348 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
ROBERT BURNS.
A VISION OF HIS MAUSOLEUM AT DUMFRIES.
What marble dome salutes mine eyes, Tipped with the pallid glow of eve ? They tell me here a poet lies,
Whose fate untimely bids me grieve. Yet let me first thy history know,
Or ere I deign to mourn for thee ; Speak, shade of him that lies below ! For many kinds of bards there be ; Some, bravely free, have trod the earth like kings. While some have cringed and crawled like grovelling things.
Didst thou with mercenary rhymes
Pander to power or to thine age ? Or, silent at the oppressor's crimes.
Wast thou puffed up by patronage . Did wrong win thine applause, forsooth ?
Did merit rouse thy pride or spleen ? Wouldst thou have gagged the mouth of truth
With caustic wit or satire keen ? Then I'll not waste my time to read thy name ; Oblivion were for thee more fit than fame.
��The more melodious were thy song.
The less to hear should I have heart ; To the grand sum of human wrong
Thou hast contributed thy part. To wear the bays thou wast unfit ;
Thy brows had soiled the wreath divine ; At no pure shrine thy torch was lit ;
Sleep on ! Thou hast no tears of mine.
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