The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
Thus Bizzon spoke, when from her font
The Leech uprear'd her dark-brown front,
And thus reply'd in solemn mood:
‘Know, vainest of thy useless brood!
Thou hast my scorn; I too might rail,
But listen to my humble tale:
‘Ne'er make, by outward signs, thy guess,
Nor think, tho' poor, my peace is less;
Compos'd I live, and from my bow'r
Survey the bustling world, secure;
Or when some stubborn, rank disease
Calls for my aid, to give men ease,
I glad obey, and suck the ill,
In my own breast, to save them still;
Who call me blest, while kindly filling,
From the clear brook my freshen'd dwelling;
And in my lonely mansion here,
Nor fatal bird, nor snare I fear,
That constant lurk to fix thy doom,
Ev'n while thou rambles thro' this room;
As thou may feel yet ere thou leave it,
And when 'twill be too late, believe it.’
The Leech uprear'd her dark-brown front,
And thus reply'd in solemn mood:
‘Know, vainest of thy useless brood!
238
But listen to my humble tale:
‘Ne'er make, by outward signs, thy guess,
Nor think, tho' poor, my peace is less;
Compos'd I live, and from my bow'r
Survey the bustling world, secure;
Or when some stubborn, rank disease
Calls for my aid, to give men ease,
I glad obey, and suck the ill,
In my own breast, to save them still;
Who call me blest, while kindly filling,
From the clear brook my freshen'd dwelling;
And in my lonely mansion here,
Nor fatal bird, nor snare I fear,
That constant lurk to fix thy doom,
Ev'n while thou rambles thro' this room;
As thou may feel yet ere thou leave it,
And when 'twill be too late, believe it.’
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |