1793- /cf/O*. 



A Winter Piece. 



From Loch Lomond, a poem. 



Ijj winter oft descends the flaky snow. 



And heaps the mountain tops, and fills the glens. 



The woods, that fringe the lake around, scarce bear 



Th' opprefsive load. A deeper azure now 



The lake itself afsumes. Intense the frost; 



And fast in ice each lefser flood is bound. 



Hither, from more inclement ikies, the swan 



On sounding pinions, through the yielding air, 



And thousand fowls of various wing, resort. 



Oft wheeling round thy hospitable flood. 



Which, open still, invites their wandering flight ; 



At length they light and swim around. 



And mix, and dive, and joyful clap their wings. 



Or (kirn in troops excursive o'er the deep. 



The sportsman, who with steady eye had trac'd 

 Their airy rounds, and on their near approach 

 Had felt his breast beat high with barb'rous joy, 

 They please and vex alternate. While conceal'd 

 By rock or bufh, he cautious lurks unseen. 

 And frequent fhiftinj, oft he takes his aim — 

 Yet baffled still; at last, with cold benum'd, 

 Gall'd he withdraws, full late, and leaves unhurt 

 The floating tribes, which yet his eye provoke. 

 Now distant seen far glistering to the moon. 



Vanity of Names. 



Say, where those names which set the world on fire-i, 

 Where does the pride of Gre ce and Rome retire i 

 Caesar's dread name now marks the butcher's dog, 

 Cato saws wood, and Scipio drives a hog : 

 Seek you for Pompey '. search the tanner's yard, 

 You'll meet with Nero in your garden's ^uard. 



