[The 'Mary' of this poem is not Mrs. Chaworth Musters, nor is it his distant cousin Mary Duff, but the daughter of James Robertson, of the farmhouse of Ballatrich on Deeside.]

WHEN I roved a young Highlander o'er the dark heath,

And climb'd thy steep summit, oh Morven of snow!

To gaze on the torrent that thunder'd beneath,

Or the mist of the tempest that gather'd below,

Untutor'd by science, a stranger to fear, And rude as the rocks where my infancy

[First printed in Edition of 1898 from a manuscript in possession of Mr. Murray.] MINGLE with the genial bowl The Rose, the flow'ret of the Soul, The Rose and Grape together quaff'd, How doubly sweet will be the draught! With Roses crown our jovial brows, While every cheek with Laughter glows; While Smiles and Songs, with Wine incite, To wing our moments with Delight. Rose by far the fairest birth,

Which Spring and Nature cull from Earth—-
Rose whose sweetest perfume given,
Breathes our thoughts from Earth to
Heaven -

Rose whom the Deities above,
From Jove to Hebe, dearly love,
When Cytherea's blooming Boy
Flies lightly through the dance of Joy,
With him the Graces then combine,
And rosy wreaths their locks entwine.
Then will I sing divinely crown'd,
With dusky leaves my temples bound-
Lyæus in thy bowers of pleasure,
I'll wake a wildly thrilling measure.
There will my gentle Girl and I
Along the mazes sportive fly,
Will bend before thy potent throne -
Rose, Wine, and Beauty, all my own.

1805.

OSSIAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN IN CARTHON'

This essay in turning 'Ossian' into verse is another instance of the influence of that rhapsodist on our poet. It was first printed in Edition of 1898 from a manuscript in possession of Mr. Murray.]

OH! thou that roll'st above thy glorious Fire,

Round as the shield which graced my godlike Sire,

Whence are the beams, O Sun! thy endless blaze,

Forth in thy Beauty here thou deign'st to shine!

Night quits her car, the twinkling stars decline;

Pallid and cold the Moon descends to cave Her sinking beams beneath the Western

To Ossian, Orb of Light! thou look'st in vain,

Nor canst thou glad his aged eyes again, Whether thy locks in Orient Beauty stream, Or glimmer through the West with fainter gleam -

But thou, perhaps, like me with age must bend;

Thy season o'er, thy days will find their end, No more yon azure vault with rays adorn, Lull'd in the clouds, nor hear the voice of Morn.

Exult, O Sun, in all thy youthful strength! Age, dark unlovely Age, appears at length, As gleams the moonbeam through the broken cloud

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While mountain vapours spread their misty shroud

The Northern tempest howls along at last, And way worn strangers shrink amid the blast.

Thou rolling Sun who gild'st those rising towers,

Fair didst thou shine upon my earlier hours! I hail'd with smiles the cheering rays of Morn,