ΤΟ JAMES SKENE, Esq. Ashestiel, Ettricke Forest. An ancient minstrel sagely said, "Where is the life which late we led?" That motley clown, in Arden wood, Eleven years we now may tell, Since we have known each other well; First drew the voluntary brand; And sure, through many a varied scene, Away these winged years have flown, And though deep marked, like all below, Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, Yet now, days, weeks, and months, but seem So still we glide down to the sea Of fathomless eternity. Even now, it scarcely seems a day, When leisure graver cares denied, That now, November's dreary gale, Earlier than wont along the sky, As thou with pencil, I with pen, |