6. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.

(At Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond.)

Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head: And these gray Rocks; this household Lawn; These Trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water, that doth make A murmur near the silent Lake; This little Bay, a quiet Road That holds in shelter thy Abode; 10 In truth together ye do seem Like something fashion'd in a dream;

Such Forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep! Yet, dream and vision as thou art, I bless thee with a human heart: God shield thee to thy latest years! I neither know thee nor thy peers; And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears.

With earnest feeling I shall pray 20 For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here, scatter'd like a random seed, Remote from men, Thou dost not need The embarrass'd look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness:

Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear 30 The freedom of a Mountaineer. A face with gladness overspread! Sweet looks, by human kindness bred! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts, that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife 40 That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmov'd in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kind, Thus beating up against the wind.

What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess! 50 But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see! Thy elder Brother I would be, Thy Father, any thing to thee!

Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace 60 Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had; and going hence I bear away my recompence. In spots like these it is we prize Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes: Then, why should I be loth to stir? I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, Continued long as life shall last. Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, 70 Sweet Highland Girl! from Thee to part; For I, methinks, till I grow old, As fair before me shall behold, As I do now, the Cabin small, The Lake, the Bay, the Waterfall; And Thee, the Spirit of them all!

7. SONNET. (Composed at —— Castle.)

Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy Lord! Whom mere despite of heart could so far please, And love of havoc (for with such disease Fame taxes him) that he could send forth word To level with the dust a noble horde, A brotherhood of venerable Trees, Leaving an ancient Dome, and Towers like these, Beggared and outraged!—Many hearts deplor'd The fate of those old Trees; and oft with pain The Traveller, at this day, will stop and gaze On wrongs, which Nature scarcely seems to heed: For shelter'd places, bosoms, nooks and bays, And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed, And the green silent pastures, yet remain.

8. ADDRESS TO THE SONS OF BURNS after visiting their Father's Grave (August 14th, 1803.)

Ye now are panting up life's hill! 'Tis twilight time of good and ill, And more than common strength and skill Must ye display If ye would give the better will Its lawful sway.

Strong bodied if ye be to bear Intemperance with less harm, beware! But if your Father's wit ye share, Then, then indeed, 10 Ye Sons of Burns! for watchful care There will be need.

For honest men delight will take To shew you favor for his sake, Will flatter you; and Fool and Rake Your steps pursue: And of your Father's name will make A snare for you.

Let no mean hope your souls enslave; Be independent, generous, brave! 20 Your Father such example gave, And such revere! But be admonish'd by his Grave, And think, and fear!