The works of Allan Ramsay :: :: University of Virginia Library

How vain are our Attempts to know?
How poor, alas! is Reason's Skill?
We blindly wander here below,
Yet fondly search Heaven's secret Will.
Each Day we see the Young, the Great, the Small,
The Good, the Bad, without Distinction, fall.

Yet such as have the Rest out-shin'd,
We should be faulty to neglect;
Each Grace of beauteous GARLIA's Mind
Deserves the Muse's high Respect.
But how shall she such Worth and Goodness paint?
A loving Daughter, virtuous Wife and Saint?

Some Seraph who in endless Day
With Themes sublime employ the Lyre,
Dart in my Breast a shining Ray,
And all my Soul with her inspire;
Else sing your selves so fair a Frame and Mind,
As now supplies a Place among your Kind.

As we the glorious Sun admire,
Whose Beams make ev'ry Joy arise;
Yet dare not view the dazling Fire,
Without much hazarding our Eyes:
So did her Beauties ev'ry Heart allure,
While her bright Virtues kill'd each Thought impure.

She breath'd more Sweetness than the East,
While ev'ry Sentence was divine;
Her Smiles could calm each jarring Breast;
Her Soul was a Celestial Mine,
Where all the precious Veins of Virtue lay;
Too vast a Treasure long to lodge in Clay.

Tho' sprung from an heroick Race,
Which from the World Respect does claim;
Yet wanted she no borrowed Grace,
Her own demands immortal Fame:
Worthy as those who shun the vulgar Roads,
Start from the Crowd, and rise amongst the Gods.

Such Pains as weaker Minds possess,
Could in her Breast no Access find;
But lowly Meekness did confess
A steady and superior Mind.
Unmov'd she bore these Honours due the Great,
Nor could have been depress'd with a more humble Fate.

As to the Fields the Huntsman hies,
With joyful Shouts he wakes the Morn;
While Nature smiles, serene the Skies,
Swift fly his Hounds, shrill blows his Horn:
When suddenly the thund'ring Cloud pours Rain,
Defaces Day, and drives him from the Plain.

Thus young BRIGANTIUS circling Arms
Grasp'd all that's lovely to his Heart,
Rejoyc'd o'er his dear ANNA's Charms;
But not expecting soon to part:
When rigid Fate, for Reasons known above,
Snatch'd from his Breast the Object of his Love.

Ah GARLIES! once the happiest Man,
Than e'er before BRIGANTINE Chief,
Now sever'd from your lovely ANNE,
'Tis hard indeed to stem your Grief:
Yet mind what you might often from her hear,
What Heaven designs, submissive we should bear.

Oh! ne'er forget that tender Care,
Those Heaven-born Thoughts she did employ,
To point those Ways how you may share
Above with her immortal Joy.
Such a bright Pattern of what's Good and Great,
Even Angels need not blush to imitate.

She was Daughter of the Earl Marischal of Scotland.