The other to its native fkies

Now wings its happy way;

With glorious speed and joy he flies,
There blissfully to stray.

Carnegie then but changes clay
For fair celeftial rays;

He mounts up to eternal day,

And, as he parts, he says,

Adieu, Mamma, forget my tender fate! "These rufhing tears are vain, they flow too late." This faid, he hafted hence with pleafing joy; I faw the gods embrace their darling boy.

1728.

AN ODE

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF ANNE LADY GARLIES.

How vain are our attempts to know!

How poor, alas! is reafon's fkill!

We blindly wander here below,

Yet fondly fearch Heaven's fecret will!

Each day we fee the

young, the great, the small, The good, the bad, without distinction fall.

Yet fuch as have the rest out-fhin'd,

We should be faulty to neglect; Each grace of beauteous Garlia's mind Deferves the mufe's high refpect.

But how can fhe fuch worth and goodness paintA loving daughter, virtuous wife, and faint?

Some feraph, who in endless day

With themes fublime employs the lyre,

Dart in my breast a shining ray,

And all my foul with her inspire:

Elfe fing yourselves fo fair a frame and mind,
As now fupplies a place among your kind.

As we the glorious fun admire,
Whose beams make ev'ry joy arise,
Yet dare not view the dazzling fire,

Without much hazarding our eyes;
So did her beauties ev'ry heart allure,
While her bright virtues kill'd each thought impure.

She breath'd more sweetness than the east,
While ev'ry fentence was divine;

Her fmiles could calm each jarring breast;
Her foul was a celestial mine,

Where all the precious veins of virtue lay:
Too vaft a treasure long to lodge in clay!

Tho' fprung from an heroic race *,
Which from the world refpect does claim,
Yet wanted fhe no borrow'd grace,

Her own demands immortal fame :
Worthy as those who fhun the vulgar roads,
Start from the crowd, and rife among the gods.

Such pains as weaker minds poffefs,

Could in her breast no access find;

But lowly meekness did confefs

A fteady and fuperior mind:

Unmov'd fhe bore thofe honours due the

great,

Nor could have been deprefs'd with a more humble

fate.

* She was daughter of the earl-marshal of Scotland.

As

As to the fields the huntsman hies,

With joyful fhouts he wakes the morn; While nature smiles, ferene the skies,

Swift fly his hounds, fhrill blows his horn: When fuddenly the thund'ring cloud pours rain, Defaces day, and drives him from the plain.

Thus young Brigantius' circling arms
Grafp'd all that 's lovely to his heart,
Rejoic'd o'er his dear Anna's charms,
But not expecting foon to part;

When rigid fate, for reasons known above,
Snatch'd from his breaft the object of his love.

Ah, Garlies! once the happiest man,
Than e'er before Brigantine chief,
Now fever'd from your lovely Anne,

'Tis hard indeed to ftem your grief:

Yet mind what you might often from her hearWhat Heaven designs fubmiffive we should bear.

Oh! ne'er forget that tender care,

Those heaven-born thoughts fhe did employ, To point those ways how you may share Above with her immortal joy:

Such a bright pattern of what 's good and great, Even angels need not blush to imitate.

1722.

TO SIR JOHN CLERK,

ON THE DEATH OF HIS SON, JOHN CLERK ESQ.

If tears can ever be a duty found,

'Tis when the death of dear relations wound; Then you must weep, you have too just a ground.

A fon whom all the good and wife admir'd,
Shining with ev'ry grace to be defir'd,
Rais'd high your joyful hopes-and then retir'd.

Nature muft yield, when fuch a weighty load
Rouzes the paffions, and makes reason nod!
But who may contradict the will of God?

By his great Author man was fent below,
Some things to learn, great pains to undergo,
To fit him for what further he's to know.

This end obtain'd, without regarding time,
He calls the foul home to its native clime,
To happiness and knowledge more fublime.

Thus