ODOHERTY.

I beg your pardon-Proceed, Shepherd.

HOGG.

We never dabbled in the burn,
Nor pull'd the gowan droll,
But often has the sun's return
Surprised our bowl.

Chorus.-Our glass and bowl, my boys,
Our glass and bowl;

So let us call, as this is out-
Another bowl.

And aft did we the merry catch
And cheering ditty troll,

And hooted mony a whiggish wretch
About the bowl.

Chorus. Our glass and bowl, &c.

And, therefore, hills betwixt may rise,
And though ocean water roll,

Yet we'll ne'er forget the lads who met
About the bowl.

Chorus.-Our glass and bowl, &c.

And whan yer poet's dead and gane,
And laid beneath the moul',

Let those who sung his memory, drink
About the bowl.

Chorus. The glass and bowl, my boys,
The glass and bowl;

So let us call, for this is out

Another bowl.

1

NORTH, (much affected.)

Thank ye-thank ye, James. Long distant be that day! It will, in the course of nature, be your duty to lay me in the grave, and then I hope, as Southey says to Savage Landor, you will remember your friendship for me, when the paltry heats and animosities of the day are forgotten.

ODOHERTY.

In the 99th, they fined anybody who spoke of the death of a comrade, a dozen of wine. I propose the same law for our club.

NORTH.

Tickler, let us leave these youths to settle the fine and the bill.

[Exeunt NORTH and TICKLER.

Printed by James Ballantyne and Company, Edinburgh.

ONCE more amid the woods!-Loud howls the wind,
And wither'd leaves are rustling all around!
Oh, what a store of cherish'd thoughts enshrined
In Memory's Temple wakes at every sound!-
Long, long such lonely raptures had declined,-
Ay, raptures,-for even like the tones profound
Of solemn music, to the heart are dear,
All recollections that await me here.

And thou art as of yore, so mild and bright,
Oh, lovely Moon, that proudly sail'st on high;
And I have deem'd that your unclouded light

On our vain cares and toils beam'd mockery,-
So calmly movest Thou through the starry height,
Whilst we, unheeding how the moments fly,
In worldly strife and sorrow life consume,
Till, unprepared, we sink into the tomb.

But falsely have I deem'd; for in that sphere,
As wise men, science-aided, have descried,
Traces of human habitants appear-

Churches and towns, not less than waters wide,
And waving woods-Out on this creed severe !-
Thine aspect is no more to peace allied !—

Churches have churchyards;-many a woe-worn heart
Thy towns conceal ;-so then my dreams depart.

Mid yon far distant mountains, forest-crown'd,
The poet, as on earth, is early won

By Nature's charms, and moves on fairy ground ;-
For him, too, gleams the same autumnal sun;
For him the fancied laurel-wreaths are wound;
But scarcely has the reign of Joy begun,
Ere, onward rushing, through the charmed air,
He hears the Tempest's voice, that cries " Beware!"-
VOL. XVIII.

3 D

"Beware then !-Leave not thine own blest domain,Leave not thy woods and wilds, where thou art free,— Where none but thine advent'rous step can gain

The mountain realms of jocund Liberty !—
All other joys are but the mask of pain,-

Deceitful fruits of the forbidden Tree!-
Then, turn not on the distant towns thy sight ;-
The spell, once broke, will never more unite.-

"Lift not the swarthy veil that on them low'rs;
It hides no Paradise for eyes like thine ;-

There are no palaces, nor fairy bowers,

Where Hope and Joy their azure garlands twine!”— In vain the warning!-Fleeting are those hours; The tempest comes, when every gleam benign That shone around him hath for ever died;

Broke are the bands that Nature would have tied!

Oh, countless are the mysteries, whereof we
Speak not, because fit utterance is denied,
Feelings that to the heart resistlessly

Cleave inward, and yet prove no steadfast guide ;-
For, the mind changes like the blighted tree;
But he that lives to Nature still allied

Changes the least: The sun-the stars-the sky-
The wild rocks-shadow forth Eternity!—

Were I not thus alone, mid the wild woods,
These words had not been uttered; for no more
May truth be heard on earth, nor understood,
Nor visually beheld. From shore to shore,
Where lives the man, that yet hath hardihood,
Her spectral form to view, that whilom wore
The guise of Beauty?-But she wore that guise
Only for youthful poets' gifted eyes.

Brief are their joys ;-soon broken every spell !—
But there has been a time in earlier days,

When the first light of inspiration fell

On Christian hearts, to guide them through the maze Of life's dark wilderness, and then full well

Could mortals with undaunted courage gaze
On the dread ghostly form that unto them
Brought, of eternal life, the diadem.

They sought no longer for enjoyments here,
Where, in possession, all enjoyments die,
But found that suffering and a life austere

Could to the mind supernal strength supply:
Hence on that spectral shape, unblanch'd by fear,
They fix'd their willing eyes, that could descry,
Far in the distance, realms of changeless light,
And with firm faith believed that all was right.

But to return;-in yonder orb, whereon

The sun now brightly gleams, even at this hour, Hath not some lorn and weeping mourner gone

To the still burial-ground, with many a flower,
To deck the grave of him that Death has won,

Perchance untimely ?-Oh there lives no power
In sunlight, to restore that broken heart!
With those we love, all temporal hopes depart.

Still on the grave let many a wreath be thrown,
From flow'rets woven, that are of azure hue ;-
Emblem of all that to the mourner lone

Is left, her wasting anguish to subdue ;-
Emblem of beauteous tints around the throne

Of power supreme-the Heavens' eternal blue:The flowers, 'tis true, will wither; but on high, Their tints are deathless in the unfathom'd sky.

For whom are shed those tears? For whom are twined Those vernal wreaths?-Oh, were the veil uproll'd That hides the varied sufferings of mankind

From kindred hearts, not hardened yet, nor cold,— Henceforth, where might we peace and joyance find? That curtain drawn, what Hero dares behold, Unmoved, the tragic theatre, whereon The direful scenes of daily life are shown?

-

Yet, fleeting moments come, when, even as now,
That veil is half withdrawn. Hence, I descry
One lonely form, beneath the cypress-bough,
Lifting her dim sight to the beaming sky,
In prayer, that Heaven, in mercy, will allow
Strength to sustain her weight of misery,-
Then homeward crawls, where, dauntless all the while,
Her children on their widow'd mother smile.

And dauntless let them be!-Though temp'ral power
And strength they boast not, in their weakness here

They are more safe, than in his martial tower

The sternest king with iron shield and spear :On infancy descends a matchless dower

Of Innocence, that guards from every fear, And inspirations deep to them are given,

"They have not lost their Father, yet, in Heaven!”

Not yet!-But there might come another day,
When childhood is no more, and from those eyes,
Wherein the gleams of Hope and gladness play,
Despair would flash with fitful energies;—
When on those hearts, so tranquil now and gay,
Remorse would feed,-the worm that never dies :-
But angels guard them now, and on life's toils
And cureless woe, they cast unconscious smiles.

For whom were shed those tears?-That question we
Have answer'd; but not yet, we mark'd the strife,—
The long contention with his destiny,

Ere that stern victim did yield up his life.
He fell not like a dry leaf from the tree,-
But as a man, who parts with child and wife,
And leaves them in a ruthless tyrant's hand,
While he is borne to some far distant strand.

That tyrant was the World. No matter where,--
Or in the cold moon, or the colder earth,
There is for grief no refuge but despair!

And he had tried the world in hours of mirth ;
Had trusted then to the pretensions fair

Of men renown'd for piety and worth,-
And tried them when, in evil days, the sun
Was clouded, and the spells of Mirth undone.—

;

"Of all who flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued,”(Thanks, noble Byron, for that verse!) not one There came to soothe him in his anguish'd mood ;The world did now his mournful presence shun, And most of all, the "pious and the good,"

(So were they named,) who had his friendship won. Right willingly the cup of joy they shared, But for his grief scarce even compassion spared.

But Scorn

Then did Regret and Disappointment prey
Like Demons on his heart? Not so.
And Indignation held resistless sway ;-
And a rash vow that fated youth had sworn,
Yet, ere he died, to pluck the mask away,

That many a prosperous hypocrite has worn.
Oh vain resolve -The hydra brood of Hell
Fail not to guard the slaves who serve them well.-

His rash vows were fulfill'd; but not the less

The Bishop did in saintly pomp appear;
The Judge pronounced his heartless calm address,
So learn'd forsooth, and godly, though severe ;-
The legal robber triumph'd o'er distress,

By theft augmenting wealth from year to year :-
Tear from their visages the mask;-what then ?-
The world protects each chosen denizen.

In vain the strife!-As in a murderer's den,
One virtuous hero should contend alone,
And for each blow dealt forth, encounter ten,
From a wild horde, that mercy ne'er have shown,-
So he that would reveal the crimes of men,

Leaves them as they were found, and is o'erthrown.
Then gibbering laughter circles round his head,
Till his faint groans expire, and he hath fled.-

Ay, fled!-There is no courage that at last
Will not to suffering yield, when, day by day,
More bitter grows remembrance of the past,
Contrasting now with pain's relentless sway ;-
No bonds on earth have ever clung so fast,

That the tired spirit might not float away,
First resting in brief sleep, as if outworn,-
Then woke by radiance of th' eternal morn.-

So this man died,-but not as others die !--
Full many a time, when his last hour drew on,
And (while his eyes were fix'd on vacancy)

In dreams, he kneel'd before Heaven's dazzling throne,There rose upon his ears a fearful cry,

"Oh, husband,-father,-leave us not alone!"

Then struggling with his fate, once more he woke,
And of new combats resolutely spoke.