ions of fancy shone bright and attractive,
Like distant scenes blooming which sunbeams illumine;
Love pointed to wealth, and, no longer inactive,
I labour'd till midnight, and rose with the dawn.

"But the day-dreams of pleasure have fled me for ever,
Misfortune surrounds me, oppression confounds me;
No hope to support, and no friend to deliver,
Poor and wretched, alas! I must ever remain.

"And thou, my soul's treasure, whilst pitying my anguish,
New poison does mix in my cup of affliction,
For honour forbids (though without thee I languish)
To make thee a partner of sorrow and want."

"Dear William," she cried, "I 'll no longer deceive thee,
I honour thy merit, I love thy proud spirit;
Too well thou art tried, and if wealth can relieve thee,
My portion is ample--that portion is thine."

[88] Composed in 1804. This song and those following, by Dr Duncan, are
here published for the first time.

THE RUTHWELL VOLUNTEERS.[89]

Hark! the martial drums resound,
Valiant brothers, welcome all,
Crowd the royal standard round,
'Tis your injured country's call.
See, see, the robbers come,
Ruin seize the ruthless foe;
For your altars, for your homes,
Heroes lay the tyrants low!

He whom dastard fears abash,
He was born to be a slave--
Let him feel the despot's lash,
And sink inglorious to the grave.
See, see, &c.

He who spurns a coward's life,
He whose bosom freedom warms,
Let him share the glorious strife,
We 'll take the hero to our arms.
See, see, &c.

Spirits of the valiant dead,
Who fought and bled at Freedom's call,
In the path you dared to tread,
We, your sons, will stand or fall.
See, see, &c.

Bending from your airy halls,
Turn on us a guardian eye--
Lead where Fame or Honour calls,
And teach to conquer or to die!
See, see, &c.

[89] Written in 1805, when the nation was in apprehension of the French
invasion.

EXILED FAR FROM SCENES OF PLEASURE.[90]

TUNE--_"Blythe, Blythe and Merry was she."_

Exiled far from scenes of pleasure,
Love sincere and friendship true,
Sad I mark the moon's pale radiance,
Trembling in the midnight dew.

Sad and lonely, sad and lonely,
Musing on the tints decay,