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A last request permit me here,
When yearly ye assemble a',
To him, the Bard that's far awa'.
CAPT. MATTHEW. HENDERSON,
GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS
HONOURS IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD!
But now his radiaut course is run,
For Matthew's course was bright;
A matchless heav'nly light.
O DEATH! thou tyrant fell and bloody!
O’er hurcheon bides,
Wi'thy auld sides !
By wood and wild,
Frae man exil'd.
Where echo slumbers ! Come join, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns,
My wailing numbers! Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens ! Ye bazly shaws and briery dens ! Ye burnies wimplin down your glens,
Wi' toddlin din,
Frae lin to lin.
In scented bow'rs;
The first o' flow'rs.
I'th' rustling gale,
Come join my wail.
Ye whistling plover; And mourn, ye whirring paitrick brood;
He's gane for ever!
Circling the lake;
Rair for his sake. Mourn, clam'ring craiks at close o' day, 'Mang fields o' flow'ring clover 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 bow'r,
Sets up her horn,
Till waukrife morn!
O rivers, forests, hills, and plains. !
But tales of woe?
Maun eyer flow. Mourn, spring, thou darling of the year! Ilk cowslip.cup shall kep a tear: Thou, siinmer, while each corny spear
Shoots up its head, Thy gay, green, flow'ry tresses shear,
For him that's dead!
Thou, autumn, wi' thy yellow hair,
The roaring blast,
The worth we've lost Mourn him, thou sun, great source of light! Mourn, empress of the silent 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 Henderson the man! the brother ! And art thou gone, and gone for ever! And hast thou crost that unknown river,
Life's dreary bound ! Like thee, wbere I shall find anither,
The world around !
Go to your sculptur’d tombs, ye Great,
But by thy honest turf l'll wait,
Thou man of worth ! And weep the ae best fellow's fate
E’er lay in earth.
And truth I shall relate, man;
For Matthew was a great man.
Yet spurn’d at fortune's door, mas,
For Matthew was a poor man.
That passest by this grave, mang
For Matthew was a brave man.
Canst throw uncommon light, man,
For Mattbew was a bright man.
Wad life itself resign, man,
For Matthew was a kind man.
Like the unchanging blue, man,
For Matthew was a true man.
And ne'er gude wine did fear, man,
For Matthew was a queer man.
If ony whiggish whiggin sot,
To blame poor Matthew dare, man,
For Matthew was a rare man.
LAMENT OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOT),
ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING.
Nature hangs her mantle green
Out o'er the grassy lea:
And glads the azure skies;
That fast in durance lies.
Aloft on dewy wing ;
Makes woodland echoes ring ;
Sings drowsy day to rest :
Wi' care nor thrall opprest.
The primrose down the brae;
And milk-white is the slae :
May rove their sweets amang;
Maun lie in prison strang.
Where happy I hae been;