VI. But thou, who own'st that earthly bed, VII. Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye VIIL But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide IX. And see, the fairy valleys fade, Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view! X. *The genial meads, assign'd to bless XL Long, long, thy stone and pointed clay * Mr. Thomson resided in the neighbourhood of Richmond some time before his death. VERSES Written on a Paper which contained a Piece of YE curious hands, that, hid from vulgar eyes, From Paphian hills, and fair Cytherea's isle; Sleep, wayward god! hath sworn, while these remain, And cheerful Hope, so oft invoked in vain, AN ODE ON THE POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND. I. HOME! thou return'st from Thames, whose Naiads long Have seen thee ling'ring with a fond delay, Mid those soft friends, whose hearts some future day Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song. Go, not unmindful of that cordial youth, Whom, long endear'd, thou leavest by Lavant's side; Together let us wish him lasting truth, And joy untainted, with his destined bride. Go! nor regardless, while these numbers boast My short-lived bliss, forget my social name; But think, far off, how, on the southern coast, I met thy friendship with an equal flame! Fresh to that soil thou turn'st, where ev'ry vale Shall prompt the poet, and his song demand: To thee thy copious subjects ne'er shall fail; Thou need'st but take thy pencil to thy hand, And paint what all believe, who own thy genial land. II. There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill; A gentleman of the name of Barrow, who introduced Home to Collins. Such airy beings awe th' untutor'd swain: [neglect ; III. E'en yet preserved, how often may'st thou hear, Old Runic bards shall seem to rise around, [ear. Their matted hair with boughs fantastic crown'd: Whether thou bidd'st the well-taught hind repeat The choral dirge, that mourns some chieftain brave, When ev'ry shrieking maid her bosom beat, And strew'd with choicest herbs his scented grave; Or whether, sitting in the shepherd's shiel,* Thou hear'st some sounding tale of war's alarms; When at the bugle's call, with fire and steel, The sturdy clans pour'd forth their brawny swarms, And hostile brothers met to prove each others' arms. IV... 'Tis thine to sing, how, framing hideous spells, How they, whose sight such dreary dreams engross, A summer hut, built in the high part of the mountains, to tend their flocks in the warm season, when the pasture is fine. D For them the viewless forms of air obey, Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair: They know what spirit brews the stormful day, And heartless, oft like moody madness, stare To see the phantom train their secret work prepare. V. 'Or on some bellying rock that shades the deep, 'They view the lurid signs that cross the sky, 'Where, in the west, the brooding tempests lie: 'And hear their first, faint, rustling pennons sweep. 'Or in the arched cave, where deep and dark 'The broad, unbroken billows heave and swell, 'In horrid musings wrapt, they sit to mark 'The lab'ring moon; or list the nightly yell 'Of that dread spirit, whose gigantic form 'The seer's entranced eye can well survey, 'Through the dim air who guides the driving storm, And points the wretched bark its destined prey. 'Or him who hovers on his flagging wing 'O'er the dire whirlpool, that, in ocean's waste, 'Draws instant down whate'er devoted thing 'The failing breeze within its reach hath placed'The distant seaman hears, and flies with trembling haste. VI. Or, if on land the fiend exerts his sway, 'Silent he broods o'er quicksand, bog, or fen, Far from the shelt'ring roof and haunts of men, 'When witched darkness shuts the eye of day, And shrouds each star that wont to cheer the night; Or, if the drifted snow perplex the way, 'With treach'rous gleam he lures the fated wight, 'And leads him flound'ring on and quite astray.' VII. To monarchs dear, some hundred miles astray, |