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TO THE SHADE OF
UNFORTUNATE BARD OF RENFREWSHIRE.
COMPOSED IN THE WOOD OF SKERMALIE.
Friend to the wretch whom every friend forsakes,
The grey stone on the dead man's breast,
Dear in rememb’rance is to me;
And muse on life's uncertainty.
'Twas there by thee a vow was made,
To which I witness was alone,
If first beneath the green turf laid,
Death's secrets thou would'st soon make
Tall waves the wild flower o'er thee now;
"Tis midnight, Robin, come awayCome, and fulfil thy sacred vow,
Whilst in this lonely wild I stray.
If from each congregated grief
Death can the wretched mortal free, Why should he turn from such relief,
And fear so much to follow thee?
ALBUM AT HAILY, NEAR LARGS.
A. HAMILTON, ESQ.
When.in the sun's departing ray
I often lean, to list the oar
Was sweetest music in his ear.
But when the sea, in sad turmoil, Breaks o'er the rocks of Cumbry's Isle, Oft has it pain'd my feeling core, To see poor Morris * far from shore, In leaky coble, thin and light, Vaulting the rolling mountain's height; Then pitching headlong down the steep, Till hid behind the wat'ry heap, It seem'd as water demons there Waged war with spirits of the air. When dark the sky, and thunder-peal Loud roar’d o’er Larga's battle vale,
* The ferryman between Largs and the Isle of Cumbray.