Shall the welkin's thunders shame; Elemental rage is tame

To the wrath of man.

At morn, gray Allan's mates with awe
Heard of the vision'd sights he saw,

The legend heard him say;
But the seer's gifted eye was dim,
Deafen'd his ear, and stark his limb,

Ere closed that bloody day

He sleeps far from his Highland heath,— But often of the Dance of Death

His comrades tell the tale

On piquet-post, when ebbs the night, And waning watch-fires glow less bright, And dawn is glimmering pale.

FAREWELL TO THE MUSE.

ENCHANTRESS, farewell, who so oft hast decoy'd me, J At the close of the evening through woodlands to roam Where the forester, lated, with wonder espied me

Explore the wild scenes he was quitting for home. Farewell, and take with thee thy numbers wild speaking. The language alternate of rapture and woe; Oh! none but some lover, whose heart-strings are breaking,

The pang that I feel at our parting can know.

Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came

sorrow,

Or pale disappointment, to darken my way, What voice was like thine, that could sing of to-morres Till forgot in the strain was the grief of to-day' But when friends drop around us in life's weary was The grief, queen of numbers, thou canst not assua fe Nor the gradual estrangement of those yet remaining. The languor of pain, and the chillness of age.

'T was thou that once taught me, in accents bew
To sing how a warrior lay stretch'd on the plain,
And a maiden hung o'er him with aid unavailing,
And held to his lips the cold goblet in vain;
As vain those enchantments, O queen of wild numbers
To a bard when the reign of his fancy is oer,
And the quick pulse of feeling in apathy slumbers-
Farewell then-Enchantress!-I meet thee no more

EPITAPH ON MRS ERSKINE. PLAIN, as her native dignity of mind, Arise the tomb of her we have resign'd: Unflaw'd and stainless be the marble scroll, Emblem of lovely form, and candid soul.But, oh! what symbol may avail, to tell The kindness, wit, and sense, we loved so well! What sculpture show the broken ties of life, Here buried with the parent, friend, and wife! Or, on the tablet, stamp each title dear, By which thine uro, EUPHEMIA, claims the tear! Yet, taught, by thy meek sufferance, to assume Patience in anguish, hope beyond the tomb, Resign'd, though sad, this votive verse shall flow, And brief, alas! as thy brief span below.

1

MR KEMBLE'S FAREWELL ADDRESS,

ON TAKING LEAVE OF THE EDINBURGH STAGE.

As the worn war-horse, at the trumpet's sound,
Erects his mane, and neighs, and paws the ground-
Disdains the ease his generous lord assigns,
And longs to rush on the embattled lines,
So 1, your plaudits ringing on mine ear,

Can scarce sustain to think our parting near;
To think my scenic hour for ever past,
And that those valued plaudits are my last.

Why should we part, while still some powers remain,
That in your service strive not yet in vain?
Cannot high zeal the strength of youth supply,
And sense of duty fire the fading eye?
And all the wrongs of age remain subdued
Beneath the burning glow of gratitude?
Ah no the taper, wearing to its close,
Oft for a space in fitful lustre glows;

But all too soon the transient gleam is past,
It cannot be renew'd, and will not last;
Even duty, zeal, and gratitude, can wage
But short-lived conflict with the frosts of age.
Yes! It were poor, remembering what I was,
To live a pensioner on your applause,
To drain the dregs of your endurance dry,
And take, as alms, the praise I once could buy,
Till every sneering youth around inquires,

Is this the man who once could please our sires!>>
And scorn assumes compassion's doubtful mien,
To warn me off from the encumber'd scene.
This must not be;-and higher duties crave
Some space between the theatre and the grave;
That, like the Roman in the Capitol,

I may adjust my mantle ere I fall:

My life's brief act in public service flown,

The last, the closing scene, must be my own.

Here, then, adieu! while yet some well-graced parts
May fix an ancient favourite in your hearts,
Not quite to be forgotten, even when

You look on better actors, younger men:
And if your bosoms own this kindly debt

Of old remembrance, how shall mine forget-
O, how forget!-how oft I hither came
In anxious hope, how oft return'd with fame!
How oft around your circle this weak hand
Has waved immortal Shakspeare's magic wand,
Till the full burst of inspiration came,
And I have felt, and you have fann'd the flame!
By memory treasured, while her reign endures,
Those hours must live-and all their charms are yours.

O favour'd land! renown'd for arts and arms,

For manly talent and for female charms,
Could this full bosom prompt the sinking line,
What fervent benedictions now were thine!

But now astounding each poor mimic elf,
Instead of lawyers comes the Law herself;
Tremendous neighbour, on our right she dwells,
Builds high her towers and excavates her cells;
While on the left, she agitates the town
With the tempestuous question, Up or down? *
Twixt Scylla and Charybdis thus stand we,
Law's final end and law's uncertainty.

But soft! who lives at Rome the pope must flatter,
And jails and lawsuits are no jesting matter.
Then-just farewell! we wait with serious awe,
Till your applause or censure gives the law,
Trusting our humble efforts may assure ye,
We hold you court and counsel, judge and jury.

SONG.

Оn, say not, my love, with that mortified air,
That your spring-time of pleasure is flown,
Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair,
For those raptures that still are thine own.

Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine,
Its tendrils in infancy curl'd,

'Tis the ardour of August matures us the wine Whose life-blood enlivens the world.

Though thy form, that was fashion'd-as light as a fay's, Has assumed a proportion more round,

And thy glance, that was bright as a falcon's at gaze, Looks soberly now on the ground,

Enough, after absence to meet me again,

Thy steps still with ecstasy move;
Enough, that those dear sober glances retain
For me the kind language of love!

THE PALMER.

«O OPEN the door, some pity to show, Keen blows the northern wind;

It is necessary to mention, that the allusions in this piece are all local, and addressed only to the Edinburgh audience. The new prisons of the city, on the Calton Hill, are not far from the Theatre.

At this time the pal lic of Edinburgh was much agitated by a lawsuit betwixt the magistrates and many of the inha' itaats of the city, concerning the range of new buildings on the western side of the North Bridge; which the latter insisted should be removed as a deformity.