[Footnote 9:  Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor and
     present Professor Stewart.—­R.B.]

     Brydon’s brave ward^10 I well could spy,
     Beneath old Scotia’s smiling eye: 
     Who call’d on Fame, low standing by,
     To hand him on,
     Where many a patriot-name on high,
     And hero shone.

     Duan Second

     With musing-deep, astonish’d stare,
     I view’d the heavenly-seeming Fair;
     A whispering throb did witness bear
     Of kindred sweet,
     When with an elder sister’s air
     She did me greet.

     “All hail! my own inspired bard! 
     In me thy native Muse regard;
     Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard,
     Thus poorly low;
     I come to give thee such reward,
     As we bestow!

     “Know, the great genius of this land
     Has many a light aerial band,
     Who, all beneath his high command,
     Harmoniously,
     As arts or arms they understand,
     Their labours ply.

     “They Scotia’s race among them share: 
     Some fire the soldier on to dare;
     Some rouse the patriot up to bare
     Corruption’s heart: 
     Some teach the bard—­a darling care—­
     The tuneful art.

     “’Mong swelling floods of reeking gore,
     They, ardent, kindling spirits pour;

     [Footnote 10:  Colonel Fullarton.—­R.B.  This gentleman had
     travelled under the care of Patrick Brydone, author of a
     well-known “Tour Through Sicily and Malta.”]

     Or, ’mid the venal senate’s roar,
     They, sightless, stand,
     To mend the honest patriot-lore,
     And grace the hand.

     “And when the bard, or hoary sage,
     Charm or instruct the future age,
     They bind the wild poetric rage
     In energy,
     Or point the inconclusive page
     Full on the eye.

     “Hence, Fullarton, the brave and young;
     Hence, Dempster’s zeal-inspired tongue;
     Hence, sweet, harmonious Beattie sung
     His ‘Minstrel lays’;
     Or tore, with noble ardour stung,
     The sceptic’s bays.

     “To lower orders are assign’d
     The humbler ranks of human-kind,
     The rustic bard, the lab’ring hind,
     The artisan;
     All choose, as various they’re inclin’d,
     The various man.

     “When yellow waves the heavy grain,
     The threat’ning storm some strongly rein;
     Some teach to meliorate the plain
     With tillage-skill;
     And some instruct the shepherd-train,
     Blythe o’er the hill.

     “Some hint the lover’s harmless wile;
     Some grace the maiden’s artless smile;
     Some soothe the lab’rer’s weary toil
     For humble gains,
     And make his cottage-scenes beguile
     His cares and pains.