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Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast,
The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed,
Shoots into port at some well-havened isle,
Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile,
There sits quiescent on the floods, that show
Her beauteous form reflected clear below,
While airs impregnated with incense play
Around her, fanning light her streamers gay,

So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore
"Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,"
And thy loved consort on the dang'rous tide
Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
Always from port withheld, always distressed,
Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed,
Sails ripped, seams op'ning wide, and compass lost,
And day by day some current's thwarting force
Sets me more distant from a prosp'rous course.
Yet, oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he,
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.
My boast is not that I deduce my birth
From loins cnthroned and rulers of the earth;
But higher far my proud pretensions rise-
The son of parents passed into the skies!

And now, farewell. Time unrevoked has run
His wonted course, yet what I wished is done:
By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,
I seem t' have lived my childhood o'er again,
To have renewed the joys that once were mine,
Without the sin of violating thine;

And while the wings of Fancy still are free,
And I can view this mimic show of thee,
Time has but half succeeded in his theft-
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.

1790.

THE CASTAWAY

Obscurest night involved the sky,
Th' Atlantic billows roared,
When such a destined wretch as I,
Washed headlong from on board,

1798.

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Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home forever left.

No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast

With warmer wishes sent.

10

He loved them both, but both in vain,
Nor him beheld nor her again.

Not long beneath the whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay,

Nor soon he felt his strength decline,

Or courage die away,

But waged with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.

He shouted; nor his friends had failed
To check the vessel's course,

But so the furious blast prevailed

That, pitiless perforce,

They left their outcast mate behind,
And scudded still before the wind.

Some succor yet they could afford;
And such as storms allow,

The cask, the coop, the floated cord,

Delayed not to bestow.

But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore,
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.

Nor, cruel as it seemed, could he
Their haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in such a sea,

Alone could rescue them;

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That tells his name, his worth, his age,

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From naked groves nae birdie sings;
To shepherd's pipe nae hillock rings;
The breeze nae od'rous flavour brings
From Borean cave;

And dwyning Nature droops her wings,
Wi' visage grave.

Mankind but scanty pleasure glean

Frae snawy hill or barren plain,

ΤΟ

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Fiddlers, your pins in temper fix,
And roset weel your fiddlesticks;
But banish vile Italian tricks

From out your quorum,

Nor fortes wi' pianos mix—

Gie's "Tullochgorum"!

For naught can cheer the heart sae weel

As can a canty Highland reel;

It even vivifies the heel

To skip and dance:

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Ye wha are fain to hae your name
Wrote in the bonny book of Fame,
Let merit nae pretension claim

To laureled wreath,

But hap ye weel, baith back and wame,
In gude Braid Claith.

He that some ells o' this may fa',
An' slae-black hat on pow like snaw,

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65

1772.

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