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Well have yon Eailway Labourers to This
ground "Withdrawn for noontide rest. They sit, they
walk Among the Ruins, but no idle talk Is heard; to grave demeanour all are bound; And from one voice a Hymn with tuneful sound Hallows once more the long-deserted Quire 6 And thrills the old sepulchral earth, around. Others look up, and with fixed eyes admire That wide-spanned arch, wondering how it was
raised, To keep, so high in air, its strength and grace: All seem to feel the spirit of the place, 11
And by the general reverence G-od is praised: Profane Despoilers, stand ye not reproved, While thus these simple-hearted men are
June 21, 1845.
MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN
FROM THE TALE OF GEASMEEE. ATJGTJST, 1803.
The gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plains
bold Into the tracts of darkness and of cold; 10
O'er Limbo lake with aery flight to steer,
part, Yet still with Nature's freedom at the heart;— To cull contentment upon wildest shores, 25 And luxuries extract from bleakest moors; "With prompt embrace all beauty to enfold, And having rights in all that we behold. —Then why these lingering steps ?—A bright
adieu, For a brief absence, proves that love is true; 30 Ne'er can the way be irksome or forlorn That winds into itself for sweet return.
AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS.
SEVEN TEARS AFTEE HIS DEATH.
I Shiveb, Spirit fierce and bold,
At thought of what I now behold:
As vapours breathed from dungeons cold
Strike pleasure dead,
Where Burns is laid.
And have I then thy bones so near,
And both my wishes and my fear
Oft weight—nor press on weight!—away
The tribute due
From mortal view.
Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth
He sang, his genius "glinted" forth, 20
Rose like a star that touching earth,
For so it seems,
With matchless beams.
The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow, 25
The struggling heart, where be they now ?—
The prompt, the brave,
And silent grave. 30
I mourned with thousands, but as one
And showed my youth
On' humble truth.
Alas! where'er the current tends,
By Skiddaw seen,— 40
Neighbours we were, and loving friends
We might have been;
True friends though diversely inclined;
Through Nature's skill,
More closely stil1.
The tear will start, and let it flow;
Thou "poor Inhabitant below," 50
At this dread moment—even so—
Might we together
Or on wild heather.
What treasures would have then been placed 55
But why go on ?—
His grave grass-grown. 60
There, too a Son, his joy and pride,
Some sad delight.
For he is safe, a quiet bed
Hath early found among the dead,
Harboured where none can be misled,
Wronged, or distrest; 70
And surely here it may be said
That such are blest.