 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
286
Mony Auld Frien's.
1844.
[_]
[The gentleman whose death called forth these lines—the “Dear Hudson” of a very different song in this collection—was, without one exception, the best man I ever knew. His enthusiastic friendship for myself, his disinterested zeal for my reputation and success—I shall never forget. Nor has he all died! On my last visit to York-shire, I found his spirit still animating his friends, and meeting me at every turn, with the welcome of the years that are past.
“Alas, how different—yet how like the same!”
]
Mony auld frien's to Town come, in kind-ness, to me,
Wi' the heart in the hand, an' the soul in the e'e;
An' blithely I meet them, as aft as they ca';
But there's ane that comes never—the dearest of a'!
Wi' the heart in the hand, an' the soul in the e'e;
An' blithely I meet them, as aft as they ca';
But there's ane that comes never—the dearest of a'!
There's aften some failin' where maist ane wad lean;
Some mickle 'ill phraise when but little they mean.
You felt his heart beat in ilk word he let fa';
But that kind ane comes never—the dearest of a'!
Some mickle 'ill phraise when but little they mean.
You felt his heart beat in ilk word he let fa';
But that kind ane comes never—the dearest of a'!
It isna the distance—that soon wad be pass'd;
Its nae fit o' cauldness—that short while wad last;
Its the stern grip o' Death that keeps Hudson awa',
An' he will come never—the dearest of a'!
Its nae fit o' cauldness—that short while wad last;
Its the stern grip o' Death that keeps Hudson awa',
An' he will come never—the dearest of a'!
My ain day is closin', and I, too, maun dee.
I scarce care how soon—if wi' him I may be!
For nane but guid fellows around him 'ill draw,
And be they a' monarchs, he's King them a'!
I scarce care how soon—if wi' him I may be!
For nane but guid fellows around him 'ill draw,
And be they a' monarchs, he's King them a'!
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