REC

Written in the Highlands of Scotland. . . . . . . . . . 157

OH could my mind, unfolded in my page,
Enlighten climes and mould a future age;
There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy fraught,
Dispense the treasures of exalted thought;

To Virtue wake the pulses of the heart,
And bid the tear of emulation start!

Oh could it still, thro' each succeeding year,
My life, my manners, and my name endear;
And, when the poet sleeps in silent dust,

Still hold communion with the wise and just!

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Yet should this Verse, my leisure's best resource, When thro' the world it steals its secret course, Revive but once a generous wish supprest,

Chase but a sigh, or charm a care to rest;

In one good deed a fleeting hour employ,

Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy;
Blest were my lines, tho' limited their sphere,

Tho' short their date, as his who traced them here.