Imagination's world of air, And our own world, its gloom and glee, Wit, pathos, poetry, are there, And death's sublimity. And Burns-though brief the race he ran, Though rough and dark the path he trodLived, died, in form and soul a man, The image of his God. Through care, and pain, and want, and woe, He kept his honesty and truth, His independent tongue and pen, And moved, in manhood as in youth, Pride of his fellow-men. Strong sense, deep feeling, passions strong, A kind, true heart, a spirit high, That could not fear and would not bow, 88 92 96 100 104 Were written in his manly eye And on his manly brow. Praise to the bard! his words are driven, 108 Where'er beneath the sky of heaven, The birds of fame have flown. Praise to the man! a nation stood 112 116 And still, as on his funeral-day, Is lit by Fortune's dimmer star, 136 Pilgrims, whose wandering feet have pressed All ask the cottage of his birth, 140 Gaze on the scenes he loved and sung, And gather feelings not of earth His fields and streams among. They linger by the Doon's low trees, But what to them the Sculptor's art, His funeral columns, wreaths, and urns? Wear they not graven on the heart 1822. 144 148 152 Fitz-Greene Halleck. THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES Where are they gone, the old familiar faces? I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 3 I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I loved a Love once, fairest among women: Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her,All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man; 6 9 12 Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood; Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces. 15 Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling? So might we talk of the old familiar faces. For some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me; all are departed; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 1798. Charles Lamb. 18 21 HESTER WHEN maidens such as Hester die, A month or more hath she been dead, To think upon the wormy bed, A springy motion in her gait, Of pride and joy no common rate, I know not by what name beside 8 12 I shall it call: if 't was not pride, 16 It was a joy to that allied, She did inherit. Her parents held the Quaker rule, Nature had blest her. 20 |