The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill With biography, illustrations, and music |
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ON ALEXANDER WILSON'S
EMIGRATION TO AMERICA. |
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 | The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill |  |
160
ON ALEXANDER WILSON'S EMIGRATION TO AMERICA.
O Death! it 's no thy deed I mourn,
Though oft my heart-strings thou hast torn;
'Tis worth and merit left forlorn,
Life's ills to dree,
Gars now the pearly, brackish burn
Gush frae my e'e.
Though oft my heart-strings thou hast torn;
'Tis worth and merit left forlorn,
Life's ills to dree,
Gars now the pearly, brackish burn
Gush frae my e'e.
Is there who feels the melting glow
Of sympathy for ithers' woe?
Come let our tears thegither flow;
O join my mane!
For Wilson, worthiest of us a',
For aye is gane.
Of sympathy for ithers' woe?
Come let our tears thegither flow;
O join my mane!
For Wilson, worthiest of us a',
For aye is gane.
He bravely strove 'gainst fortune's stream,
While hope held forth ae distant gleam;
Till dash'd and dash'd, time after time,
On life's rough sea,
He wept his thankless native clime,
And sail'd away.
While hope held forth ae distant gleam;
Till dash'd and dash'd, time after time,
On life's rough sea,
He wept his thankless native clime,
And sail'd away.
The patriot bauld, the social brither,
In him were sweetly join'd thegither;
He knaves reprov'd, without a swither,
In keenest satire,
And taught what mankind owe each ither
As sons of nature.
In him were sweetly join'd thegither;
He knaves reprov'd, without a swither,
In keenest satire,
And taught what mankind owe each ither
As sons of nature.
161
If thou hast heard his wee bit “Wren”
Wail forth its sorrow through the glen,
Tell how his warm, descriptive pen
Has thrill'd thy soul:
His sensibility sae keen,
He felt for all.
Wail forth its sorrow through the glen,
Tell how his warm, descriptive pen
Has thrill'd thy soul:
His sensibility sae keen,
He felt for all.
Since now he 's gane, and Burns is deid,
Ah! wha will tune the Scottish reed?
Her thistle, dowie, hangs its head;
Her harp's unstrung;
While mountain, river, loch, and mead,
Remain unsung.
Ah! wha will tune the Scottish reed?
Her thistle, dowie, hangs its head;
Her harp's unstrung;
While mountain, river, loch, and mead,
Remain unsung.
Fareweel, thou much neglected bard!
These lines will speak my warm regard;
While strangers on a foreign sward
Thy worth hold dear,
Still some kind heart thy name shall guard
Unsullied here.
These lines will speak my warm regard;
While strangers on a foreign sward
Thy worth hold dear,
Still some kind heart thy name shall guard
Unsullied here.
Alexander Wilson, born in Seedhill, Paisley, author of “Watty and Meg,” and other poems, emigrated to America in 1794, where he devoted his attention to the Ornithology of his adopted land, and attained fame in that direction. He died at Philadelphia in 1813. A statue to commemorate his fame was erected in the Abbey Church grounds, Paisley, in 1874; and since then a statue to Robert Tannahill has been reared close by.
| The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill | |