This page has been validated.
97
Oh! Burns, to every feeling breast,
To every gentle mind sincere,
By love and tender pity blest,
Thy song is dear.
Sweet bard! 'twas thine to soar on high,
With inspiration and the muse;
To claim from beauty's radiant eye
Compassion's dews;
To raise the smile of social glee,
The patriot's manly heart to fire;
Or wake the tear of sympathy,
With plaintive lyre.
Sweet bard! for thee the muses mourn,
In melting lays they sing thy name;
And twine, to deck thy sacred urn,
The wreath of fame.
THE VERNAL SHOWER.
Now the lucid tears of May
Gem the blossoms of the spray;
Every leaf and bending flower
Glitters in the vernal shower.
O
