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And thou, my last, best, only friend,

That fillest an untimely tomb, Accept this tribute from the bard

Thou brought from fortune's mirkest gloom. “In poverty's low barren vale,

Thick mists, obscure, involved me round; Tho' oft I turn'd the wistful eye,

Nae ray of fame was to be found, Thou found'st me like the morning sun

That melts the fogs in limpid airThe friendless bard and rustic song,

Became alike thy fostering care. “O! why has worth so short a date?

While villains ripen gray with time! Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,

Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime ? Why did I live to see that day?

A day to me so full of wo! 0! had I met the mortal shaft

Which laid my benefactor low! - The bridegroom may forget the bride

Was made his wedded wife yestreen; The monarch may forget the crown

That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child

That smiles săe sweetly on her knee; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,

And a' that thou hast done for me!!!

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SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITE

FORD, BART.

With the foregoing Poem. Thou who thy honour as thy God rever’st, Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly To thee this votive offering I impart, [fear'st, The tearful tribute of a broken heart. The friend thou valued'st, I the patron lov'd: His worth, his honor, all the world approv'd. We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone, And tread the dreary path to that dark world un

known.

STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.

THICKEST night o'erhangs my dwelling!

Howling tempest's o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,

Still surround my lonely cave.
Crystal streamlets gently flowing,

Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes sofily blowing,

Suit not my distracted mind.

In the cause of right engaged,

Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honor's war we strongly waged,

But the Heavens deny'd success.
Ruin's wheel has driver. o'er us,

Not a hope that dare attend,
The wide world is all before us,

But a world without a friend!

THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT.

The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning; The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro' the

vale; The hawthorn trees blow in the dews of the morning,

And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale:

But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair, While the lingering moments are number'd by care? No flowers gayly springing, nor birds sweetly

singing, Can sooth the sad bosom of joyless despair.

The deed that I dar'd, could it merit their malice,

A king and a father to place on his throne ? His right are these hills, and his right are these

vallies, Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find

none.

But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, forlorn, My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn;

'Your deeds prov'd so loyal in hot bloody trial, Alas! can I make you no sweeter return!

THE

AUTHOR'S FAREWELL

TO

HIS NATIVE COUNTRY.

Tune-"Roslin Castle.”

I.
THE gloomy night is gath’ring fast,
Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving o'er the plain;
The hunter now has left the moor,
The scatter'd coveys meet secure,
While here I wander, prest with care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr.

II.
The Autumn mourns her rip’ning coru
By early Winter's ravage torn;
Across her placid, azure sky,
She sees the scowling tempest fly:

VOL. I.-L

Chill runs my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonie banks of Ayr.

Ill.
'Tis not the surging billows' roar,
'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
Though death in ev'ry shape appear,
The wretched have no more to fear:
But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierc'd with many a wound;
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonie banks of Ayr.

IV. 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 thoseThe bursting tears my heart declare, Farewell the bonie banks of Ayr.

FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.

SCENES of wo and sceres of pleasure,

Scenes that former thoughts renew, Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure,

Now a sad and last adieu !

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