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At dawn, when every grassy blade
I' th’ rustling gale,
Come join my wail.
Mourn, ye wee fongsters o'the wood;
Ye whistling plover;
Mourn, footy coots, and speckled teals;
Circling the lake :
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,
Sets up her horn,
Till waukrife morn.
O, rivers, forests, hills, and plains !
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 ;
Shoots up its head,
For him that's dead.
Thou, Autumn, wi' thy yellow. hair,
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 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,
Thou man of worth ! And weep the ae beft fellow's fate
E'er lay in earth,
Stop, passenger ! my story's brief,
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,