Till future life, future no more, GLENRIDDEL HERMITAGE, June 28th, 1788. FROM THE MS. THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou deckt in silken stole, ; 60 Guard, wherever thou canst guard; Welcome what thou canst not shun. Thy trust, and thy example too. Stranger, go! Heaven be thy guide! Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side. 80 THE LAMENT, OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A FRIEND'S AMOUR. O THOU pale Orb, that silent shines, Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam; I joyless view thy rays adorn The faintly-marked, distant hill: For ever bar returning peace! No idly-feign'd poetic pains, My sad love-lorn lamentings claim; These were the pledges of my love! Encircled in her clasping arms, How have the raptur'd moments flown! My secret heart's exulting boast? And does she heedless hear my groan? ΙΟ 20 30 Oh! can she bear so base a heart, The plighted husband of her youth? Her way may lie thro' rough distress! Then who her pangs and pains will soothe, Her sorrows share, and make them less? Ye winged hours that o'er us past, Enraptur❜d more, the more enjoy'd, Your dear remembrance in my breast My fondly-treasur'd thoughts employ'd. That breast, how dreary now, and void, For her too scanty once of room! Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd, And not a wish to gild the gloom! The morn that warns th' approaching day I see the hours in long array, That I must suffer, lingering slow. And when my nightly couch I try, Reigns, haggard-wild, in sore affright: From such a horror-breathing night. O thou bright Queen, who o'er th' expanse Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray! 40 50 бо The time, unheeded, sped away, While love's luxurious pulse beat nigh, Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray, To mark the mutual-kindling eye. O scenes in strong remembrance set! DESPONDENCY. OPPRESS'D with grief, oppress'd with care, What sorrows yet may pierce me thro', Too justly I may fear! Still caring, despairing, Must be my bitter doom; My woes here shall close ne'er, Happy, ye sons of busy life, Ev'n when the wishèd end's denied, Yet, while the busy means are plied, They bring their own reward: 20 Whilst I, a hope-abandon'd wight, Meet ev'ry sad returning night, How blest the Solitary's lot, The cavern wild with tangling roots, Or, haply, to his ev'ning thought, The ways of men are distant brought, While praising, and raising His thoughts to Heav'n on high, As wand'ring, meand'ring, He views the solemn sky. Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd With self-respecting art: But ah! those pleasures, loves, and joys, Which I too keenly taste, The Solitary can despise, Can want, and yet be blest! He needs not, he heeds not, Oh! enviable, early days, When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze, 30 40 50 |