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Impatient now through opening banks to roam,
Now rushing o'er the rock a stream of foam;

Now stealing deep, where stretched from side to side,
The bellying archa reclined arrests the tide,
While down the dizzy brink resistless fleet,
The river rolls in one wide glittering sheet.
Adjoining this, 'midst bordering reeds and fens,
The lengthened lake its glossy flood extends,
Slow stealing on with lazy silent pace,
The Peel lone rising from its wat'ry face.
Here stalks the heron gazing in the lake,
The snowy swan and party-coloured drake;
The bittern lone that shakes the solid ground,
While thro' still midnight groans the hollow sound;
The noisy goose, the teal in black'ning trains,
And long-bill'd snipe that knows approaching rains;
Wild fowl unnumbered here continual rove,
Explore the deep or sail the waves above.

When harvest loads the fields with shocks of grain,
And heaps of hay bestud the marshy plain,
Then have I seen the clouds tumultuous rise,
Huge from the south grim dark'ning all the skies.
Then howled the blust'ring wind, the lashing rain
In streaming torrents poured along the plain,
Down from the steep, swelled brown from shore to
shore,

O'er rocks enormous with rethund'ring roar
Hoarse Calder dashed-the lake a sea appears,
And down at once the bord'ring harvest bears;
Wheat, hay, and oats float o'er the boiling tide,
And lost for ever down the current ride.
Plunged to the middle in the swelling waves,
See swains half-drowned, drag out the dripping
sheaves;

a A high dam erected for raising the water to the cotton mill. b The ruins of an old fortress.

While on the brink the farmer stands forlorn,
And takes his last sad look of the departing corn.

a

But hark! fierce Boreas blows keen from the hills,
The frost severe enchains the trickling rills;
Wide o'er the lake a glossy pavement spreads,
Snow robes the fields and heaps the mountain's heads;
Scarce o'er yon southern hill the sun appears,
Feeble his rays, far from our sight he wears.
How chill the air! how vehement the storm!
Bleak Winter growls and shakes his hoary form.

Seasons like these ne'er damp the glowing veins
Of rugged Scotia's hardy native swains;
Forth to the ice our little village pours,

In healthy sports to pass the shiv'ring hours.
On fleeting skates some skim its glitt'ring face,
In swift excursion or meand'ring chase;
While in black crowds the curlers throng around,
Men, stones, and besoms, thund'ring up the sound.

Nor is our pleasure less when Spring appears,
And Sol again the changing landscape cheers:
With pausing step to trace the murm'ring brook,
And o'er the stream display the purling hook;
While from each bush the feathered warblers rove,
And soothe the soul to sacred peace and love.
Or as at sober silent eve we walk

With the sweet fair, engaged in harmless talk,
The raptured heart enjoys a conscious glow,
Which care can't damp or gaudy wealth bestow.

lassay

Farewell, my friend! for me no more repine;
Peaceful I live, ah! were my bliss but thine,
Through these wild banks together could we stray,
Or range the wood to shun the sultry day,
Nor care nor pain could then my peace destroy,
And thy dear Muse would double ev'ry joy :

But since we're doomed far severed to remain,
Since murm'ring swells, but never soothes our pain;
Hence! ye vain wishes-Friendship, heavenly glow,
Best, choicest bliss bestowed on man below,
Shall reign united with triumphant pride,
Though kingdoms, seas, and half the world divide.

To Delia.

ON HER INSISTING TO KNOW WHO WAS THE SUBJECT OF A CERTAIN PANEGYRIC.

BEAUTEOUS maid! no more enquire on

Who thus warms my raptured strain;
Here I'll strive to paint the fair one,
Though, alas! I strive in vain.

Tall and graceful is her stature;
Loose and dazzling is her dress;
Cupids sport in every feature,
And in every jet black tress.
Mild she's as the dewy morning,
When exulting warblers sing;
As the summer beams adorning,
Modest as the blushing spring.

She talks-my soul is held in capture;
When she smiles 'tis matchless bliss;
She sings-and, oh! I'm all in rapture;
Gods! was ever joy like this?

Were my treasures high as heaven,
Vast as earth and deep as hell;
Richest gems from India riven,
All I'd give with her to dwell.
Would you wish to see this Venus,

This most sweet of all that's fair?
Ne'er with guesses rack your genius;

Look your glass-you'll see her there.

AN EXPOSTULATORY ADDRESS

To the Wagged Spectre, Poverty.
HAGGARD harlot! why thus dare
To wage with me eternal war,
Shall I bear it? no, thou strumpet!
Here I swear in voice like trumpet,
Soon's thou shows thy visage elf,
Meet thy fate and blame thyself.
Did I e'er invite or wrong thee?
Did I vow e'er to belong t' thee?
Do I welcome? do I nurse thee?
No, thou liest-I hate, I curse thee;
Why then, black presumptuous ghost,
Why thus stern invade my coast?

Soon thou throws but shadows o'er them,
Fly'st thyself, and all adore them.
Why thus partial? If the Muse
Deign at times to bless my brows,
I lift the pen-prepare for study,
There thou stares, grim, ghastly, duddy;
Shakes thy rags begins thy grieving,
Terrifies the Muse to heaven;

Then displays my pockets empty,

Belly worse, and all to tempt me.

Humour, rhyming, headlong scampers—
Rotten stockings, soleless trampers-
Nameless torments-crowds of evils
Grin around like real devils.

So disfigured with thy scoffing,
Need I wonder why so often
Friends go past, nae answer gi'e me,
Look their watch and never see me.

The Wasp's Revenge, a Fable. BESIDE a warbling flowery grove, By contemplation led, or love,

Lone in the summer noon-tide ray,
Young beauteous Jeanie basking lay.
Her cheeks outvied the rose's bloom,
Her lips the cherry-breath, perfume;
In silk apparel loose arrayed,
She beauty's every charm displayed.

As thus the sultry hour she spent,
With Phoebus' beams unnerved and faint,
Dull Morpheus silently did creep,
And ere she knew lulled her asleep.

A roving wasp, pert, gaudy squire.
Struck with the fragrance of the air,
In raptured hurry, on her lip
The fancied rose-bud dew to sip,

Soft perch'd-and, ah! what bliss he drew,
Ne'er wasp sucked such mellifluous dew.
With joy his little bag he stored,

And every glittering creek explored :
But, cruel fate! the waking maid,
Unknowing, snapt his hapless head

With deadly crash-" Revenge," he cried,
Then deeply stung, and quivering, died.
Alarmed, she started with a bound,
And shook her robes-but, ah! the wound
Deep-rooted, galled with aching smart,
And pining pierced her to the heart.
She trembled, wept, but wept in vain ;
Huge rose her lip-extreme the pain;
Till o'er her chin, with venom stung,
A monstrous sight it glistering hung.

'Twas then gay, beauteous Jean no more, Unfit to speak, she shrieked, she tore Her fluttering dress, and inward vowed,

If e'er her lip could be renewed,
No careless hour should see her laid,

Inglorious in the sun or shade.

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