LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG POETICAL FRIEND. SING on, my brother minstrel young, Sing on, unheeding them Who now may in thy rustic song Find less to praise than blame. When did the blackbird's woodland lays A joy above all joys supreme Far more than India's wealth to him Then sing thou on, regardless though The time may come thy gentle brow Be thine the patriot in thy veins Nor yet forget the sweeter strains To Love and Beauty due. Thus may'st thou win, spite fortune's slight, Not the least welcome stars, at night, Are those through cloud-rifts glowing. A SNOWFALL IN GLEN-URQUHART. OFFSPRING fair of cloud and cold, Who could, mute, thy grace behold? Painter matchless! nought to me Unlike Flora's offerings fair, At thy touch, behold, to-day See how 'neath thy gentle tread, Yonder cascade, in its glee Down the hillside dashing free, Looks like darkness matched with thee: Welcome, welcome, snow! Fields that late looked bare and brown, Well uphold thy fair renown: Let him boast of landscapes green Lent it by the snow! Oh to be thus always nigh Of the falling snow! Ha! thou ceasest-scarce a flake CRAIGANTAIRVE. A SCENE IN NETHER LORNE, ARGYLESHIRE. WHERE, when comes the joyous Spring, Is first heard the carolling Of the songbirds loving well 'Mong our Highland woods to dwell? Where first tries the tuneful thrush, Perched on the yet leafless bush, To drown Winter's dying sigh Merles and linnets glad as she, Almost fill with envy to Listen to its thrilling flow? Would you know? then hither come, Where when, after absence long, Almost all the long year through? Where be the green woodlands where Finds the roe his choicest lair? And the streamlets clear and cool Scene beloved! who here can view |