--
O had I met the mortal shaft
Which laid my benefactor low.
O had I met the mortal shaft
Which laid my benefactor low.
Robert Burns
)
My noble master lies in clay;
The flow'r amang our barons bold,
His country's pride! his country's stay--
In weary being now I pine,
For a' the life of life is dead,
And hope has left my aged ken,
On forward wing for ever fled.
VII.
"Awake thy last sad voice, my harp!
The voice of woe and wild despair;
Awake! resound thy latest lay--
Then sleep in silence evermair!
And thou, my last, best, only friend,
That fillest an untimely tomb,
Accept this tribute from the bard
Though brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.
VIII.
"In poverty's low barren vale
Thick mists, obscure, involve me round;
Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye,
Nae ray of fame was to be found:
Thou found'st me, like the morning sun,
That melts the fogs in limpid air,
The friendless bard and rustic song
Became alike thy fostering care.
IX.
"O! why has worth so short a date?
While villains ripen fray with time;
Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,
Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime!
Why did I live to see that day?
A day to me so full of woe!
--
O had I met the mortal shaft
Which laid my benefactor low.
X.
"The bridegroom may forget the bride
Was made his wedded wife yestreen;
The monarch may forget the crown
That on his head an hour has been;
The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And a' that thou hast done for me! "
* * * * *
CXXV.
LINES
SENT TO
SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD, BART. ,
OF WHITEFOORD.
WITH THE FOREGOING POEM.
[Sir John Whitefoord, a name of old standing in Ayrshire, inherited
the love of his family for literature, and interested himself early in
the fame and fortunes of Burns. ]
Thou, who thy honour as thy God rever'st,
Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st,
To thee this votive offering I impart,
The tearful tribute of a broken heart.
The friend thou valuedst, I, the patron, lov'd;
His worth, his honour, all the world approv'd,
We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone,
And tread the dreary path to that dark world unknown.
* * * * *
CXXVI.
ADDRESS
TO
THE SHADE OF THOMSON,
ON CROWNING HIS BUST AT EDNAM WITH BAYS.
["Lord Buchan has the pleasure to invite Mr. Burns to make one at the
coronation of the bust of Thomson, on Ednam Hill, on the 22d of
September: for which day perhaps his muse may inspire an ode suited to
the occasion. Suppose Mr. Burns should, leaving the Nith, go across
the country, and meet the Tweed at the nearest point from his farm,
and, wandering along the pastoral banks of Thomson's pure parent
stream, catch inspiration in the devious walk, till he finds Lord
Buchan sitting on the ruins of Dryburgh.
My noble master lies in clay;
The flow'r amang our barons bold,
His country's pride! his country's stay--
In weary being now I pine,
For a' the life of life is dead,
And hope has left my aged ken,
On forward wing for ever fled.
VII.
"Awake thy last sad voice, my harp!
The voice of woe and wild despair;
Awake! resound thy latest lay--
Then sleep in silence evermair!
And thou, my last, best, only friend,
That fillest an untimely tomb,
Accept this tribute from the bard
Though brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.
VIII.
"In poverty's low barren vale
Thick mists, obscure, involve me round;
Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye,
Nae ray of fame was to be found:
Thou found'st me, like the morning sun,
That melts the fogs in limpid air,
The friendless bard and rustic song
Became alike thy fostering care.
IX.
"O! why has worth so short a date?
While villains ripen fray with time;
Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,
Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime!
Why did I live to see that day?
A day to me so full of woe!
--
O had I met the mortal shaft
Which laid my benefactor low.
X.
"The bridegroom may forget the bride
Was made his wedded wife yestreen;
The monarch may forget the crown
That on his head an hour has been;
The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And a' that thou hast done for me! "
* * * * *
CXXV.
LINES
SENT TO
SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD, BART. ,
OF WHITEFOORD.
WITH THE FOREGOING POEM.
[Sir John Whitefoord, a name of old standing in Ayrshire, inherited
the love of his family for literature, and interested himself early in
the fame and fortunes of Burns. ]
Thou, who thy honour as thy God rever'st,
Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st,
To thee this votive offering I impart,
The tearful tribute of a broken heart.
The friend thou valuedst, I, the patron, lov'd;
His worth, his honour, all the world approv'd,
We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone,
And tread the dreary path to that dark world unknown.
* * * * *
CXXVI.
ADDRESS
TO
THE SHADE OF THOMSON,
ON CROWNING HIS BUST AT EDNAM WITH BAYS.
["Lord Buchan has the pleasure to invite Mr. Burns to make one at the
coronation of the bust of Thomson, on Ednam Hill, on the 22d of
September: for which day perhaps his muse may inspire an ode suited to
the occasion. Suppose Mr. Burns should, leaving the Nith, go across
the country, and meet the Tweed at the nearest point from his farm,
and, wandering along the pastoral banks of Thomson's pure parent
stream, catch inspiration in the devious walk, till he finds Lord
Buchan sitting on the ruins of Dryburgh.
