Behind the throne then Grenville's gone, Wi' kindling eyes cry'd, Willie, rise! Would I hae fear'd them a', man?' But, word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co. Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man, Till Suthron raise, and coost their claise Behind him in a raw, man; An' Caledon threw by the drone, An' did her whittle'draw, man; An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt and blood, To make it guid in law, man. WRITTEN IN FRIARS-CARSE HERMITAGE, ON NITH SIDE. THOU whom chance may hither lead, Fear not clouds will always lour. As youth and love, with sprightly dance, Beneath thy morning star advance, Pleasure with her siren air May delude the thoughtless pair ; As thy day grows warm and high, Dost thou spurn the humble vale? Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale? Evils lurk in felon wait: While cheerful peace, with linnet song, As the shades of ev'ning close, As life itself becomes disease, Seek the chimney-nook of ease. There ruminate with sober thought, On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought; Say, man's true, genuine estimate, To the bed of lasting sleep; Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake, ODE, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. DWELLER in yon dungeon dark, STROPHE. View the wither'd beldam's face- OF Aught of humanity's sweet melting grace? Pity's flood there never rose. See those hands, ne'er stretch'd to save, Lo, there she goes, unpitied and unblest ANTISTROPHE. Plunderer of armies, lift thine eyes, (A while forbear, ye tort'ring fiends) Seest thou whose step unwilling hither bends? No fallen angel, hurl'd from upper skies; "Tis thy trusty quondam mate, Doom'd to share thy fiery fate, She, tardy, hell-ward plies. EPODE. And are they of no more avail, Ten thousand glitt'ring pounds a year? O, bitter mock'ry of the pompous bier, While down the wretched vital part is driv'n! The cave-lodg'd beggar, with a conscience clear, Expires in rags, unknown, and goes to Heav'n. K |