ODE, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. OSWALD OF AUCHENCRUIVE DWELLER in yon dungeon dark, STROPHE View the wither'd Beldam's face; Aught of Humanity's sweet, melting grace? See these hands ne'er stretched to save, Keeper of Mammon's iron chest, Lo, there she goes, unpitied and unblest, ANTISTROPHE Plunderer of Armies! lift thine eyes, (A while forbear, ye torturing fiends;) Seest thou whose step, unwilling, hither bends? No fallen angel, hurl'd from upper skies; 'Tis thy trusty quondam Mate, Doom'd to share thy fiery fate; She, tardy, hell-ward plies. EPODE And are they of no more avail, Omnipotent as he is here! O, bitter mockery of the pompous bier, While down the wretched Vital Part is driven ! The cave-lodged Beggar, with a conscience clear, Expires in rags, unknown, and goes to Heaven. PEGASUS AT WANLOCKHEAD WITH Pegasus upon a day, Apollo weary flying, Through frosty hills the journey lay, On foot the way was plying. Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus Obliging Vulcan fell to work, Threw by his coat and bonnet, Ye Vulcan's sons of Wanlockhead, My Pegasus is poorly shod, SAPPHO REDIVIVUS-A FRAGMENT By all I lov'd, neglected and forgot, To those my family's once large bounty fed; My griefs, my woes, my sighs, my tears they share: In vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer, Mild zephyrs waft thee to life's farthest shore, “I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn Then bless the hour that charm'd my guilty sight: Chain'd at Love's feet, they groan, his vanquish'd foes. I dare not combat, but I turn and fly: Conscience in vain upbraids th' unhallow'd fire, By your dear self!--the last great oath I swear, SONG-SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE SHE'S fair and fause that causes my smart, I lo'ed her meikle and lang; She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart, A coof cam in wi' routh o' gear, Whae'er ye be that woman love, Nae ferlie 'tis tho' fickle she prove, O Woman lovely, Woman fair! IMPROMPTU LINES TO CAPTAIN RIDDELL On Returning a Newspaper. YOUR News and Review, sir, I've read through and through, sir, Of home-news or foreign, No murders or rapes worth the naming. Our friends, the Reviewers, Are judges of mortar and stone, sir; In a fabric complete, I'll boldly pronounce they are none, sir; My goose-quill too rude is Bestow'd on your servant, the Poet; Would to God I had one Like a beam of the sun, And then all the world, sir, should know it! LINES TO JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ. Sent with some of the Author's Poems. O COULD I give thee India's wealth, Because thy joy in both would be But golden sands did never grace The Heliconian stream; Then take what gold could never buy- RHYMING REPLY TO A NOTE FROM DEAR SIR, at ony time or tide, I'd rather sit wi' you than ride, Though 'twere wi' royal Geordie: And trowth, your kindness, soon and late, The Lord in Heav'n reward ye! ELLISLAND. R. BURNS. |