PER CONTRA. Go, Fame, and canter like a filly To cease his grievin', For yet, unskaith'd by death's gleg gullie, ELEGY ON CAPTAIN MATTHEW HENDERSON A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS HONOR IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD. But now his radiant course is run, For Matthew's course was bright; His soul was like the glorious sun, O DEATH! thou tyrant fell and bloody! Haurl thee hame to his black smiddie, O'er hurcheon hides, And like stock-fisa come o'er his studdie Kilmarnock He's gane, he's gane! he's frae us torn, Where, haply, Pity strays forlorn, Ye hills, near neebors o' the starns, That proudly cock your cresting cairns! Ye cliffs, the haunts of sailing yearns, Where Echo slumbers! Come, join, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns, My wailing numbers! Mourn ilka grove the cushat kens! Or foaming strang, wi' hasty stens, Mourn, little harebells o'er the lee; Ye roses on your thorny tree, At dawn, when ev'ry glassy blade Ye maukins whiddin thro' the glade, Come, join my wail. Mourn, ye wee songsters o' the wood, And mourn, ye whirring paitrick br Mourn, sooty coots, and speckled s, Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels, Mourn, clam'ring craiks, at close o' d Tell thae far warlds, wha lies in cla Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'r, Wail thro' the dreary midnight her, O rivers, forests, hills, and plains! And frae my een the drapping rains Mourn Spring, thou darling of the year, Thy gay, green, flow'ry tresses shear, Thou, Autumn, wi' thy yellow hair, Wide o'er the naked world declare The worth we've lost. Mourn him, thou Sun, great source of light For thro' your orbs he's taen his flight, O Henderson! the man! the brother! Like thee, where shall I find another, Go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye great, But by thy honest turf I'll wait, Thou man of worth! And weep the ae best fellow's fate E'er lay in earth. THE EPITAPH. STOP, passenger, my story's brief; I tell na common tale o' grief, If thou uncommon merit hast, Yet spurn'd at Fortune's door, man A look of pity hither cast, For Matthew was a poor man. If thou a nobler sodger art, That passest by this grave, man, There moulders here a gallant heart, For Matthew was a brave man. If thou on men, their works and ways, Canst throw uncommon light, man; Here lies wha weel had won thy praise, For Matthew was a bright man. If thou at friendship's sacred ca' If thou art staunch, without a stain, For Matthew was a true man. |