With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear,
And just conclude that "fools are Fortune's care."
So, heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks,
Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox.
Not so the idle Muses' mad-cap train,
Not such the workings of their moon-struck brain: In equanimity they never dwell,
By turns in soaring heav'n or vaulted hell.
I dread thee, Fate, relentless and severe, With all a poet's, husband's, father's fear! Already one strong-hold of hope is lost, GLENCAIRN, the truly noble, lies in dust; (Fled, like the sun eclips'd as noon appears, And left us darkling in a world of tears ;) O! hear my ardent, grateful, selfish prayer! FINTRA, my other stay, long bless and spare! Thro' a long life his hopes and wishes crown; And bright in cloudless skies his sun go down! May bliss domestic smooth his private path; Give energy to life, and soothe his latest breath, With many a filial tear circling the bed of death
ON RECEIVING A FAVOR.
I CALL no goddess to inspire my strains,
A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns
Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns,
And all the tribute of my heart returns,
For boons accorded, goodness ever new,
The gift still dearer, as the giver you.
Thou orb of day! thou other paler light! And all ye many sparkling stars of night; If aught that giver from my mind efface; If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace;
Then roll to me, along your wand'ring spheres, Only to number out a villain's years!
WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD OFFENded.
THE friend whom wild from wisdom's way
The fumes of wine infuriate send;
(Nor moony madness more astray ;)
Who but deplores that hapless friend?
Mine was the insensate, frenzied part,
Ah! why should I such scenes outlive?
Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!
"Tis thine to pity and forgive
WHO HAD SENT HIM A NEWSPAPER, AND OFFERED TO
CONTINUE IT FREE OF EXPENSE.
KIND sir I've read your paper through,
And faith, to me, 'twas really new!
How guess'd ye, sir, what maist I wanted?
This monie a day I've grain'd and gaunted,
To ken what French mischief was brewin;
Or what the drumblie Dutch were doin; .
That vile doup-skelper, Emperor Joseph,
If Venus yet had got his nose off;
Or how the collieshangie works
Atween the Russians and the Turks:
Or if the Swede, before he halt,
Would play anither Charles the Twalt;
If Denmark, any body spak o't;
Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't;
How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin,
How libbet Italy was singin;
If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss,
Were sayin or takin aught amiss;
Or how our merry lads at hame
In Britain's court kept up the game;
How royal George, the Lord leuk o'er him,
Was managing St. Stephen's quorum;
If sleekit Chatham Will was livin,
Or glaikit Charlie got his nieve in;
How daddie Burke the plea was cookin,
If Warren Hastings' neck was yeukin;
How cesses, stents, and fees were rax'd,
Or if bare a-ses yet were tax'd;
The news o' princes, dukes, and earls,
Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera-girls;
If that daft buckie, Geordie Wales,
Was threshing still at hissies' tails,
Or if he has grown oughtlins douser,
And no a perfect kintra cooser;
A' this and mair I never heard of,
An' but for you I might despair'd of:
So gratefu', back your news I send you,
And pray a' guid things may attend you.
Ellisland, 1790.
TO MRS DUNLOP, ON A NEW YEAR'S DAY.
THIS day, Time winds the exhausted chain,
To run the twelvemonth's length again;
I see the auld bauld-pated fellow,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
Ajust the unimpair'd machine,
To wheel the equal, dull routine.
The absent lover, ininor heir,
In vain assail him with their prayer;
Deaf as my friend, he sees them press,
Nor makes the hour one moment less.
Will you (the Major's with the hounds,
The happy tenants share his rounds;
Coila's fair Rachel's care to-day,
And blooming Keith's engaged with Gray)
From housewife cares a minute borrow-
That grandchild's cap will do to-morrow —
And join with me a moralizing,
This day's propitious to be wise in.
First, what did yesternight deliver?
"Another year is gone for ever."
And what is this day's strong suggestion? "The passing moment's all we rest on'" Rest on for what do we hear?
Or why regard the passing year?
Will time, amus'd with proverb'd lore,
Add to our date one minute more?
A few days may -a few years must-
Repose us in the silent dust.
Then is it wise to damp our bliss?
Yes-all such reasonings are amiss!
The voice of Nature loudly cries,
And many a message from the skies,
That something in us never dies:
That on this frail, uncertain state,
Hang matters of eternal weight;
That future life, in worlds unknown,
Must take its hue from this alone;
Whether as heavenly glory bright,
Or dark as misery's woful night. —
Since then, my honor'd, first of friends,
On this poor being all depends;
Let us th' important now employ,
And live as those that never die.
Tho' you, with days and honors crown'd
Witness that filial circle round,
(A sight life's sorrows to repulse,
A sight pale Envy to convulse,)
Others now claim your chief regard;
Yourself, you wait your bright reward.
|