SKETCH FOR AN ELEGY
I
Craigdarroch, fam'd for speaking art
And every virtue of the heart,
Stops short, nor can a word impart
To end his sentence,
When mem'ry strikes him like a dart
With auld acquaintance.
II
Black James—whase wit was never laith,
But, like a sword had tint the sheath,
Ay ready for the work o' death—
He turns aside,
And strains wi' suffocating breath
His grief to hide.
III
Even Philosophic Smellie tries
To choak the stream that floods his eyes:
So Moses wi' a hazel-rice
Came o'er the stane;
But, tho' it cost him speaking twice,
It gush'd amain.
IV
Go to your marble graffs, ye great,
In a' the tinkler-trash of state!
But by thy honest turf I'll wait,
Thou man of worth,
And weep the ae best fallow's fate
E'er lay in earth!
