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Who then can think-yet sigh, to part with breath?
revokes that pray'r, Still there remains one claim to tax my care. Gone though she is, she left her soul behind, In four dear transcripts of her copied mind. They chain me down to life, new task supply, And leave me not at leisure yet to die! Busied for them I yet forego release, And teach my wearied heart to wait for peace. But when their day breaks broad, I welcome night, Smile at discharge from care, and shut out light,
VERSES WRITTEN ON A WINDOW.
TENDER-HANDED stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
And it soft as silk remains.
'Tis the same with common natures,
Use 'em kindly they rebel :
And the rogues obey you well.
BORN 1704.—DIED 1754.
WILLIAM HAMILTON, of Bangour, was of an ancient family in Ayrshire. He was liberally educated, and his genius and delicate constitution seemed to mark him out for pacific pursuits alone, but he thought fit to join the standard of rebellion in 1745, celebrated the momentary blaze of its success in an ode on the battle of Gladsmuir, and finally escaped to France, after much wandering and many hardships in the highlands. He made his peace however with the government, and came home to take possession of his paternal estate ; but the state of his health requiring a warmer climate, he returned to the continent, where he continued to reside till a slow consumption carried him off at Lyons, in his 50th year.
The praise of elegance is all that can be given to his verses. In case any reader should be immoderately touched with sympathy for his love sufferings, it is proper to inform him, that Hamilton was thought by the fair ones of his day to be a very inconstant swain. A Scotch lady, whom he teased with his addresses, applied to Home, the author of Douglas, for advice how to get rid of them. Home advised her to affect to favour his assiduities. She did so, and they were immediately withdrawn.
FROM CONTEMPLATION, OR THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE.
O voice divine, whose heavenly strain
Go forth invok'd, O voice divine !
Ascending heaven's height, Contemplation, take thy flight: Behold the sun, through heav'n's wide space, Strong as a giant, run his race; Behold the moon exert her light, As blushing bride on her love-night: Behold the sister starry train, Her bridemaids, mount the azure plain. See where the snows their treasures keep ; The chambers where the loud winds sleep; Where the collected rains abide "Till heav'n set all its windows wide, Precipitate from high to pour And drown in violence of show'r: Or gently strain'd they wash the earth, And give the tender fruits a birth, See where thunder springs his mine; Where the paths of lightning shine. Or tir'd those heights still to pursue, From heav'n descending with the dew, That soft impregns the youthful mead, Where thousand flowers exalt the head, Mark how nature's hand bestows Abundant grace on all that grows, Tinges, with pencil slow unseen, The grass that clothes the valley green; Or spreads the tulip's parted streaks, Or sanguine dyes the rose's cheeks,
Or points with light Monimia's eyes,
Ah! haunting spirit, art thou there!