MADOR OF THE MOOR;

A POEM.

冷

BY JAMES HOGG,

AUTHOR OF THE QUEEN'S WAKE, &c.

Wild mirth of the desart! fit pastime for Kings,
Which still the rude Bard in his solitude sings.

WILSON.

EDINBURGH:

PRINTED FOR WILLIAM BLACKWOOD:

AND JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET, LONDON.

1816.

X. 247 BS.

ΤΟ

MR JOHN GRIEVE.

IF I knew man on earth that loved me more,
Or more approved my wayward minstrelsy,
Beshrew my pen, so prone to rhyming lore,
If it should dedicate this Book to thee:
But when I think of all thy truth to me,
And love, though sorely tried, that ne'er gave way,
At once all thoughts of loftier patron flee.
Slight is the gift; for, need I blush to say,
That never song of mine had seen the day,
But for thy friendship and unchanged regard?
To thee I owe them-How shall I repay
My more than brother !—all thy poor reward
Is this, thy favourite lay, of thy too favour'd Bard.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE following Poem is partly founded on an incident recorded in the Scottish annals of the 14th century. The alteration in the lady's name, which

was Elizabeth Moore, was necessary on account of the rythm.