But wad ye see him in his glee,
For meikle glee and fun has he,
Then set him down, and twa or three

Guid fellows wi' him;

And port, O port! shine thou a wee,

And then ye'll see him!

Now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose! Thou art a dainty chiel, O Grose!— Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,

They sair misca' thee;

I'd take the rascal by the nose,

Wad say, Shame fa' thee.

ΤΟ

ΤΟ

MISS CRUIKSHANKS,

A VERY YOUNG LADY.

Written on the Blank Leaf of a Book, presented to her by the Author.

BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young and gay,

Blooming on thy early May,

Never may'st thou, lovely flow'r,

Chilly shrink in sleety show'r!

Never Boreas' hoary path,

Never Eurus' pois'nous breath,
Never baleful stellar lights,
Taint thee with untimely blights!

Never, never reptile thief

Riot on thy virgin leaf!

Nor even Sol too fiercely view

Thy bosom blushing still with dew!

May'st

May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem,
Richly deck thy native stein;

'Till some ev'ning, sober, calm,
Dropping dews and breathing balm,
While all around the woodland rings,
And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings;
Thou, amid the dirgeful sound,
Shed thy dying honours round,
And resign to parent earth

The loveliest form she e'er gave

birth.

ON

ON READING IN A NEWSPAPER

THE DEATH OF JOHN M'LEOD, ESQ.

Brother to a young Lady, a particular Friend of the Author's.

And rueful thy alarms:

Death tears the brother of her love
From Isabella's arms.

Sweetly deckt with pearly dew
The morning rose may blow;
But cold successive noontide blasts
May lay its beauties low.

Fair on Isabella's morn

The sun propitious smil'd;

But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds

Succeeding hopes beguil❜d.

Fate

Fate oft tears the bosom chords
That nature finest strung:
So Isabella's heart was form'd

And so that heart was wrung.

Dread Omnipotence, alone,

Can heal the wound he gave;
Can point the brimful grief-worn eyes
To scenes beyond the grave.

Virtue's blossoms there shall blow,
And fear no withering blast;
There Isabella's spotless worth
Shall happy be at last.

THE