Not so the idle Muses' mad-cap train, Not such the workings of their moon-struck brain: By turns in soaring heav'n, or vaulted hell. LAMENT FOR JAMES, EARL OF GLENCAIRN.1 THE wind blew hollow frae the hills, By fits the sun's departing beam Look'd on the fading yellow woods That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream: Beneath a craigy steep, a Bard, Laden with years and meikle pain, In loud lament bewail'd his lord, Whom death had all untimely ta'en. He lean'd him to an ancient aik,2 Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years; His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears; "Had the wing of my fancy been equal to the ardour of my heart, the enclosed had been much more worthy your perusal as it is, I beg leave to lay it at your ladyship's feet. As all the world knows my obligations to the late Earl of Glencairn, I would wish to show as openly that my heart glows, and shall ever glow, with the most grateful sense and remembrance of his lordship's goodness. The sables I did myself the honour to wear to his lordship's memory were not the 'mockery of woe.' Nor shall my gratitude perish with me:-If, among my children, I shall have a son that has a heart, he shall hand it down to his child as a family honour and a family debt, that my dearest existence I owe to the noble house of Glencairn! I was about to say, my lady, that if you think the poem may venture to see the light, I would, in some way or other give it to the world."-Lord Glencairn died January 30, 1791, and Burns sent the "Lament" to the Earl's sister, Lady Elizabeth Cunningham, with a letter, of which the above passage is an extract. 2 Oak. And as he touch'd his trembling harp, "Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing, "I am a bending aged tree, That long has stood the wind and rain; But now has come a cruel blast, And my last hold of earth is gane : Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring, Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom; But I maun lie before the storm, And ithers2 plant them in my room. “I've seen sae mony changefu' years, Lie a' that would my sorrows share. "And last (the sum of a' my griefs!) His country's pride, his country's stay: In weary being now I pine, For a the life of life is dead, And hope has left my aged ken, On forward wing for ever fled. "Awake thy last sad voice, my harp! The voice of woe and wild despair! Awake, resound thy latest lay, Then sleep in silence evermair! And thou, my last, best, only friend, Thou brought from fortune's mirkest1 gloom "In Poverty's low barren vale Thick mists, obscure, involv'd me round; "Oh! why has worth so short a date? "The bridegroom may forget the bride, That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me!" LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHİTEFORD, OF WHITE- THOU, who thy honour as thy God rever❜st, The tearful tribute of a broken heart. 1 Darkest. 2 An early friend of Burns', who gratefully acknowledged his interest in his fate as a man, and his fame as a poet. |