Mankind may that lesson learn thee,

While we favours can bestow,

Hundreds cringe and nuckle under,

And submissive to us bow.

But, should Misfortune's storms assail you,
Instantly they'll turn their back,

Crowding round some richer neighbour,
Of his bounty to partake.

But, when the snow lies white on Girning, And white, too, on the Breedy holm,

"Tis then, perhaps, my old acquaintance
Will her summer's dwelling own.

Should I spy thee from my window,
Though my pittance be but scant,
A handful sure of corn or barley,
Thou shalt never, never want.

WRITTEN ON OPENING THE DUMFRIES AND GALLOWAY COURIER OF THE 11TH NOVEMBER, 1817, ANNOUNCING THE DEATH OF THE AMIABLE, VIRTUOUS, AND EVER TO BE LAMENTED PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.

SUCH doleful black thy columns long enshroud,
That dark forebodings do my eyes becloud;
Yea flow, flow copiously, ye briny tears,
For Britain's fondest hope now disappears.

Our peerless Princess, lifeless, cold, and low!
A nation's pride is now a nation's woe;
Mourn, princes, peers, all Britain's fam❜ly mourn,
And with your tears bedew her sacred urn.

Oh! could my muse her virtues but unfold,
Royalty's brightest gem-its purest gold—
No tinsely drapery did her mind adorn,
Her heart was pure as pearly dew of morn.

But view her as a daughter and a wife,
The brightest pattern of domestic life,

Obedient, loving, prudent, and sincere,
Frugal and humble, modest, chaste, and fair.

Benevolence, fair Virtue's handmaid true,
The first, the grandest object in her view,..
From earliest life her every thought did sway,
And shone conspicuous to her dying day.

Perceive the poor all sorrowful and sad
Unfeigned bewailing her who made them glad;
So great her charities she seemed to stand,
The queenly almoner of all the land.

All hoped, expected in the course of things,
She'd be the mother of a race of kings;
Which ever should a righteous sceptre sway
Over these realms unto the latest day.

Behold the mother and the infant lie
In death's cold arms-O cruel destiny!
But why should we arraign Almighty power;
gave can take-be silent and adore!

Who

AN ADDRESS TO AN OAK.

[On the 29th August, 1818, there was dug from a morass, on the farm of Ingleston, in the parish of Durrisdeer, by order of his Grace the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry, &c. an Oak of the following dimensions :-The trunk was sixty-five feet in length, and as there was a splinter of fourteen feet on the but end, and no appearance of roots, it is probable it may have been many feet longer. The girth, thirty two and a half feet from the boughs, was nine feet, ten inches, and as both the bark and white wood were decayed, it must originally have been nearly twelve feet in circumference, and have contained, at least, the amazing quantity of five hundred feet of wood. The timber is in a high state of preservation; and all means are using to prepare it for the hand of the cabinet-maker. From a specimen I have seen, it appears susceptible of the finest polish, exhibits the jet glossy hue of ebony; and from its rarity, durability, and antiquity, is more valuable than the finest mahogany, and will no doubt ultimately add to the splendour of the princely palace of Drumlanrig.]

HAIL, venerable Oak! hail to the light,
To Queensberry we owe the wondrous sight
Of thy stupendous uncorrupted mass,

For centuries concealed in deep morass,

Perhaps beneath thy wide extended boughs
Have Roman legions lodged-old Albion's foes
Or underneath thy thick impervious shade,
Has worshipped oft the superstitious druid.

Thy glory more remote may still have been,
Before Phoenicians our Isle had seen;.
E'er foreign vessel anchored on our shore;
Or human eye our forests did explore.

Some say

that thou art from exotic soil,

And by the deluge left upon our Isle ;

Had Britain then emerged from the main ?-
Geologists that problem can't explain.

Ingenious Archimedes, we are told,

A vessel built for Syracuseans bold,

Two of the masts, a learned research has found-
The main-mast was produced from British ground.

Many a dreadful blast thou hast withstood,
Thou potent, mighty monarch of the wood;
Of warring elements what abides the shock?
Not even the solid trunk of hardy oak.