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I wish my grave were growing green,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies ;
THE TIVA CORBIES As I was walking all alane I heard twa corbies making a mane ; The tane unto the t'other say, “Where sall we gang and dine today?'
---In behint yon auld fail dyke,
• Ilis hound is to the hunting gane,
Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pick out his bonnie blue een: Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
• Mony a one for him makes mane,
ON THE DEATH OF JR. TIILLILII
By something liker death possest.
And on my soul hung the dull weight
Of some intolerable fate, What bell was that ? Ah me! Too much I know !
My sweet companion, and my gentle peer,
( thou hast left me all alone! Thy soul and body, when death's agony
Besieged around thy noble heart,
Did not with more reluctance part Than I, my dearest friend, do part from thec.
Ve fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say,
The love betwixt us two?
Or your sad branches thicker join,
And into darksome shades combine, Dark as the grave wherein my friend is laid.
Large was his soul ; as large a soul as e'er
But low and humble as his grave;
As to the chiefest seat
Conspicuous, and great ;
Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught, As if for him knowledge had rather sought ; Nor did more learning ever crowded lie
In such a short mortality. Whene'er the skilful youth discoursed or writ,
Still did the notions throng
About his eloquent tongue ;
His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit,
Retired, and gave to them their due.
Though his own searching mind before
Was so with notions written o'er,
With as much zeal, devotion, piety,
Weeping all debts out ere he slept.
Like the sun's laborious light,
Which still in water sets at night, Unsullied with his journey of the day.
FRIENDS IN PARADISE They are all gone into the world of light !
And I alone sit lingering here ; Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear :It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest,
After the sun's remove.
I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days : My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.
O holy Hope ! and high Humility,
High as the heavens above ! These are your walks, and you have shew'd them
To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous Death ! the jewel of the just,
Shining no where, but in the dark ; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark !
IIe that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may
At first sight, if the bird be flown;
That is to him unknown.
And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul, when man doth sleep;
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past,
And go at last,
What, were ye born to be
An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid good-night ? 'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.
But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave : And after they have shown their pride Like you, awhile, they glide Into the grave.
TO DAFFODILS Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon :
Will go with you along.
We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a Spring ;