« PreviousContinue »
And oh for Thee, by pitying grace
Where Man is laid,
For which it prayed !
Sighing I turned away; but ere
A ritual hymn,
SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS
OF NITH, NEAR THE POET'S RESIDENCE.
Too frail to keep the lofty vow
With holly spray,
And passed away.
Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng
In social grief-
To seek relief.
But, leaving each unquiet theme
Of good and fair,
Enough of sorrow, wreck, and blight;
His course was true,
And virtue grew.
Yes, freely let our hearts expand,
We wont to stray,
Of each sweet Lay.
How oft inspired must he have trod
With mirth elate,
35 The Rustic sate.
Proud thoughts that Image overawes,
And by what rules
That shames the Schools.
Through busiest street and loneliest glen
Bees fill their hives;
His power survives.
What need of fields in some far clime
From genuine springs,
Folds up his wings ?
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven
With vain endeavour,
Effaced for ever.
But why to Him confine the prayer,
With all that live ?-
.! See note.
TO THE SONS OF BURNS,
AFTER VISITING THE GRAVE OF THEIR FATHER.
“The Poet's grave is in a corner of the churchyard We looked at it with melancholy and painful re. flections, repeating to each other his own verses —
'Is there a man whose judgment clear,' etc.” -Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-traveller.
'Mid crowded obelisks and urns
With sorrow true;
Trembling to you!
Through twilight shades of good and ill
Must ye display;
Its lawful sway.
Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear
Like him can speed
There will be need;
For honest men delight will take
Your steps pursue;
Å snare for you.
Far from their noisy haunts retire,
With service meet;
His spirit greet;
Or where 'mid “lonely heights and hows,"
Bedewed with toil,
Upturned the soil;
His judgment with benignant ray
Let faith be given;
Is light from Heaven,"
Let no mean hope your souls enslave;
And such revere;
And think, and fear!