JOHN LEYDEN.
1775—1811.
Ode to an Indian Gold Coin.
Slave of the dark and dirty mine!
What vanity has brought thee here?
How can I love to see thee shine
So bright, whom I have bought so dear?
The tent-ropes flapping lone I hear
For twilight-converse, arm in arm;
The jackal's shriek bursts on mine ear
When mirth and music wont to charm.
By Cherical's dark wandering streams,
Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild.
Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams
Of Teviot lov'd while still a child,
Of castled rocks stupendous pil'd
By Esk or Eden's classic wave.
Where loves of youth and friendships smil'd,
Uncurs'd by thee, vile yellow slave!
Fade, day-dreams sweet, from memory fade!
The perish'd bliss of youth's first prime.
That once so bright on fancy play'd.
Revives no more in after-time,
Far from my sacred natal clime,
I haste to an untimely grave;
The daring thoughts that soar'd sublime
Are sunk in ocean's southern wave.
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