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OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OF A
Alas! how oft does Goodness wound itself,
O Thou pale orb, that silent shines,
While care-untroubled mortals sleep! Thou seest a wretch that inly pines,
And wanders here to wail and weep! With woe I nightly vigils keep,
Beneath thy wan unwarming beam; And mourn, in lamentation deep,
How life and love are all a dream. I joyless view thy rays adorn
The faintly marked distånt hill : I joyless yiew thy trembling horn
Reflected in the gurgling rill: My fondly fluttering heart, be still!
Thou busy power, Remembrance, cease! Ah! must the agonizing thrill
For ever bar returning peace! No idly feign'd poetic pains,
My sad lovelorn lamentings claim ; No shepherd's pipe--Arcadian strains ;
No fabled tortures, quaint and tame: The plighted faith ; the mutual flame;
The oft attested powers above; The promised Father's tender name:
These were the pledges of my love !
Encircled in her clasping arms,
How have the raptured moments flown! How have I wish'd for fortune's charms,
For her dear sake, and hers alone! And must I think it! is she gone,
My secret heart's exulting boast ?
And is she ever, ever lost?
So lost to honour, lost to truth,
The plighted husband of her youth? Alas! life's path may be unsmooth !
Her way may lie through rough distress! Then who her pangs and pains will soothe,
Her sorrows share, and make them less ? Ye winged hours that o'er us pass’d,
Enraptured more, the more enjoy'd, Your dear remembrance in my breast,
My fondly treasured thoughts employ'd. That breast, how dreary now and void,
For her too scanty once of room! Even every ray of hope destroy'd,
And not a wish to gild the gloom! The morn that warns the approaching day
Awakes me up to toil and woe: I see the hours in long array,
That I must suffer, lingering, slow. Full many a pang and many a throe,
Keen recollection's direful train, Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, low,
Shall kiss the distant western main.
And when my nightly couch I try,
Sore harass'd out with care and grief, My toil-beat nerves and tear-worn eye
Keep watchings with the nightly thief: Or if I slumber, fancy, chief,
Reigns haggard-wild, in sore affright: E'en day, all bitter, brings relief
From such a horror-breathing night.
0! thou bright queen, who o'er the expanse
Now highest reign'st with boundless sway! Oft hast thy silent-marking glance
Observed us, fondly wandering, stray! The time unheeded sped away,
While love's luxurious pulse beat high, Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray,
To mark the mutual-kindling eye.
Oh! scenes in strong remembrance set!
Scenes, 'never, never to return! Scenes, if in stupor I forget,
Again I feel, again I burn! From every joy and pleasure torn,
Life's weary vale I'll wander through ; And hopeless, comfortless I'll mourn
A faithless woman's broken vow.
THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.
WRITTEN IN 1746.
MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn
No strains, but those of sorrow flow,
O baneful cause! oh fatal morn,
The pious mother, doom'd to death,
While the warm blood bedews my veins,
Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn