In cot or castle's mirth or moan, In cold or sunny clime. And who has heard his song, nor knelt O'er the mind's sea, in calm and storm, On fields where brave men “die or do," What sweet tears dim the eye unshed, 60 64 68 72 76 Pure hopes that lift the soul above, Come with his Cotter's hymn of praise, And dreams of youth, and truth, and love, 80 And when he breathes his master-lay All passions in our frames of clay Imagination's world of air, And our own world, its gloom and glee, Wit, pathos, poetry, are there, And death's sublimity. And Burns-though brief the race he ran, Though rough and dark the path he trodLived, died, in form and soul a man, The image of his God. Through care, and pain, and want, and woe, He kept his honesty and truth, His independent tongue and pen, And moved, in manhood as in youth, Strong sense, deep feeling, passions strong, A kind, true heart, a spirit high, That could not fear and would not bow, 88 92 96 100 104 Were written in his manly eye And on his manly brow. Praise to the bard! his words are driven, 108 Where'er beneath the sky of heaven, The birds of fame have flown. Praise to the man! a nation stood 112 Her brave, her beautiful, her good, 116 As when a loved one dies. And still, as on his funeral-day, Such graves as his are pilgrim-shrines, The Meccas of the mind. 124 138 Sages, with Wisdom's garland wreathed, Crowned kings, and mitred priests of power, And warriors with their bright swords sheathed, The mightiest of the hour; 132 And lowlier names, whose humble home Is lit by Fortune's dimmer star, 136 Pilgrims, whose wandering feet have pressed All ask the cottage of his birth, Gaze on the scenes he loved and sung, And gather feelings not of earth His fields and streams among. They linger by the Doon's low trees, But what to them the Sculptor's art, His funeral columns, wreaths, and urns? Wear they not graven on the heart 1822. 140 144 148 152 Fits-Greene Halleck. THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES Where are they gone, the old familiar faces? I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful schooldays; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 3 I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I loved a Love once, fairest among women: Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her,All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man; 9 12 Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood; Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse. Seeking to find the old familiar faces. 15 Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling? So might we talk of the old familiar faces. For some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me; all are departed; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 18 21 1798. Charles Land. |