verses written with a pencil
over the chiney—piece the parlour of the n at kenore, tayouth
adirg nature her wildest grace,
these northern scenes with weary feet i trace;
o&039;er any a dg dale and paful steep,
th&039; abodes of vey&039;d groe and tiid sheep,
y sava journey, curio, i pursue,
till fa&039;d breadalbane opens to y view—
the etg cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides,
the woods wild scatter&039;d, clothe their aple sides;
th&039; outstretchg ke, ibod &039;ong the hills,
the eye with wonder and aazent fills;
the tay and&039;rg sweet fant pride,
the pace risg on his verdant side,
the wns wood-frg&039;d nature&039;s native taste,
the hillocks dropt nature&039;s careless haste,
the arches stridg o&039;er the new-born strea,
the vil glitterg the noontide bea—
poetic ardours y bo swell,
lone wand&039;rg by the herit&039;s ossy cell;
the sweepg theatre of hangg woods,
th&039; cessant roar of headlong tublg floods—
here poesy ight wake her heav&039;n-taught lyre,
and look through nature with creative fire;
here, to the wrongs of fate half rencil&039;d,
isfortunes lighten&039;d steps ight wander wild;
and disappotnt, these lonely bounds,
fd bal to othe her bitter, ranklg wounds:
here heart-struck grief ight heav&039;nward stretch her scan,
and jur&039;d worth fet and pardon an
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