The music of our birds is at a close;

And every murmuring brook weeps forth its woes. Our comfort's gone; and we must feel the cross; And still bewail the universal loss, &c.

Dr Pennecuik's other pastoral poems are to be found in his works, printed in the year 1715; to which very incorrect, and only, edition, are annexed the following encomiastic verses, by Alexander Pencook, entitled,

To the ingenious, and worthy AUTHOR, of the following Description (of Tweeddale), and Poems.

PROUD England boasts to be the Muses' seat; Glories in Spencer's flights, and Cowley's heat; Ben Jonson's manly sense, Ethredge's plays; Chaucer's bright wit, and Herbert's heavenly lays ; Milton's inspired thoughts, and Sidney's strains, Who sung the sweetest of the Arcadian swains.

These are the Muses' darling sons indeed;
Yet equalized by bards be-north the Tweed.
Our famous Scotland's snowy hills give birth
To wits, and warriors, famous on the earth.
On barren heaths, which never felt the plough,
And frozen hills the richest learning grow;

Tossed in cold cliffs of Caledonia's coasts,
With Boreas' blasts, and Hyperborean frosts.

Seraphic songs flow from Buchanan's quill; Too great for man's, almost for angel's skill. Th' admired Drummond dropt celestial lines Of wit, in which a boundless fancy shines. Immortal Douglas, in his hermit's cell Drunk with the streams of Heliconian Well, Reeling with raptures, in a rapid strain, Virgil translates, and brightens up his fame. Stirling, and Maitland, leave immortal names; Let's read The Muses welcome to King James, Where constellations of bright wits appear, Who fill the soul with knowledge, charm the ear. Crawford, of late, the British Ovid grew; And you prove, Sir, the British Ovid now. I wish my worth did equalize my will; That I in nature's secrets had thy skill, And could express them with thy matchless quill.

Happy that people whom thou dwell'st among: No wonder they're contented to live long ; Their health comes from thy hand, their pleasure from thy song.

AL. P. MERCATOR, Edinburgensis.

No. III.

OTHER POEMS, besides the Gentle Shepherd, from the Works of ALLAN RAMSAY, connected with, and referred to in the ILLUSTRATIONS.

VERSES written beneath the Historical Print of the wonderful preservation of Mr DAVID BRUCE, and others his school-fellows.

The maiden name of Mrs Forbes of New Hall was Bruce; and this is the earliest of Ramsay's compositions now known. If she was related to this Mr Bruce, it shows that the poet's connection with the family must have commenced previous to 1710; and that the first as well as the last production of his muse was attached to one of its members.

St Andrew's, August 19. 1710.
Six times the day, with light and hope arose,
As oft the night her terrors did oppose,
While tossed on roaring waves the tender crew
Had nought but death, and horror in their view:
Pale famine, seas, bleak cold, at equal strife,

Conspiring all against their bloom of life:

Whilst, like the lamp's last flame, their trembling

souls

Are on the wing to leave their mortaj gaols;

And death before them stands with frightful stare, Their spirits spent, and sunk down to despair.

Behold the indulgent providential eye, With watchful rays, descending from on high; Angels came posting down the divine beam To save the helpless in their last extreme : Unseen the heavenly guard about them flock, Some rule the winds, some lead them up the rock, While other two attend the dying pair,

To waft their young white souls thro' fields of air.

ODE to Mr FORBES of New Hall.

Written in 1721,

The same year in which was published the first quarto volume of RAMSAY'S Works, containing the introductory scene of The Gentle Shepherd.

Solvitur acris hiems

HORACE,

Now gowans sprout, and lavrocks sing, And welcome west winds warm the spring, O'er hill and dale they saftly blaw,

And drive the winter's cauld awa.

The ships, lang gyzened at the pier,

Now spread their sails, and smoothly steer;
The nags and nowt hate wissened strae,
And frisking to the fields they gae;

Nor hinds with elson and hemp lingle,
Sit soling shoon out o'er the ingle.
Now bonny haughs their verdure boast,
That late were clad with snaw and frost;
With her gay train the Paphian Queen,
By moon-light dances on the green,
She leads, while Nymphs and Graces sing,
And trip around the fairy ring;
Mean time, poor Vulcan, hard at thrift,
Gets mony a sair and heavy lift,

Whilst rinnen down, his haff-blind lads
Blaw up the fire, and thump the gads,

Now leave your fit-sted on the dew,
And busk yoursel in habit new.
Be gratefu' to the guiding powers,
And blythly spend your easy hours.
O canny Forbes! tutor time,

And live as lang's ye're in your prime;
That ill-bred death has nae regard
To king, or cottar, or a laird;

As soon a castle he'll attack,

As waus of divots roofed with thack,
Immediately we'll a' take flight

Unto the mirk realms of night,

As stories gang, with ghaists to roam,
In gloomy Pluto's gousty dome;