At dawn, when every grassy blade
Droops with a diamond at his head,
At even, when beans their fragrance shed,

I' th’ rustling gale,
Ye maukins whiddin thro' the glade,

Come join my wail.

Mourn, ye wee fongsters o'the wood;
Ye grouss that crap the heather bud;
Ye curlews calling thro' a clud;

Ye whistling plover;
And mourn, ye whirring paitrick brood;

He's gane

for ever!

Mourn, footy coots, and speckled teals;
Ye fisher herons, watching eels;
Ye duck and drake, wi' airy wheels

Circling the lake :
Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels, 's

Rair for his sake.

Mourn, clamouring craiks at close o' day, "Mang fields o’ flowering claver gay; And when ye wing your annual way

Frae our cauld shore, Tell thae far warlds, wha lies in clay,

Wham we deplore.

Ye houlets, frae your ivy bower,
In some auld tree, or eldritch tower,
What time the moon, wi' filent glowr,

Sets up her horn,
Wail thro’ the dreary midnight hour

Till waukrife morn.

FC

O, rivers, forests, hills, and plains !
Oft bave

ye
heard

my canty strains ; But now, what else for me remains

Bot tales of woe; And frae my een the drapping rains

Maun ever flow,

Mourn, Spring, thou darling of the year ;
Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear :
Thou, Simmer, while each corny Spear

Shoots up its head,
Thy gay, green, flowery trohes fhear,

For him that's dead.

Thou, Autumn, wi' thy yellow. hair,
In grief thy fallow mantle tear ;
Thou, Winter, hurling thro' the air

he roaring blast, Wide o'er the naked world declare

T he worth we've lost.

Mourn him thou Sun, great fource of light; Mourn, Empress of the filent night : And you, ye twinkling starnies bright,

My Matthew mourn; For through your orbs he's ta’en his flight,

Ne'er to return.

O, H********* ! the man! the brother! And art thou

gone,

and

gone for ever! And hast thou croft that unknown river,

Life's dreary bound! Like thee, where shall I find another,

The world around!

Go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye Great,
In a' the tinsel trash o' ftate!
But by thy honest turf I'll wait,

Thou man of worth ! And weep the ae beft fellow's fate

E'er lay in earth,

THE EPITAPH.

Stop, passenger ! my story's brief,
And truth

shall relate, man; I tell nae common tale o' grief,

For Matthew was a great man.

If thou uncommon merit hat,

Yet spurn’d at Fortune's door, man ; A look of pity hither cast,

For Matthew was a poor rrano

If thou a noble fodger art,

That pasieft by this grave, man, 'There moulders here a gallant heart

For Matthew was a brave man.

If thou on men, their works and ways,

Canst throw uncommon light, man ; Here lies wha weel had won thy praise,

For Matthew was a bright man.

If thou at Friendship's facred ca’

Wad life itself resign man; Thy sympathetic tear maun fa',

For Matthew was a kind man!.

If thou art itaunch without a ftain,

Like the unchanging blue man; This was a kiniman o'thy 'ain, .

For Matthew was a true man.

If thou haft wit, and fun and fire,

And ne’er gude wine did feaf, man ; This was 'thy billic, dam, and fire,

For Matthew was a queer man,

If ony whiggish whingin sot,

To blame poor Matthew dare, man ; May dool and forrow be his lot,

For Matthew was a rare man.