Come away for Life and Thought Here no longer dwell; A great and distant city, have bought TENNYSON. LAMENT FOR JAMES, EARL OF GLENCAIRN. YE scattered brids that faintly sing, The reliques of the vernal choir! Ye woods that shed on a' the winds The honors of the aged year! A few short months, and glad and gay, Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e; But nocht in all revolving time The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen; The monarch may forget the crown That on his head an hour has been; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee: But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me! BURNS. HE'S GANE. HE'S gane! he's gane! he's frae us mourn By wood and wild, Where, haply, pity strays forlorn, Frae man exiled. Ye hills, near neebors o' the stars, That proudly cock your cresting cairns! Ye cliffs, the haunts of sailing yearns, Where Echo slumbers, And, hugging close, we will not feare Lust entering here; Where all desires are dead or cold, As is the mould; And all affections are forgot, Or trouble not. Here needs no court for our request, Where all are best; All wise, all equal, and all just Alike i' th' dust. Nor need we here to feare the frowne Of court or crown; Where fortune bears no sway o'er things, There all are kings. And for a while lye here concealed, To be revealed, Next, at that great platonick yeere, And then meet here. HERRICK. Of the unsteady planets. O'tis well With him! but who knows what the coming hour Veiled in thick darkness brings for us! That anguish will be wearied down, I know; What pang is permanent with man? from the highest As from the vilest thing of every day He learns to wean himself; for the strong hours Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost In him. The bloom is vanished from my life. For O! he stood beside me, like my youth, Transformed for me the real to a dream, Clothing the palpable and familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn. Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, The beautiful is vanished turns not. and re COLERIDGE: Wallenstein. LYKEWAKE DIRGE. THIS ae night, this ae night, When thou from hence away art past, Every night and alle, To Whinny-Muir thou comest at laste, And Christ receive thy saule. If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon, Sit thee down and put them on, If hosen and shoon thou never gav'st none, Every night and alle, The whinnes shall prick thee to the bare bone, And Christ receive thy saule. Each lovely scene shall thee restore, For thee the tear be duly shed; Beloved till life can charm no more, And mourned till Pity's self be dead. COLLINS. DIRGE FOR DORCAS. COME pitie us, all ye who see And when you are come hither, A fast, and weep For Tabitha, who dead lies here, The basket and the bynn of bread, |