The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour collated with the ms. volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author. By James Paterson |
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HORACE, BOOK I., ODE VII., IMITATED. |
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 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
HORACE, BOOK I., ODE VII., IMITATED.
TO THE EARL OF STAIR.
Let others, in exalted lays,
The lofty dome of Hopetoun praise;
Or where of old, in lonely cell,
The musing Druid wont to dwell:
Or with the sacred sisters roam
Near holy Melrose' ruin'd dome.
There are who paint with all their might
The fields where Fortha's streams delight;
That winding through Stirlina's plain,
Beauteous seeks the distant main:
Or faithful to the farmer's toil,
Extol fair Lothian's fertile soil;
Where Ceres her best gift bestows,
And Edin town her structures shows.
Nor me delight those sylvan scenes,
Those chequer'd bow'rs and winding greens;
Where art and nature join to yield
Unnumber'd sweets to Marlefield:
Nor yet that soft and secret shade
Where fair Aboyn asleep is laid;
Where gay in sprightly dance no more
She dreams her former triumphs o'er.
These scenes can best entice my soul,
Where smooth Blancatria's waters roll;
Where beauteous Hume, in smiling hour,
Plucks the green herb or rising flow'r;
Pleas'd on the borders to behold
The apple redden into gold.
The lofty dome of Hopetoun praise;
Or where of old, in lonely cell,
The musing Druid wont to dwell:
Or with the sacred sisters roam
Near holy Melrose' ruin'd dome.
118
The fields where Fortha's streams delight;
That winding through Stirlina's plain,
Beauteous seeks the distant main:
Or faithful to the farmer's toil,
Extol fair Lothian's fertile soil;
Where Ceres her best gift bestows,
And Edin town her structures shows.
Nor me delight those sylvan scenes,
Those chequer'd bow'rs and winding greens;
Where art and nature join to yield
Unnumber'd sweets to Marlefield:
Nor yet that soft and secret shade
Where fair Aboyn asleep is laid;
Where gay in sprightly dance no more
She dreams her former triumphs o'er.
These scenes can best entice my soul,
Where smooth Blancatria's waters roll;
Where beauteous Hume, in smiling hour,
Plucks the green herb or rising flow'r;
Pleas'd on the borders to behold
The apple redden into gold.
But whate'er place thy presence boast,
Let not, O Stair! one hour be lost:
When the rough north and angry storm
Nature's lovely looks deform;
The south restores the wonted grace,
And wipes the clouds from heaven's face.
So thou, to finish all thy care,
The flask of brisk champagne prepare;
Invite thy friends, with wise design,
And wash the ills of life with wine:
Whether beneath the open sky,
Stretch'd in the tented couch to lie,
Thy fate ordains; to shine again
Great on some future Blenheim's plain;
Higher to raise thy deathless name
Triumphant to sublimer fame:
Or, if secure from feverish heat,
Newliston cover thy retreat;
Where wit conspires with love's delights,
To grace thy days and bless thy nights.
When Fergus led, in days of yore,
His exil'd bands to Scotia's shore;
The godlike founder of our state,
Sustain'd the shocks of adverse fate:
Yet brave, disdaining to repine,
Around his brows he bound the vine:
Let's follow still, without delay,
Wherever fortune shows the way;
Courage, my lads, let none despair,
When Fergus leads, 'tis base to fear:
With better auspice shall arise
Our empire in the northern skies;
Beauty and valour shall adorn
Our happy offspring yet unborn;
Now fill the glass, come fill again,
To-morrow we shall cross the main.
Let not, O Stair! one hour be lost:
When the rough north and angry storm
Nature's lovely looks deform;
The south restores the wonted grace,
And wipes the clouds from heaven's face.
So thou, to finish all thy care,
The flask of brisk champagne prepare;
Invite thy friends, with wise design,
And wash the ills of life with wine:
Whether beneath the open sky,
Stretch'd in the tented couch to lie,
Thy fate ordains; to shine again
Great on some future Blenheim's plain;
Higher to raise thy deathless name
Triumphant to sublimer fame:
Or, if secure from feverish heat,
Newliston cover thy retreat;
Where wit conspires with love's delights,
To grace thy days and bless thy nights.
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His exil'd bands to Scotia's shore;
The godlike founder of our state,
Sustain'd the shocks of adverse fate:
Yet brave, disdaining to repine,
Around his brows he bound the vine:
Let's follow still, without delay,
Wherever fortune shows the way;
Courage, my lads, let none despair,
When Fergus leads, 'tis base to fear:
With better auspice shall arise
Our empire in the northern skies;
Beauty and valour shall adorn
Our happy offspring yet unborn;
Now fill the glass, come fill again,
To-morrow we shall cross the main.
The well-known Earl of Stair; but it is passing strange, from his family politics, that Hamilton should have sung his praises.
Grace, daughter of George Lockhart of Carnwath (author of the “Memoirs,”) by Lady Euphemia Montgomerie, daughter of Alexander, sixth Earl of Eglintoun. She married, 1st, John, third Earl of Aboyne; 2dly, James Lord Down, afterwards Earl of Moray; and died from fright, owing to the predictions of a fortune-teller.
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |