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26 O’er the mind’s sea, in calm and storm,
 * O’er the heart’s sunshine and its showers,

O’er Passion’s moments bright and warm,
 * O’er Reason’s dark, cold hours;

On fields where brave men “die or do,”
 * In halls where rings the banquet’s mirth,

Where mourners weep, where lovers woo,
 * From throne to cottage-hearth?

What sweet tears dim the eye unshed,
 * What wild vows falter on the tongue,

When “Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,”
 * Or “Auld Lang Syne” is sung!

Pure hopes, that lift the soul above,
 * Come with his Cotter’s hymn of praise,

And dreams of youth, and truth, and love,
 * With “Logan’s” banks and braes.

And when he breathes his master-lay
 * Of Alloway’s witch-haunted wall,

All passions in our frames of clay
 * Come thronging at his call.

Imagination’s world of air,
 * And our own world, its gloom and glee,

Wit, pathos, poetry, are there,
 * And death’s sublimity.