No fear more, no tear more,
To strain my lifeless face;
Enclasped, and grasped
Within thy cold embrace!
LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS
ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING.
Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
Out o'er the grassy lea:
Now Phœbus cheers the crystal streams,
And glads the azure skies;
But nought can glad the weary wight
That fast in durance lies.
Now lav'rocks wake the merry morn,
Aloft on dewy wing;
The merle, in his noontide bow'r,
Makes woodland echoes ring;
The mavis mild, wi' many a note,
Sings drowsy day to rest:
In love and freedom they rejoice,
Wi' care nor thrall opprest.
Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
And m Ik-white is the slae;
The meanest hind in fair Scotland
May rove the sweets amang;
But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,
Maun lie in prison strang.
I was the Queen o' bonie France,
Where happy I hae been;
Fu' lightly raise I in the morn,
As blithe lay down at e'en:
And I'm the Sov'reign of Scotland
And monie a traitor there;
Yet here I lie in foreign bands,
And never ending care.
But as for thee, thou false woman,
My sister and my fae,
Grim Vengeance, yet, shall whet a sword
That thro' thy soul shall gae;
The weeping blood in woman's breast
Was never known to thee;
Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of wo
Frae woman's pitying e'e.
My son! my son! may kinder stars
Upon thy fortune shine;
And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
That ne'er wad blink on mine!
God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,
Or turn their hearts to thee;
And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,
Remember him for me!
O! soon, to me, may summer-suns
Nae mair light up the morn!
Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds
Wave o'er the yellow corn!
And in the narrow house o' death
Let winter round me rave!
And the next flowers that deck the spring,
Bloom on my peaceful grave!
CCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A FRIEND'S
AMOUR.
Alas! how oft does Goodness wound itself
And sweet Affection prove the spring of wo
O THOU pale orb, that silent shines
While care-untroubled mortals sleep
Thou seest a wretch that inly pines,
And wanders here to wail and weep
With wo I nightly vigils keep,
Beneath thy wan unwarming beam;
And mourn in lamentation deep,
How life and love are all a dream.
I joyless view thy rays adorn
The faintly-marked distant hill:
I joyless view thy trembling horn,
Reflected in the gurgling rill:
My fondly-fluttering heart, be still!
Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease!
Ah! must the agonizing thrill
For ever bar returning peace!
No idly-feign'd poetic pains,
My sad love-lorn lamentings claim;
No shepherd's pipe-Arcadian strains;
No fabled tortures, quaint and tame ;
The plighted faith-the mutual flame-
The oft attested Pow'rs above;
The promis'd Father's tender name;
These were the pledges of my love!
IV.
Encircled in her clasping arms,
How have the raptur'd moments flown! How have I wished for fortune's charms, For her dear sake, and her's alone! And must I think it! is she gone, My secret heart's exulting boast? And does she heedless hear my groan? And is she ever, ever lost?
Oh! can she bear so base a heart,
So lost to honour, lost to truth,
As from the fondest lover part,
The plighted husband of her youth!
Alas! life's path may be unsmooth!
Her way may lie thro' rough distress! Then, who her pangs and pains will sooth, Her sorrows share, and make them less?
Ye winged hours that o'er us past,
Enraptur'd more, the more enjoy'd,
Your dear remembrance in my breast,
My fondly-treasur'd thoughts employ'd
That breast, how dreary now, and void,
For her too scanty once of room!
Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd,
And not a wish to gild the gloom!
The morn that warns th' approaching day Awakes me up to toil and wo
I see the hours in long array,
That I must suffer, lingering, slow,
Full many a pang, and many a throe,
Keen recollection's direful train
Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, low,
Shall kiss the distant western main.
VIII.
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;
Ev'n day, all-bitter, brings relief,
From such a horror-breathing night.
O! thou bright queen, who o'er th' expanse Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway! Oft has thy silent-marking glance
Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray! The time, unheeded, sped away,
While love's luxurious pulse beat high, Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray,
To mark the mutual kindling eye,
Oh! scenes in strong remembrance set!
Scenes, never, never, to return!
Scenes, if in stupor I forget,
Again I feel, again I burn;
From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn,
Life's weary vale I'll wander thro':
And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn
A faithless woman's broken vow.
OF A MOTHER FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON.
Tune-" Finlayston House."
FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
And pierc'd my darling's heart;
And with him all the joys are fled
Life can to me impart.
By cruel hands the sapling drops,
In dust dishonour'd laid:
So fell the pride of all my hopes,
My age's future shade.
The mother linnet in the brake,
Bewails her ravish'd young-
So I, for my lost darling's sake,
Lament the live-day long.
Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow,
Now, fond, I bare my breast,
O, do thou kindly lay me low
With him I love, at rest!
FOR JAMES, EARL OF GLEncairn.
THE wind blew hollow frae the hills,
By fits the sun's departing beam
Look'd on the fading yellow woods
That way'd o'er Lugar's winding stream;
Beneath a craigy steep, a bard,
Laden with years and meikle pain,
In loud lament bewail'd his lord,
Whom death had all untimely ta'en.
He lean'd him to an ancient aik,
Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years;
His locks were bleached white wi' time,
His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears!
And as he touched his trembling harp,
And as he tun'd his doleful sang,
The winds, lamenting thro' their caves,
To Echo bore the notes alang.
"Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing,
The reliques of the vernal quire!
Ye woods that shed on a' the winds
The honours of the aged year!
A few short months, and glad and gay,
Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e;
But nocht in all revolving time
Can gladness bring again to me.
"I am a bending aged tree,
That long has stood the wind and rain
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