O best of grannams! thou art dead and gone, THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. WRITTEN IN 1746. MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn The wretched owner sees afar prey of war; What boots it then, in every clime The rural pipe and merry lay O baneful cause! oh fatal morn, The pious mother, doom'd to death, While the warm blood bedews my 66 VERSES ON A YOUNG LADY PLAYING ON A HARPSICHORD, AND SINGING. WHEN Sappho struck the quivering wire, But had the nymph possessed with these The worm of Grief had never prey'd Nor had she mourn'd a hapless flame, LOVE ELEGY. IN IMITATION OF TIBULLUS. WHERE now are all my flattering dreams of joy? Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call, For me, no more I'll range the' empurpled mead, I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall, Where fancy paints the glimmering taper blue, Where damps hang mouldering on the ivied wall, And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew: There, leagued with hopeless anguish and despair, Wilt thou, Monimia, shed a gracious tear |