86 ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF SIR J. H. BLAIR.
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,
And fear no withering blast;
There Isabella's spotless worth
Shall happy be at last.
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF SIR JAMES HUNTER
A PARTNER IN THE EMINENT BANKING HOUSE OF SIR WILLIAM
FORBES AND CO., OF EDINBURGH.
THE lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare,
Dim, cloudy, sank beneath the western wave;
Th' inconstant blast howled through the darkening air,
And hollow whistled in the rocky cave.
Lone as I wandered by each cliff and dell,
Once the loved haunts of Scotia's royal train;2
Or mused where limpid streams, once hallowed, well,
Or mouldering ruins mark the sacred fane.
Th' increasing blast roared round the beetling rocks,
The clouds, swift-winged, 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 woe, that frantic beat her breast,
And mixed her wailings with the raving storm.
Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow;
'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I viewed:
Her form majestic drooped in pensive woe,
The lightning of her eye in tears imbued.
Reversed that spear, redoubtable in war,
Reclined that banner, erst in fields unfurled,
That like a deathful meteor gleamed afar,
And braved the mighty monarchs of the world.
2 The King's park at Holyrood House.
"My patriot son fills an untimely grave!"
With accents wild and lifted arms she cried;
"Low lies the hand that oft was stretched to save,
Low lies the heart that swelled with honest pride.
"A weeping country joins a widow's tear;
The helpless poor mix with the orphan's cry;
The drooping Arts surround their patron's bier,
And grateful Science heaves the heartfelt sigh!
"I saw my sons resume their ancient fire;
I saw fair Freedom's blossoms richly blow:
But ah! how hope is born but to expire!
Relentless Fate has laid their guardian low.
My patriot falls,--but shall he lie unsung,
While empty greatness saves a worthless name?
No; every Muse shall join her tuneful tongue,
And future ages hear his growing fame.
"And I will join a mother's tender cares,
Through future times to make his virtues last;
That distant years may boast of other Blairs!"-
She said, and vanished with the sleeping blast.
ENCLOSING THE ELEGY ON SIR J. H. BLAIR.
NAE heathen name shall I prefix
Frae Pindus or Parnassus;
Auld Reekie dings 2 them a' to sticks,
For rhyme-inspiring lasses.
Jove's tunefu' dochters three times three
Made Homer deep their debtor;
But, gi'en the body half an e'e,
Nine Ferriers wad done better!
Last day my mind was in a bog,
Down George's Street I stoited; "
A creeping, cauld, prosaic fog
My very senses doited.4
This lady was the author of the "Inheritance, Marriage, and Des
88 LINES WRITTEN OVER A CHIMNEY-PIECE.
Do what I dought to set her free,
My saul lay in the mire;
Ye turned a neuk2-I saw your e'e--
She took the wing like fire!
The mournfu' sang I here enclose,
In gratitude I send you;
And wish and pray, in rhyme sincere,
A' guid things may attend you.
WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL OVER THE CHIMNEY-PIECE IN THE PARLOUR OF THE INN AT KENMORE, TAYMOUTH.
ADMIRING Nature in her wildest grace,
These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;
O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,
The abodes of coveyed grouse and timid sheep,
My savage journey, curious, I pursue,
Till famed Breadalbane opens to my view,-
The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides,
The woods, wild-scattered, clothe their ample sides;
The outstretching lake, embosomed 'mong the hills,
The eye with wonder and amazement fills:
The Tay, meandering sweet in infant pride,
The palace, rising on its verdant side;
The lawns, wood-fringed in Nature's native taste;
The hillocks, dropt in Nature's careless haste;
The arches, striding o'er the new-born stream;
The village, glittering in the noontide beam-
Poetic ardours in my bosom swell,
Lone wandering by the hermit's mossy cell:
The sweeping theatre of hanging woods!
The incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods!
Here Poesy might wake her heaven-taught lyre,
And look through Nature with creative fire;
Here, to the wrongs of Fate half reconciled,
Misfortune's lightened steps might wander wild;
And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds,
Find balm to soothe her bitter, rankling wounds;
Here heart-struck Grief might heavenward stretch her
And injured Worth forget and pardon man.
THE HUMBLE PETITION OF BRUAR WATER,'
TO THE NOBLE DUKE OF ATHOLE.
MY LORD, I know your noble ear
Woe ne'er assails in vain;
Emboldened thus, I beg you'll hear
Your humble slave complain,
How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams,
In flaming summer pride,
Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,
And drink my crystal tide.
The lightly jumping glowering trouts,
That through my waters play,
If, in their random, wanton spouts,
They near the margin stray;
If, hapless chance! they linger lang,
I'm scorching up to shallow,
They're left the whitening stanes amang,
In gasping death to wallow.
Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,
As Poet Burns came by,
That, to a bard I should be seen
Wi' half my channel dry:
A panegyric rhyme, I ween,
Ev'n as I was he shored2 me;
But had I in my glory been,
He, kneeling, wad adored me.
Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks,
In twisting strength I rin;
There, high my boiling torrent smokes,
Wild-roaring o'er a linn:
Enjoying large each spring and well
As nature gave them me,
I am, although I say 't mysel',
Worth gaun a mile to see.
Would then my noble master please
To grant my highest wishes,
He'll shade my banks wi' towering trees,
And bonnie spreading bushes;
Bruar Falls, in Athole, are exceedingly picturesque and beautiful;
but their effect is much impaired by the want of trees and shrubs.
Delighted doubly then, my Lord,
You'll wander on my banks,
And listen mony a grateful bird
Return you tuneful thanks.
The sober laverock,' warbling wild,
Shall to the skies aspire;
The gowdspink, music's gayest child,
Shall sweetly join the choir:
The blackbird strong, the lintwhite 3 clear,
The mavis mild and mellow;
The robin pensive autumn cheer,
In all her locks of yellow.
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