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How blest the humble cotter's fate!

He woos his simple dearie;
The 'sillie bogles, wealth and state,
· Can never make them eerie.
O why should fate sic pleasure have,

Life's dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love,

Depend on Fortune's shining ?


Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,

That lov’st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

That sacred hour can I forget,

Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met,

To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace ;

Ab! little thought we 'twas our last !

Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore,

O’erhung with wild woods, thick’ning, green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,

Twin'd amorous round the raptured scene." The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,

The birds sang love on every spray, 'Till too, too soon, the glowing west

Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,

And fondly broods with miser care; . Time but the impression stronger makes,

As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?


FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye

skies, Now gay with the bright setting sun; Farewell loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,

Our race of existence is run!

Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe, Go, frighten the coward and slave;

Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know,

No terrors hast thou to the brave!

Thou strik'st the dull peasant, he sinks in the dark,

Nor saves e’en the wreck of a name;
Thou strik'st the young hero—a glorious mark!

He falls in the blaze of his fame!

In the field of proud honor-our swords in our hands,

Our king and our country to savem
While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands,

O! who would not rest with the brave!


As I stood by yon roofless tower,

Where the wa'-flower scents the dewy air, Where th’ howlet mourns in her ivy bower,

And tells the midnight moon her care.

The winds were laid, the air was still,

The stars they shot alang the sky; .
The fox was howling on the hill,

And the distant-echoing glens reply.

The stream, adown its hazelly path,

Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,

Whase distant roaring swells and fa’s. VOL. VI.

· The cauld blue north was streaming forth

Her lights, wi' hissing eerie din; Athort the lift they start and shift,

Like fortune's favours, tint as win.

By heedless chance I turn'd mine eyes,

And by the moonbeam, shook, to see A stern and stalwart ghaist arise,

Attir'd as minstrels wont to be.

Had I a statue been o'stane,

His darin look had daunted me; And on his bonnet grav'd was plain,

The sacred posy-Libertie!

And frae his harp sic strains did flow,

Might rous'd the slumb’ring dead to hear; · But oh, it was a tale of woe,

As ever met a Briton's ear!

He sang wi' joy the former day,

He weeping wail'd his latter times; But what he said it was nae play,

I winna ventur't in my rhymes.


BORN 1725.-DIED 1797.

William Mason was the son of the vicar of St. Trinity, in the East-Riding of Yorkshire. He was entered of St. John's college, Cambridge, in his eighteenth year, having already, as he informs us, blended some attention to painting and poetry with his youthful studies

“ – soon my hand the mimic colours spread, And vainly strove to snatch a double wreath " From Fame's unfading laurels.”

- English Garden, B. 1. . At the university, he distinguished himself by his Monody on the death of Pope, which was published in 1747. Two years afterwards, he obtained his degree of master of arts, and a fellowship of Pembroke hall. For his fellowship he was indebted to the interest of Gray, whose acquaintance with him was intimate and lasting; and who describes him, at Cambridge, as a young man " of much fancy, “ little judgment, and a good deal of modesty; in « simplicity a child, a little vain, but sincere, in“ offensive, and indolent.” At a later period of his life, Thomas Warton gave him the very opposite character of a buckran man.” I si :

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