| |
| O DEATH! thou tyrant fell and bloody! | |
| The meikle devil wi’ a woodie | |
| Haurl thee hame to his black smiddie, | |
| O’er hurcheon hides, | |
| And like stock-fish come o’er his studdie | 5 |
| Wi’ thy auld sides! | |
| |
| He’s gane, he’s gane! he’s frae us torn, | |
| The ae best fellow e’er was born! | |
| Thee, Matthew, Nature’s sel’ shall mourn, | |
| By wood and wild, | 10 |
| Where haply, Pity strays forlorn, | |
| Frae man exil’d. | |
| |
| Ye hills, near neighbours o’ the starns, | |
| That proudly cock your cresting cairns! | |
| Ye cliffs, the haunts of sailing earns, | 15 |
| Where Echo slumbers! | |
| Come join, ye Nature’s sturdiest bairns, | |
| My wailing numbers! | |
| |
| Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens! | |
| Ye haz’ly shaws and briery dens! | 20 |
| Ye burnies, wimplin’ down your glens, | |
| Wi’ toddlin din, | |
| Or foaming, strang, wi’ hasty stens, | |
| Frae lin to lin. | |
| |
| Mourn, little harebells o’er the lea; | 25 |
| Ye stately foxgloves, fair to see; | |
| Ye woodbines hanging bonilie, | |
| In scented bow’rs; | |
| Ye roses on your thorny tree, | |
| The first o’ flow’rs. | 30 |
| |
| At dawn, when ev’ry grassy blade | |
| Droops with a diamond at his head, | |
| At ev’n, when beans their fragrance shed, | |
| I’ th’ rustling gale, | |
| Ye maukins, whiddin thro’ the glade, | 35 |
| Come join my wail. | |
| |
| Mourn, ye wee songsters o’ the wood; | |
| Ye grouse that crap the heather bud; | |
| Ye curlews, calling thro’ a clud; | |
| Ye whistling plover; | 40 |
| And mourn, we whirring paitrick brood; | |
| He’s gane for ever! | |
| |
| Mourn, sooty coots, and speckled teals; | |
| Ye fisher herons, watching eels; | |
| Ye duck and drake, wi’ airy wheels | 45 |
| Circling the lake; | |
| Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels, | |
| Rair for his sake. | |
| |
| Mourn, clam’ring craiks at close o’ day, | |
| ’Mang fields o’ flow’ring clover gay; | 50 |
| And when ye wing your annual way | |
| Frae our claud shore, | |
| Tell thae far warlds wha lies in clay, | |
| Wham we deplore. | |
| |
| Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow’r | 55 |
| In some auld tree, or eldritch tow’r, | |
| What time the moon, wi’ silent glow’r, | |
| Sets up her horn, | |
| Wail thro’ the dreary midnight hour, | |
| Till waukrife morn! | 60 |
| |
| O rivers, forests, hills, and plains! | |
| Oft have ye heard my canty strains; | |
| But now, what else for me remains | |
| But tales of woe; | |
| And frae my een the drapping rains | 65 |
| Maun ever flow. | |
| |
| Mourn, Spring, thou darling of the year! | |
| Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear: | |
| Thou, Simmer, while each corny spear | |
| Shoots up its head, | 70 |
| Thy gay, green, flow’ry tresses shear, | |
| For him that’s dead! | |
| |
| Thou, Autumn, wi’ thy yellow hair, | |
| In grief thy sallow mantle tear! | |
| Thou, Winter, hurling thro’ the air | 75 |
| The roaring blast, | |
| Wide o’er the naked world declare | |
| The worth we’ve lost! | |
| |
| Mourn him, thou Sun, great source of light! | |
| Mourn, Empress of the silent night! | 80 |
| And you, ye twinkling starnies bright, | |
| My Matthew mourn! | |
| For through your orbs he’s ta’en his flight, | |
| Ne’er to return. | |
| |
| O Henderson! the man! the brother! | 85 |
| And art thou gone, and gone for ever! | |
| And hast thou crost that unknown river, | |
| Life’s dreary bound! | |
| Like thee, where shall I find another, | |
| The world around! | 90 |
| |
| Go to your sculptur’d tombs, ye Great, | |
| In a’ the tinsel trash o’ state! | |
| But by thy honest turf I’ll wait, | |
| Thou man of worth! | |
| And weep the ae best fellow’s fate | 95 |
| E’er lay in earth. | |
| |
