And from the southern gulph,

Where the great river with his turbid flood
Stains the green ocean, to the polar sea.

9.

There nations yet unborn shall trace
In Hume's perspicuous page,

How Britain rose, and through what storms attain'd
Her eminence of power.

In other climates, youths and maidens there Shall learn from Thomson's verse in what attire The various seasons, bringing in their change Variety of good,

Revisit their beloved English ground.

There Beattie! in thy sweet and soothing strain Shall youthful poets read

Their own emotions. There too, old and young, Gentle and simple, by Sir Walter's tales Spell-bound, shall feel

Imaginary hopes and fears

Strong as realities,

And waking from the dream, regret its close.

10.

These Scotland are thy glories; and thy praise
Is England's, even as her power

And opulence of fame are thine.

So hath our happy union made
Each in the other's weal participant,

Enriching, strengthening, glorifying both.

11.

O House of Stuart, to thy memory still
For this best benefit

Should British hearts in gratitude be bound!
A deeper tragedy

Than thine unhappy tale hath never fill'd
The historic page, nor given

Poet or moralist his mournful theme!
O House severely tried,

And in prosperity alone
Found wanting, Time hath closed

Thy tragic story now!

Errors and virtues fatally betrayed,
Magnanimous suffering, vice,

Weakness, and head-strong zeal, sincere tho' blind,

Wrongs, calumnies, heart-wounds,

Religious resignation, earthly hopes

Fears and affections, these have had their course, And over them in peace

The all-engulphing stream of years hath closed.
But this good work endures,

'Stablish'd and perfected by length of days,
The indissoluble union stands.

12.

Nor hath the sceptre from that line

Departed, though the name hath lost

Its regal honours. Trunk and root have failed: A scion from the stock

Liveth and flourisheth.

It is the Tree

Beneath whose sacred shade,

In majesty and peaceful power serene,
The Island Queen of Ocean hath her seat;

Whose branches far and near

Extend their sure protection; whose strong roots Are with the isle's foundations interknit; Whose stately summit when the storm careers Below, abides unmoved,

Safe in the sunshine and the peace of Heaven!

TO A FRIEND,

ON SENDING A FANCY DRAWING, AFTER PROMISING HER OWN PICTURE IN THE CHARACTER OF

A GYPSEY.

By Lady Caroline Lambe.

THE glowing tints beneath thy care
Have traced a form divinely fair,

Have given it charms and beauties rare,
And shown the power of art;

But in the ideal head I trace,

No features of the gypsey's face,

The living smile, the nameless grace,
That nature doth impart.

Here roving looks, and eyes of fire,
Awake the soul of young desire;—
The spells—which Beauty may inspire,
By thee are well exprest.

But soon the varying tints will fade,

And time with leaden hand shall shade,

The colours that once vivid played

In thy bright eye and breast!

So hope that paints our morning sky,
When viewed with youth's unclouded eye;
So pleasures airy dreams must fly

O'erpowered with care and gloom.
For life's a fearful passing dream,
And those that gay and thoughtless seem,
Alike sail down its swelling stream

To meet the general doom.