 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
139
TO RUIN
I
All hail, inexorable lord!At whose destruction-breathing word,
The mightiest empires fall!
Thy cruel, woe-delighted train,
The ministers of grief and pain,
A sullen welcome, all!
With stern-resolv'd, despairing eye,
I see each aimèd dart;
For one has cut my dearest tie,
And quivers in my heart.
Then low'ring and pouring,
The storm no more I dread;
Tho' thick'ning and black'ning
Round my devoted head.
II
And thou grim Pow'r, by Life abhorr'd,While Life a pleasure can afford,
O! hear a wretch's pray'r!
No more I shrink appall'd, afraid;
I court, I beg thy friendly aid,
To close this scene of care!
140
Resign Life's joyless day?
My weary heart its throbbings cease,
Cold-mould'ring in the clay?
No fear more, no tear more
To stain my lifeless face,
Enclaspèd and graspèd
Within thy cold embrace!
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |