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And He whom ruthless fates expel

His native land.

There, where a scepter'd Pictish shade
Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid,
I mark'd a martial race, portray'd

In colours strong;

Bold, soldier-featur'd, undismay'd

They strode along.

Thro many a wild, romantic grove,b
Near many a hermit-fancy'd cove
(Fit haunts for Friendship or for Love),
In musing mood,

An aged Judge, I saw him rove,

Dispensing good.

With deep-struck reverential awes
The learned Sire and Son I saw,
To Nature's God and Nature's law
They gave their lore;

This, all its source and end to draw;

That, to adore.

Brydone's brave wardd I well could spy,
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye;
Who call'd on Fame, low standing by,
To hand him on

Where many a Patriot-name on high,
And hero shone.


WITH musing deep, astonish'd stare,
I view'd the heavenly-seeming Fair,
A whispering throb did witness bear,
Of kindred sweet,

a Coilus, king of the Picts, from whom the district of K said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near family seat of the Montgomeries of Coil's-field, where his bu. place is still shewn.

b Barskimming, the seat of the late Lord Justice Clerk.

e Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor, and present Professor Stewart. d Colonel Fullarton.

When, with an elder sister's air,
She did me greet :→

All hail! my own inspired Bard!
In me thy native Muse regard :
Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,
Thus poorly low!

I come to give thee such reward
As we bestow.

Know the great Genius of this land,
Has many a light aerial band,
Who, all beneath his high command,

As arts or arms they understand,
Their labours ply.

They Scotia's race among them share ;
Some fire the Soldier on to dare;
Some rouse the Patriot up to bare
Corruption's heart;

Some teach the Bard, a darling care,
The tuneful art.

'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore,
They ardent, kindling spirits pour;
Or 'mid the venai Senate's roar,

They, sightless, stand,

To mend the honest Patriot-lore,
And grace the hand.

And when the Bard, or hoary Sage,
Charm or instruct the future age,
They bind the wild poetic rage

In energy,

Or point the inconclusive page
Full on the eye.

Hence Fullarton, the brave and young;

Hence Dempster's zeal-inspired tongue;

Hence sweet harmonious Beattie sung
His Minstrel lays;

Or tore, with noble ardour stung,
The Sceptic's bays.

To lower orders are assign'd,
The humbler ranks of human kind,
The rustic Bard, the lab'ring Hind,
The Artisan;

All choose, as various they 're inclin'd
The various man.

When yellow waves the heavy grain,
The threat'ning storm some strongly rein;
Some teach to meliorate the plain
With tillage skill;

And some instruct the shepherd train
Blythe o'er the hill.

Some hint the lover's harmless wile :
Some grace the maiden's artless smile
Some sooth the lab'rer's weary toil
For humble gains,

And makes his cottage-scenes beguile
His cares and pains.

Some, bounded to a district-space,
Explore at large man's infant race,
To mark the embryotic trace,

Of rustic Bard;

And careful note each op'ning grace,
A guide and guard.

Of these am I-Coila my name;

And this district as mine I claim,

Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,
Held ruling pow'r;

I mark'd thy embryo tuneful flame,

Thy natal hour.

e David Hume.

Coila, from Kyle, a district in Ayrshire, so called, saith tradition, from Coil, or Coilus, a Pictish monarch

With future hope, I oft would gaze,
Fond, on thy little early ways,
Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase,
In uncouth rhymes,

Fir'd at the simple artless lays
Of other times.

I saw thee seek the sounding shore
Delighted with the dashing roar;
Or when the North his fleecy store
Drove thro' the sky,

I saw grim Nature's visage hoar,
Struck thy young eye.

Or when the deep green-mantled earth
Warm cherish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth,
And joy and music pouring forth
In ev'ry grove,

I saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth
With boundless love.

When ripen'd fields and azure skies,
Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise,
I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys,
And lonely stalk,

To vent thy bosom's swelling rise
In pensive walk.

When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong,
Keen-shiv'ring shot thy nerves along,
Those accents, grateful to thy tongue,
Th' adored name,

I taught thee how to pour in song,
To sooth thy flame.

I saw thy pulse's madd'ning play,
Wild send thee pleasure's devious way
Misled by Fancy's meteor ray,

By passion driven;

But yet the light that led astray

Was light from Heaven.

I taught thy manners-painting strains,
The loves, the ways of simple swains,
Till now, o'er all my wide domains
Thy fame extends :
the pride of Coila's plains,
Become thy friends.

And some,

Thou canst not learn, nor can I show,
To paint with Thomson's landscape glow;
Or wake the bosom-melting throe,


With Shenstone's art; with Gray, the moving flow Warm on the heart.


Yet all beneath th' unrivall'd rose,
The lowly daisy sweetly blows;

Tho' large the forest's monarch throws
His army shade,

Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,
Adown the glade.

Then never murmur nor repine;
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;
And trust me, not Potosi's mine,
Nor kings' regard,

Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,

A rustic Bard.

To give my counsels all in one,
Thy tuneful flame still careful fan;
Preserve the Dignity of Man,

With soul erect;

And trust the Universal Plan

Will all protect.

g In South America, famed for its gold mings.

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