Anne MacVicar Grant Poems

DEAR BEATRICE , with pleasure I read your kind letter;
On the subject, methinks, there could scarce be a better:
...

ON READING BURNS'S LETTERS TO THAT LADY.
VALLESIA, whose illustrious blood,
Deriv'd from chiefs of mighty name,
...

ON READING BURNS'S LETTERS TO THAT LADY.
VALLESIA, whose illustrious blood,
Deriv'd from chiefs of mighty name,
...

WHEN FINGAL dwelt in windy halls,
As mournful OSSIAN tells,
Midst lofty Selma's shaded walls
He spread the feast of shells.
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YES , even amid these wilds forlorn,
Where, shivering on the naked spray,
The drooping songsters seem to mourn
The languid sun's declining ray;
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THOUGH long by fate's austere decree remov'd
From scenes still pleasing, and from friends still lov'd,
I see low shelter'd in my humble shed
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WHAT voice awakes the soul-afflicting theme
That oft with anguish fill'd my youthful breast,
When by the Mohawk's wild sequester'd stream
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Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?
Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?
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HOW bless'd those olive plants that grow
Beneath the altar's sacred shade,
Where streams of fresh instruction flow,
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SACRED to thee and friendly love,
I consecrate this humble seat,
Hither shall my weary feet
Oft at sober ev'ning move;
...