erish there!

TO MISS ATKINSON,

ON THE EXTREME DIFFIDENCE WHICH SHE

DISPLAYS TO STRANGERS.

Just as a fawn, in forest shade,
Trembling to meet th' admiring eye,
I've seen thee try to hide, sweet maid!
Thy charms behind thy modesty.

Thus too I've seen at midnight steal
A fleecy cloud before the wind,
And veil, tho' it could not conceal,
The brilliant light that shone behind.

LINES

Upon reading the Journal of a Friend's Tour into Scotland, in which
the picturesque Scenery and the Character of the People are fairly
and liberally stated.

Much injur'd, Scotia! was thy genuine worth,
When late the[A] surly Rambler wandered forth
In brown[B] surtout, with ragged staff,
Enough to make a savage laugh!
And sent the faithless legend from his hand,
That Want and Famine scour'd thy bladeless land,

That with thee Nature wore a wrinkled face,
That not a leaf e'er shed its sylvan grace,
But, harden'd by their northern wind,
Rude, deceitful, and unkind,
Thy half-cloth'd sons their oaten cake denied,
Victims at once of penury and pride.

Happy for thee! a lib'ral Briton here,
Gentle yet shrewd, tho' learned not severe.
Fairly thy merit dares impart,
Asserts thy hospitable heart,
Proves that luxuriance smiles upon thy plains,
And wit and valour grace thy hardy swains.

[Footnote A: Dr. Johnson, author of the Rambler.]
[Footnote B: Alluding to his dress, as described by Mr. Boswell.]

LINES

WRITTEN UPON A HILL,

_On leaving the Country_.

Ah! sweet romantic spot, adieu!
Ere your green fields again I view,
These looks may change their youthful hue.

Dependence sternly bids me part
From all that ye, lov'd scenes! impart,
Far from my treasure and my heart.

Tho' winter shall your bloom invade,
Fancy may visit ev'ry shade,
Each bow'r shall kiss the wand'ring maid.

To busier scenes of life I fly,
Where many smile, where many sigh,
As Chance, not Worth, turns up the die.

BANKRUPTCY RENDERED EASY.

The Cit, relying on his trade,
Which, like all other things, may fade,
Longs for a curricle and villa:
This Hatchet splendidly supplies,
The other Cock'ril builds, or buys,
To charm himself and Miss Hautilla.

Then swift, O London! he retires,
To be, from all thy smoke and spires,
From Saturday till Sunday, merry:
On Sunday crowds of friends attend;
His house and garden some commend,
And all admire his port and sherry.

His