To lie, and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves. 1803. AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS. 1803. SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH. I SHIVER, Spirit fierce and bold, At thought of what I now behold: As vapours breathed from dungeons cold So sadness comes from out the mould And have I then thy bones so near, As if it were thyself that 's here And both my wishes and my fear Off weight nor press on weight! away Dark thoughts! they came, but not to stay; The tribute due To him, and aught that hides his clay Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth For so it seems, Doth glorify its humble birth With matchless beams. 5 ΙΟ 15 20 The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow, Slept, with the obscurest, in the low I mourned with thousands, but as one How Verse may build a princely throne Neighbours we were, and loving friends We might have been ; 25 330 35 40 What treasures would have then been placed By fancy what a rich repast! But why go on? Oh! spare to sweep, thou mournful blast, His grave grass-grown. There, too, a Son, his joy and pride, (Not three weeks past the Stripling died,) Lies gathered to his Father's side, 55 60 THOUGHTS SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS OF NITH, Too frail to keep the lofty vow That must have followed when his brow Was wreathed The Vision" tells us how With holly spray, He faltered, drifted to and fro, And passed away. Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng Over the grave of Burns we hung In social grief Indulged as if it were a wrong To seek relief. But, leaving each unquiet theme 5 10 |