« PreviousContinue »
address to the Shade of Thomson,
ON CROWNING HIS BUST AT EDNAN, ROXBURGHSHIRE,
While virgin Spring, by Eden's flood,
Unfolds her tender mantle green,
Or tunes Æolian strains between :
While Summer, with a matron grace,
Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade,
The progress of the spiky blade :
While Autumn, benefactor kind,
By Tweed erects his agèd head,
Each creature on his bounty fed :
address to the Shade of Thomson.
While maniac Winter rages o'er
The hills whence classic Yarrow flows, Rousing the turbid torrent's roar,
Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows ;
So long, sweet Poet of the year!
Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won ; While Scotia, with exulting tear,
Proclaims that Thomson was her son !
Epistle to Davie,
A BROTHER POET.
WHILE winds frae aff Ben Lomond blaw,
And hing us owre the ingle,
In hamely westlin jingle.
Ben to the chimla lug,
Their roomy fire-side ;
To see their cursèd pride.
Epistle to Davie.
It's hardly in a body's power
To see how things are shared ;
And ken na how to wair't ;
Though we hae little gear,
Auld age ne'er mind a feg;
Is only but to beg.
To lie in kilns and barns at e'en,
Is doubtless great distress!
Of truest happiness.
Intended fraud or guile,
A comfort this nae sma';
Nae farther can we fa'.