' 
E42 
' ‘The swelling waves in fury threat the fhore, 
poetry, Now. 28, 
Now up the mount he flies, now round it floats, 
From rock to rock pursues the flying goats ; 
Now down the hill betore the eastern breeze, 
Keel’s den receives him ’mong her trembling trees. 
There, solitary fhade, enjoy delight, 
Where sylvan scenes compose a verdant night 5 
The solemn winding walk, beneath the fhade 
‘Of beech or elm, in thoughtful silence tread ; 
Muse on the past,—thy hut, sequester’d cell, 
Where thou in peace with God and man did dwell ; 
Or if the stream attract thy airy form, 
-And lead thee to the glade by dawn of morn, 
There willows weep, Laburnums hang their flow’rs, 
And Caledonian firs, rise verdant tow’rs ; 
Mong these, sweet birds their Maker’s praises sing ; 
The sound, the scene, will to remembrance bring . { 
Thine own Fernandez, in eternal spring. : 
“Nor lefs the beauties of thy native fhore ; 
‘List to the muse,—fhe sings of days of yore. 
Far west, as Leven’s solitary stream 
Is lost in ocean, like a nightly dream, 
To where Kincraig extends his arm to save 
The sea-beat sailor from the German wave}; 
Within these bounds, a mighty forest stood, 
‘Green were its groves, and brown the bord’ring wood ; 
Tall. grew the elm, the beech, the plane, and pine, 
Rear’d verdant crests, that wav’d above the line 
Of humble fhrubs.—These, in close copse, unite 
To form deep dens, (impervious to the light,) 
For prowling wolves, and Caledonian boars, 
Whose dreadful tufks th’ unwary trav ller gores; 
The neighbr’ing hill, not half its present height, 
Discharg’d fierce flames, which cloth’d the wood with light 5 
‘For many a year the huge volcano burn’d, 
‘Hills sunk to vales, and vales to mountains turn’d 5 | 
Earth teeming trembles, and the lava flows, 
From year to year the smoking mountain rose; 
> Till nature tir’d, unable to sustain 
‘The mighty load of the incumbent plain, 
Refus’d her lava, and her wonted fires, 
And pentin earth far frorm her mount retires. 
Three days thus fhe ;—nor wind was heard to blow, 
Nor sun to fhine was seen, nor sea to flow; 
Till the fourth morn, when lo! a crackling sound 
Was heard inair, and trembling seiz’d the ground, 
And from beneath internal thunders roar $ 
Volumns of pitchy smoke invade the fky, 
And flaming tocks from the volcano fly; 
When lo! acrafh! too loud for human ear, 
The mountain rack’d, the sea retir’d with fear, 
Retir’d but to return;—but ah! the wood 
Return’d no more.—When sunk beneath the flood, 
Within the vast abyfs the forest lay, : 
‘The sea rufh’d in and formed Largo Bay. 
Largo, May 28, 179%. Nauta. 
