Hope was awaken'd, as for home he sail'd, He call'd his friend, and prefac'd with a sigh He had his wish, had more; I will not paint Still long she nursed him; tender thoughts, meantime, Were interchang'd, and hopes and views sublime. To her he came to die, and every day She took some portion of the dread away: Sooth'd the faint heart, and held the aching head; One day he lighter seem'd, and they forgot Lively he seem'd, and spoke of all he knew, But she has treasur'd, and she loves them all; She plac'd a decent stone his grave above, She would have griev'd, had friends presum'd to spare Here will she come, and on the grave will sit, Forbear, sweet maid! nor be by fancy led, All have their tasks and trials; thine are hard, Regard the dead, but, to the living, live. 1. Tasks task, Fr. tâche, comes from M. L. taxa, something demanded or exacted; which word is also the origin of tax. Robert Burns. 1759-1796. (History, p. 208.) 177. To A MOUNTAIN DAISY. Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, For I maun crush amang the stoure1 To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Alas! it's no thy neebour sweet, Wi' speckled breast, When upward-springing, blithe, to greet Cauld blew the bitter-biting north, Yet cheerfully thou glinted 2 forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, But thou beneath the random bield 4 There, in thy scanty mantle clad, But now the share uptears thy bed, 1. Stoure: stour means properly battle, conflict; but a provincial use of it is dust, rubbish. 2. Glinted, peeped. 3. Maun, mun, must. See note 4, ex tract 41. 4. Bield, shelter, the sheltered part of a wood. 5. Histie, dry, barren. 6. Thou lies: the old peculiarities of Such is the fate of artless Maid, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i' the dust. Such is the fate of simple Bard, On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd, Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, Such fate to suffering worth is given, To mis'ry's brink, Till wrench'd of every stay but Heaven, He, ruin'd, sink! E'en thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, Shall be thy doom! the Northern dialect still survive among p. 18, and Mr. Morris's "Specimens of the Lowland Scotch. See "History," Early English," p. xii. 178. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. Thou lingering star, with lessening ray, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Those records dear of transports past; Ah, little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, Where is thy place of blissful rest? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? 179. BANNOCKBURN. ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled; Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Welcome to your gory bed, Or to glorious victorie! Now's the day and now's the hour- See approach proud Edward's power- SPECS. ENG. LIT. S |