Assembled round the narrow grave,
While o'er them wintry tempests rave,
In the cold wind their grey locks wave,
As low they lay

Their brother's body 'mongst the lave
Of parent clay.

Expressive looks from each declare
The griefs within, their bosoms bear,
One holy bow devout they share,

Then home return,

And think o'er all the virtues fair

Of him they mourn.

Say how by early lessons taught,
(Truth's pleasing air is willing caught,)
Congenial to th' untainted thought,

The shepherd boy,

Who tends his flocks on lonely height,
Feels holy joy.

Is aught on earth so lovely known,
On sabbath morn and far alone,

His guileless soul all naked shown

Before his God

Such pray'rs must welcome reach the throne,

And blest abode.

O tell!

O tell! with what a heartfelt joy,
The parent eyes the virtuous boy;
And all his constant kind employ,
Is how to give

The best of lear he can enjoy,

As means to live.

The parish school, its curious site,
The master who can clear indite,

And lead him on to count and write,

Demand thy care;

Nor pass the ploughman's school at night

Without a share.

Nor yet the tenty curious lad
Who o'er the ingle hings his head,
And begs of nei'bours books to read;
For hence arise

Thy country's sons, who far are spread,
Baith bauld and wise.

The bonny lasses, as they spin,
Perhaps with Allan's sangs begin,

How Tay and Tweed smooth flowing rin

Thro' flowery hows;

Where shepherd lads their sweethearts win

With earnest vows.

Or

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS.

Or may be, Burns, thy thrilling page
May a' their virtuous thoughts engage,
While playful youth and placid age
In concert join,

To bless the bard, who, gay or sage,
Improves the mind.

Long may their harmless, simple ways,
Nature's own pure emotions raise;
May still the dear romantic blaze

Of purest love,

Their bosoms warm to latest days,

And aye improve.

May still each fond attachment glow,
O'er woods, o'er streams, o'er hills of snow;
May rugged rocks still dearer grow,

And may their souls

Even love the warlock glens which through

The tempest howls.

To eternize such themes as these,
And all their happy manners seize,
Will every virtuous bosom please,

And high in fame

To future times will justly raise

Thy patriot name.