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WELLER in yon dungeon dark,
View the 'wither'd beldam's face,
but never gave.
Planterer of Armies, lift thine eyes, (A while forbear, ye torturing fiends), Seeft thou whose ftep, unwilling hither bends? No fallen angel, hurld from upper skics; 'Tis thy trusty quondam Matr, Doomed to share thy fiery fate, She, tardy, hell-ward plies.
E POD E.
And are they of no more avail, Ten thousand glittering pounds a year? In other worlds can Mammon fail, Omnipotent as he is here? O, bitter mockery of the poinpous bier, While down the wretched vital part is driven ! The cave-lodged beggar, with a conscience clear, Expires in rage, unknown, and goes to Heaven.
E L E G
A Gentleman who held the Patent for his Honours
immediately from Almighty God!
But now his , adiant course is run,
For Matthew's course was bright;
A matchless Heavenly Light !
O DEATH! thou tyrant fell and bloody!
O'er hurcheon hides, And like flock-fish come o'er his studdie
Wilthy auld fides !
He's gane! he's gane! he's frae us torn,
By wood and wild,
Frae man exil'd,
Ye hills, near neebors o' the starns, That proudly cock your cresting cairns ; Ye cliffs, the haunts of failing yearns,
Where Echo flumbers. Come join, ye Nature's flurdieft bairns,
My wailing numbers.
Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens ;
Wi' toddlin din,
Trae lin to lin.
Mourn little harebells o'er the lee;
In scented bowers ;
The first o' flowers.