XIX. On her I'll gaze when others loves are o'er, And dying, press her with my clay-cold hand -. Thou weep'ft already, as I were no more, Nor can that gentle breaft the thought withstand. Oh! when I die, my latest moments spare, XXI. Oh quit the room, oh quit the deathful bed, XXII. Let them, extended on the decent bier, THE TEAR S O F SCOTLAND. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXLVI. I. MOURN, hapless CALEDONIA, mourn Invite the ftranger to the door; II. The wretched owner fees afar III. What boots it then, in every clime, IV. The rural pipe, and merry lay V. Oh baneful cause, oh! fatal morn, VI. The pious mother doom'd to death, The bleak wind whistles round her head; She views the fhades of night defcend, And ftretch'd beneath th' inclement skies, Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies. VII. Whilft the warm blood bedews my veins, "Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn. AN ELEGY. WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD. T HE Curfeu tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds flowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness, and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the fight, And all the air a folemn stillness holds; Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, Or drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The mopeing owl does to the moon complain. Of fuch as, wand'ring near her fecret bow'r, Moleft her ancient folitary reign. Beneath thofe rugged elms, that yew-tree's fhade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep, The breezy call of incenfe breathing morn, The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more fhall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy houfwife ply her evening care: No children run to lifp their fire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. K |