ON SOME COMMEMORATIONS OF THOMSON
I
Dost thou not rise, indignant Shade,
And smile wi' spurning scorn,
When they wha wad hae starved thy life
Thy senseless turf adorn?
II
They wha about thee mak sic fuss
Now thou art but a name,
Wad seen thee damn'd ere they had spar'd
Ae plack to fill thy wame.
III
Helpless, alane, thou clamb the brae
Wi' meikle honest toil,
And claucht th'unfading garland there,
Thy sair-won, rightful spoil.
IV
And wear it there! and call aloud
This axiom undoubted:—
Would thou hae Nobles' patronage?
First learn to live without it!
V
‘To whom hae much, more shall be given’
Is every great man's faith;
But he, the helpless, needful wretch,
Shall lose the mite he hath.
