Whoe'er thou art, approach, and, with a sigh, Mark where the small remains of Greatness lie.[2] There sleeps the dust of Him for ever gone; How near the Scene where once his Glory shone!...
Yes, 'tis the pulse of life! my fears were vain! I wake, I breathe, and am myself again. Still in this nether world; no seraph yet! Nor walks my spirit, when the sun is set,...
While thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs, And my step falters on the faithless floor, Shades of departed joys around me rise, With many a face that smiles on me no more;...
There, in that bed so closely curtain'd round, Worn to a shade, and wan with slow decay, A father sleeps! Oh hush'd be every sound! Soft may we breathe the midnight hours away! ...
Blue was the loch, [1] the clouds were gone, Ben-Lomond in his glory shone, When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze Bore me from thy silver sands, Thy kirk-yard wall among the trees,...