Who doubts of this has surely never seen
Their mighty chief's inimitable mien,

As with triumphant air he march'd along,
Distinguish'd leader of the chosen throng:
Just to his worth-his very looks declare,
That Hamilton's illustrious hand shall dare
(Whene'er his country shall the service claim)
Deeds yet unknown to envy or to fame!
Now Phoebus yields, so Stative Jove commands,
His monster-killing bow to mortal hands;
And Venus, whom a nearer passion moves,
With her son's arrows arms the youth she loves;
Such souls, led on by his conducting hand,
Would unresisted compass sea and land;
Nor Libya's sands, nor frozen Scythia's snows
Their arms could baffle, or their march oppose;
If yet we may in fate's decisions trust,
While Scotsmen are to native virtue just,

the beauty of the habit itself, and the rich dresses of the officers, who are some of them of the first quality, conspire to render the march of this company one of the most elegant processions imaginable, both for its regularity and beauty. The dress is à la Romaine, composed of fine plaid, adorned with deep green silk fringes, and lined with white silk; white stockings and white gloves, blue bonnets à l'Ecossois, with the image of St. Andrew enameled, placed in a cockade of white and green riband. Their belts are composed of the two last colours. In their right hand they bear their bow, in their belts are fastened two darts. The officers, for distinction, have their habits trimmed with deep silver fringes, and their bonnets of blue velvet, adorned with jewels. The counsellors, who are six in number, have bonnets of crimson velvet. Their drums, music, and other attendants are in the company's livery of green and white. Their two standards are most richly embroidered. His grace the Duke of Hamilton is at present captain general, and his grace the Duke of Queensberry, the Right Honourable the Earls of Crawford, Cassils, Wemyss, and Wigton, with the Right Honourable the Lords Kinnaird and Rollo, general officers.

He shall his country guard from foreign power,
Assert her freedom, and her rights restore,
Do justice to her long forgotten fame,

And prove the royal source from whence he came.

INSCRIPTIO FONTIS.

TRANSLATED.

HID lies the nymph from whom this bounty flows, So let thy hand conceal, when it bestows.

THE AUTHOR'S EPITAPH.

In juventute cura ut benè vivas, in senectute ut benè moriaris.

SENECA.

HERE, stranger! view a stone without a name, The name though placed obscure to thee and fame; The real merits of the mortal clay

Must wait the judgment of the final day.

Like thee I've seen both fortune frown and smile Felt all the hopes deluded man beguile; As thou art now, have I with life been bless'd', As I do now, so shortly thou must rest!

Must every joy, and every prospect leave
Contracted, in the limits of the grave:

See how the spoils of death around are spread,
Think as you walk what treacherous ground you
tread!

The mother-earth, that mixes now with me,
Next moment may reclaim its share in thee!
A smoke! a flower! a shadow! and a breath!
Are real things compared with life and death:
Like bubbles on the stream of time we pass,
Swell, burst, and mingle with the common mass!
Then, oh, reflect! ere fate unheeded come,
And snatch this lesson from the vocal tomb!
Known in thy conduct, fix'd upon thy mind,
'The love of God, and welfare of mankind.'
Then when old Nature shall to ruin turn,
Heaven melt with heat, and earth dissolving burn!
Amidst the flame inscribed this truth shall shine,
Its force immortal, and its work divine!

THE END.

C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick.