Apart let me wander, apart let me muse, How quick time is flying, how keen fate pursues; How long I have lived, but how much lived in vain : How little of life's scanty span may remain : What aspects, old Time, in his progress has worn ; What ties, cruel fate in my bosom has torn. How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gained! And downward, how weakened, how darkened, how pained ! This life's not worth having with all it can give, For something beyond it poor man sure must live. Burns. MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN. Musing on the roaring ocean Which divides my love and me ; Hope and fears alternate billow Ye whom sorrow never wounded, Gentle night, do thou befriend me ; Spirits kind, again attend me, Burns. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray, My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget? Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace ; Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore, Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, Where is thy blissful place of rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hears't thou the groans that rend his breast! Burns. THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL TO HIS NATIVE COUNTRY. The gloomy night is gathering fast, The Autumn mourns her ripening corn She sees the scowling tempest fly: 'Tis not the surging billow's roar, But round my heart the ties are bound, Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! Burns. WINTER. The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or, the stormy north sends driving forth While, tumbling brown, the burn* comes down, And bird and beast in covert rest * Brook. |