6 See stern Oppression's iron grip, 'Or mad Ambition's gory hand, 'Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip, 'Woe, Want, and Murder o'er a land! 'Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale, Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale, 'How pamper'd Luxury, Flatt'ry by her side, The parasite empoisoning her ear, 'With all the servile wretches in the rear, 'Looks o'er proud Property, extended wide; 'And eyes the simple, rustic Hind, Whose toil upholds the glitt'ring show, 'A creature of another kind, 'Some coarser substance, unrefin'd, 'Plac'd for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below! ་ Where, where is Love's fond, tender throe, 'With lordly Honor's lofty brow, 'The pow'rs you proudly own? Is there, beneath Love's noble name, 'Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim, To bless himself alone! 'Mark Maiden-innocence a prey To love-pretending snares, 'This boasted Honor turns away, 'Shunning soft Pity's rising sway, 'Regardless of the tears, and unavailing pray'rs! 、 6 Perhaps, this hour, in Mis'ry's squalid nest, She strains your infant to her joyless breast, ' And with a Mother's fears shrinks at the rocking blast! 6 'Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down, 'Feel not a want but what yourselves create, 6 Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate, 'Whom friends and fortune quite disown! Ill-satisfy'd, keen Nature's clam'rous call, 'While thro' the ragged roof and chinky wall, Chill, o'er his slumbers, piles the drifty heap! Think on the Dungeon's grim confine, 'Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine! Guilt, erring Man, relenting view! I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer And hail'd the morning with a cheer, But deep this truth impress'd my mind— The heart benevolent and kind The most resembles GOD. STANZAS ON THE SAME OCCASION AS THE POEM ENTITLED "A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH." [These stanzas are given in the Stair MS. under the title of "Misgivings of Despondency on the approach of the Gloomy Monarch of the Grave." Our head-note to its companion Prayer, at page 87, will apply to this also; but we cannot resist the impulse to refer here to the interesting sketch by John Brown, M.D., (author of "Rab and his Friends,") entitled, "Pet Marjorie: a Story of Child Life Fifty Years ago," (1863.) This clever little girl, related to the Keiths of Ravelston, was a great favourite of Sir Walter Scott, and was rather suddenly cut off by measles when about nine years old, on 19th December, 1811. She had a wonderful gift for reciting poetry, even of the highest order, and on the evening before her death, we give the narrative in Dr. Brown's words," her father being present in the room, she said, Father, I will repeat something to you: what would you like?' He said, 'Just choose for yourself, Maidie.' She hesitated for a moment between the paraphrase, Few are thy days, and full of woe' and a poem by Burns, called A Prayer in the prospect of Death,' beginning, 'Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene ? '--- a remarkable choice for a child. She sat up in bed, worn and thin, her eye gleaming as with the light of a coming world, and with a tremulous voice repeated these three impressive stanzas--heavy with the shadow of death, and lit with the phantasy of the judgment-seat."] WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene? Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between; Some gleams of sunshine mid renewing storms: Is it departing pangs my soul alarms? Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode? For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms; I tremble to approach an angry GOD, And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod. Fain would I say, 'Forgive my foul offence!' Again exalt the brute and sink the man; O Thou, Great Governor of all below! If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, With that controuling pow'r assist ev'n me, For all unfit I feel my powers be,* To rule their torrent in th' allowed line; * Altered, in 1794, to "powers to be." LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ONE NIGHT, THE AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING VERSES IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT. [This "Reverend Friend" was George Lawrie, D.D., minister of Loudoun, who, at this time, was 57 years old. A note, dated Mossgiel, 13th November, 1786, addressed by the poet to Mr. Archibald (afterwards Rev. Dr.) Lawrie--referred to in the verses as the "Darling youth, in manhood's dawning blush," gives us some idea of the date of the verses, as the following words in the note evidently refer to them:-"A poet's warmest wishes for the happiness of the young ladies, particularly the fair musician, whom I think much better qualified than ever David was, or could be, to charm an evil spirit out of a Saul. Indeed, it needs not the feelings of a poet to be interested in the welfare of one of the sweetest scenes of domestic peace and kindred love that ever I saw, as I think the peaceful unity of St. Margaret's Hill can only be excelled by the harmonious concord of the Apocalyptic Zion." Gilbert Burns, in his notes, says, "The first time ever Robert heard the spinnet played was at the house of Dr. Lawrie, minister of Loudoun. Dr. Lawrie had several accomplished daughters; one of them played the spinnet; the father and mother led down the dance; the rest of the sisters, the brother, the poet, and the other guests mixed in it. It was a delightful family scene for our poet, then lately introduced to the world. His mind was roused to a poetic enthusiasm, and the stanzas were left in the room where he slept." Dr. Lawrie had sent a copy of the Kilmarnock volume to Dr. Blacklock of Edinburgh, and the blind bard replied, in a letter dated September 4th, 1786, in terms of enthusiastic admiration of the poems in that volume, and recommending a second edition. It appears that Dr. Lawrie some time thereafter communicated the contents of this letter to Burns, who thus refers to it in his autobiography:- "My chest was on the road to Greenock; I had composed the last song I should ever measure in Caledonia, when a letter from Dr. Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes by opening new prospects to my poetic ambition. The Dr. belonged to a set of critics, for whose applause I had not dared to hope. His opinion, that I would meet with encouragement in Edinburgh for a second edition, fired me so much, that away I posted for that city, without a single acquaintance, or a single letter of introduction."] O THOU dread Pow'r, who reign'st above! I know Thou wilt me hear; When for this scene of peace and love, The hoary Sire-the mortal stroke, To bless his little filial flock, And show what good men are. She, who her lovely Offspring eyes Their hope, their stay, their darling youth, Bless him, Thou God of love and truth, The beauteous, seraph Sister-band, Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand, When soon or late they reach that coast, THE FIRST PSALM. [This, and the two following pieces, are evidently juvenile productions, apparently composed while resident at Irvine, in 1781. He refers to such early efforts in a letter to Richard Brown, his sailor friend, with whom he became intimate in Irvine. Writing in December, 1787, he says, "Do you recollect a Sunday we spent together in Eglinton woods? You told me, on my repeating some verses to you, that you wondered I could resist the temptation of sending verses of such merit to a magazine. It was from this remark I derived that idea of my own pieces, which encouraged me to endeavour at the character of a poet."] THE man, in life wherever plac'd, Who walks not in the wicked's way, Nor learns their guilty lore! Nor from the seat of scornful Pride Casts forth his eyes abroad, But with humility and awe Still walks before his GOD. That man shall flourish like the trees |