Verses Written With A Pencil

Verses Written With A Pencil

    Over the Chimney—piece in the Parlour of the Inn at Kenmore, Taymouth.

    Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,

    These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;

    O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,

    Th' abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep,

    My savage journey, curious, I pursue,

    Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view.—

    The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides,

    The woods wild scatter'd, clothe their ample sides;

    Th' outstretching lake, imbosomed 'mong the hills,

    The eye with wonder and amazement fills;

    The Tay meand'ring sweet in infant pride,

    The palace rising on his verdant side,

    The lawns wood-fring'd in Nature's native taste,

    The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless haste,

    The arches striding o'er the new-born stream,

    The village glittering in the noontide beam—

    Poetic ardours in my bosom swell,

    Lone wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell;

    The sweeping theatre of hanging woods,

    Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods—

    Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-taught lyre,

    And look through Nature with creative fire;

    Here, to the wrongs of Fate half reconcil'd,

    Misfortunes lighten'd steps might wander wild;

    And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds,

    Find balm to soothe her bitter, rankling wounds:

    Here heart-struck Grief might heav'nward stretch her scan,

    And injur'd Worth forget and pardon man.

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