What matters it? I blame them not
Whose Fancy in this lonely Spot 20
Was moved; and in this way express'd
Their notion of it's perfect rest.
A Convent, even a hermit's Cell
Would break the silence of this Dell:
It is not quiet, is not ease;
But something deeper far than these:
The separation that is here
Is of the grave; and of austere
And happy feelings of the dead:
And, therefore, was it rightly said 30
That Ossian, last of all his race!
Lies buried in this lonely place.




5. _THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND_.


At Jedborough we went into private Lodgings for a few
days; and the following Verses were called forth by
the character, and domestic situation, of our Hostess.


Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers!
And call a train of laughing Hours;
And bid them dance, and bid them sing;
And Thou, too, mingle in the Ring!