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The clock strikes twelve !--prophetic'ly revealing

The awful twelve of Nature hastens on:
Soon must I hear its dismal thunders pealing,

And her tremendous, deep expiring groan;
Oh! for that august unexampled hour
Prepare thou me, O thou Eternal Power !

ELEGY ON THE MEMORY OF JOHN BROWN,

Of Coldstream, Newtown.

“Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.”- Rev. xiv. 13.

Q ULD Johnny's win awa at last,

Frae simmer's heat and winter's blast:
Life's toils and troubles a' are past

Wi' him for ever,
Wha in auld Lennel snoozes fast,

By Tweed's fair river.

O mourn, Newtown, baith lang and sair !
Your douce, auld trusty frien's nae mair;
What can on earth the slap repair

That Death has made,
When Johnny's snug bit biggin there

He did invade ?

For mother wit and worth, true fame
Has wi' a halo crown'd his name;
His faith and hope were free frae blame,

And richly given;
While young and auld can test they came

Direct frae heaven.

His gashin' jokes nae mair we'll hear-
His cracks and stories, odd and queer,
Which neebours round did a' revere,

Sa hamely spun;
His like, I doubt, will ne'er appear

Aneth the sun.

Nae mair he'll wander by Tweedside,
Where Nature smiles in flowery pride,
And ee the rowin' spated tide,

Wi' his bit creel,
Nor wi' the samont hameward glide

Packed snod and weel.

Mourn, Lennel Haugh, your frien's awa;
And great Haugh now your sorrow shaw;
And dreeper, twizel, boat and a',

O loudly wail !
And thou unequalled lovely Craw,

Lament my tale.

Ye trees that skirt yon rocky brae,
Ye whin-clad heights, your dool display;

Ilk cowslip that bedecked his way

Now hang thy head; And ilka primrose tribute pay

To him that's dead.

To swell the dirge, ye warbling thrang, Changed be your notes o' praise and sang; For woe and wailing loud and lang

The hail day through, Till echo frae yon woods amang

Respond to you.

But Time her sceptred reign shall yield,
And vanquished Death shall quit the field,
The trumpet tout, when a concealed

In earth and sea
Shall burst the doors the tyrant sealed,

And be set free.

Then shall our honest Johnny rise,
And wi' the just shall share the prize,
Ayont the stars that gem the skies,

Where joys abound,
And tears nae mair bedim the eyes

O’a' around.

LAMENT FOR THE PREMATURE AND

SUDDEN DEATH OF R. T.,

Supposed to be written while standing over his Grave in Lennel

Churchyard, Coldstream.

ERE now in lonely sorrow let me mourn,

A friend and brother from my bosom torn. O hallowed bliss, to me for ever past, Ecstatic joy, too exquisite to last. What e'er can soothe my anguish, and impart Life's former sunshine to the blighted heart ? How short and fleeting all that life supplies ! “He builds too low who builds beneath the skies.” Mute now the tongue which but so lately charmed And paralyzed the heart affection warmed. Those eyes which flashed with intellectual light, How sightless now, and closed in endless night! A father's tears may cease for him to flow, Time neutralize a weeping brother's woe; A sobbing sister may forget her sigh; Joy yet illume the promised fair one's eye; But lonely Friendship ever must deplore A loss in him, the world can ne'er restore. No feigned affliction pours her sorrows here; A bosom mourns o'er all it once held dear, Years may roll on, but to increase my woe, As streams enlarge and deepen as they flow.

However o'er life's stormy billows tossed,
His worth I'll homage till the ocean's crossed.
O as I view again his narrow cell,
How sighs the heart the long-the last farewell !

TO THE MEMORY OF AN OLD FRIEND.

Written on the discovery of her Burial-Place in

Lennel Churchyard, Coldstream.

G ND oh is such her sacred spot of rest!
Rank waves the grass, and wild the nettle

grows:
No stone records the memory of the blessed,

Nor where her sainted ashes now repose. Obscure in life, as in the grave obscure,

Alone the vale of poverty she trod

Her only stay and refuge was her God, Who gave her at the cross an earnest sure: Her all through it for ever was secure

The wish supreme and purpose of her soul.

Friend of my earlier and my happier years,

O can I e'er forget her Christian worth ?
Her love, her care and kindness, hopes and fears

Regarding me, what words can shadow forth ?

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