1797+] 
(53°) a 
ORIGINAL POETRY. 
STANZAS, 
+O THE MEMORY OF ROBERT BURNS, 
PORTENTOUS figh’d the hollow blaft, 
Which, forrow-freighted, fouthward pals d; 
I heard the found, and ftood aghait 
In eleman dread : ¢ 
The mournfyl truth is told at laft, 
And Burns is dead ! ! 
Ah! fweeteft minftrel, nature’s child, 
Could not thy §* native wood-notes wild, ad 
Thy manly fenfe, thy manners mild, 
And fprightly glee, 
The ghaftly tyrant have beguil’d 
To fet thee free ? 
Unfriended, defolate, and young, 
Misfortune o’er thy cradle hung 
And penury had ch.ck’d thy fong, 
But check’d in yain 5 
Till Death, refiftlefs in his wrong, 
Has clos’d the ftrain ! 
Thus, ’midft the coid of winter’s fnows, 
The unprotected {now-drop blows; 
Awhile in native beauty glows, 
. And charms the eyes ; 
Till a fome ruthlefs {poiler goes, 
And crops the prize ! 
But not for thee, O bard, the lot, 
Ia cold oblivion’s thade to rot ; 
Like ae unhonour’d, and forgot, 
Th’ unfeeling great, 
Who acy, thy worth, but haften’d not 
To footh thy fate. 
Whilft love to beauty pours the figh, 
Whilft Benin fhall with nature vie, 
Whilft pity from the melting eye 
Shall claim regard ; 
Thy honour’d name fhall never die, 
Immorta! bard ! 
But oft, as winter o’er the plain 
Shall pour at.eve the beating rainy 
The hind fhall call his little train 
Around the fire, 
To liften to fome thrilling ftrain 
Of thy lov’d lyre. 
Whether to Heav’n’s eternal King 
Thou ftrike the deep-refounding ftringy 
Whilft, rifing on devotion’s wing, 
Hope foars above, 
To happier realms of endlefs fpring, 
And boundlefs love ; 
Or whether lighter themes beguile 
The moments of relaxing toil, 
Bidding, on labout’s front, the {mile 
Of pleafure fits 
_ The roof re-echoing all the while ” 
To genuine wit; 
Or if wild fancy feize the rein, 
Whilft horror thrills thro’ ey’xy veiny 
And fovites and elves, an awful train, 
Their orgies keep; 
And warlocks o’er the frighted plain 
At midnight {weep ; 
As works the fpell, the lift’ning band 
Aghaft.in mute attention ftand ; 
' Again thou wav’ ft thy magic wand, 
Of pow’r fo rare, 
Andallthe fgene, by Fancy plann’d, 
Diffolves in air. 
Thine too the charm of focial hearts, 
Where wit its vivid light’ning darts, 
And Converfe keen to age imparts ~ 
The fire of youth, 
Whilft, from the fierce coneuffion, ftarts 
The fpark of truth, 
What tho? thy wild untutor’d ftrain 
‘The Critic’s pedant laws difdain, 
Not all the wire-cag’d minion train 
B’er pour’d a note 
So fweet, as echoing o’er the plain 
The woodlark’s throat. 
Old Coila, firft whofe brakes among, 
Thy infant hands the wild harp ttrung, 
Shali flourith in thy deathlefs fong 
With lafting fame; 
And yr fhall henceforth roll along, 
A clafhe ftream. 
But thou, O Bard, in filence laid— 
Ah !> what fhall footh thy penfive fhade, 
For worth and genius ill repaid, 
With bounty fcant ; 
And hours of forrow unallay’d, 
And toil and want ? 
See o’er thy fong, as loud it fwells, 
The lordly Thane delighted dwells 5 
Or to his fair his rapture tellc, 
By thee infpir'd ; 
His bofom, as the ftrain impels, 
Or thaw’d or fir’d. 
Around him, fee, to guard his ftate, 
A train of pamper’d minions wait 5 
And fee, to form his daily treat, 
Each climate join 3 
While Iceland’s froft, and Afia’s heat, 
Their gifts combine. 
Wet, whilft he revels unconfin’d 
Thro’ all the treafures of thy mind, 
No gen’rous boon, to thee confign’d, 
Relieves thy care ; 
To Folly or to Vice aflign’d 
What Pomp can fpare ! 
For rights withheld, or freedom fold, 
Corruption afks the promis’d gold ; 
Qr, in licentious fplendor bold, 
Some titlea Dame 
Squandeys, in riot uncontroll’d, 
» What Worth fhould claim! 
From hill to hill, from plain to plain, 
Wide ipteatis the Chieftain’s proud domain, 
That, 
SSS 
SSS See 







