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Article TO EUDORA. Page 1 of 1 Article AN ELEGY ON BURNS THE POET. Page 1 of 1 Article THE ROSE. Page 1 of 1
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To Eudora.
TO EUDORA .
BY THE SAME . UNKt >; r > Eudora ! why withhold the boon ? Why so unfeelingly neglect my prayer ? Believe me , gent lemaid , my bosom ' s care , My heart ' s best wish , and all my fond desire , Belong to thee . Andean you then , so soon , Forget those hours , when , by the moon ' s mild beam , ' [ fire
We took our evening walk ; when the pure Of love-ei ' , kindled joys beyond the oream , Or magic spel ! of poesy ' s sweet lore ? O then I thought—and tender was the theme—I thought that years of absence could not part . Or check the converse of a kindred heart . But thou hast robb'd fair Hope of all her store ; [ no more . Each blissful charm is fled , and joy is mine
An Elegy On Burns The Poet.
AN ELEGY ON BURNS THE POET .
WRITTEN BESIDE HIS GRAVE . BV E . S . J . AUTHOR OF WILLIAM & EI . I . EN , GREEN grows the grass on yonder grave , Where simple flowers are wooing gay ; The daisy smiles on yonder grave , Which little babes are pooing aye . In yonder a bardie lies
grave , And O ! it looks like fiow ' ry Mav , Where sweet the whisp ' ring Zephyr sighs , And Nature seems a wooingaye : He sung the lallan ditiy sweet , And louch'd our fancies doleful aye ; O drop a tear at Bunis ' s feet , ' -And let the dirge be mournful aye ! O drop a tear , for he is gane ,
For he isganefor ever aye ! In yonder grave he lies alane , ' Where he will waken never aye : For he is dead , for he is dead , Who made our hearts sae jolly aye ; O tell the tale of woe ineleed , In dirgy melancholy aye . Hark ! thro' the tombs the bleak winds rave , Yon robin sings sue doleful aye ;
O drop a tear on yonder grave , For he cou'd sing maist mournful aye . P he cou'd please the pensive mind , ForO , his song was wooingaye , And make us fling our cares behind , His flotv ' rs of fancy strewing aye . > But he is ga-,-, e and left us now , It makes my saul to shiver aye ; Yet wipe the falling tear of woe
, ' For he is gane for ever aye . P he cou'd make the widow sing , With heart sae light anel joyful aye , J 3 ut now , alas ! ilk sporting thing Looks dreary , dull , and mournful aye ; For he is gaite ' aiid . ieft us now , VV'ha sang the heartfelt ditty aye ; Ilk social saul that fills the bowl '' . Crys put it is a pity aye !
Tho' he cou'd smile at Fortune ' s frown , He saw his genius slighted ave . Come , fill ( lie bowl , ' Here's to his saul , * His name shal ! not be blighted aye . Tho' he did toil thro' mud and mire , The chilly glebe a plowing aye , It cou'd not damp his native fire , For still his song was wooing aye . Ilk weary wight that toils for bread
Is datvff , and dull , and gloomy aye , Nae mair he hears the rustic reed , That sets his saul a swooning aye . Chill Penury comes here at morn , With wretched tear maist doleful aye ; Here Sympathy oft strays forlorn , To view his grave maist mournful aye When want ana woe oppress'd him sore , And Oit was a pity aye
, , Mis wretchedness he smiling bore , And sang the doleful ditty aye . * He lisien'd to the tempest ' s howl , Tlie lang dark night sae dreary aye , And oft he try'd to cheer his soul , And sang till lie was weary aye ; The blast sweeps thro' the naked tree , And makes my saul to shiver aye ; Sad emblem of his misery ,
For he was wretched ever aye . But he is gane and left us now , Who had the widow ' s blessing aye . Come , fill ihe bowl , here ' s lo his saul , Since that he is a missing aye .
The Rose.
THE ROSE .
SAY , lovely Rose , since half reveal'd , My view thy beauty meets , ¦¦ -: Has dread of morning ' s bleak wind seal'd The fragrance of thy sweets ? Yet dearest to ihe enamour'd sight , Thy purple form appears , As bleishing o ' er the moss ' s height
Thy cup its head uprears . Trust , whilst thy out ward leaves areshert'ii ; Our fancy paints the rest , Once seen , adieu ! ( thy all is known ) To fancy ' s flattering test . Such are the charms my fair-one deck . In person as in mind , Where half seen heavesher swelling neck , Half told her sense I find .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
To Eudora.
TO EUDORA .
BY THE SAME . UNKt >; r > Eudora ! why withhold the boon ? Why so unfeelingly neglect my prayer ? Believe me , gent lemaid , my bosom ' s care , My heart ' s best wish , and all my fond desire , Belong to thee . Andean you then , so soon , Forget those hours , when , by the moon ' s mild beam , ' [ fire
We took our evening walk ; when the pure Of love-ei ' , kindled joys beyond the oream , Or magic spel ! of poesy ' s sweet lore ? O then I thought—and tender was the theme—I thought that years of absence could not part . Or check the converse of a kindred heart . But thou hast robb'd fair Hope of all her store ; [ no more . Each blissful charm is fled , and joy is mine
An Elegy On Burns The Poet.
AN ELEGY ON BURNS THE POET .
WRITTEN BESIDE HIS GRAVE . BV E . S . J . AUTHOR OF WILLIAM & EI . I . EN , GREEN grows the grass on yonder grave , Where simple flowers are wooing gay ; The daisy smiles on yonder grave , Which little babes are pooing aye . In yonder a bardie lies
grave , And O ! it looks like fiow ' ry Mav , Where sweet the whisp ' ring Zephyr sighs , And Nature seems a wooingaye : He sung the lallan ditiy sweet , And louch'd our fancies doleful aye ; O drop a tear at Bunis ' s feet , ' -And let the dirge be mournful aye ! O drop a tear , for he is gane ,
For he isganefor ever aye ! In yonder grave he lies alane , ' Where he will waken never aye : For he is dead , for he is dead , Who made our hearts sae jolly aye ; O tell the tale of woe ineleed , In dirgy melancholy aye . Hark ! thro' the tombs the bleak winds rave , Yon robin sings sue doleful aye ;
O drop a tear on yonder grave , For he cou'd sing maist mournful aye . P he cou'd please the pensive mind , ForO , his song was wooingaye , And make us fling our cares behind , His flotv ' rs of fancy strewing aye . > But he is ga-,-, e and left us now , It makes my saul to shiver aye ; Yet wipe the falling tear of woe
, ' For he is gane for ever aye . P he cou'd make the widow sing , With heart sae light anel joyful aye , J 3 ut now , alas ! ilk sporting thing Looks dreary , dull , and mournful aye ; For he is gaite ' aiid . ieft us now , VV'ha sang the heartfelt ditty aye ; Ilk social saul that fills the bowl '' . Crys put it is a pity aye !
Tho' he cou'd smile at Fortune ' s frown , He saw his genius slighted ave . Come , fill ( lie bowl , ' Here's to his saul , * His name shal ! not be blighted aye . Tho' he did toil thro' mud and mire , The chilly glebe a plowing aye , It cou'd not damp his native fire , For still his song was wooing aye . Ilk weary wight that toils for bread
Is datvff , and dull , and gloomy aye , Nae mair he hears the rustic reed , That sets his saul a swooning aye . Chill Penury comes here at morn , With wretched tear maist doleful aye ; Here Sympathy oft strays forlorn , To view his grave maist mournful aye When want ana woe oppress'd him sore , And Oit was a pity aye
, , Mis wretchedness he smiling bore , And sang the doleful ditty aye . * He lisien'd to the tempest ' s howl , Tlie lang dark night sae dreary aye , And oft he try'd to cheer his soul , And sang till lie was weary aye ; The blast sweeps thro' the naked tree , And makes my saul to shiver aye ; Sad emblem of his misery ,
For he was wretched ever aye . But he is gane and left us now , Who had the widow ' s blessing aye . Come , fill ihe bowl , here ' s lo his saul , Since that he is a missing aye .
The Rose.
THE ROSE .
SAY , lovely Rose , since half reveal'd , My view thy beauty meets , ¦¦ -: Has dread of morning ' s bleak wind seal'd The fragrance of thy sweets ? Yet dearest to ihe enamour'd sight , Thy purple form appears , As bleishing o ' er the moss ' s height
Thy cup its head uprears . Trust , whilst thy out ward leaves areshert'ii ; Our fancy paints the rest , Once seen , adieu ! ( thy all is known ) To fancy ' s flattering test . Such are the charms my fair-one deck . In person as in mind , Where half seen heavesher swelling neck , Half told her sense I find .