Joanna Baillie Poems

WITH rapture, Annan! all exclaim,
Thy banks how varied and how gay!
Why should a name, well known to fame,
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FIRST of invaders, Hannibal, thy name
Is proud as chief may claim, or man bestow,
For thy historian is the conquer'd foe,
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IN a dream of the night I was wafted away,
To the moorland of mist where the martyrs lay;
Where Cameron's sword and his bible are seen,
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TIME, the Dawn of the Day. --SCENE, Cape Mastic, in Scio.
HAIL ! once again, great fount of life, and light,
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YES , 'tis a year since last that plaintive cry,
'Pity the prisoners,' touch'd my wand'ring ear:
And now again their hat is lower'd from high,
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FIRST of Devon's thousand streams--
(Beside whose banks no poet dreams,
Since to her praise old Drayton fram'd
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FAREWELL , thou haughty, cruel fair!
Upon thy brow no longer wear
That sombre look of cold disdain,
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Beside a spreading elm, from whose high boughs
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'TWAS in heaven pronounced, and 'twas muttered in hell,
And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell:
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INSCRIB'D on many a learned page,
In mystic characters and sage,
Long time my first has stood;
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