 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
2
EDINBURGH.
Thou hast been just, glad Mother of great Sons—To such high memories generous and just;
For everywhere the consecrated dust
Of those thy world-beloved and glorious ones
Hath honour in thy fair palatial streets,
Grateful Edina!—for the tourist greets
With sympathetic tenderness and praise
The noble trophies of thy children's fame
Thy love hath raised to them—and yet will raise;
Ramsay, and Wilson, and each other name
Rising successive to the starry ranks
Of those we constellate with Scott and Burns,
After their labours win such blest returns
In this Valhalla of a Nation's thanks.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |