179. To Miss Ferrier, enclosing Elegy on Sir J. H. Blair

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1. 177. Elegy on the Death of Sir James Hunter Blair THE LAMP of day, with-ill presaging glare, Dim, cloudy, sank beneath the western wave; Th’ inconstant blast howl’d thro’ the dark’ning air, And hollow whistled in the rocky cave. Lone as I wander’d by each cliff and dell, Once the lov’d haunts of Scotia’s royal train; 1 Or mus’d where limpid streams, once hallow’d well, […]...
2. 66. Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux NOW Robin 1 lies in his last lair, He’ll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair; Cauld poverty, wi’ hungry stare, Nae mair shall fear him; Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care, E’er mair come near him. To tell the truth, they seldom fash’d him, Except the moment that they crush’d him; For sune as chance […]...
3. 312. Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of Monboddo LIFE ne’er exulted in so rich a prize, As Burnet, lovely from her native skies; Nor envious death so triumph’d in a blow, As that which laid th’ accomplish’d Burnet low. Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget? In richest ore the brightest jewel set! In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown, […]...
4. Miss Lloyd has now went to Miss Green Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green, As, on opening the box, may be seen, Some years of a Black Ploughman’s Gauze, To be made up directly, because Miss Lloyd must in mourning appear For the death of a Relative dear Miss Lloyd must expect to receive This license to mourn and to grieve, […]...
5. 49. Epigram on the said Occasion O DEATH, had’st thou but spar’d his life, Whom we this day lament, We freely wad exchanged the wife, And a’ been weel content. Ev’n as he is, cauld in his graff, The swap we yet will do’t; Tak thou the carlin’s carcase aff, Thou’se get the saul o’boot....
6. 141. Tam Samson's Elegy HAS auld Kilmarnock seen the deil? Or great Mackinlay 1 thrawn his heel? Or Robertson 2 again grown weel, To preach an’ read? “Na’ waur than a’! cries ilka chiel, “Tam Samson’s dead!” Kilmarnock lang may grunt an’ grane, An’ sigh, an’ sab, an’ greet her lane, An’ cleed her bairns, man, wife, an’ wean, […]...
7. 28. Poor Mailie's Elegy LAMENT in rhyme, lament in prose, Wi’ saut tears trickling down your nose; Our bardie’s fate is at a close, Past a’ remead! The last, sad cape-stane o’ his woes; Poor Mailie’s dead! It’s no the loss o’ warl’s gear, That could sae bitter draw the tear, Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear The mourning […]...
8. 472. To the beautiful Miss Eliza J n, on her principles of Liberty and Eqality HOW, Liberty! girl, can it be by thee nam’d? Equality too! hussey, art not asham’d? Free and Equal indeed, while mankind thou enchainest, And over their hearts a proud Despot so reignest....
9. 467. Inscription to Miss Graham of Fintry HERE, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives, In sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined, Accept the gift; though humble he who gives, Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. So may no ruffian-feeling in my breast, Discordant, jar thy bosom-chords among; But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest, Or Love, ecstatic, wake his […]...
10. 386. The Rights of Women-Spoken by Miss Fontenelle WHILE Europe’s eye is fix’d on mighty things, The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings; While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention, The Rights of Woman merit some attention. First, in the Sexes’ intermix’d connection, […]...
11. We miss Her, not because We see We miss Her, not because We see The Absence of an Eye Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society As slightly as the Routes of Stars Ourselves asleep below We know that their superior Eyes Include Us as they go...
12. Elegy X: The Dream Image of her whom I love, more than she, Whose fair impression in my faithful heart Makes me her medal, and makes her love me, As Kings do coins, to which their stamps impart The value: go, and take my heart from hence, Which now is grown too great and good for me: Honours oppress […]...
13. 507. Song-Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay CAULD is the e’enin blast, O’ Boreas o’er the pool, An’ dawin’ it is dreary, When birks are bare at Yule. Cauld blaws the e’enin blast, When bitter bites the frost, And, in the mirk and dreary drift, The hills and glens are lost: Ne’er sae murky blew the night That drifted o’er the hill, […]...
14. To Miss Cornish THEY tell me, lady, that to-day On that unknown Australian strand – Some time ago, so far away – Another lady joined the band. She joined the company of those Lovelily dowered, nobly planned, Who, smiling, still forgive their foes And keep their friends in close command. She, lady, as I learn, was one Among […]...
15. 178. Impromptu on Carron Iron Works WE cam na here to view your warks, In hopes to be mair wise, But only, lest we gang to hell, It may be nae surprise: But when we tirl’d at your door Your porter dought na hear us; Sae may, shou’d we to Hell’s yetts come, Your billy Satan sair us!...
16. Elegy VI Oh, let me not serve so, as those men serve Whom honour’s smokes at once fatten and starve; Poorly enrich’t with great men’s words or looks; Nor so write my name in thy loving books As those idolatrous flatterers, which still Their Prince’s styles, with many realms fulfil Whence they no tribute have, and where […]...
17. An Elegy upon the Death of the Dean of St. Paul's, Dr. John Can we not force from widow’d poetry, Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegy To crown thy hearse? Why yet dare we not trust, Though with unkneaded dough-bak’d prose, thy dust, Such as th’ unscissor’d churchman from the flower Of fading rhetoric, short-liv’d as his hour, Dry as the sand that measures it, should […]...
18. 243. Elegy on the Year 1788 FOR lords or kings I dinna mourn, E’en let them die-for that they’re born: But oh! prodigious to reflec’! A Towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck! O Eighty-eight, in thy sma’ space, What dire events hae taken place! Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us! In what a pickle thou has left us! The Spanish […]...
19. Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow’r, Whose spicy blossoms once perfum’d the gale; So press’d with tears reclines yon lily pale, Obedient to the rude and beating show’r. Still is the LARK, that hov’ring o’er yon spray, With jocund carol usher’d in the morn; And mute the NIGHTINGALE, whose tender lay Melted the […]...
20. 255. Verses to Miss Cruickshank BEAUTEOUS Rosebud, young and gay, Blooming in thy early May, Never may’st thou, lovely flower, Chilly shrink in sleety shower! Never Boreas’ hoary path, Never Eurus’ pois’nous breath, Never baleful stellar lights, Taint thee with untimely blights! Never, never reptile thief Riot on thy virgin leaf! Nor even Sol too fiercely view Thy bosom blushing […]...
21. 387. Epigram on Miss Fontenelle SWEET naïveté of feature, Simple, wild, enchanting elf, Not to thee, but thanks to Nature, Thou art acting but thyself. Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected, Spurning Nature, torturing art; Loves and Graces all rejected, Then indeed thou’d’st act a part....
22. Where Is David, the Next King of Israel? Where is David? . . . O God’s people, Saul has passed, the good and great. Mourn for Saul the first-anointed – Head and shoulders o’er the state. He was found among the Prophets: Judge and monarch, merged in one. But the wars of Saul are ended And the works of Saul are done. Where […]...
23. 440. Address spoken by Miss Fontenelle STILL anxious to secure your partial favour, And not less anxious, sure, this night, than ever, A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, ‘Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better; So sought a poet, roosted near the skies, Told him I came to feast my curious eyes; Said, nothing like his works was […]...
24. 148. To Miss Logan, with Beattie's Poems AGAIN the silent wheels of time Their annual round have driven, And you, tho’ scarce in maiden prime, Are so much nearer Heaven. No gifts have I from Indian coasts The infant year to hail; I send you more than India boasts, In Edwin’s simple tale. Our sex with guile, and faithless love, Is charg’d, […]...
25. Elegy For Jane Kenyon Jane is big With death, Don Sad and kind – Jane Though she’s dying Is full of mind We talk about the table The little walnut one How it’s like Emily Dickinson’s But Don says No Dickinson’s Was made of iron. No Said Jane Of flesh....
26. An Elegy On The Glory Of Her Sex, Mrs Mary Blaize Good people all, with one accord Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word,- From those who spoke her praise. The needy seldom passed her door, And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor,- Who left a pledge behind. She strove the neighbourhood to please With manners wondrous winning; […]...
27. Belphegor Addressed To Miss De Chammelay YOUR name with ev’ry pleasure here I place, The last effusions of my muse to grace. O charming Phillis! may the same extend Through time’s dark night: our praise together blend; To this we surely may pretend to aim Your acting and my rhymes attention claim. Long, long in mem’ry’s page your fame shall live; […]...
28. On Rabbi Kook's Street On Rabbi Kook’s Street I walk without this good man A streiml he wore for prayer A silk top hat he wore to govern, Fly in the wind of the dead Above me, float on the water Of my dreams. I come to the Street of Prophets there are none. And the Street of Ethiopians […]...
29. A Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme Rhyme, the rack of finest wits, That expresseth but by fits True conceit, Spoiling senses of their treasure, Cozening judgment with a measure, But false weight; Wresting words from their true calling, Propping verse for fear of falling To the ground; Jointing syllabes, drowning letters, Fast’ning vowels as with fetters They were bound! Soon as […]...
30. Prelude They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away, Since basely bred, Proud Poetry, I dare to say, Would scarce be read. With humble heart I thus define My rôle in rhyme: Oh may I never […]...
31. Elegy V: His Picture Here take my picture; though I bid farewell, Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell. ‘Tis like me now, but I dead, ’twill be more When we are shadows both than ’twas before. When weather-beaten I come back, my hand Perhaps with rude oars torn, or sunbeams tanned, My face and breast […]...
32. Duino Elegies: The First Elegy Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels’ Hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly Pressed me against his heart, I would perish In the embrace of his stronger existence. For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror Which we are barely able to endure and are awed Because it […]...
33. Elegy I: Jealousy Fond woman, which wouldst have thy husband die, And yet complain’st of his great jealousy; If swol’n with poison, he lay in his last bed, His body with a sere-bark covered, Drawing his breath, as thick and short, as can The nimblest crocheting musician, Ready with loathsome vomiting to spew His soul out of one […]...
34. Elegy XVI: On His Mistress By our first strange and fatal interview, By all desires which thereof did ensue, By our long starving hopes, by that remorse Which my words’ masculine persuasive force Begot in thee, and by the memory Of hurts, which spies and rivals threatened me, I calmly beg: but by thy father’s wrath, By all pains, which […]...
35. Elegy III: Change Although thy hand and faith, and good works too, Have sealed thy love which nothing should undo, Yea though thou fall back, that apostasy Confirm thy love; yet much, much I fear thee. Women are like the Arts, forced unto to none, Open to all searchers, unprized if unknown. If I have caught a bird, […]...
36. Elegy to the Memory of Richard Boyle, Esq NEAR yon bleak mountain’s dizzy height, That hangs o’er AVON’s silent wave; By the pale Crescent’s glimm’ring light, I sought LORENZO’s lonely grave. O’er the long grass the silv’ry dew, Soft Twilight’s tears spontaneous shone; And the dank bough of baneful yew Supply’d the place of sculptured stone. Oft, as my trembling steps drew near, […]...
37. Elegy Let them bury your big eyes In the secret earth securely, Your thin fingers, and your fair, Soft, indefinite-colored hair,- All of these in some way, surely, From the secret earth shall rise; Not for these I sit and stare, Broken and bereft completely; Your young flesh that sat so neatly On your little bones […]...
38. My Cross I wrote a poem to the moon But no one noticed it; Although I hoped that late or soon Someone would praise a bit Its purity and grace forlone, Its beauty tulip-cool… But as my poem died still-born, I felt a fool. I wrote a verse of vulgar trend Spiced with an oath or two; […]...
39. 173. Elegy on Stella STRAIT is the spot and green the sod From whence my sorrows flow; And soundly sleeps the ever dear Inhabitant below. Pardon my transport, gentle shade, While o’er the turf I bow; Thy earthy house is circumscrib’d, And solitary now. Not one poor stone to tell thy name, Or make thy virtues known: But what […]...
40. Besides the Autumn poets sing Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze A few incisive Mornings A few Ascetic Eves Gone Mr. Bryant’s “Golden Rod” And Mr. Thomson’s “sheaves.” Still, is the bustle in the Brook Sealed are the spicy valves Mesmeric fingers softly touch […]...