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And, sooth to say, her pupils ranged around,
For they in gaping wonderment abound
Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her iruth,
For never title yet so mean could prove,
For well she knew, and quaintly could expound,
Herbs, too, she knew, and well of each could speak,
The lowly gill, that never dares to climb;
Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve,
All for the nonce, untuning every string,
For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore,
In elbow-chair (like that of Scottish stem,
And warned them not the fretful to deride,
Right well she knew each temper to descry,
Forewarued, if little bird their pranks behold.
Lo! now with state she utters her command ;
On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been,
From 'A Pastoral Ballad'--1743.
• ABSENCE. Ye shepherds, so cheerful and gay,
I prized every hour that went by, Whose flocks never carelessly roam; Beyond all that had pleased me before: Should Corydon's happen to stray,
But now they are past, and I sigh, Oh! call the poor wanderers home.
And I grieve that I prize them no Allow me to muse and to sigh,
more.... Nor talk of the change that ye find; None once was so watchful as I;
When forced the fair nymph to forego, I have left my dear Phyllis behind. What anguish I felt at my heart !
Yet I thought-but it inight not he soNow I know what it is to have strove
'Twas with pain that she saw me depart. With the torture of doubt and desire; She gazed as I slowly withdrew, What it is to admire and to love,
My path I could hardly discern;
I thought that she bade me return,
The pilgrim that journeys all day
If he bear but a relic away,
Is happy nor heard to repine. I never once dreamt of my vine;
This widely removed from the fair, May I lose both my pipe and my croo
Where my vows. my devotion, I owe; If I knew of a kid that was mine. Soft hope is the relic I bear,
And my solace wherever I go.
ноРЕ. My banks they are furnished with bees, Not a pine in my grove is there seen.
Whose murmur invites one to sleep; But with tendril: of woodbine is bound: My grottoes are shaded with trees,
Not a beech's more beautiful green, And my bills are white over with sheep. But a sweetbriar entwines it around. I seldom bave met with a loss,
Not my fields in the prime of the year Such health do my fountains bestow; More charms than my cattle unfold; My fountains, all bordered with moss, Not a brook that is limpid and clear, Where the harebells and violets grow. But it glitters with fishes of gold.
*This stanza, and the four lines beginning: 'I prized every hour that went by were greatly admired by Johnson, who said: 'If any mind denies its sympathy to them, it bas 20 acquaintance with love or nature.'
One would think she might like to retire And when her bright form shall appear,
To the bower I have laboured to rear; Each bird shall harmoniously join
As she may not be fond to resign.
I have found out a gift for my fair, .
I have found where the wood-pigeons
But let me that plunder forbear, From the plains, from the woodlands, She will say, 'twas a barbarous deed. and groves,
For he ne'er could be true, she averred. What strains of wild melody flow:
Who could rob a poor bird of his young; How the nightingaleg warble their loves. And I loved her the more when I heard From thickets of roses that blow !
Such tenderness fall from her tongue..
SOLICITUDE. Why will you my passion reprove ?
For when Paridel tries in the dance Why term it a folly to grieve ?
Any favour with Phyllis to find, Ere I shew you the charins of my love: O how, with one trivial glance, She is fairer than you can believe.
Might she ruin the peace of my mind! with her mien she enamours the brave, In ringlets he dresses his hair, With her wit she engages the free,
And his crook is bestudded around; With her modesty pleases the grave; And his pipe-o my Phy lis, beware She is every way pleasing to me.
Of a magic there is in the sound. O you that have been of her train.
'Tis his with mock passion to glow, Come and join in my amorous lays : 'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold I could lay down my life for the swain, How her face is as bright as the snow,
That wil sing but a song in her praise. And her bosom, be slire, is as cold. When he sings, may the nymphs of the How the nightingales labour the strain, town
With the notes of his charmer to vie; Come trooping, and listen the while; How they vary their accents in vain, Nay, on him let not Phyllida frown,
Repine at her triumphs and die.'.... But I cannot allow her to smile.
DISAPPOINTMENT. Ye shepherds, give ear to my lay,
The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose, And take no more heed of my sheep; The sound of a murmuring stream, They have nothing to do but to stray ; The peace which froin solitude flows, I have nothing to do but to weep.
Henceforth shall be Corydon's theme,
High transports are shown to the sight,
As I with my Phyllis had known.
Perhaps I was void of all thought: O ye woods, spread your branches apace;
To your deepest recesses I fly;
I would vanish from every eye,
grove It banishes wisdom the while:
With the same sad complaint it begun; And the lip of the nyinph we admire How she smiled, and I conld not but love;
Seems for ever adorned with a smile..... Was faithless, and I am undone!
Come listen to my mournful tale,
Ye tender hearts and lovers dear :
Nor will von scorn to heave a sigh,
Nor will you blush to shed a tear.
# Captain James Dawson, the amiable and unfortunate subject of these stanzas, was ans of the eight officers belonging to the Manchester regiment of volunteers, in tho set
And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, To yonder ignominious tree,
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend
To share thy bitter fate with thee.' And pity every plaint but mine.
O then her mourning-coach w's called, Young Dawson was a gallant youth,
The sledge moved slowly on before ; A brighter never trod the plain;
Though borne in her triumphal car, And well he loved one charming maid, She had not loved her favourite more. And dearly was he loved again.
She followed him, prepared to view One tender maid she loved him dear,
The terrible behests of law; Of gentle blood the damsel came : And the last scene of Jemmy's woes And faultless was her beauteous form, With calm and steadfast eye she saw. Aud spotless was her virgiu fame.
Distorted was that blooming face, But curse on party's hateful strife,
Which she had fondly loved so long; That led the favoured youth astray; And stifled was that tuneful breath, The day the rebel clans appeared
Which in her praise had sweetly sung: O had he never seen that day !
And severed was that beanteous neck, Their colours and their sash he wore, Round which her arms had fondly And in the fatal dress was found;
closed; And now he must that death endure, And mangled was that beauteous breast Which gives tbe brave the keenest On which her love-sick head reposed : wound.
And ravished was that constant heart,
'Twas true and loyal still to her.
Amid those unrelenting flames
She bore this constant heart to see ; With faltering voice she weeping said: But when 'twas mouldered into dust,
O Dawson, monarch of my heart! • Now, now,' she cried, 'I follow thee. Think not tby death shall end our loves, For thou and I will never part.
My death, my death alone can shew
The pure and lasting love I bore :
And let us, let us weep no more.'
The dismal scene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearse retired; ,· The gracious prince that gave him life The maid drew back her languid head,
Would crown a never-dying flame; . And, sighing forth his name, expired. And every tender babe I bore Should learn to lisp the giver's name. Though justice ever must prevail,
The tear my Kitty sheds is due; . But thongh, dear youth, thou shouldst be For seldom shall she hear a tale dragged
So sad, so tender, and so true.
vice of the Young Chevalier, who were hanged, drawn, and quartered, on Kennington Common in 1746. The incident occurred as described in the ballad. A pardon was expected, and Dawson was to have been married the same day. The young lady followed him to the scaffold. She got near enough,' as stated in a letter written at the time, 'to see the fire kindled which was to consume that heart which she knew was so much devoted to her, and all the other dreadful preparations for his fate. without being guilty of any of those extravagances which her friends had apprehended. But when all was over, and that she found he was no more, she drew her head back into the cach, and crying out: "My dear, I follow thee- I follow thee! Sweet Jesus, receive both our souls together." fell on the neck of her companion, and expired the very inoment she was peaking.'
Written at an Inn at Henley.
Freedom I love, and form I hate,
Here, waiter ! take my sordid ore,
Which lackeys else might hope to win ; "T19 here with boundless power I reign, It buys what courts bave not in store, And every health which I begin
It buys me freedom at an inu.
Where'er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think he still has found I fly froin falsehood's specious grin: The warmest welcome at an iun.
DAVID MALLET. DAVID MALLET, author of some beautiful ballad stanzas, and some florid unimpassioned poems in blank verse, was a successful but un. principled literary adventurer. He praised and courted Pope while living, and, after experiencing his kindness, traduced his memory when dead. He earned a disgraceful pension by contributing to the death of a brave naval officer, Admiral Byng, who fell a victim to the clamour of faction; and by various other acts of his life, he evinced that self-aggrandisement was his only steady and ruling passion. When Johnson, therefore, states that Niallet was the only Scot whom Scotchmen did not commend, he pays a compliment to the virtue and integrity of the natives of Scotland. The original name of the poet was Malloch, When the clan Macgregor was abolished by an act of the privy-council in 1603, and subsequently by acts of parliament, some of the clansmen took this name of Malloch, of which two Gaelic etymologies have been given. One derives it from Mala, a brow or eyebrow, and another from Mallaich, the cursed or accursed. Mallet's father is said to have kept an inn at Crieff, in Perthshire; but & recent editor of the poet,* upon grounds not merely plausible but very probable, believes him to have been the son of parents of a less humble condition of lite--a family of Mallochs setiled upon the farm of Dunruchun, near Muthill, Perthshire, the bead of which family was one of three on the great estates of Perth who rode on saddles, that being a dignity not permitted or too costly for others.
The Dunruchan Mallochs were concerned in the rebellions of 1715 and 1745, and sunk to poverty. David is first found in the situation of janitor of the High School of Edinburgı-a menial oflice rarely given to one so young as Mallet, who was then not more than fifteen or sixteen. He held the office for half a year, his full salary being ten pounds Scots, or 16s. 8d. This was in 1718. He then studied for a time under Professor Ker of Aberdeen, to whose kindness he was much indebted, and he was afterwards received, though without salary, as tutor in the family of Mr. Home of Dreghorn, near Edinburgh. He
* Ballads and Songs by David Mallet. Edited by Dr. Dinsdalo, 1857.