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On Perth’s bleak hills he chanc'd to spy
An aged wizard fix foot high,
With bristled hair and visage blighted,
Wall-ey'd, bare-haunch’d, and second-fighted.

The grizly sage in thought profound
Beheld the chief with back so round,
Then rolld his eye-balls to and fro
O'er his paternal hills of snow,
And into these tremendous speeches
Broke forth the prophet without breeches.

Into what ills betray'd by thee,
This ancient kingdom do I fee !
Her realms unpeopled and forlorn !
Wae's me! that ever thou wert born!
Proud English loons (our clans o'ercome)
On Scottish pads shall amble home ;
I see them dress’d in bonnets blue,
(The spoils of thy rebellious crew)
I see the target caft away,
And chequer'd plad become their prey,
The chequer'd plad to make a gown
For many a lass in London town.

In vain the hungry mountaineers
Come forth in all their warlike geers,

The shield, the pistol, durk, and dagger,
In which they daily wont to swagger ;
And oft have fally'd out to pillage
The hen-roosts of some peaceful village,
Or, while their neighbours were asleep,
Have carry'd off a low-land sheep.

What boots thy high-born host of beggars, Mac-leans, Mac-kenzies, and Mac-gregors, With popish cut-throats, perjur'd ruffians, And Forster's troops of raggamuffins

In vain thy lads around theç bandy,
Inflam'd with bagpipe and with brandy.
Doth not bold Sutherland the trusty,
With heart so true, and voice so rusty,
(A loyal soul) thy troops a fright,
While hoarsely he demands the fight?
Do'st thou not gen'rqus Ilay dread,
The bravest hand, the wisest head?
Undaunted do'st thou hear th’alarms
Of hoary Athol sheath'd in arms ?

Douglas, who draws his lineage down
From thanes and peers of high renown,
Fiery and young, and uncontrold,
With knights and squires, and barons bold,

(His noble houshold-band) advancesi
And on his milk-white courser prances.
Thee Forfar to the combat dares,
Grown swarthy in Iberian wars :
And Monroe kindled into rage
Sourly defies thee to engage ;
He'll rout thy foot, though ne'er so many,
And horse to boot--if thou hadft any.

But see Argyle with watchful eyes,
Lodg’d'in his deep intrenchments lies! ;
Couch'd like a lion in thy way,
He waits to spring upon his prey;
While, like a herd of tim'rous deer,
Thy army shakes and pants with fear,
Led by their doughty gen’ral's skill,
From frith to frith, from hill to hill.

Is thus thy haughty promise paid
That to the Chevalier was made,
When thou didst oaths and duty bárter
For dukedom, gen'ralship, and garter ?
Three moons thy Jemmy shall command,
With highland scepter in his hand,
Too good for his pretended birth.

Then down shall fall the king of Perth.

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'Tis fo decreed: for George shall reign,
And traitors be forsworn in vain.
Heav'n shall for ever on him smile,
And bless him still with an Argyle.
While thou, pursu'd by vengeful foes,
Condemn’d to barren rocks and snows,
And hinder'd pafling Inverlocky,
Shalt burn thy clan, and curse poor Jocky:

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To Whitton's shades, and Hounslow's airy plain,

1 Thou, Kneller, tak’ft thy summer flights in vain, In vain thy with gives all thy rural hours To the fair villa, and well-order'd bowers; To court thy pencil early at thy gates, Ambition knocks, and fleeting Beauty waits ;


The boastful Muse, of others' fame fo fure,
Implores thy aid to make her own secure ;
The great, the fair, and (if aught nobler be,
Aught more belovd) the Arts solicit thee..

How can'st thou hope to fly the world, in vain
From Europe sever'd by the circling main :
Sought by the kings of every diftant land,
And every heroe worthy of thy hand ?
Haft thou forgot that mighty Bourbon feard
He still was mortal, till thy draught appear’d; ..
That Cosmo chose thy glowing form to place
Amidst her masters of the Lombard race?
See on her Titian's and her Guido's urns,
Her failing arts, forlorn Hesperia mourns ;
While Britain wins each garland from her brow,
Her wit and freedom first, her painting now.

Let the faint copier, on old Tyber's shore,
(Nor mean the task) each breathing buft explore,
Line after line with painful patience trace,
This Roman grandeur, that Athenian grace;
Vain care of parts ; if, impotent of soul,
Th’industrious workman fails to warm the whole!
Each theft betrays the marble whence it came,
And a cold ftatue stiffens in the frame..

· Thee

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