And though devoid of sight, yet sure of aim. With him, his youthful consort, sad no more, Psyche, infranchis'd from all mortal pain, Who, every trial of obedience o'er, Enjoys the blessings of the heavenly reign. Next, as it well beseein'd, the tuneful Nine, Daughters of memory, and dear to Jove, She who with milder breath inspiring fills, Or she who from her copious store affords, When love decrees, the faithful youth to bless, The sacred energy of melting words, In the dear hour and season of success. The Cyprian goddess cast her eyes around, 1 Henry Home, afterwards Lord Kames. See So bright an host was no where to be found: Life of Hamilton. C. Her heart dilates, and glories in its might. But when without their lov'd companion dear Two solitary Graces hand in hand Approach'd, the goddess inly 'gan to fear What might befal the youngest of the band: "Ah! whither is retir'd my darling joy, My youngest Grace, the pride of all my reign, First in my care, and ever in my eye, Why is she now the lag of all my train? "Ah me! some danger threats my Cyprian state, Which, goddess as I am, I can't foresee; Some dire disaster labours, (ah, my fate!) To wrest love's sceptre from my son and me." She wept: not more she wept, when first her eyes "Yet, yet," she cry'd, "I will a monarch reign! In my last deed my greatness shall be seen: Ye Loves, ve Smiles, ye Graces, all my train, Attend your mother, and obey your queen. "Wisdom's vain goddess weaves some treacherous wile, Or haughty Juno, Heaven's relentless dame: Haste! bendeach bow; haste! brighten every smile, And lanch from every eye the lightning's flame." Then had fell Discord broke the golden chain When Cupid keen unlocks his feather'd store, The Loves, the Graces, and the Smiles in ire: In vain, t' avert the horrors of that hour, Anxious for fate, and fearing for his sky, The sire of gods and men had try'd his pow'r, And hung his golden balances on high: Had not the eldest Grace, serene and mild, Who wish'd this elemental war might cease, Sprung forward with persuasive look, and smil'd The furious mother of desires to peace. "Ah whence this rage, vain child of empty fear!" With accent mild thus spoke the heav'nly maid, "What words, O sovereign of hearts! severe flave pass'd the roses of thy lips unweigh'd? "Think not mankind forsake thy mystic law: Thy son, thy pride, thy own Cupido reigns; Heard with respect, and seen with tender awe; Mighty on thrones, and gentle on the plains. "Remember'st not how in the blest abodes Of high Olympus an ethereal guest, Mix'd with the synod of th' assembled gods, Thou shar'd'st the honours of th' ambrosial feast? Celestial pleasures reigning all around, Such as the pow'rs who live at ease enjoy, The smiling bowl with life immortal crown'd, By rosy Hebe, and the Phrygian boy: Hermes, sly god, resolv'd thy spleen to hit, Thy spleen, but, of itself, too apt to move; Prone to offend with ott-mistaking wit, That foe perverse to nature and to love. "Much gloz'd he spiteful, how rebellious youth, Lost to thy fear, and recreant from thy name, False to the interest of the heart, and truth, On foreign altars kindles impious flame. "Much gloz'd he tauntful, how to nobler aims The youth awakening from each female wile, No longer met in love's opprobrious flames, Slaves to an eye, or vassals to a smile. "Now fifteen years the still-returning spring With flow's the bosom of the earth has sow'd, As oft the groves heard Philomela sing, And trees have paid the fragrant gifts they ow'd, "Since our dear sister left the heavenly bow'rs: So will'd the Fates, and such their high commands, She should be born in bigh Edina's tow'rs, To thee far dearer than all other lands. "There, clad in mortal form, she lies conceal'd, A veil more bright than mortal form e'er knew; So fair was ne'er to dreaming bard reveal'd, Nor sweeter e'er the shadowing pencil drew. "Where'er the beauteous heart-compeller moves, She scatters wide perdition alt around : Biest with celestial form, and crown'd with loves, No single breast is refractory found. "Vain Pallas now th' mequal conflict shuns; Vain are the terrours of her gorgon shield: Wit bends; but chief Apollo's yielding sons: To thy fair doves Juno's proud peacocks yield. "No rival pow'rs thy envied empire share; Revolted mortals crowd again thy shrine; Duteous to love, and every pleasing care, All hearts are hers, and all her heart is thine. "So mild a sway the willing nations own; By her thou triumph'st o'er this subject ball; Whilst men (the secret of the skies unknown) The beauteous apparition Laura call." LOVE TURNED TO DESPAIR. "Tis past! the pangs of love are past, I love, I love no more; Yet who would think I am at last How bless'd, when first my heart was freed If cold indifference did succeed, But ah! how ill is he releas'd, Though love a tyrant reigns, When the successor in his breast Redoubles all his pains: In vain attempts the woeful wight, Or doves, sweet gentle birds, the heaven-born Muse Sweetness thy handmaid, and, with beauty, clothes THE FLOWERS. A FRAGMENT. THE care of gardens, and the garden's pride I weave a garland, deck'd with vernal flowers, * THE EPISODE OF THE THISTLE. FLOWERS, BOOK 1. NOR to the garden sole where fair resides Art never sow'd. Ev'n here the rising weed The landscape paints; the lion's yellow tooth, The enameli'd daisy, with its rose adorn'd The prickly briar, and the Thistle rude, An armed warrior, with his host of spears. Thrice happy plant! fair Scotia's greatest pride, Emblem of modest valour, unprovok'u That harmeth not; provok'd, that will not bear Wrong unreveng'd. What though the humble root Dishonour'd erst, the growth of every field Arose unheeded through the stubborn soil Jejune! though softer flowers, disdainful, fly Thy fellowship, nor in the nosegay join, Ill-match'd compeers; not less the dews of Heav'n Bathe thy rough cheeks, and wash thy warlike mail, Gift of indulgent skies! Though lily pure And rose of fragrant leaf, best represent Maria's snowy breast and ruddy cheek Blushing with bloom; though Ormond's laurel Sublimer branch, indulging loftier shade [rear To hearen-instructed bard, that strings beneath, Melodious, his sounding wire, to tales Of beauty's praise, or from victorious camps Heroes returning fierce: unenvied may The snowy lily flourish round the brow Of Gallia's king; the thistle happier far Exalted into noble fame, shall rise Triumphant o'er each flower, to Scotia's bards Subject of lasting song, their monarch's choice; Who, bounteous to the lowly weed, refus'd Each other plant, and bade the Thistle wave, Embroider'd, in his ensigns, wide display'd Among the mural breach. How oft, beneath Its martial influence, have Scotia's sons Through every age with dauntless valour fought On every hostile ground! while o'er their breast, Companion to the silver star, blest type Of fame unsullied and superior deed, Distinguish'd ornament! their native plant Surrounds the sainted cross, with costly row Of gems, emblaz'd, and flame of radiant gold, A sacred mark, their glory and their pride ! Bat wouldst thou know how first th' illustrious Rose to renown? hear the recording Muse! [plant While back through ages that have roll'd she leads Th' inquiring eye, and wakens into life Heroes and mighty kings whose god-like deeds Are now no more; yet still the fame survives, Victor o'er time, the triumph of the Muse! As yet for love of arts and arms renown'd, For hoary sires with gifts of wisdom grac'd, Unrival'd maids in beauty's bloom, desire Of every eye, and youthful gallant chiefs For courage fam'd and blest with sacred song, Flourish'd, sublime, the Pictish throne; and shar'd, Rival of Scotia's power, fair Caledon. Equals in sway, while both alike aspir'd To single rute, disdaining to obey: Oft led by hate and thirst of dire revenge For ravish'd beauty, or for kindred slain, Wide wasting others' realms with inroads fierce Until the Second Kenneth, great in arms, Brandish'd th' avenging sword, that low in dust Humbled the haughty race: yet ort, of war Weary and havock dire, in mutual blood Embru'd, the nations join'd in leagues of peace Short space enjoy'd; when nice suspicious fears, By jealous love of empire bred, agair, With fatal breath, blew the dire flame of war, Rekindling fierce. Thus, when Achaius reign'd, By the disposing will of gracious Heav'n To all the nations round. This plant I bear, And mix'd with night, when starting from his couch The youth from slumber wak'd. The mingled cries Of horse, and horsemen furious for the day, Assail his ears. Tempestuous fight. Aloud the welkin roars, Resounding wide, and groans of death are heard Superior o'er the din. The rival chiefs Each adverse battle gor'd. Here Athelstane, Horrent in mail, rear'd high his moony shield With Saxon trophies charg'd and deeds of blood, Horrid achievement! nor less furious there Hungus, inflam'd with desperate rage and keen Desire of victory; and near him join'd, With social valour, by the vision fir'd, The hopes of Caledon, the Scotish oak Plies furious, that from the mighty's blood Return'd not back unstain'd. Thus, when the seeds Of fire and nitrous spume and grain adust, Sulphureous, distend Earth's hollow womb, Sicilian Etna labours to disgorge Dreadful eruption; from the smoking top Flows down the molten rock in liquid ore, A threefold current to the wasted plain, Each ravaging a separate way: so fought Desperate the chiefs; nine hours in equal scale The battle hung, the tenth the angel rear'd The tutelary cross, then disarray And now both armies clos'd Fell on the Saxon host. Thus when of old And slaughter raging wide, o'erturn'd the bands The royal youth, thus vietor of his vows, Leads to his native land with conquest crown'd, His warring powers; nor of the heavenly dream Unmindful, bare the promis'd towers aspire With solemn rites made sacred to the name Of him in vision seen. Then to inspire Love of heroic worth, and kindle seeds Of virtuous emulation in the soul Ripening to deed, he crown'd his manly breast With a refulgent star, and in the star Amidst the rubies' blaze, distinguish'd shines The sainted cross, around whose golden verge Th' embroider'd thistle, bl st enclosure! winds A warlike foliage of ported spears Defenceful: last, partakers of his fame, He adds a chosen train of gallant youths, Illustrious fellowship! above their peers Exalted eminent: the shining band, Dote to fame, along the crowded streets Are led, exulting, to the lofty fane With holy festival and ritual pomp Install'd, of solemn prayer, and offer'd vows Inviolate, and sacred, to preserve The ordinance of Heav'n, and great decrce, Voice of the silent night: O ili foreseen1, O judgments ill forewarn'd and sure denounc'd Of future woes and covenants broke in blood, That children's children wept: how didst them O virgin daughter, and what tears bedew'd [grieve, The cheek of hoary age, when, as the Fates, Transgress'd the high command, severely will'd, The hapless youth, as the fierce lion's whelp, Fell in the fatal snare? that sacred head Where late the Graces dwelt, and wisdom mild Subdued attention, ghastly, pale, deform'd, Of royalty despoil'd, by ruthless hands Fixt on a spear, the scoff of gazing crowds, Mean triumph, borne: then first the radiant cross Submitted in the dust, dishonour foul, Her holy splendours; first, the thistle's spears Broke by a hostile hand, the silver-star Felt dim eclipse, and mourn'd in dark sojourn, A tedious length of years, till be, the fifth Triumphant James, of Stuart's ancient line, Restor'd the former grace, and bade it shine, With added gifts adorn'd. To chosen twelve, Invested with the ornaments of fame, Their sovereign's love, he bounteous, gave to wear, Across their shoulders flung, the radiant brede Of evening blue, of simple faith unstain'd Mysterious sign and loyalty sincere. Approven chiefs! how many sons, enroll'd In the fair deathless list, has Scotia seen, Or terrible in war for bold exploit ? Blest champions! or in the mild arts of peace Lawgivers wise, and of endanger'd rights Firm guardians in evil times, to death Asserting Virtue's cause, and Virtue's train? Blest patronage! nor these, with envy, view Th' embroider'd garter to surround the knee Of military chiefs of Brutus blood; With equal honours graeld, while monarchs bear The consecrated cross, and happy plant Bright on the regal robe; nor valued more Th' auointing oil of Heav'n! In Britain's shield The northern star mingles with George's beams, Consorted light, and near Hibernia's harp, Breathing the spirit of peace and social love, Harmonious power, the Scotish thistle fills Distinguish'd place, and guards the English rose, TO A GENTLEMAN GOING TO TRAVEL WELL Sung of old, in everlasting strains, 1 This refers to the story of King Alpin slala by the Picts, and his head fixed to a pole. See Bachanan, book 5. |