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CLEVELAND SKETCHES.

LINES SUGGESTED BY THE BURNS

FESTIVAL.

Held at Ayr, August 6th, 1844.

"Him who walk'd in glory and in joy,

Following his plough along the mountain side."

WORDSWORTH.

Sweet Ayr sing gaily 'midst thy bowers,
Nith, murmur with thy gentlest roar,
Doon, "bonny Doon," kiss all thy flowers,
Old Coila ring from shore to shore!

This glorious day, this heavenly hour,
Shall kindle through a nation's ranks !

All England, Europe, waft a shower
Of joyous, gratulating, thanks.

Scotland, he was thy noblest,-thine-
A Comet blazing in the skies:
If frail and human, still divine

With heaven's and Nature's sympathies

All fears, all hopes, all tenderness,

In Burns' bosom shared a part;

The pangs that rend, the loves that bless
Possess'd in turns bold Robin's heart.

And, if along his dark career

Shone lurid gleams like hues of even, 'Twas such as gilds yon starry sphere, Celestial splendour, "light from heaven.'

Old Scotland's hills, her "banks and braes,"
Her branching woods, and silv'ry streams,
Her Hawthorn glades drank in the rays,
Like sunlight from a land of dreams.

Her peasants felt the burning glow,
Her maidens drank the rapturous flame-
Mid scorching suns, and frozen snow
Shines forth his beacon-light of fame!

Yea, Scotland's "symbol" spared by him2 The daisy perch'd in Nature's nook,3 The "primrose by the river's brim," Imbib'd heav'ns sunshine from his look.

Proud lords and ladies of renown

With humble peasants linger'd there,

And Poets weav'd the lilac-crown
For BURNS, immortal Bard of Ayr!

Yes, Scotland's second Burns attended,
The seraph-lipp'd, the eagle-eyed

Whilst rank, from lofty state descended,
And sat with WILSON side by side.

Most festal, most triumphant sight!
The snow-white tents, the banner'd sky,
Gay cavalcades, processions bright,
And woman's soft approving eye.

And, Scotland, if despair's keen dart
E'er pierced thy Poet's manly frame,
If cold neglect disturb'd his heart,
This hour eradicates thy shame.

Pale Envy, Hatred's hideous brood,
Mean warfare with the loftiest wage,5
But, independent, unsubdued,

BURNS eagle-like outsoar'd their rage.

Now, lo, as Ocean waves they come,

To wash the ungenerous stain away, Whilst Burns from his cerulean home Forgives them for this glorious day.

Then fear not, ye of kindred clay, Illumined with Promethean fire, Though clouds obscure the heavenly ray, And earthly dews relax your lyre.

Though hell-born Furies shriek with pain, And lash you with a rod of flame,

Your present loss is future gain,

And myriads yet shall bless your name.

NOTES.

Read the impressive and eloquent defence of Burns, by Burns himself,

"I saw thy pulse's maddening play,

Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way,

Misled by Fancy's meteor ray,

By passion driven;

But yet the light that led astray

Was light from heaven.

2 "I turn'd aside my weeding-hook

And spared the symbol dear."

3 See "Lines to a mountain-daisy, on turning one down with the Plough, in April, 1786.

4 The Earl of Eglintoun presided, and Professor Wilson, Editor of Blackwood's Magazine, occupied the Vice Chair, a delightful union of nobility of rank and aristocracy of talent. A better selection than Professor Wilson could not have been made,-kindred with Burns in passion, genius, enthusiasm, and nobility of nature. 5 See also Childe Harold:

"He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find

The loftiest heights are most enwrapt in snow,

He who surpasses or subdues mankind

Must look down on the hate of those below.

LETTERS FROM HOLLAND.

No. III.

My dear Hartley—,

We were struck with the unusually martial appearance of the town of Utrecht. The streets were absolutely crowded with soldiers, and their appearance here gave us a high idea of the excellent management of the army. The soldiers had a martial and truly military look, and the officers were very different indeed, to any thing we had seen before. The best soldiers will naturally be attracted to the frontier. But, there is a question that strikes us. Can liberty have a dwelling place among so many bayonets? We fear not! After fatiguing ourselves in our perambulations, we returned to our hotel—" Le pays Bas," which is by much the most elegant and best situated in Utrecht; and here we regaled ourselves sumptuously for a florin and a half-(half-a-crown); our dinner, including soup, fish, dishes of flesh and game, with a dessert, all set on silver, in the most magnificent style. Indeed, I should say, this is the best, cheapest, and most splendid hotel in Holland-a country famous for good hotels.

In the evening, after a little of the "Rhein vin" and a

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