Sweetly deck'd with pearly dew Fair on Isabella's morn The sun propitious smil'd; But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds Succeeding hopes beguil'd. Fate oft tears the bosom chords Dread Omnipotence alone Can heal the wound he gave; Can point the brimful, grief-worn eyes To scenes beyond the grave. Virtue's blossoms there shall blow, SONNET ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT RIDDEL, ESQ., OF GLEN No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more, That strain flows round th' untimely tomb where Riddel lies! Yes, pour, ye warblers, pour the notes of wo, VERSES, ON THE DEATH OF SIR JAMES HUNTER BLAIR THE lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare, Lone as I wander'd by each cliff and dell, Once the lov'd haunts of Scotia's royal train ;* Or mus'd where limpid streams, once hallow'd well,t Or mould'ring ruins mark the sacred fane; ‡ Th' increasing blast roar'd round the beetling rocks, The clouds, swift-wing'd, flew o'er the starry sky, The groaning trees untimely shed their locks, And shooting meteors caught the startled eye. The paly moon rose in the livid east, And 'mong the cliffs disclosed a stately form, In weeds of wo, that frantic beat her breast, And mixt her wailings with the raving storm. Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow, 'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I view'd! Her form majestic droop'd in pensive wó, The light'ning of her eye in tears imbu'd. Revers'd that spear, redoubtable in war, Reclin'd that banner, erst in fields unfurl'd, That like a deathful meteor gleam'd afar, And brav'd the mighty monarchs of the world. "My patriot son fills an untimely grave!" With accents wild and lifted arms she cried, "Low lies the hand that oft was stretch'd to save Low lies the heart that swell'd with honest pride! "A weeping country joins a widow's tear, The helpless poor mix with the orphan's cry; • The King's Park, at Holyrood House, † St. Anthony's Well. ↑ St. Anthony's Chapel. The drooping Arts surround their patron's bier, And grateful Science heaves the heartfelt sigh. "I saw my sons resume their ancient fire; "My patriot falls! but shall he lie unsung, "And I will join a mother's tender cares, ADDRESS TO THE SHADE OF THOMSON, ON CROWNING HIS BUST AT EDNAM, BOXBURGHSHIRE, WITH BAYS. WHILE Virgin Spring, by Eden's flood, Unfolds her tender mantle green, Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, Or tunes Eolian strains between; While Summer, with a matron grace, Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace While Autumn, benefactor kind, While maniac Winter rages o'er The hills whence classic Yarrow flows 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! EPITAPH FOR THE AUTHOR'S FATHER. O YE, whose cheek the tear of pity stains, The pitying heart that felt for human wo; The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride; The friend of man, to vice alone a foe, "For ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side."* Goldsmith |