Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

TO A KISS.

HUMID seal of soft affections,
Tend'rest pledge of future bliss,
Dearest tie of young connections,
Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.
Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Passion's birth, and infant's play,
Dove-like fondness, chaste concession,
Glowing dawn of brighter day.
Sorrowing joy, adieu's last action,
When ling'ring lips no more must join;
What words can ever speak affection
So thrilling and sincere as thine!

VERSES WRITTEN UNDER VIOLENT

GRIEF,

In 1786, when the poet's circumstances were so embarrassed, that he had determined to emigrate to Jamaica as a means of improving them.

ACCEPT the gift a friend sincere

Wad on thy worth be pressin' ;
Remembrance oft may start a tear,
But oh! that tenderness forbear,

Though 'twad my sorrows lessen.
My morning raise sae clear and fair,
I thought sair storms wad never
Bedew the scene; but grief and care
In wildest fury hae made bare

My peace, my hope, for ever!
You think I'm glad; oh, I pay weel,
For a' the joy I borrow,
In solitude-then, then I feel
I canna to mysel' conceal

My deeply ranklin' sorrow.

Farewell! within thy bosom free
A sigh may whiles awaken;

A tear may wet thy laughin' ee,
For Scotia's son-ance gay like thee-
Now hopeless, comfortless, forsaken!

THE HERMIT.

Written on a marble sideboard, in the hermitage belonging to
the duke of Athole, in the wood of Aberfeldy.
WHOE'ER thou art, these lines now reading,
Think not, though from the world receding,
I joy my lonely days to lead in

This desert drear;

That fell remorse a conscience bleeding
Hath led me here.

No thought of guilt my bosom sours;
Free-will'd I fled from courtly bowers;
For well I saw in halls and towers
That lust and pride,

The arch-fiend's dearest, darkest powers,
In state preside.

I saw mankind with vice encrusted;
1 saw that honour's sword was rusted;
That few for aught but folly lusted;
That he was still deceived who trusted
To love or friend;
And hither came, with men disgusted,
My life to end.

In this lone cave, in garments lowly,
Alike a foe to noisy folly,

And brow-bent gloomy melancholy,
I wear away

My life, and in my office holy

Consume the day.

This rock my shield, when storms are blowing,
The limpid streamlet yonder flowing
Supplying drink, the earth bestowing
My simple food;

But few enjoy the calm I know in
This desert wood.

Content and comfort bless me more in
This grot, than e'er I felt before in
A palace and with thoughts still soaring
To God on high,

Each night and morn, with voice imploring,
This wish I sigh:-

"Let me,

oh Lord! from life retire,
Unknown each guilty worldly fire,
Remorse's throb, or loose desire;
And when I die,

Let me in this belief expire-
To God I fly."

Stranger, if full of youth and riot,
And yet no grief has marr'd thy quiet,
Thou haply throw'st a scornful eye at
The hermit's prayer-

But if thou hast good cause to sigh at
Thy fault or care;

If thou hast known false love's vexation,
Or hast been exiled from thy nation,
Or guilt affrights thy contemplation,
And makes thee pine,

Oh, how must thou lament thy station!
And envy mine!

TO MY BED.

THOU bed, in which I first began
To be that various creature-Man!
And when again the Fates decree,
The place where I must cease to be ;-

When sickness comes, to whom I fly,
To soothe my pain, or close mine eye,-
When cares surround me, where I weep,
Or lose them all in balmy sleep ;-
When sore with labour, whom I court,
And to thy downy breast resort;-
Where, too, ecstatic joys I find,
When deigns my Delia to be kind—
And full of love, in all her charms,
Thou giv❜st the fair one to my arms.
The centre thou-where grief and pain,
Disease and rest, alternate reign.
Oh, since within thy little space,
So many various scenes take place;
Lessons as useful shalt thou teach,
As sages dictate-churchmen preach;
And man, convinced by thee alone,
This great important truth shall own :-
"That thin partitions do divide
The bounds where good and ill reside;
That nought is perfect here below;
But BLISS still bordering upon wOE.'

THE TREE OF LIBERTY. HEARD ye o' the tree o' France, I watna what's the name o't; Around it a' the patriots dance, Weel Europe kens the fame o't. It stands where ance the Bastile stood, A prison built by kings, man, When Superstition's hellish brood

Kept France in leading strings, man.

Upo' this tree there grows sic fruit,
Its virtues a' can tell, man;
It raises man aboon the brute,

[ocr errors]

It maks him ken himsel', man.

Gif ance the peasant taste a bit,
He's greater than a lord, man,
And wi' the beggar shares a mite
O' a' he can afford, man.

This fruit is worth a' Afric's wealth,
To comfort us 'twas sent, man:
To gie the sweetest blush o' health,
And mak us a' content, man.

It clears the een, it cheers the heart,
Maks high and low gude friends, man;
And he wha acts the traitor's part,
It to perdition sends, man.
My blessings aye attend the chiel,
Wha pitied Gallia's slaves, man,
And staw'd a branch, spite o' the deil,
Frae yont the western waves, man.
Fair Virtue water'd it wi' care,

And now she sees wi' pride, man,
How weel it buds and blossoms there,
Its branches spreading wide, man.

But vicious folk aye hate to see

The works o' Virtue thrive, man; The courtly vermin's banned the tree, And grat to see it thrive, man; King Loui' thought to cut it down, When it was unco sma', man;

For this the watchman crack'd his crown,
Cut aff his head and a', man.

A wicked crew syne, on a time,
Did tak a solemn aith, man,

It ne'er should flourish to its prime,

I wat they pledged their faith, man; Awa they gaed wi' mock parade,

Like beagles hunting game, man, But soon grew weary o' the trade,

And wish'd they'd been at hame, man.

« PredošláPokračovať »