Wherever I ramble, wherever I fly, Whate'er be my climate, if beauty be nigh; If woman, sweet woman, but breathe the same air, But think not,lov'd maiden! this heart formed to change,. Or, bee-like, is customed capricious to range; One mistress supreme in my bosom I'll own, And you, my sweet girl! are my empress alone. TO MISS How dear to me that blissful hour, When lovely woman's charms are nigh; When Beauty wakes its sweetest power, To bid the raptured moments fly! 'Twas thus, my Anna, by thy side I learned to feel love's thrilling glow; 'Twas from thy soft, but syren eyes, No artful smile, sweet girl, is thine, I love the radiant form of truth, O blame not, then, the minstrel's lay, SONNET. How sweet to view the peep of morn serene, See, slowly rising from the azure main, Whose glittering breast reflects his splendid blaze, The king of day begins his golden reign, And scatters o'er the earth life's genial rays. May noon's realities our joys mature. A FEW LINES, SUGGESTED BY THE DEATH OF MR. SAMUEL GILFILLAN, student of DIVINITY, Who died in Glasgow, January 1814, while pursuing bis Studies at the University there. Say, ye who leave the joys of home, And gaze the last time, o'er and o'er, That, soon or late, your eye again, A The billowy way, or desert dry. Too hapless youth! alas! no more Thou sleepest, void of ev'ry care. Reposed in peace, thou heed'st them not, Alike forgetting and forgot. Forgot, oh! no!-for thee the Muse Thy grave And with cypress branches strews; many a friend, for many a year, Shall nurse thy memory with a tear. FINIS. |