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And when my nightly couch I try,
Sore-harass'd out with care and grief, My toil-beat nerves, and tear-worn eye,
Keep watchings with the nightly thief: Or if I slumber, Fancy, chief,
Reigns haggard-wild, in sore affright: E'en day, all-bitter, brings relief
From such a horror-breathing night.
O tħou bright queen, who o'er th' expanse
Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway! Oft has thy silent-marking glance
Observed us, fondly-wandering, stray! The time, unhecded, sped away,
While Love's luxurious pulse beat high, Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray,
To mark the mutual kindling eye.
0! scenes in strong remembrance set!
Scenes never, never to return ! Scenes, if in stupor I forget,
Again I feel, again I burn! Froin every joy and pleasure torn,
Life's weary vale I'll wander through ; And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn
A faithless woman's broken vow.
ON THE BIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS
CHILD, Born in peculiar Circumstances of Family Distress.
Sweet floweret, pledge o' meikle love,
And ward o'mony a prayer,
Sae helpless, sweet, and fair!
Chill, on thy lovely form ;
Should shield thee frae the storm.
And wings the blast to blaw,
The bitter frost and snaw!
May He, the friend of woe and want,
Who heals life's various stounds,
And heal her cruel wounds!
But late she flourish'd, rooted fast,
Fair on the summer morn:
Unshelter'd and forlorn.
Unscathed by ruffian hand!
Arise to deck our land !
A BARD'S EPITAPH.
Is there a whim-inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near ;
And drap a tear.
0, pass not hy! But, with a frater-feeling strong,
Here heave a sigh. Is there a man, whose judgment clear Can others teach the course to steer, himself, life's mad carcer,
Wild as the wave;
Survey this grave.
And softer flame;
And stain'd his name ! Reader, attend-whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
In low pursuit; Know, prudent, cautious, self-control,
Is wisdom's root.
TO MARY IN HEAVEN. Thou lingering star, with lessening ray,
That lovest to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade !
Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? That sacred hour can I forget,
Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met,
To live one day of parting love ? Eternity will not efface
Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace;
Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore,
O’erhung with wild woods, thickening, green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twined amorous round the raptured scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be pressid,
The birds sang love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care ! Time but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy blissful place of rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ?