Note 2 — WALK I.
Reading edition
The following lines were found among some old family papers, and are headed,—
VERSES—A FRAGMENT.
Descriptive of Bruntisfield House, now in the possession of Mr. Warrender, written in June 1790 at the desire of a young lady to whom the author was much attached.
Near where Edina's smoky turrets rise, And Arthur rears his bold and lofty head, Where the green meadow broad expanded lies, And yellow furze the sporting links bespread,— By tallest Elms and spreading Beech concealed From vulgar eyes—from busy care retired, To tender Melancholy alone revealed, Or Love, by Truth and Gentleness inspired,— An ancient Pile of gothic structure stands, Whose massy walls still brave the lapse of years, Once the retreat of rude confederate Bands, Or safe Asylum to a virgin's fears. No longer now the seat of War's alarms, Far gentler sounds are echoed here around, Sacred to Genius—here th' Enthusiast warms, Or pensive walks as o'er enchanted ground. No longer on the jarring hinges sweeps Th' unwieldy Portal as in times of yore. Secure within the peaceful owner sleeps, Nor dreams of wounds, or pants for human gore. The arched Gateway open still invites, The curious Traveller to pause awhile, Instructs the grave—the gay but ill delights, Nor asks the vacant for a single smile. High o'er its top the branching Elms ascend, And gild their summits in the Evening beam, The creeping ivy, Ruin's constant friend, Clasps its worn sides and enters every seam. Musing, within these limits oft I rove, A slave to Love's alternate hopes and fears, With heedless footsteps pace the silent grove, And vent the Sorrows of my heart in tears. Here tune my Soul to Pity's softest strain, Mark the swift progress of Life's fleeting hour, Learn, from my own, to feel another's Pain, Nor covet wealth, or court ambitious Power. Here too, when from the West the sun's last ray Shoots thro' the gloom, and brightens all the scene, Here fair Eliza oft was wont to stray, And add new lustre to the vernal green.