THOUGHTS SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS OF NITH, NEAR THE POET'S RESIDENCE. Too frail to keep the lofty vow That must have followed when his brow Was wreathed-'The Vision' tells us how- He faltered, drifted to and fro, And passed away. Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng Over the grave of Burns we hung In social grief— Indulged as if it were a wrong To seek relief. But, leaving each unquiet theme And prompt to welcome every gleam Of good and fair, Let us beside this limpid Stream Enough of sorrow, wreck, and blight; When Wisdom prospered in his sight Yes, freely let our hearts expand, Freely as in youth's season bland, When side by side, his Book in hand, We wont to stray, Our pleasure varying at command Of each sweet Lay. VOL. IV. How oft inspired must he have trode Or in his nobly-pensive mood, Proud thoughts that Image overawes, She trained her Burns to win applause Through busiest street and loneliest glen Deep in the general heart of men What need of fields in some far clime Shall dwell together till old Time Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven And memory of Earth's bitter leaven But why to Him confine the prayer, With all that live?— The best of what we do and are, E 'SHE WAS A PHANTOM.' She was a Phantom of delight To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair, I saw her upon nearer view, A countenance in which did meet And now I see with eye serene (1804.) 'I WANDERED LONELY.' I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, Continuous as the stars that shine Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they In such a jocund company: I gazed-and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie And then my heart with pleasure fills, (1804.) ODE TO DUTY. Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! From vain temptations dost set free; And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And they a blissful course may hold Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried; The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly if I may. |