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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ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF W. WOTHERSPOON,
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
233
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF W. WOTHERSPOON,
A PARTICULAR FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR.
Sunk was the sun 'midst clouds of gold,
Lone Night reign'd from her starry dome;
When slow I left the bleating fold,
And weary sought my little home.
Lone Night reign'd from her starry dome;
When slow I left the bleating fold,
And weary sought my little home.
There, sad and cheerless, near the fire,
I gloomy sat, to grief resign'd;
And while down stole the silent tear,
These thoughts slow wand'red o'er my mind.
I gloomy sat, to grief resign'd;
And while down stole the silent tear,
These thoughts slow wand'red o'er my mind.
Alas!—my distant friend, I fear—
Why these woe-bodings at my heart?
What sound still tinkles in my ear,
Which mirth nor pleasure can divert?
Why these woe-bodings at my heart?
What sound still tinkles in my ear,
Which mirth nor pleasure can divert?
I spoke, I sigh'd, and rais'd my head—
I sigh'd, I groan'd, yet knew not why;
When, strange, a voice soft breathed out ‘dead!’
I heard, and changed to palest clay.
I sigh'd, I groan'd, yet knew not why;
When, strange, a voice soft breathed out ‘dead!’
I heard, and changed to palest clay.
Prostrate I fell, lull'd in a faint,
Till by degrees life on me broke;
I wak'd to mis'ry—rose pale, spent,
And thus in deep distraction spoke.
Till by degrees life on me broke;
I wak'd to mis'ry—rose pale, spent,
And thus in deep distraction spoke.
‘And art thou gone, oh, hapless youth!
And shall these eyes ne'er view thee more?
Thou, in whose glowing breast dwelt truth,
Art thou for ever from me tore?
And shall these eyes ne'er view thee more?
Thou, in whose glowing breast dwelt truth,
Art thou for ever from me tore?
Ye dreary walls, list to my doom,
Bear witness to my heart-felt wail;
And wrap you with a darker gloom,
While I relate the mournful tale.
Bear witness to my heart-felt wail;
And wrap you with a darker gloom,
While I relate the mournful tale.
234
For oh! insatiate cruel Death,
Hath torn from me my dearest friend;
Then farewell world, and hated breath,
I shall not long delay behind.
Hath torn from me my dearest friend;
Then farewell world, and hated breath,
I shall not long delay behind.
Ah, see! the breathless cor'se there lies,
White stretch'd along—distracting sight!
How chang'd that face! how sunk those eyes!
For ever sunk in endless night!
White stretch'd along—distracting sight!
How chang'd that face! how sunk those eyes!
For ever sunk in endless night!
Pale is the face that wont to smile,
Adorn'd with charms of native red;
Cold, cold that breast, where envious Guile
Ne'er found a shelter for her head.
Adorn'd with charms of native red;
Cold, cold that breast, where envious Guile
Ne'er found a shelter for her head.
Oh! barb'rous Death,—relentless pow'r,
How hast thou made my bosom bleed!
In one tremendous, awful hour,
Thou'st made me wretched—poor indeed.
How hast thou made my bosom bleed!
In one tremendous, awful hour,
Thou'st made me wretched—poor indeed.
Ye once delightful scenes, adieu!
Where first I drew my infant breath;
Since the sole friend this breast e'er knew,
Clos'd are his eyes, and sunk in death.
Where first I drew my infant breath;
Since the sole friend this breast e'er knew,
Clos'd are his eyes, and sunk in death.
Farewell, ye banks with willows tipt,
Where oft beneath the summer beam,
'Midst flowery grass we've fondly stript,
And plung'd beneath the opening stream.
Where oft beneath the summer beam,
'Midst flowery grass we've fondly stript,
And plung'd beneath the opening stream.
No more, while Winter rules the sky,
And firms pure Cartha's icy face;
Shall he on skates, swift-bounding fly,
While I pursue the mazy chace.
And firms pure Cartha's icy face;
Shall he on skates, swift-bounding fly,
While I pursue the mazy chace.
No more, alas! we'll nightly walk
Beneath the silent, silver moon;
Or pass the rapt'ring hours in talk,
In yonder bow'r retired from noon.
Beneath the silent, silver moon;
Or pass the rapt'ring hours in talk,
In yonder bow'r retired from noon.
235
How will that beauteous maid bewail,
Whose charms first caught his youthful heart!
Who often heard his tender tale,
And blushing, eas'd his wounding smart.
Whose charms first caught his youthful heart!
Who often heard his tender tale,
And blushing, eas'd his wounding smart.
No more with thee he'll spend the night,
Where Cynthia gleams athwart the grove;
Nor seize thy hand in dear delight,
And tell enchanting tales of love.
Where Cynthia gleams athwart the grove;
Nor seize thy hand in dear delight,
And tell enchanting tales of love.
Alas! he's bid a long adieu;
In vain we weep, in vain repine;
Ne'er shalt thou meet a swain so true,
And ne'er shall I a friend so kind.
In vain we weep, in vain repine;
Ne'er shalt thou meet a swain so true,
And ne'er shall I a friend so kind.
How long we've been companions dear,
How lov'd—nor tongue nor words can tell;
But hark!—alas! methinks I hear
Some solemn, dreary, warning knell.
How lov'd—nor tongue nor words can tell;
But hark!—alas! methinks I hear
Some solemn, dreary, warning knell.
Yes—I will come—thou beck'ning ghost,
I hear thy kind, thy awful call;
One green-grass sod shall wrap our dust,
And some sweet Muse weep o'er our fall.
I hear thy kind, thy awful call;
One green-grass sod shall wrap our dust,
And some sweet Muse weep o'er our fall.
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |