And see, the fairy valleys fade;
Dun Night has veil'd the solemn view!
Yet once again, dear parted shade,

Meek Nature's Child, again adieu!

The genial3 meads, assign'd to bless
Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom;
There hinds and shepherd-girls shall dress,
With simple hands, thy rural tomb.

Long, long, thy stone and pointed clay
Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes:
O! vales, and wild woods, shall he say,
In yonder grave your Druid lies!

3 Mr. Thomson resided in the neighbourhood of Richmond some time before his death.

VERSES

WRITTEN ON A PAPER WHICH CONTAINED A PIECE OF

BRIDE-CAKE.

YE

E curious hands, that hid from vulgar eyes, By search profane shall find this hallow'd cake, With virtue's awe forbear the sacred prize, Nor dare a theft, for love and pity's sake!

This precious relic, form'd by magic power,
Beneath the shepherd's haunted pillow laid,
Was meant by love to charm the silent hour,
The secret present of a matchless maid.

The Cyprian queen, at Hymen's fond request, Each nice ingredient chose with happiest art; Fears, sighs, and wishes of th' enamour'd breast, And pains that please, are mixt in every part.

With rosy hand the spicy fruit she brought,
From Paphian hills, and fair Cytherea's isle;
And temper'd sweet with these the melting thought,
The kiss ambrosial, and the yielding smile.

Ambiguous looks, that scorn and yet relent,
Denials mild, and firm unalter'd truth ;
Reluctant pride, and amorous faint consent,
And meeting ardours, and exulting youth.

Sleep, wayward God! hath sworn, while these remain,
With flattering dreams to dry his nightly tear,

And cheerful Hope, so oft invok'd in vain,
With fairy songs shall sooth his pensive ear.

If, bound by vows to Friendship's gentle side,
And fond of soul, thou hop'st an equal grace,
If youth or maid thy joys and griefs divide,
O, much entreated leave this fatal place!

Sweet Peace, who long hath shunn'd my plaintive

day,

Consents at length to bring me short delight,

Thy careless steps may scare her doves away,

And grief with raven note usurp

the night.

ODE

ON THE

POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND;

CONSIDERED AS THE SUBJECT OF POETRY.

INSCRIBED TO MR. JOHN HOME.

HOME, thou return'st from Thames, whose Naiads long

Have seen thee lingering with a fond delay,
Mid those soft friends, whose hearts, some future

day,

Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic song1.

Go, not unmindful of that cordial youth'

Whom, long endear'd, thou leav'st by Lavant's side; Together let us wish him lasting truth, And joy untainted, with his destin'd bride.

How truly did Collins predict Home's tragic powers!

2 A gentleman of the name of Barrow, who introduced Home to Collins.

Go! nor regardless, while these numbers boast
My short-liv'd bliss, forget my social name;
But think, far off, how, on the southern coast,

I met thy friendship with an equal flame! Fresh to that soil thou turn'st, where every vale

Shall prompt the Poet, and his song demand: To thee thy copious subjects ne'er shall fail;

Thou need'st but take thy pencil to thy hand, And paint what all believe, who own thy genial land.

There, must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill; 'Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet; Where still, 'tis said, the fairy people meet, Beneath each birken shade, on mead or hill.. There, each trim lass, that skims the milky store,

To the swart tribes their creamy bowls allots; By night they sip it round the cottage door,

While airy minstrels warble jocund notes. There, every herd, by sad experience, knows

How, wing'd with fate, their elf-shot arrows fly, When the sick ewe her summer food foregoes,

Or, stretch'd on earth, the heart-smit heifers lie, Such airy beings awe th' untutor'd swain : Nor thou, though learn'd, his homelier thoughts neglect;