Verses To A Young Lady.

Here, where the Scottish muse immortal lives, In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join'd, Accept the gift;—tho' humble he who gives, Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. So may no ruffian feeling in thy breast, Discordant jar thy bosom-chords among; But peace attune thy gentle soul to rest, Or love ecstatic wake his seraph song. Or pity's notes in luxury of tears, As modest want the tale of woe reveals; While conscious virtue all the strain endears, And heaven-born piety her sanction seals.