109
HOURS OF IDLENESS.
Round Loch na Garr while the stormy mist gathers,Winter presides in his cold icy car:
Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers;
They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch naGarr.
“ Ill-starr'd, though brave, did no visions forebod-ing*
Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause rAh! were you destined to die at Culloden,tVictory crown’d not your fall with applause:
Still were you happy in death’s earthy slumber,You rest with your clan in the caves of Brae-mar ;t
The pibroch resounds, to the piper’s loud number.Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr.
Years have roll’d on, Loch na Garr, Bince I leftyou,
Years must elapse ere I tread you again;
Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you,
Yet still are you dearer than Albion’s plain.England! thy beauties are tame and domesticTo one who has roved o’er the mountains afar!Oh for the crags that are wild and majestic!
The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr.
TO ROMANCE.
Parent of golden dreams, Romance!Auspicious queen of childish joys,
Who lead’st along, in airy dance,
Thy votive train of girls and boys;
At length, in spells no longer bound,
I break the fetters of my youth;
No more I tread thy mystic round,
But leave tby realms for those of Truth .
And yet ’tis hard to quit the dreamsWhich haunt the unsuspicious soul,
Where every nymph a goddess seems,Whose eyes through rays immortal roll;
While Fancy holds her boundless reign,
And all assume a varied hue;
When virgins seem no longer vain,
And even woman’s smiles are true.
And must we own thee but a name,
And from thy hall of clouds descend ?
Nor find a sylph in every dame,
A Pylades § in every friend ?
But leave at once thy realms of airThe mingling bands of fairy elves
Confess that woman *s false as fair,
And friends have feeling for—themselves!
With shame I own I’ve felt thy sway;Repentant, now thy reign is o'er:
No more thy precepts I obey,
No more on fancied pinions soar.
Fond fool! to love a sparkling eye,
And think that eye to truth was dear;
To trust a passing wanton’s sigh.
And melt beneath a wanton’s tear!
Romance! disgusted with deceit,
Far from thy motley court I fly,
Where Affectation holds her seat,
And sickly Sensibility;
■Whose silly tears can never flowFor any pangs excepting thine;
Who turns aside from real woe,
To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine.
Now join with sable Sympathy,
With cypress crown’d, array’d in weeds,
Who heaves with thee her simple sigh.Whose breast for every bosom bleeds*
And call thy sylvan female choir,
To mourn a swain for ever gone,
Who once could glow with equal fire,
But bends not now before thy throne.
Ye genial nymphs, whose ready tears.
On all occasions swiftly flow;
Whose bosoms heave with fancied fears,With fancied flames and phrensy glow;
Say, will you mourn my absent name,Apostate from your gentle train V
An infant hard at least may claimFrom you a sympathetic strain.
Adieu, fond race! a long adieu!
The hour of fate is hovering nigh ;
E’en now the gulf appears in view,
Where unlamented you must lie :
Oblivion’s blackening lake is seen,Convulsed by gales you cannot weather;
Where yon, and eke your gentle queen,Alas! must perish altogether.
ANSWER TO SOME ELEGANT VERSES,SENT BY A FRIEND TO THE AUTHOR, COMPLAININGTHAT ONE OF HIS DESCRIPTIONS WAS RATHERTOO WARMLY DRAWN.
"But if any old lady , knight , priest , or physician ,Should condemn me for printing a second edition;If good Madam Sguintum my work should abuse,May I venture to give her a smack of my muse ?”—New Bath Guide.
Candour compels me, Becher! to commendThe verse which blends tho censor with the friend.Your strong yet just reproof extorts applauseFrom me, the heedless and imprudent cause.
For this wild error which pervades my strain,
I sue for pardon,—must I sue in vain?
The wise sometimes from Wisdom ’s ways depart:Can youth then hush the dictates of the heart?
* I allude hero to my maternal ancestors, “ the Gordons," many of whom fought for the unfortunatePrince Charles, better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly allied by blood,ub well as attachment, to the Stuarts . George, the second Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Anna-bels Stuart, daughter of James the First of Scotland. By her he left four sons : the third, Sir William'iordon, I have the honour to claim as one of my progenitors. ...
t Whether any perished in the battle of Culloden, I am not certain; but, as many fell in the insurrec-tion, I have used the name of tho principal action, "parspro toto"
$ A tract of the Highlands so called. There is also a Castle of Braemar .
$ It is hardly necessary to add, that Pylades was the companion of OresteB, and a partner in one ofthose friendships which, with those of Achilles and Patroclus . Nisus andEuryalus, Damon and Pythias ,have been handed down to posterity as remarkable instances of attachments, which in all probabilitynever existed beyond tbe imagination of the poet, or the page of an historian, or modern novelist.