Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,
These nothern scenes with weary feet I trace;
O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,
Th' abodes of coveyed grouse and timid sheep,
My savage journey, curious I pursue,
Till famed Breadalbane opens to my view.
The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides,
The woods, wild scattered, clothe their ample sides.
Th' outstretching lake, embosomed 'mong the hills,
The eye with wonder and amazement fills;
The Tay meandering sweet in infant pride,
The palace rising on his verdant side;
The lawns wood-fringed in Nature's native taste;
The hillocks dropped in Nature's careless haste;
The arches striding o'er the new-born stream;
The village glittering in the noontide beam.

Poetic ardors in my bosom swell,
Lone wandering by the hermit's mossy cell;
The sweepingtheatre of hanging woods,
Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods.

Here Poesy might wake her heaven-taught lyre,
And look through Nature with creative fire;
Here, to the wrongs of fate half reconciled,
Misfortune's lightened steps might wander wild;
And Disappointment in these lonely bounds
Find balm to soothe her bitter, rankling wounds.
Here heart-struck Grief might streach her scan,
And injured Worth forget and pardon man.