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Miscellaneous Poems

By the Rev. J. Keble

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To the Memory of John Leyden , M.D.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


180

To the Memory of John Leyden , M.D.

O, mournful on our ears the wild harp died
When the bard sang farewell to Teviotside;
And gentle hearts, while thou wert far away,
Own'd sad misgivings for thy plaintive lay.
Ah, too prophetic! in the flush of years
Sweet minstrel, far from thine Aurelia's tears,
Thy glorious task hath bowed thee to the tomb.
Most mournful, yet most blessèd was thy doom!
Most blessèd was thy doom, the rural Muse
Dropp'd on thy cradled head her blandest dews,
And melting hues of moonlight loveliness,
And fairy forms thy childish eyne would bless.
Thou, too, hadst learn'd to love; and not in vain,
If right I guess, was pour'd thy soothing strain.

181

To each fond note that down the valley sigh'd
Some chord within thy fair one's heart replied;
Breathless she listen'd for the song of love,
Nor miss'd the nightingale from Teviot's grove.
Most blessèd was thy doom: to thy bold glance
Flew wide the gorgeous portals of Romance;
From living gems that deck her mystic cell
Thine eye caught lustre, and the sacred spell
Of high chivalric song upon thy spirit fell.
O, sweeter than the music of the grove,
The border clarion, or the lute of love,
Those angel-notes that on thy dying ear
Fell soft, recalling all thy soul held dear,
All bright remembrances of deeds well done,
Of Mercy's work for half mankind begun,
All the calm joys of hearts in virtue sure,
All holy longings, all affections pure,
With thy free soul in bliss for ever to endure.
Feb. 5, 1813.
 

Dr. John Leyden, who assisted Sir Walter Scott in procuring materials and illustrations for the “Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,” died as Professor of the Native Dialects in the Bengal College, Calcutta, in the year 1811. He was engaged in translating the Holy Scriptures at the time of his death into seven languages into which they had not then been translated. A small volume of his poems was published in 1821, which contained some very beautiful pieces, now, it is to be feared, entirely forgotten; one especially, an Address to an Indian Gold Coin.