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 reflections, repeating to each 'other his own verses "Is there a man whose judgment clear,' &c.' Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-traveller. 'MID crowded obelisks and urns I sought the untimely grave of Burns; And more would grieve, but that it turns Through twilight shades of good and ill If ye would give the better will Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear * Miss Wordsworth in her Journal minutely describes this visit, which, she says, took place on the 18th of August, 1803. She remarks that there is no thought surviving in connection with Burns' daily life that is not heart-depressing. This stanza is not in the Edition of 1815. For honest men delight will take And of your Father's name will make Far from their noisy haunts retire, There seek the genius of your Sire, Or where, 'mid 'lonely heights and hows,' Bedewed with toil, While reapers strove, or busy ploughs His judgment with benignant ray * Strong-bodied if ye be to bear Then, then indeed, Ye sons of Burns! for watchful care To show you favor for his sake.-Edit. 1815. Let faith be given ; Nor deem that 'light which leads astray, Let no mean hope your souls enslave; But be admonished by his grave, TO THE SPADE OF A FRIEND.† (AN AGRICULTURIST.) COMPOSED WHILE WE WERE LABOURING TOGETHER IN HIS PLEASURE-GROUND. SPADE! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his lands,‡ And shaped these pleasant walks by Emont's side, Thou art a tool of honour in my hands; I press thee, through the yielding soil, with pride. Rare master has it been thy lot to know; *The three stanzas of which this is the last, did not appear in the Edition of 1815. + Written in 1804. There is an interesting notice of this person dictated by Mr. Wordsworth. (See Life, I. 323.) He was, says Mr. W., "a Quaker by religious profession; by natural constitution of mind-or shall I venture to say by God's grace ?-he was something better." § The toiling many.-Edit. 1815. Ꮓ Health, meekness, ardour, quietness secure,* Here often hast Thou heard the Poet sing Who shall inherit Thee when death has laid If he be one that feels, with skill to part He will not dread with Thee a toilsome day- His thrift thy uselessness will never scorn ; * Health, quiet, meekness, ardour, hope secure.-Edit. 1815. This is a remarkable expression, which invites more commentary than there is room for in a foot-note.-ED. Thee a surviving soul shall consecrate.-Edit. 1815. WRITTEN IN GERMANY,* ON ONE OF THE COLDEST DAYS OF THE CENTURY. The Reader must be apprised, that the Stoves in North-Germany generally have the impression of a galloping horse upon them, this being part of the Brunswick Arms. A PLAGUE on your languages, German and Norse ! And the tongs and the poker, instead of that horse See that Fly, a disconsolate creature! perhaps And, sorrow for him! the dull treacherous heat Alas! how he fumbles about the domains He cannot find out in what track he must crawl, * Written at Goslar in the winter of 1798-99, which was one of remarkably severe cold. After this, the Edition of 1815 contained the following stanza :— Our Earth is no doubt made of excellent stuff, But her pulses beat slower and slower: The weather in Forty was cutting and rough, And then, as Heaven knows, the Glass stood low enough; |