то

RUIN.

I.

ALL hail! inexorable lord!

At whose destruction-breathing word, The mightiest empires fall!

Thy cruel, woe-delighted train,

The ministers of grief and pain,
A sullen welcome, all!
With stern-resolv'd, despairing eye,

I see each aimed dart;
For one has cut my dearest tie,
And quivers in my heart.

Then low'ring, and pouring,

The storm no more I dread; Tho' thick'ning and black'ning, Round my devoted head.

II.

And thou grim pow'r, by life abhorr❜d,
While life a pleasure can afford,
Oh! hear a wretch's pray'r!
No more I shrink appall'd, afraid;
I court, I beg thy friendly aid,
To close this scene of care!
When shall my soul, in silent peace,
Resign life's joyless day;

My weary heart its throbbings cease,
Cold mould'ring in the clay?

No fear more, no tear more,
To stain my lifeless face;
Enclasped, and grasped
Within thy cold embrace!

ΤΟ

ΤΟ

MISS L-,

WITH

BEATTIE'S POEMS

As a New Year's Gift, Jan. 1, 1787.

AGAIN the silent wheels of time

Their annual round have driv❜n,
And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime,
Are so much nearer Heav'n.

No gifts have I from Indian coasts
The infant year to hail;

I send you more than India boasts

In Edwin's simple tale.

Our

Our sex with guile and faithless love
Is charg'd, perhaps, too true;

But may, dear maid, each lover prove
An Edwin still to you!

EPISTLE

I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' Friend,

A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae other end Than just a kind memento;

But how the subject-theme may gang,

Let time and chance determine ; Perhaps it may turn out a sang,

Perhaps turn out a sermon.