THE FAREWELL.

"The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer!
Or what does he regard his single woes?
But when, alas! he multiplies himself,
To dearer selves, to the loved tender fair,

To those whose bliss, whose being hangs upon him,
To helpless children!-then, oh then! he feels
The point of misery festering in his heart,

And weakly weeps his fortune like a coward.
Such, such am I undone!"

THOMSON'S Edward and Eleanora,

FAREWELL, old Scotia's bleak domains,
Far dearer than the torrid plains
Where rich ananas blow!
Farewell, a mother's blessing dear!
A brother's sigh! a sister's tear!
My Jean's heart-rending throe!
Farewell, my Bess! though thou'rt bereft
Of my parental care,

A faithful brother I have left,
My part in him thou'lt share!
Adieu too, to you too,

My Smith, my bosom frien';
When kindly you mind me,

Oh then befriend my Jean!

What bursting anguish tears my heart!
From thee, my Jeany, must I part!
Thou, weeping, answ'rest "No!"
Alas! misfortune stares my face,
And points to ruin and disgrace,
I for thy sake must go!
Thee, Hamilton, and Aiken dear,
A grateful, warm adieu !
I, with a much-indebted tear,
Shall still remember you!
All-hail then, the gale then,

Wafts me from thee, dear shore !

It rustles, and whistles

I'll never see thee more!

For lack o' thee I leave this much-loved shore,
Never perhaps to greet old Scotland more.

R. B.-Kyle.

WRITTEN

ON A BLANK LEAF OF A COPY OF THE POEMS, PRESENTED TO
AN OLD SWEETHEART, THEN MARRIED.

ONCE fondly loved and still remembered dear:
Sweet early object of my youthful vows!
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere-
Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now allows.

And when you read the simple artless rhymes,
One friendly sigh for him-he asks no more,
Who distant burns in flaming torrid climes,

Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic's roar.

VERSES WRITTEN UNDER VIOLENT GRIEF.

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 whyles awaken;

would

80 sore

have

cannot

sometimes

For instance, there's yoursel' just now,
A' KEN, an unco calf!

And should some patron be so kind,
As bless you wi' a kirk,

I doubt nae, sir, but then we'll find
Ye're still as great a stirk.

And in your lug, most reverend James,
To hear you roar and rowte,

Few men o' sense will doubt your claims
To rank among the nowte.

And when ye're numbered wi' the dead,
Below a grassy hillock,

Wi' justice they may mark your head-
"Here lies a famous bullock !"

krow, great

ear

bellow

cattle

And faith ye'll no be lost a whit,

Though waired on Willie Chalmers.

Auld truth hersel' might swear ye're fair,

And honour safely back her,

spent

one

such two, eyes

no

offer

prim, powdered

TAM SAMSON'S ELEGY.

"An honest man's the noblest work of God."-POPE.

HAS auld Kilmarnock seen the deil?

Or great M'Kinlay thrawn his heel?
Or Robertson again grown weel

To preach and read?

66 Na, war than a'! cries ilka chielTam Samson's deid!

Kilmarnock lang may grunt and grane,

And sigh, and sob, and greet her lane,

And cleed her bairns, man, wife, and wean,
In mourning weed;

To death she's dearly paid the kane

Tam Samson's deid!

The brethren o' the mystic level

May hing their head in woefu' bevel,
While by their nose the tears will revel,

Like ony bead;

Death's gi'en the lodge an unco devel- -
Tam Samson's deid!

When Winter muffles up his cloak,
And binds the mire like a rock;
When to the loch the curlers* flock
Wi' gleesome speed,

Wha will they station at the cock ?--
Tam Samson's deid!

He was the king o' a' the core,

To guard, or draw, or wick a bore,§

See note, p. 53.

Guard stones at the mark.

(a preacher)

worse, every one

dead

groan

weep, alone clothe, child

tribute

(masons)

hang, posture

any

blow

lake

who, mark

company

Go straight to the mark,
Go between flanking-stones.

G

Tam Samson's deid!

In vain auld age his body batters;
In vain the gout his ankles fetters;
In vain the burns cam' down like waters
An acre braid!

Now every auld wife, greetin', clatters
Tam Samson's dead!

Owre many a weary hag he limpit,
And aye the tither shot he thumpit,
Till coward Death behind him jumpit,
Wi' deadly feide;

Now he proclaims, wi' tout o' trumpet,
Tam Samson's deid!

When at his heart he felt the dagger,
He reel'd his wonted bottle-swagger,
But yet he drew the mortal trigger

Wi' weel-aimed heed;

broad weeping

over, moss-ditch still, other jumped enmity blast

"Ir's five!" he cried, and owre did stagger-
Tam Samson's deid!

Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither;
Ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a father;
Yon auld gray stane, amang the heather,
Marks out his head,

Where Burns has wrote in rhyming blether,
Tam Samson's dead!

There low he lies, in lasting rest;
Perhaps upon his mouldering breast

each, brother

stone

nonsense

Stones not reaching this line are removed.

+Feathery legged, bravely crow