What is a lordling's pomp? - -a cumbrous load, XX. O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, Long may the hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! And, O! may Heav'n their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle. XXI. O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart, Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part; (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard, In bright succession rise, her ornament and guard' VERSES. WRITTEN IN FRIAR'S-CARSE HERMITAGE, ON NITH-SIDE THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deck'd in silken stole, Grave these counsels on thy soul Life is but a day at most, Fear not clouds will always low'r. As youth and love, with sprightly dance, May delude the thoughtless pair; As thy day grows warm and high, Life's meridian flaming nigh, Dost thou spurn the humble vale? Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale? Check thy climbing step, elate, Evils lurk in felon wait; Dangers, eagle-pinion'd, bold, Soar around each cliffy hold, While cheerful peace, with linnet song, Chants the lowly dells among. As the shades of evening close, On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought; Thus resign'd and quiet, creep Stranger, go! Heaven be thy guide' Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side A PRAYER, UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH. O THOU great Being! what thou art Yet sure I am, that known to Thee Thy creature here before Thee stands, Yet sure those ills that wring my soul Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act O, free my weary eyes from tears, But if I must afflicted be, To suit some wise design; Then man my soul with firm resolves A PRAYER, IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. O THOU, unknown, Almighty Cause In whose dread presence, ere an hour, If I have wander'd in those paths As something, loudly in my breast, Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me Where human weakness has come short, Or frailty stept aside, Do Thou, All Good! -for such Thou art, In shades of darkness hide. Where with intention I have err'd, But, Thou art good! and goodness still |