P OEY RayY. iY 
Not long liv’d'the Baron; and none-fince that time: | 
To inhabit the caftle prefume ; 
For chronicles tell, that, by order fublime, 
There Imogine fuffers the pain of her crime, 
And mourns her deplorable doom. 
At midnight four times in each year does her fpriie, © 
When mortals in flumber are bound, 
Array’d in her bridal apparel of white, 
Appear in the hall with the fkeleton-knight, 
And fhriek as he whirls her around ! 
While they drink out of fkulls newly torn froin the ervey 
Dancing round them the fpeétres are feen; 
Their liquor i is blood; and this horrible ftave 
They howl,—“ To the health of Alonzo the Brave, 
And his confort, the falfe Imogine !” 
44] 
A BALLAD. sy rosert BuRNS.— Tune, Humours of Glen. 
cE Wk groves o’ {weet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, 
Where bright beaming fummers exalt the aves 
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o’ green breckan, 
With the burn ftealing under the lang yellow broom: 
Far dearer to me yon humble broom-bowers, 
Where the blue. bell and gowan lurk lowly unfeen ; 
For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, ~ 
A liftning the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. 
Tho’ rich is the breeze, in their gay funny valleys, 
And cauld Caledonia’s blaft on the wave ; 
Their fweet-fcented woodlands that {kirt the proud ca aes 
|! What are they p—the haunt o’ the tyrant and flave! 
The flave’s {picy forefts, and gold- bubbling fountains, 
The braye Caledonian views wi’ difdain ; ; 
He wanders as free as the wind on his mountains, 
Save love’s willing fetters,—the chains of his Jean. 
MODERN NOVELS. (Infcribed to the Author of the Monk) 
From my Night-Gown and Slippers. By G. COLEMAR. 
OM, Dick, and Will, were little known to fame—— 
No Matter : 
But to the alehoufe oftentimes they came 
| To chatter. 
It was the cuftom of thefe three 
To fit up late 
And, o’er the embers of the alehouse fire, 
WwW hen fteadier cuftomers retire, 
The choice triumviri, d’ye fee, 
Held a debate. 
He'd 
