There's nae sorrow there, Jean, In the land o' the leal. Ye were aye leal and true, Jean, To the land o' the leal. Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean, Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean, To the land o' the leal. Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean, In the land o' the leal. LADY NAIRN. 158. ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE. Ye distant spires, ye antique towers And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way: Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, I feel the gales that from ye blow As waving fresh their gladsome wing To breathe a second spring. Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen To chase the rolling circle's speed Or urge the flying ball? While some on earnest business bent Their murmuring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, Gay Hope is theirs by fancy fed, Theirs buxom Health, of rosy hue, Alas! regardless of their doom No sense have they of ills to come Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah shew them where in ambush stand These shall the fury Passions tear, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that skulks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart. Ambition this shall tempt to rise, And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye, That mocks the tear it forced to flow; Lo, in the Vale of Years beneath More hideous than their Queen : That numbs the soul with icy hand, To each his sufferings: all are men, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, 159. HYMN TO ADVERSITY. Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy Sire to send on earth And bade to form her infant mind. What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fly Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, Light they disperse, and with them go The summer Friend, the flattering Foe; By vain Prosperity received To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. Wisdom in sable garb array'd Immersed in rapturous thought profound. And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye, that loves the ground, With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread Goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Not circled with the vengeful band (As by the impious thou art seen) With thundering voice, and threatening mien, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty: |