Like a brotherless hermit, the last of its race,

All wild in the silence of nature, it drew
From each wandering sunbeam a lonely embrace;
For the night-weed and thorn overshadow'd the place
Where the flower of my forefathers grew.

Sweet bud of the wilderness! emblem of all
That survives in this desolate heart!
The fabric of bliss to its centre may fall;

But patience shall never depart....
Though the wilds of enchantment, all vernal and bright
In the days of delusion, by Fancy combin'd
With the vanishing phantoms of love and delight,
Abandon my soul like a dream of the night,
And leave but a desert behind.

Be hush'd, my dark spirit! for wisdom condemns,
When the faint and the feeble deplore....

Be strong, as the rock of the ocean that stems
A thousand wild waves on the shore....
Through the perils of chance, and the scowl of disdain,

May thy front be unalter'd, thy courage elate!
Ah, even the name I have worship'd in vain,
Shall awake not the sigh of remembrance again!

To bear, is to conquer our fate!

ON THE DEATH

OF

A BELOVED AND ONLY SON.

TRANSLATED

FROM A DANISH INSCRIPTION.

Can mortal solace ever raise

The broken pillar of my days;

Or fate restore a form so dear

As that which lies unconscious here,

Ah no, my Darco, latest given
And last reclaimed gift of Heaven!
Possessing thee, I still could bless
One lingering beam of happiness:....
My lov'd, my lost, my only care,
I vainly thought with thee to share
Thy heart's discourse, so gently kind,
And mould to worth thy pliant mind,

Nor warn'd of all my future woe,
Presum❜d on happiness below!
But, loosing thee, my blooming boy,
I cannot loose another joy;
For all that stay'd my earthly trust
With thee is buried in the dust!

Nine charming years had fraught with grace
Thy sprightly soul and lovely face,
Where harshness had not planted fear

Nor sorrow wrung one silent tear;
But frank and warm my Darco flew

To share each welcome and adieu....

Each word, each thought, each look, to 'tend, My child, my scholar, and my friend!

Oh, when his gaily....smiling talk
Endear'd my sweet, my summer walk;
Or when I sat, at day's decline
And clasp'd his little hand in mine,
How many woes were then forgot....
How blissful seem'd his father's lot!....
And breathing love, my bosom said,
Thus, on a dying couch when laid....

Thus shall I bid thee Darco, stand,
And grasp thee with my failing hand!
Cold, cold, thou pledge of future charms,
As her who gave thee to my arms,
My buried hopes your grave is one....
And Mary sleeps beside her son!

Now hush, my heart!....afflicting Heaven,
Thy will be done, thy solace given;
For mortal hand can never raise

The broken pillar of my days,

Or earth restore a form so dear

As that which lies unconscious here!

THE DIRGE OF WALLACE.

They lighted a taper at the dead of night,
And chanted their holiest hymn;

But her brow and her bosom were damp with affright....

Her eye was all sleepless and dim!

And the lady of Elderslie wept for her lord,

When a death-watch beat in her lonely room, When her curtain had shook of its own accord, And the raven had flapp'd at her window board, To tell of her warrior's doom!

"Now sing ye the death song, and loudly pray "For the soul of my knight so dear;

"And call me a widow this wretched day, "Since the warning of God is here!

"For a night-mare rides on my strangled sleep: "The lord of my bosom is doom'd to die; "His valorous heart they have wounded deep, "And the blood-red tears shall his country weep "For Wallace of Elderslie."