No  more,  with  fond  attentioD  dear,
She  seeks  Ih'  Tinspoken  wiah  to  find  ;

No  mare  shall  she,  with  pleasure's  leur.
See  the  soul  wauug  into  mind.
Doe«  nature  bear  a  tyrant's  breast  I
Is  she  the  friend  of  stern  eontnd  t

Wears  she  the  despot's  jiurple  vest  I
Or  fetters  she  the  free-bom  soul  I

Where,  wOTst  of  tyrants,  is  thy  claim

In  chains  thy  children's  breasts  to  bind  I
Gavest  thou  the  Promethean  flame  !
le  mind  I


Thy  offspring  are  great  nature's — free,
And  of  her  fair  dominion  heirs  ;

Each  privUego  she  gives  to  then  ;
Know,  that  each  privilege  is  theirs.
They  have  thy  feature,  wear  thine  eye.
Perhaps  Mmc  feelings  of  thy  Iiean  ;

And  wilt  tljou  their  loved  hearts  deny
To  act  their  fair,  their  proper  part  I


The  lord  of  Lothian's  fertile  vale,

lU-fated  Elieo,  chums  tliy  hand  ;
Thou  know'st  nut  that  thy  Nithisdsle

Was  low  kid  by  his  ruffian  band.
And  Moray,  with  nnfathot'd  eyM,
Fix'd  on  fair  Lothian's  fertile  dale.
Attends  'his  human  sacrifice.
Without  the  Grecian  painter's  veil.
O  marned  lore  1  thy  bard  shall  own.
Where  two  congenial  souls  unite.
Thy  golden  ehain  inkid  with  down.
Thy  lamp  with  heaven's  own  splendour  bright.
Bnt  if  no  railiant  star  of  love,

O  ll}-men  •  smile  on  thy  lair  rite.
Thy  cluiin  a  wretched  weight  shall  prove.
Thy  lamp  a  sod  sepulchral  light.
And  now  has  time's  slow  wandering  wing
Borne  many  a  year  uiunark'd  with  speed —

Where  is  the  boy  by  Carron's  spring.
Who  bound  his  valo-flowera  with  the  reed  I

Ah  me  i  those  flowers  he  binds  no  more  ;

No  early  charm  returns  again  ;
The  parent,  nature,  keeps  in  store

Her  best  joys  for  her  little  train.
