Then shall he "bask in uncreated rays," And share unmingled pleasures ever new, And strike the golden lyre in endless praise In concert with the chosen, faithful few. THE FRIENDLY WISH. IFE of my life, my joy and pleasure, The gift of Heaven, O hallowed treasure! For O the golden ties that bind us Ah! what those joys and glowing feelings But the heartfelt blest revealings And now, my friend of tried affection, With heart a stranger to deception, Graced by all that can endear, List to the warmest benediction May Heaven be with thee while pursuing May health, and happiness, and honour, As dews refresh the lovely flower, May knowledge, wisdom, truth, and favour, Overflowing and divine, Guide every action and endeavour, And on thee for ever shine! Last, when thy wand'rings are completed By seraphs may thy soul be greeted There may you live, and share for ever 'Mid the scenes of endless day! PARODY ON THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. a sound was heard, but laughter and mirth, As drunk to his cell him we carried, And o'er him loud sang of his talents and worth, On the floor we stretched him at dead of night, By the clear shining beams of the cheerful gas-light, No nightcap encircled his timeworn brows, Nor in sheet nor in blanket we wound him; But he lay like Silenus taking his snooze, With his worthy disciples around him. For the "British" we cursed his unquenchable love, As life of his life was the bottle; L We saw that such folly his ruin would prove, We thought as we tossed up his lonely, cold bed, How many the laurels will wrench from his name, But what needs he care, self-damned is his fame, We finished our task as the clock had struck one, And thought it high time for retiring; By the clamour we heard the new-year had begun, For all was the "spirit" inspiring. Then gladly, at length, we bade him farewell, As a sow in its stye, but, wondrous to tell, ON THE DEATH OF T. J., ESQUIRE. THIS morn, alas! another shock, Enough to melt a heart o' rock, For just as yon auld crazy clock Had whispered ane, Death loud at Tammy's door did knock, Frae a' his joys and sorrows here, Can vouch their like did ne'er appear Ye sons o' Justice, baith ane and a', Hoo sic an oracle o' law Can wanted be. Lament, ye gentry o' the chase, He was o' a your core the ace For mony a year, |