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They footed o'er the wat’ry glass so neat,
with Highland rage;
spir'd! No guess could tell what instrument appear'd, But all the soul of Music's self was heard; Harmonious concert rung in every part, While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart.
The Genius of the Stream in front appears, A venerable Chief advanc'd in years; His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd, His manly leg with garter-tangle bound. Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring, Sweet female Beauty hand in hand with Spring; Then crown'd with flow'ry hay, came Rural Joy, And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye; All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn wreath'd with nodding corn; Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show, By Hospitality with cloudless brow. Next follow'd Courage with his martial stride, From where the Feal wild-woody coverts hide;
* A well known performer of Scottish music on the violin,
Benevolence, with mild, benignant air,
The sun had clos'd the winter day,
To kail-yards green,
Whar she has been.
The thresher's weary flingin-tree
* The Poet here alludes to a Mrs. Stewart, who was then in possession of Stair. She afterwards removed to Afton-lodge on the banks of thé Afton, a stream which she subsequently celebrated in a song entitled, “ Afton Water."--Ed,
| Duan, a term of Ossion's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. ii, nif Macpherson's translation.
And when the day had clos'd his e'e,
Far i' the west,
I gaed to rest.
The auld clay biggin;
About the riggin.
An' done nae-thing,
For fools to sing.
My cash account:
Is a' th' amount.
Or some rash aith,
Till my last breath When click! the string the sneck did draw; And jee! the door gaed to the wa’; An' by my ingle-lowe I saw,
Now bleezin bright,
A tight, outlandish Hizzie, braw,
Come full in sight.
In some wild glen;
And stepped ben.
By that same token;
Wou'd soon been broken.
A “hair-brain'd sentimental trace,"
Shone tull upon her ;
Beain'd keen with Honor.
Down flow'd her robe, a Tartan sheen,
Could only peer it;
Nane else came near it.,
Her Mantle large, of greenish hue, My gazing wonder chiefly drew; Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw
A lustre grand; And seem'd, to my astonish'd view,
A well known land,
Here, rivers in the sea were lost; There, mountains to the skies were tost; Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast,
With surging foam; There distant shone Art's lofiy boast,
The lordly dome. Here Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods; There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds; Auld hermit Ayr staw thro’ liis woods,
On to the shore;
With seeming roar,
She boasts a Race,
And polish'd grace.
I could discern;
With features stern,
In sturdy blows;
Their Southron foes.
* The Wallaces.