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ON

PARTING WITH A FRIEND

ON A JOURNEY.

WRITTEN IN 1797.

As o'er the downs expanding silver-gray

You pass, dear friend, your altered form I view
Diminish'd to a shadow dim and blue,

As oft I turn to gaze with fond delay. -
Alas that youthful friendships thus decay!

While fame or fortune's dizzy heights we scale,

Or through the mazy windings of the vale

-

Of busy life pursue our separate way.
Too soon by nature's rigid laws we part,

Too soon the moments of affection fly,
Nor from the grave shall one responsive sigh
Breathe soft to soothe the sad survivor's heart!

Ah! that when life's brief course so soon is o'er,
We e'er should friendship's broken tie deplore.

ON

AN OLD MAN DYING FRIENDLESS.

WRITTEN IN 1798.

To thee, thou pallid form, o'er whose wan cheek
The downy blossoms of the grave are shed!
To thee the crumbling earth and clay-cold bed
Of joys supreme, instead of sorrows, speak.
Deep in the silent grave thou soon shalt rest;

Nor e'er shalt hear beneath the ridgy mould
The howling blast, in hollow murmurs cold,
That sweeps by fits relentless o'er thy breast!
No warm eye glistens with the dewy tear

For thee, no tongue that breathes to heaven the

Vow,

No hand to wipe the death-drops from thy brow, No looks of love thy fainting soul to cheer!

Then

go, forlorn to thee it must be sweet

Thy long-lost friends beyond the grave to meet.

WRITTEN AT ST. ANDREWS,

IN 1798.

ALONG the shelves that line Kibriven's shore
I lingering pass, with steps well-pois'd and slow,
Where brown the slippery wreaths of sea-weeds

grow,

And listen to the weltering ocean's roar.

When o'er the crisping waves the sun-beams gleam, And from the hills the latest streaks of day

Recede, by Eden's shadowy banks I stray, And lash the willows blue that fringe the stream; And often to myself, in whispers weak,

I breathe the name of some dear gentle maid; Or some lov'd friend, whom in Edina's shade I left when forc'd these eastern shores to seek ! And for the distant months I sigh in vain To bring me to these favourite haunts again.

TO RUIN.

WRITTEN IN 1798.

DIRE Power! when closing autumn's hoary dews
Clog the rank ambient air with fell disease,
And yellow leaves hang shivering on the trees,
My pensive fancy loves on thee to muse.
Mountains, that once durst climb the azure sky,

Proud waving woods, and vales expanding green,
No trace display of what they once have been;
But deep beneath the world of waters lie.
Yet not the shaken earth, the lightning's blaze,

When yawning gulfs wide peopled realms devour,
But nature's secret all-destroying power

With ceaseless torment on my spirit preys :

While man's vain knowledge in his fleeting hour

Serves but to show how fast himself decays.

MELANCHOLY.

WRITTEN IN 1798.

WHERE its blue pallid boughs the poplar rears
I sit, to mark the passing riv'let's chime,

And muse whence flows the silent stream of time;
And to what clime depart the winged years.
In fancy's eye each scene of youth appears
Bright as the setting sun's last purple gleam,

Which streaks the mist that winds along the stream, Bathing the harebell with eve's dewy tears. Ah! blissful days of youth, that ne'er again Revive, with scenes of every fairy hue, And sunny tints which fancy's pencil drew, Are you not false as hope's delusive train? For, as your scenes to memory's view return, You ever point to a lóv'd sister's urn.

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