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And oh for Thee, by pitying grace
Checked oft-times in a devious race,
May He, who halloweth the place 75
Where Man is laid, Receive thy Spirit in the embrace
For which it prayed!
Sighing I turned away; but ere
Night fell I heard, or seemed to hear, 80
Music that sorrow comes not near,
A ritual hymn,
SUGGESTED THE DAT FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS
Too frail to keep the lofty vow
That must have followed when his brow
Was wreathed—" The Vision" tells us how—
With holly spray, He faultered, drifted to and fro, 5
And passed away.
Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng
In social grief— 10
Indulged as if it were a wrong
To seek relief.
But, leaving each unquiet theme
Of good and fair,
Breathe hopeful air.
Enough of sorrow, wreck, and blight;
His course was true,
And virtue grew.
Yes, freely let our hearts expand, 25
Freely as in youth's season bland,
We wont to stray,
Of each sweet Lay. 30
How oft inspired must he have trod
With mirth elate,
The Rustic sate.
Proud thoughts that Image overawes,
And by what rules 40
She trained her Bums to win applause
Tha.t shames the Schools.
Through busiest street and loneliest glen
Are felt the flashes of his pen;
He rules 'mid winter snows, and when 45
Bees fill their hives;
His power survives.
What need of fields in some far clime Where Heroes, Sages, Bards sublime, 50 And all that fetched the flowing rhyme
Prom genuine springs, Shall dwell together till old Time
Folds up his wings?
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven 53
With vain endeavour,
Effaced for ever. 60
But why to Him confine the prayer,
With all that live ?—
Just God, forgive!1
1 See note.
TO THE SONS OP BURNS,
AFTEK VISITING THE GEAVE OF THEIR FATHER.
"The Poet's grave is in a corner of the churchyard We looked at it with melancholy and painful reflections, 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
I sought the untimely grave of Burns;
Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns
With sorrow true; And more would grieve, but that it turns 5
Trembling to you!
Through twilight shades of good and ill
Ye now are panting up life's hill,
And more than common strength and skill
Must ye display; 10
If ye would give the better will
Its lawful sway.
Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear
Like him can speed
There will be need;
For honest men delight will take
To spare your failings for his sake, 20
Will flatter you,—and fool and rake
Your steps pursue;
A snare for you.
Far from their noisy haunts retire, 15
And add your voices to the quire
"With service meet;
His spirit greet; 30
Or where 'mid "lonely heights and hows,"
Bedewed with toil,
Upturned the soil;
His judgment with benignant ray
Let faith be given; 40
Nor deem that " light which leads astray
Is light from Heaven."
Let no mean hope your souls enslave;
Be independent, generous, brave;
Your Father such example gave, 45
And such revere;
And think, and fear!