Thy woods and thy ravines, thy rocks and caves,
Contain the gleams of grandeur, o'er the brows
Of thy dark crags, the heath-flower freely waves.
Here Drummond sung, sweetly and well, for he
In thy retreats became inspired by thee.
ON THE BIRTH OF A NIECE.
E. W. G.
11th August, 1828.
The evening sun had o'er the heavens rolled
His brilliant robe of glory and of gold;