255. Verses to Miss Cruickshank

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1. 189. Verses on Castle Gordon STREAMS that glide in orient plains, Never bound by Winter’s chains; Glowing here on golden sands, There immix’d with foulest stains From Tyranny’s empurpled hands; These, their richly gleaming waves, I leave to tyrants and their slaves; Give me the stream that sweetly laves The banks by Castle Gordon. Spicy forests, ever gray, Shading from […]...
2. 183. Verses Written with a Pencil at the Inn at Kenmore ADMIRING Nature in her wildest grace, These northern scenes with weary feet I trace; O’er many a winding dale and painful steep, Th’ abodes of covey’d grouse and timid sheep, My savage journey, curious, I pursue, Till fam’d Breadalbane opens to my view.- The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides, The woods wild scatter’d, clothe […]...
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. 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....
5. 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, […]...
6. Upon the saying that my VERSES were made by another NExt Heaven my Vows to thee (O Sacred Muse! ) I offer’d up, nor didst thou them refuse. O Queen of Verse, said I, if thou’lt inspire, And warm my Soul with thy Poetique Fire, No Love of Gold shall share with thee my Heart, Or yet Ambition in my Brest have Part, More Rich, […]...
7. TO HIS MUSE Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roam? Far safer ’twere to stay at home; Where thou mayst sit, and piping, please The poor and private cottages. Since cotes and hamlets best agree With this thy meaner minstrelsy. There with the reed thou mayst express The shepherd’s fleecy happiness; And with thy Eclogues intermix: Some smooth and […]...
8. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
9. WHEN HE WOULD HAVE HIS VERSES READ In sober mornings, do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse; But when that men have both well drunk, and fed, Let my enchantments then be sung or read. When laurel spirts i’ th’ fire, and when the hearth Smiles to itself, and gilds the roof with mirth; When up the Thyrse is […]...
10. Verses On A Butterfly Fair Child of Sun and Summer! we behold With eager eyes thy wings bedropp’d with gold; The purple spots that o’er thy mantle spread, The sapphire’s lively blue, the ruby’s red, Ten thousand various blended tints surprise, Beyond the rainbow’s hues or peacock’s eyes: Not Judah’s king in eastern pomp array’d, Whose charms allur’d from […]...
11. 196. Epitaph for Mr. W. Cruickshank HONEST 1 Will to Heaven’s away And mony shall lament him; His fau’ts they a’ in Latin lay, In English nane e’er kent them. Note 1. Of the Edinburgh High School. [back]...
12. VERSES Occasioned by a Young Lady’s asking the Author, What was a Cure for Love? From me, my Dear, O seek not to receive What e’en deep-read Experience cannot give. We may, indeed, from the Physician’s skill Some Med’cine find to cure the body’s ill. But who e’er found the physic for the soul, Or made th’ affections bend to his controul? When thro’ the blaze of passion objects show […]...
13. 18. The First Six Verses of the Ninetieth Psalm versified O THOU, the first, the greatest friend Of all the human race! Whose strong right hand has ever been Their stay and dwelling place! Before the mountains heav’d their heads Beneath Thy forming hand, Before this ponderous globe itself Arose at Thy command; That Pow’r which rais’d and still upholds This universal frame, From countless, […]...
14. 227. Verses on Friars' Carse Hermitage (First Version) THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these maxims on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night, in darkness lost: Hope not sunshine every hour, Fear not clouds will always lour. Happiness is but a name, Make content […]...
15. Here Follows Some Verses upon the Burning of Our House In silent night when rest I took For sorrow near I did not look I waked was with thund’ring noise And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice. That fearful sound of “Fire!” and “Fire!” Let no man know is my desire. I, starting up, the light did spy, And to my God my heart did cry […]...
16. Verses upon the Burning of our House, July 18th In silent night when rest I took, For sorrow near I did not look, I waken’d was with thund’ring noise And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice. That fearful sound of ‘fire’ and ‘fire,’ Let no man know is my Desire. I starting up, the light did spy, And to my God my heart did cry […]...
17. On Death TEll me thou safest End of all our Woe, Why wreched Mortals do avoid thee so: Thou gentle drier o’th’ afflicteds Tears, Thou noble ender of the Cowards Fears; Thou sweet Repose to Lovers sad dispaire, Thou Calm t’Ambitions rough Tempestuous Care. If in regard of Bliss thou wert a Curse, And then the Joys […]...
18. Church Monuments While that my soul repairs to her devotion, Here I intomb my flesh, that it betimes May take acquaintance of this heap of dust; To which the blast of death’s incessant motion, Fed with the exhalation of our crimes, Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust My body to this school, that it may […]...
19. The Faded Bouquet FAIR was this blushing ROSE of May, And fresh it hail’d morn’s breezy hour, When ev’ry spangled leaf look’d gay, Besprinkled with the twilight show’r; When to its mossy buds so sweet, The BUTTERFLY enamour’d flew, And hov’ring o’er the fragrant treat, Oft bath’d its silken wings in dew. SWEET was this PRIMROSE of the […]...
20. I rose because He sank I rose because He sank I thought it would be opposite But when his power dropped My Soul grew straight. I cheered my fainting Prince I sang firm even Chants I helped his Film with Hymn And when the Dews drew off That held his Forehead stiff I met him Balm to Balm I told […]...
21. Verses on Sir Joshua Reynold’s Painted Window at New College, Oxford Ah, stay thy treacherous hand, forbear to trace Those faultless forms of elegance and grace! Ah, cease to spread the bright transparent mass, With Titian’s pencil, o’er the speaking glass! Nor steal, by strokes of art with truth combin’d, The fond illusions of my wayward mind! For long, enamour’d of a barbarous age, A faithless […]...
22. In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11. Calm is the morn without a sound Calm is the morn without a sound, Calm as to suit a calmer grief, And only thro’ the faded leaf The chestnut pattering to the ground: Calm and deep peace on this high wold, And on these dews that drench the furze. And all the silvery gossamers That twinkle into green and gold: Calm and […]...
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. 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....
25. 311. On the Birth of a Posthumous Child SWEET flow’ret, pledge o’ meikle love, And ward o’ mony a prayer, What heart o’ stane wad thou na move, Sae helpless, sweet, and fair? November hirples o’er the lea, Chill, on thy lovely form: And gane, alas! the shelt’ring tree, Should shield thee frae the storm. May He who gives the rain to pour, […]...
26. THE EAGLE AND DOVE IN search of prey once raised his pinions An eaglet; A huntsman’s arrow came, and reft His right wing of all motive power. Headlong he fell into a myrtle grove, For three long days on anguish fed, In torment writhed Throughout three long, three weary nights; And then was cured, Thanks to all-healing Nature’s Soft, […]...
27. Verses from the Shepherds' Hymn WE saw Thee in Thy balmy nest, Young dawn of our eternal day; We saw Thine eyes break from the East, And chase the trembling shades away: We saw Thee, and we blest the sight, We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light. Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do To entertain this starry […]...
28. TO My Lord Colrane, In Answer to his Complemental Verses sent me under the Name of CLEANOR LOng my dull Muse in heavy slumbers lay, Indulging Sloth, and to soft Ease gave way, Her Fill of Rest resolving to enjoy, Or fancying little worthy her employ. When Noble Cleanors obliging Strains Her, the neglected Lyre to tune, constrains. Confus’d at first, she rais’d her drowsie Head, Ponder’d a while, then pleas’d, forsook […]...
29. The Forerunners The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour, and behold my head. But must they have my brain? must they dispark Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred? Must dulnesse turn me to a clod? Yet have they left me, Thou art still my God. Good men ye be, to leave […]...
30. 102. To a Mountain Daisy WEE, modest crimson-tippèd flow’r, Thou’s met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow’r, Thou bonie gem. Alas! it’s no thy neibor sweet, The bonie lark, companion meet, Bending thee ‘mang the dewy weet, Wi’ spreckl’d breast! When upward-springing, blythe, […]...
31. To A Mountain Daisy ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r, Thou’s met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow’r, Thou bonie gem. Alas! it’s no thy neebor sweet, The bonie lark, companion meet, Bending thee […]...
32. A Dedication. To Charlotte Cushman As Love will carve dear names upon a tree, Symbol of gravure on his heart to be, So thought I thine with loving text to set In the growth and substance of my canzonet; But, writing it, my tears begin to fall This wild-rose stem for thy large name’s too small! Nay, still my trembling […]...
33. To Charlotte Cushman Look where a three-point star shall weave his beam Into the slumb’rous tissue of some stream, Till his bright self o’er his bright copy seem Fulfillment dropping on a come-true dream; So in this night of art thy soul doth show Her excellent double in the steadfast flow Of wishing love that through men’s hearts […]...
34. 156. Verses inscribed under a Noble Earl's Picture WHOSE 1 is that noble, dauntless brow? And whose that eye of fire? And whose that generous princely mien, E’en rooted foes admire? Stranger! to justly show that brow, And mark that eye of fire, Would take His hand, whose vernal tints His other works admire. Bright as a cloudless summer sun, With stately port […]...
35. To try to speak, and miss the way To try to speak, and miss the way And ask it of the Tears, Is Gratitude’s sweet poverty, The Tatters that he wears A better Coat if he possessed Would help him to conceal, Not subjugate, the Mutineer Whose title is “the Soul.”...
36. 195. Song-A Rose-bud by my Early Walk A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, All on a dewy morning. Ere twice the shades o’ dawn are fled, In a’ its crimson glory spread, And drooping rich the dewy head, It scents the early morning. Within the bush her covert nest A little linnet […]...
37. We miss a Kinsman more We miss a Kinsman more When warranted to see Than when withheld of Oceans From possibility A Furlong than a League Inflicts a pricklier pain, Till We, who smiled at Pyrenees Of Parishes, complain....
38. Sonnet 77: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; These vacant leaves thy mind’s imprint will bear, And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste. The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show Of mouthèd graves will give thee memory, Thou by thy dial’s shady stealth mayst […]...
39. Sonnet LXXVII Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; The vacant leaves thy mind’s imprint will bear, And of this book this learning mayst thou taste. The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; Thou by thy dial’s shady stealth mayst […]...
40. Lines Written by the Side of a River FLOW soft RIVER, gently stray, Still a silent waving tide O’er thy glitt’ring carpet glide, While I chaunt my ROUNDELAY, As I gather from thy bank, Shelter’d by the poplar dank, King-cups, deck’d in golden pride, Harebells sweet, and daisies pied; While beneath the evening sky, Soft the western breezes fly. Gentle RIVER, should’st thou […]...