The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1822-08-20 00:00:00

PoEritt

I, mm. 1111.,
A VOICE FROM THE HIGHLAND,.
The peak of yeetiaeenteln is shining in light,
Like the helicon which ennwonsied oar fathers to lett;
Each Chief frees the Highlands hes followed the blurei
At the all of his Monarch hie standard to raise.
The elect) of the heatheoelt is peaceful end still,
For the pibroch bee suninsoood the Sops of the Hill;
We have left the red dyer to be lord of the Ow,
Asa by tens and fifties have nanstered our men.

Yet the dirk and broad sword may but to thew
That to welcome a foeman we had not been slow!
We haste where you vessel approaches the land,
But it is sot for battle we press to the strand.
Our Chieftains they crowd round the greatest of all,
The Aim lo the field, and the first in the hall ;
To so mighty a Master 'tis given to few,
So fair aid so willing a homage to do.
NoMasloi bdt be, for his frown or his smiles.
Could call from the mountain the Lord of the Isles,
To his, and so other, in duty would bow,
The please,' the eagle ma Sutherland's brut'.
For ►im, and ow other, Glengarry would stay
So far from the Wag and the rifle away.
They are kw to whoa. Campbell or Gordon would yield
Vabifider precedence is hall or In field.
When he masters his kisimen, the best shall sot fail
His standard to bow, and his boariet to veil.
From a long line of Chiefs his dominiom began ;
His vassals a host, sad $ people his claii.
Thew rattail use that pibroch, the shrillest and best,
Which woke In Arroyos the French from their rest.
'rhea load be your shout, as on Maida it ruse
O'er the clash of your claymores, your bayonets close.
Throagh calm of demeanour, our spirits cat glow,
At the smile of a friend, or the scowl of a foe;
Wbea bit velarl approaches yon mountain s►all ring,
With ills shoat which we raise for oar Chieftaia sad kin.

SCOTCH SANG.

•M iiiiniourru ox MIS MOST GRACIOUS SILIVITT RIMS)

SIORGE THI 10ORTH'S TWIT TO ICUTtJUID.

An' bae ye beird the joyfre trews
How Geordie's remiss down—
Kiri Geordie; ai` that Ilk the Fourth,
Wh■ wears the English Crows.
There. melkie luck if it be sae—.
There's forcible lark in 1110,11;
All rare o' Bruaswick's Royal Race
War ever here afore.

Lag Geordie Is • hooey chiel—
A Enclitic mos 0' might ;
Cade troth, 'I will oak ass to Iril
When we see sic a sight.
There's ankle lock is prospect sow,
Au' surely alit is store—
As sane o' Rrenswick's Royal Stock
War ever here afore.

Gang to Lord Provost's linage, wry Jo,
His Namur kerbs fa' wsel
Whoa our gude Mosarch's Royal yacht
At Leith will rest her keel.
There will be luck gig' he come down,
Au' rnsir perhaps is store:—
As mane o' Brunswick's Royal House
War ever here afore.

Ca' is epos the Minister—
Mesa Jobs is unto glide,
He'll tell ye Rif the Ring will route
Ades,* to Holy Rood.
There will be leek w►en he pea there,
Aye, wieikle leek in store;
Hill ►e the Arts o' a' that Line
Wh'are greed fair Scotia's abort.

Ca' i■ on the Conveener, Jo.
An' he'll the Deacon brier—
An' wi' them, a' the City Trades
To wait soon the King.
There will be lea when be cones bete,
Aye, merikle emir is afore ;
A o' Brunswick's Royal Raeo
War ever here afore.

But bask! I hear tkeCastle Gums—
(The stews il surely true)
Gee Inds soy brand au' tartan plaid—
Ao' Aomori o' true blue!
There's oseikle trek the day for art,
As' steikle =air iti store ;
A Star o' Brunswick's Royal Line
Mimes mow on Scotia's shore.

Arouse! aroose, ye Archers brave!
The Kiri they say's come dour,—
(King Geordie ! o' that Ilk the Fourth)
To claim the &elfish Crows)!
That's aseikle luck, au' since 'tin sae
We'll welcome Geordie helm—
As' leader the Revile too
To sae, sae usco dear !

Put on the ofteikle pet, my Jo,
A. Ries a eog brow.,
Syne bring some whiskey punch to tiff—
" Confusion to his foes."
There's meade lurk for Stollen,' now,
Our honoured King's come Juan ;
King Geordie! u' that Ilk the Fourth
Shall have the Scottish Croon !

'Ti. law' rya spore a King was here;—
But since the way be's found—
H. omen grant that we rosy see his hew
Fu' aft ow Northern ground !
The Now au' Thistle we'll entwine,
Are knock ilk foe•man down,
Who dare dispute King Geordie's right
To wear Ike Scottish Crown!

TO HIS MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY.
Dear Sir !—I so a Perthshire Lad,
Au' freely anus declare
There's away a Scottish subject world
Be blithe to see ye there ;

An' if ye cross the Tay, my Lier,
I hope it will be soon—
WV bowls te love and loyalty,
We'll crown ye thee at &crone !
J. BISSET.

I=I2MINA