On all the line a sudden vengeance waits, And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates; There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, (While the long funerals blacken all the way) "Lo! these were they, whose souls the furies steeled, And cursed with hearts unknowing how to yield." Thus unlamented pass the proud away, The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day! So perish all, whose breast ne'er learned to glow What can atone (oh, ever injured shade!) To midnight dances, and the public show? While angels with their silver wings o'ershade So, peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, A heap of dust alone remains of thee, "T is all thou art, and all the proud shall be! Poets themselves must fall like those they sung, Deaf the praised ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. E'en he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays, Shall shortly want the generous tear he pays; Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part, And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart, Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, The muse forgot, and thou beloved no more! To Blossoms. FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past; But you may stay yet here awhile; POPE. What, were ye born to be An hour or half's delight; 'T was pity Nature brought ye forth But you are lovely leaves, where we Like The Posie. HERRICK. O LUVE will venture in where it daurna weel be seen, The primrose I will pu', the firstling of the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear For she 's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer: And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view, The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, And in her lovely bosom I 'll place the lily there; The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller gray, The woodbine I will pu' when the evening star is near, And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear; The violet 's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear: And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken bands o' luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove: And this will be a posie to my ain dear May. BURNS. Autumn Woods. ERE, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The mountains that infold, In their wide sweep, the coloured landscape round Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold, That guard the enchanted ground. I roam the woods that crown The upland, where the mingled splendours glow, My steps are not alone In these bright walks; the sweet southwest, at play, Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown Along the winding way. And far in heaven, the while, The sun, that sends that gale to wander here, Where now the solemn shade, Verdure and gloom where many branches meet; |