as from the Eternal Throne
It aim'd the sceptre's self to tear.

"'Tis thus we trifle, thus we dare;
But, seek we to our bliss the way,
Let us to Heaven our path refer,
Believe, and worship, and obey.

"That choice is all--to range beyond
Nor must, nor needs; provision, grace,
In these He gives, who sits enthroned,
Salvation, competence, and peace."

The instructive vision pass'd away,
But not its wisdom's dreamless lore;
No more in shadow-tracks I stray,
And fondle shadow-shapes no more.

[107] _Orig._--The venomous red spider.

DUNCAN MACINTYRE.

Duncan Macintyre (Donacha Ban) is considered by his countrymen the most
extraordinary genius that the Highlands in modern times have produced.
Without having learned a letter of any alphabet, he was enabled to pour
forth melodies that charmed every ear to which they were intelligible.
And he is understood to have had the published specimens of his poetry
committed to writing by no mean judge of their merit,--the late Dr
Stewart of Luss,--who, when a young man, became acquainted with this
extraordinary person, in consequence of his being employed as a kind of
under-keeper in a forest adjoining to the parish of which the Doctor's
father was minister.

Macintyre was born in Druimliart of Glenorchy on the 20th of March 1724,
and died in October 1812. He was chiefly employed in the capacity of
keeper in several of the Earl of Breadalbane's forests. He carried a
musket, however, in his lordship's fencibles; which led him to take
part, much against his inclination, in the Whig ranks at the battle of
Falkirk. Later in life he transferred his musket to the Edinburgh City
Guard.

Macintyre's best compositions are those which are descriptive of forest
scenes, and those which he dedicated to the praise of his wife. His
verses are, however, very numerous, and embrace a vast variety of
subjects. From the extraordinary diffusiveness of his descriptions, and
the boundless luxuriance of his expressions, much difficulty has been
experienced in reproducing his strains in the English idiom.

MAIRI BHAN OG.

MARY, THE YOUNG, THE FAIR-HAIR'D.

My young, my fair, my fair-hair'd Mary,
My life-time love, my own!
The vows I heard, when my kindest dearie
Was bound to me alone,
By covenant true, and ritual holy,
Gave happiness all but divine;
Nor needed there more t