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But meek and humble, grave, and choked with grace,
Moved with a tender feeling for our race,
Possessed of pathos deep for human woe-

Though all deny in me this generous glow-
But known to wretchedness and homeless need,
For oft the hungry tender would I feed.
The cause I knew not often I out sought,
And Destitution's blessing found me out.
Self-praise I spurn, and speak the naked truth,
And vile hypocrisy detest, forsooth.
In me it is not ere to play the rogue,
Though contradicted much by my physog—
So much the case that thousands flat deny
All this as false, and rudely it decry.

But since my pleading with you seems in vain,
From further statements now I will refrain.
You seem determined nothing here to do
My scheme to aid, and realize my view;
I'll see my Lord myself another day,
And state my wishes-hear what he will say.
He is a man who will behave more civil
Than you, ye scandalous, domineering devil."
To quash the quarrel, and no more provoke,
The Butler ended thus the well-known joke-
"See, there's my hand, hence doubly be insured
That yesterday, in fact, my Lord procured
A butler fit, possessed of every grace,

Else sure would I bespoke for you the place.
You've been too long, and have this opening missed,
Hence for the present must you now desist;

But mind the future, for you sure will shine
A star of magnitude yet in our line."

Pleased grew the Barber, and him bade "Good-day;"
But, disappointed, homeward found his way,
To tell his sorrows to the feeling wife,
And mourn this hapless crisis of his life;
To bear the censure, mock, and cutting jest,
Till time, in mercy, set the fray at rest.

OUR VISIT TO THE WEST OF
SCOTLAND.

AIL, land of mountains, streams and floods,
Bowers and groves, and shady woods!

Vocal with unnumbered lays

Of native gratitude and praise,

Sweet with classic fairy dells,

Red with waving heather bells,
Gay with flocks and meads renowned,
Rich with fields of plenty crowned,
Nurse of liberty and light,
Immortalized by genius bright,
Sweet home of peace, of valour, fame,
Of all deserving of a name,

Land of my fathers and of mine,

My soul shall ever thee enshrine;

Hence for a harp all but divine,

The first and best,

And, oh! your aid, ye sacred Nine,
To sing the West.

The West, the West, I'll ever sing,
While of my lyre remains a string.
First, hail Edina, by the way,
Thou peerless queen of cities gay;
Hail to thy spires, thy towers, and domes,
Magnificent and princely homes;
Thy statues, monuments, which rise
To hallow and immortalize

Departed worth and genius dear,
Embalmed in every heart sincere !
Hail to the Cenotaph of Scott!
When shall his memory be forgot?
On thee may Thalia proudly smile,
Illustrious and unrivalled pile;
Enraptured would I gaze a while

Thee to adore,

And with thy charms an hour beguile,
And Kemp deplore.

Next his memorial regard,

Scotia's devoted matchless bard,

Eternal Burns, a nation's praise,
And Nelson's too, who won his bays,
With others on the Calton Hill,

Which well the stranger's soul may thrill;

O for its fascinating views!

How genial to the roaming Muse!
But we descend, and time we should,
Hail, famous, ancient Holyrood!
Of perished royalty the seat,

And scene of many a bloody fete;
Whose stately form, each spacious hall,
Each tapestried and pictured wall
Departed glory still recall:

O to survey

Thy antique relics, one and all,

A summer's day!

With unique pleasure turn now we,
Thou noble Citadel, to thee:

Hail to thy everlasting form!

The sport of many a siege and storm;
Thy lofty towers and turrets grey,
The boast of ages passed away;
Thy warlike aspect of renown,
Thy splendid Armoury and Crown;
The gorgeous sceptre Sword of State,
With other trappings of the great,
Of Scotia's proud tyrannic kings,
Perish'd like other worthless things
By Time's unsparing mortal blast,
And swept to the oblivious past!
But now a farewell glance we cast,
With ravished eyes,

No longer can we stay at last

To moralise.

Next in our cursory review,
Of thy attractions ever new,
To pass, Edina, would it suit,
Thy Royal Picture Institute?
Hail to its pompous portly mien,
Surmounted by our virtuous Queen,
Reflecting all may see and feel-
Eternal credit on a Steel!

And, hail! that honoured ace of parts,
Thy glorious, worthy School of Arts!
Long may it flourish, and may thee,
Thou noble University,

With all thy satellites of fame,

Whom proud may Scotia be to claim!
O Wilson, hallowed be thy name,

Thou star of earth!

Thy powers, long may thy Muse's flame

Bright mirror forth!

But vain, Edina, we essay

Thy endless charms half to portray,

So partly finish we our tour,

And now my Muse her wings must cower.
In thee, how time unnoticed fleets!
Farewell, thy gay and bustling streets,
Where endless shops in splendour vie
To fascinate and feast the eye;

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